We know he was freaking 91 at the time of his death this year, but some part of us still believes great American author Ray Bradbury died of a broken heart. His novel Fahrenheit 451, about a dystopian future in which firemen burn books and the houses that hold them instead of putting out the flames, is simply one of the most touching, prescient and downright terrifying glimpses of our alternate future ever presented. Hell, it’s literally on Bradbury’s tombstone. Despite our nearly requisite love for Francois Truffaut’s mod-bathed film adaptation, presented tonight as part of the Enzian’s ongoing Cult Classics series, a love that overlooks Julie Christie’s dual role as Guy Montag’s wife and midlife-crisis pixie redeemer (??), Bradbury hated it. (Martin Scorsese is one of its defenders, though, so nyah.) But this isn’t what killed him, in our opinion. The lethal blow: Mel Gibson owns the film rights. – Justin Strout