Not long ago, I listened to a podcast featuring a pair of millennial movie fans chatting as they combed through films included in the Criterion Collection. Edward F. Cline’s “The Bank Dick” (1940) came upon their radar and, suffice it to say, they were aghast. Who, they asked with the straightest of faces, was the misogynistic substance abuser at the center of the picture and why didn’t he take pride in his children?