Best Films of the '80s

by Erik, Lons, Pete

Part Three

Erik

The Empire Strikes Back - Irvin Kershner:

The best pure film of all six episodes in the Star Wars saga, and perhaps the best sequel of all time (or The Godfather Part II). While attending USC, George Lucas remembered a professor named Irvin Kershner, who’d received his break from famed B movie producer Roger Corman, and asked him to direct the sequel to Star Wars (or, as it was titled later, Episode IV: A New Hope). Kershner initially declined, but was convinced by his agent to take on the sequel to the [then] most popular film of all time. A few things we learned from Empire: Now that Lucas has tinkered with the original trilogy by adding special effects and extended scenes, the evidence is blatant on which is the strongest film of the bunch - Empire stayed nearly intact besides the Hoth monster and Cloud City sequences. George Lucas was wise to hand off the director’s chair to another, more astute filmmaker who worked better with actors. The evidence is there in the prequels - Lucas can’t direct actors for shit. But he has vision to burn, and that vision was solidified with this most character-driven film of the saga. Oh yeah, and that minor twist about Darth Vader being someone’s daddy. That was pretty good, too. BEST SCENE(S): The Planet Hoth battle with the Imperial walkers is one of the best battles of the entire saga, then there’s the Millennium Falcon’s narrow escape from the belly of a massive meteor worm, then the introduction of Boba Fett, one of the saga’s coolest characters. And how could I not mention one of the most iconic scenes in film history: “NO. I AM YOUR FATHER.”

Caddyshack - Harold Ramis: A fantastic goofball comedy on so many levels, Harold Ramis pulled together a collection of fine comedic actors at the height of their game (Chevy Chase, Rodney Dangerfield, Ted Knight, and the genius that is Bill Murray) into the most overused (at least now anyways) of modern day comedic plots: the snobs vs. slobs. Even with the tired storyline the film has stood the test time thus far, remaining funny to this day. Most notable is the nonstop hilarity and the fantastic comedic performances. And did I mention that Bill Murray is a genius? BEST SCENE: Any scene with Murray (“Cannonball Comin!” to “It’s in the hole!” to “It’s no big deal” to “So I got that going for me, which is nice.”).

Stardust Memories - Woody Allen: I must admit, it has taken me much too long to get into Woody Allen's films, but now that I’m beginning to watch his catalog of brilliant films I can see what so many film lovers enjoy about his work. He’s a brilliant writer, giving us some of the most personal insights into his life and character. Stardust Memories, I had heard, was one of Allen’s weaker efforts. I have to disagree. I love the black and white photography (although it doesn’t quite match the beautiful cinematography of Allen’s masterpiece Manhatten, but then again, few films look that good), and the fact that Woody Allen is so willing to poke fun at himself. The film is as much a commentary on himself as a filmmaker and artist as it is a look into his fans, who apparently only wanted him to make more movies like his “earlier, funny ones.” A brilliant look into the psyche of a conflicted filmmaker who wants to grow, but is hindered by his success. BEST SCENE: I love films about filmmaking, so there is a lot to relish in Memories, but the climax in the theater house is brilliant as we see every character in the film exiting and discussing the movie they just saw, or was it the movie we just saw? Either way, it was a great finale to a wonderful, Fellini-esque film.

Return of the Jedi - Richard Marquand: The entire Star Wars saga has a special place in my heart. The original trilogy was the most important thing in the world to me as a kid, they were the films I grew up watching, and the first films I ever bought on VHS (a monumental moment in my life, I assure you). Return of the Jedi is, in my opinion, the most fun to watch of all six episodes. There is so much to enjoy in this the conclusion to the series: Jabba the Hutt, the battle at the sand pit, Han Solo’s rescue, Yoda dies (a sad moment indeed), the speeder chase on the moon of Endor (a sequence that still holds up today), the final Death Star battle, and Luke’s conflict with his father Darth Vader. Their climactic battle, in which Vader redeems himself by killing the Emperor, and thus finally brings balance to the force, is as powerful as anything in the entire saga. Many hated the Ewoks, but I even enjoyed them as well. BEST SCENE: Love that speeder chase in the forest, but Luke’s climactic battle against Vader is the stuff of Star Wars legend as we see a father save his son, and perhaps his soul.

Trading Places - John Landis Eddie Murphy has never been better in this, his second film (after 48 Hrs.). John Landis - borrowing the plot from a 1935 Three Stooges short film called Hoi Polloi - crafted a hilarious, satirical gem in which two wealthy commodity brokers (the irreplaceable Don Ameche and Ralph Bellamy) make a modest bet of $1 to see if a bum off the street (Murphy) can be turned into a successful broker, while at the same time a successful broker in their firm (Dan Aykroyd) can instantly turn to crime if thrown in the right environment. While Trading Places is very entertaining and funny, the film’s intelligence is most remarkable, filled with shrewd philosophical musings on such issues as nature vs. nurture. A brilliant film, and Jamie Lee Curtis gives a memorable performance (and nude scene) as well. BEST SCENE: Billy Ray (Murphy) is taught the basics of buying and selling commodities by the Dukes, to which he breaks the fourth wall by giving a brilliantly funny deadpan gaze into the camera as they explain how bacon might be used for a bacon, lettuce and tomato sandwich.

Videodrome - David Cronenberg: Another film I recently discovered. Cronenberg is a master of intelligent science-fiction and horror. In hindsight, the film is quite prophetic in its depiction of television and violence. Films like Saw, Hostel and The Devil’s Rejects—with their scenes of gory human torture—seem to have grown from the very thing that Cronenberg was warning us all about in 1983: TV is a manipulative thing, and it has desensitized audiences to the point that we don’t fear onscreen violence anymore. James Woods is fantastic as Max Renn, another one of the actor’s smarmy scumbags he has played often. Max is a cable TV operator that puts disturbing, sexual and violent content on his channel to gain more viewers. He stumbles upon the ultimate experience called Videodrome, a snuff program in which the audience views real human torture. He discovers that it’s a mind-controlling device and much more. A film that brilliantly questions the nature of reality in nearly every scene. BEST SCENE: Cronenberg—no stranger to bizarre violence and sexuality in his films—brilliantly uses sexual imagery to comment on the nature of television and its relationship with the viewer. Max’s stomach becomes a VCR via a vaginal opening in his stomach, and he basically has sex with the television as his head goes into the screen.

Blue Velvet - David Lynch:

David Lynch’s masterpiece about the seedy underbelly of suburbia is still shocking. Most people think that American Beauty started the trend of what’s really going on underneath the surface of things in suburban USA. No, it was all Lynch. Blue Velvet is Lynch’s most accomplished film because he doesn’t go off the wall with his bizarreness (as he did in Wild At Heart), and he doesn’t lose his way with mind-numbing plot contrivance (like he did in Lost Highway). Blue Velvet remains his towering achievement. BEST SCENE: In a sequence that would’ve made Hitchcock proud, Kyle MacLachlan views (in the cramped confines of a closet) the horrible sexual torture of Isabella Rossellini at the hands of a nitrous-inhaling Dennis Hopper, only to later have a knife turned on him until he performs similar sexual oddities to Rossellini. Lynch masterfully cuts between the POV shot through the closet to the actual sexual act in a sequence that gave new meaning to the term voyeuristic.

Stand By Me - Rob Reiner: Rob Reiner adapted Stephen King’s novella The Body (1/4 of the collection of novellas published in 1982 titled Different Season, of which two other stories of that collection were adapted in to the films Apt Pupil (underrated) and The Shawshank Redemption (a masterpiece) into an incredibly honest, endearing and memorable drama of adolescence. Never resorting to cheese ball humor or a squeaky-clean depiction of boys growing up in the 50’s (this is after all a very adult movie), Reiner weaved a tightly edited (a swift running time of 89 minutes) mini-masterpiece (his other in the decade being This is Spinal Tap). Stand By Me is a rare achievement. It’s still incredibly relevant today, holding up to repeated viewings. The young cast is remarkable, not one bad performance in the film. It’s also the kind of film that Hollywood never makes anymore: a realistic and smart film about kids that doesn’t fall prey to lethargic sentimentalism. BEST SCENE: I love the quiet, simplistic beauty of the scene in which main character Gordie (Wil Wheaton), in the midst of a camping trip with his three friends, watches a deer run by, then stop and run off again. The sequence says so much about the character and nature without one piece of dialogue.

Full Metal Jacket - Stanley Kubrick: Vietnam was becoming a tired Hollywood cliché in 1987, but Kubrick managed to make a film about the war entirely in his style. By incorporating tons of amazing tracking shots, steadicam work and long takes, Kubrick gave us his Vietnam film, one that is the best of the bunch (behind only Apocalypse Now). The film opens in typical Kubrick fashion. After a montage of grunts getting their heads shaved, we are treated to a brilliant tracking shot that follows R. Lee Ermey (essentially playing himself—he was a real life drill sergeant—in a role he often revisited/lampooned in other films) as he introduces the young recruits to the hell that is basic training. I love how Kubrick gave Jacket the feel of a novel, split in two halves. Essentially two short stories combined into a full film, here we get the hell of basic training, then the real hell of war in Vietnam during the 1968 TET Offensive. BEST SCENE: The climactic shootout with the sniper is hauntingly realistic and violent.

The Untouchables - Brian De Palma: Probably De Palma’s best film (that or Carlito’s Way). I often find his style too derivative of Hitchcock, but here De Palma—along with master screenwriter David Mamet—crafts an entertaining, though modernly violent cops and gangsters tale in the guise of a classic Hollywood production. This was one of the few times De Palma’s weakness for style over substance actually helped the film. Untouchables introduced us to the idea of Kevin Costner as a leading man, here playing Eliot Ness as he battles to take down Al Capone (A nuanced, methodical and chameleonic performance by Robert De Niro). It also won Sean Connery his only Oscar in the classic role of the do-gooder Irish beat cop Jim Malone. Ennio Morricone’s score was fantastic as well, harking back to the classic Hollywood style as well. BEST SCENE: The shootout sequence at the train station (an oft-used setting in De Palma’s films) in which Costner tries to stop a baby cart from falling down a flight stairs (referencing the famous sequence from Eisenstein’s 1926 film Battleship Potemkin) all while trying to shoot the bad guys is great in all, but I’m still shocked every time Capone takes that baseball bat to the head of one of his hoods.

Spoorloos (The Vanishing) - George Sluizer: Check out what my review of this in our Criterion section: BEST SCENE: The ending.

Field of Dreams - Phil Alden Robinson: The 80’s were good to Kevin Costner. This memorable fable about baseball and all things Americana is so good-natured and touching (without being cheesy), though it also avoids the trappings of boring melodrama and sentimental fantasy. Costner gives one of his best performances of his career, playing what he played so well: the everyman (he gets into trouble when he plays action heroes). Phil Alden Robinson’s deft handling of a sincere story is wonderful, beginning the film as a simple, dreamy meditation on baseball and its importance in our history, then shifting the story into a tale about a father and son who sadly lost touch with each other, but find redemption in the classic father-son staple: the game of catch. . . BEST SCENE: . . . And that game of catch is the perfect ending to a near-perfect film, a scene that tends to make men weep like babies. I can’t help but get choked-up every time I watch it.

The Abyss - James Cameron: I’m talking about the Special Edition cut here, the version James Cameron intended but was forced to cut by the studio because of its length (running time 171 minutes, though this cut is brilliantly paced, never feeling like a three hour movie). I always looked at this as Cameron’s Close Encounters film, and I find The Abyss to be the film of his I most often revisit (though I love both Terminators and Aliens). The Special Edition cut is far superior to the theatrical release, giving us more insight in to the character’s relationships and motivations. The Abyss is also notable for its pioneering use of early CGI (the first usage being Tron and Young Sherlock Holmes) with the water tentacle sequence, a brilliant use of the then-young technology. We can debate endlessly whether CGI has hindered or helped film since The Abyss (for the most part I’m of the former opinion, but the latter occurs when a smart filmmaker uses it to aid in the telling of the story). BEST SCENE: The water tentacle scene is great, though it’s amazing how older CGI isn’t nearly as convincing as it used to be onscreen. I also like the scene that only appears in the Special Edition in which a massive title wave (of which crapfests like Deep Impact and Day After Tomorrow totally ripped off) is about to engulf a coastal city.

Lons:

This is Spinal Tap - Rob Reiner: Co-star Christopher Guest, whose clueless, repressed but overwhelmingly sweet guitarist Nigel Tufnel off-sets the film's heavy doses of sarcasm, turned this improvisational, ironic style into a veritable cottage industry.  But beyond that, Rob Reiner's legendary rock and roll satire defined the entire genre of "squirm humor."  "Spinal Tap's" meta-influence can be seen all over contemporary film and television, from the desperate exploits of David Brent/Michael Scott on "The Office" to Larry David's homage to misanthropy "Curb Your Enthusiasm" to the comedy-rock duo Tenacious D, even to its hip-hop cousin, "Fear of a Black Hat."  It's also perhaps the all-time most quoted movie, and rightfully so.

Die Hard - John McTiernan: So firmly embedded in the national zeitgeist is John McTiernan's humorous action spectacle, it has become shorthand for an entire wing of the American action cinema.  Under Siege?  Die Hard on a boat.  Speed?  Die Hard on a bus.  Snakes on a Plane?  Die Hard on a plane.  With snakes.  And Zeus from the third Die Hard.  Never mind that Die Hard wasn't even the first film to devise the essential high-concept premise of One Man taking on a Band of Terrorists with an Awesomely Intricate Plan.  (Taking of Pelham One Two Three did the "Die Hard" thing on a subway way back in 1974, complete with a pompous, European criminal mastermind.)  Die Hard is the one people remember because it's quite simply one of the most entertaining American "event movies" ever made, featuring two of the best performances (from Bruce Willis and Alan Rickman) in action movie history.  The genius is in the simplicity: Snarky, exceedingly charismatic New York cop John McClane must take out the regrettably moustacheless German sociopath Hans Gruber inside a skyscraper filled with gun-toting terrorists.  There's no questioning who to root for in that scenario, and no doubt that things are going to end relatively well for all heroic and/or sympathetic figures concerned.  What's not to like?

The Long Good Friday - John Mackenzie:

There's a rumored remake in the works of John Mackenzie's intense 1980 crime saga, which makes me wonder if any actor alive today can match the ferocity of Bob Hoskins' turn as gangster Harold Shand.  Determined to impress his potential American backers, Shand puts on his best suit and his biggest smile.  But when an unknown foe begins killing off his men and blowing up his clubs, the affable, calm demeanor slips away, revealing the rabid mad dog inside.  Hoskins' performance, particularly during the film's final half hour, darts speedily between being aggressive and pathetic, as when he brutally - and utterly without cause - interrogates his colleagues as they dangle from the ceiling on meathooks.  It's such an elaborate, over-the-top and pointless show of brute force, it almost makes the man responsible seem smaller and less dangerous.  Mackenzie's film relentlessly peels away Shand's layers until there's nothing left but panic and menace, kind of like several seasons of "The Sopranos" compressed into one lean 2-hour serving.

Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom - Steven Spielberg: Judging from the interviews on the "Indiana Jones" DVD set, George Lucas and Steven Spielberg seemed to have turned away from this film over time.  Though obviously they're both fond of the character and the series (they are, after all, collaborating presently on a fourth edition), Temple of Doom perhaps comes across to them as hyperactively adolescent and violent compared with the more kid-friendly (and, to my mind, massively inferior) Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade.  The childish exuberance, risk-taking and energy is exactly what I like so much about the film.  The questionable material - the Orientalist dinner sequence, for example, or the blood-drenched Kali-worship - feels more true to the 1930's films and serials that inspired Indiana Jones than the dopey slapstick and familial sentimentality of Part 3.  A great adventure film, even an adventure film designed specifically for young people, needs some sense of danger and surprise to work, and Temple of Doom arguably features more menacing villains and outrageous close-calls than either of the other two films.  (It's still not better than Raiders...but what is?)  Yes, Kate Capshaw's whiny Willie character gets old fast.  But there's more than enough vintage Spielberg set piece awesomeness, from the frequently ripped-off diamond chase at Club Obi Wan to the famous mine cart sequence, to balance everything out.

Body Double - Brian De Palma: No, Body Double is not a rip off of Rear Window.  Disturbia is a rip off of Rear Window.  Body Double is an original film that removes the subtext of Rear Window and makes that the new focus.  Counter-intuitively, the differences between the films are more illuminating than the similarities.  Hitchcock's thriller focuses on a likable everyman (Jimmy Stewart) who solves a murder while confined to his apartment; De Palma's thriller focuses on an unlikable pervert (Craig Wasson, who resembles but is not Bill Maher) who solves a crime for which he's been framed.  (Note that Stewart's character is essentially altruistic, trying to right a wrong and solve a crime, while Wasson is pressed into duty by a frame-job).  There's clearly a sexual component to the world of Hitchcock's Rear Window - Stewart sees attractive women dancing and undressing in other apartments, he's generally in his pajamas or sleepwear, PLUS he's dating freakin' Grace Kelly.  But De Palma's film is ABOUT the sexual impulse to watch, particularly men watching women.  Rather than a keen observation, De Palma seems to express a lament: anticipation is always better than realization, watching is always more exciting than experiencing, and so we are doomed to go through life essentially unfulfilled, always waiting for the real experience to begin.

Gallipoli - Peter Weir: Peter Weir's Gallipoli has one of the great all-time movie final scenes.  I would not dream of spoiling it here.  The film ends in pretty much the only possible fashion, but it's such an engaging, fun exercise in storytelling, I swear to you that I did not see it coming anyway.  The story of two easy-going Australians sent to fight in the trenches of WWI deals with the usual war movie themes - particularly friendship, heroism and sacrifice - but does so without relying on the kinds of cliches that so often mar this kind of earnest drama.  Friends Archy (Bill Lee) and Frank (Mad Mel Gibson, in one of the best performances of his career), see the war, and the world, in starkly different terms, but they nevertheless remain stalwart companions throughout a gruesome and, in many ways futile, campaign.  Weir's film is grand in scope, attempting to reflect the full and authentic experience of being an Australian soldier in Gallipoli, but it's also intimate, never straying from its focus on the bond between Archy and Frank.  This is easily one of Weir's best, and that's saying something, because his filmography's littered with gems.

Thief - Michael Mann: Michael Mann's feature film debut remains one of his best films, a gritty portrait of everyday criminal life that's an interesting companion piece to his later film, Heat.  James Caan's perfectly cast as Frank, a safecracker who goes to work for a shady crime syndicate run by the ruthless Leo (Robert Prosky).  Frank just wants to make enough money to quit crime and settle down with his wounded girlfriend Jessie (Tuesday Weld), but Leo has other plans, and soon the two men are on a collision course.  This tragically overlooked 1981 classic perfectly straddles the line between '70s character study and '80s action film.  Mann's studied patience and tenderness for his characters heightens the impact of all the shootouts and tough-guy bombast, and it doesn't hurt that Thief is easily one of the best screenplays he's yet written.  (At one point, Leo threatens to turn Jessie out on the street in a highly colorful fashion that I can't even summarize on a family website).  I had to include this film, if only because it wouldn't be an '80s movie list without a funky soundtrack from Tangerine Dream!

Planes Trains and Automobiles - John Hughes: My favorite John Hughes movie, easily, hands-down, Planes Trains and Automobiles features career-best work from BOTH Steve Martin AND John Candy, two of the kings of '80s cinematic hijinks.  In classic Hughes fashion, an exceedingly straight-forward high-concept premise - Odd Couple as a road movie! - is brilliantly teased out over the course of several inventive, observant comic sequences.  Hughes and his actors are making likable, fleshed-out characters out of nothing more than a few recognizable quirks - guys who chat your ear off on planes, nebbishy neat freaks, the kinds of silly "types" you'd find on "Saturday Night Live" sketches - but doing it dramatically well.  So many of Planes, Trains small, lived-in details have popped up in other films, like the bus full of strangers breaking into song, or the wound-up guy who suddenly explodes in a hailstorm of expletives, or the two straight dudes who wake up cuddling, or the car that continually deteriorates as the road trip progresses, that it's hard to tell if Hughes just made up some excellent, insightful jokes or whether he actually tapped into some kind of greater TRUTH about the vagaries of American travel.

Bloodsport - Newt Arnold: Jean-Claude Van Damme and Steven Seagal still make movies, limp affairs that don't even hit theaters in America fueled solely by their fame from two decades ago.  If they had come along today as young men, they probably wouldn't have careers at all.  Their kind of second-tier low-budget mindless action films don't really exist any more.  Sure, some awful, low-budget action movies still come out direct-to-DVD, generally starring rappers or spun off from theatrical films (Roadhouse 2, anyone?), but it's just a dying form.  This is not necessarily a bad thing, though those of us who were young males in the 1980s may lament their passing.  Bloodsport, then, will always represent the pinnacle of this sub-sub-genre, the alpha male of semi-retarded movies in which a lot of guys elaborately punch and kick one another to win a tournament, rescue a girl or turn around a troubled neighborhood.   (Sometimes more than one!)  Most genres/long-form franchises have that one movie that summarizes the whole thing perfectly.  Goldfinger is like a Bond buffet; it has one of every kind of truly classic sequence.  Danger Diabolik is THE groovy Euro '60s comic book fantasy.  You watch that one first, then get the others out of the way.  That's what Bloodsport is to the Van Damme movies, and the Seagals and, to some extent, the Michael Dudikoffs - it's the '80s action Rosetta Stone.  Cherished sworn/object/keepsake/memento?  Check.  Foe with unnecessarily elaborate, showy fighting style?  Check.  Loud "nooooooooooooooooooooo!"  Check.  Excessively jiggling pectoral muscles?  Oh, you know that's a check...

Big Trouble in Little China - John Carpenter: To me, Kurt Russell/John Carpenter was one of the essential collaborations in '80s American cinema.  Their three films together - horror remake The Thing, dystopian adventure Escape from New York and this supernatural parody - defined "cult cinema" when I was growing up, even if I was mainly unaware of it at the time.  (Though I recall distinctly staying home sick from school one day and watching Big Trouble, and my mother getting upset with me because she thought I was intentionally ditching class to watch movies, which I totally was.)  Big Trouble is definitely a parody, but I'm not sure quite what specifically it's making fun of, aside from the exoticism of Asian culture throughout film history.  Perhaps the entire idea of action-adventure movies?  The baffling, esoteric schizophrenia, in which a guy who sounds like John Wayne is knocked around between a variety of kung fu and science-fiction villains, provides much of the film's charm, and the whole thing really shows off Carpenter's complete mastery of tone.  His film is exceptionally silly, but never TOO silly.  Like High Anxiety Mel Brooks, as opposed to the Men in Tights version.  Carpenter really doesn't get credit for this, but he made an incredibly wide variety of silly movies with a huge range of tones.  Some of his movies are intentionally silly, like this one and They Live, and they're appropriately funny.  But others are silly but trying to be very serious, like Halloween and Christine and The Thing, and those movies are appropriately not funny.  (I'll admit, they're not always scary).  How did he do it?

Robocop - Paul Verhoeven: Robocop really set the pattern for Paul Verhoeven's entire American career - it's a brilliant, subversive film with awesome special effects that was dismissed as just another violent "genre" film, entertaining but with no redeeming value.  How else to explain the film's detestable legacy, from Frank Miller's miserable sequels to the truly repellent TV incarnation?  Somehow, a pessimistic, satirical film about the coming Corporatism (an extremely prescient take on the subject, by the way) gave way to a franchise of futuristic, crime-fighting robots.  Too bad.  The original movie is complicated, entirely original and frequently funny.  It's the over-the-top, almost cartoonish violence everyone remembers (particularly Kurtwood Smith's...um...explosive send-off), but what I'm struck by when rewatching the film is how many laughs Verhoeven and star Peter Weller manage to wring from such a grim premise.  Their robot cop is exceptionally human, particularly when compared with the slimy company men all around him.

Cutter's Way - Ivan Passer: Cutter's Way is The Big Lebowski without the laughs, the story of a troubled Vietnam vet and his lethargic buddy who unwittingly stumble into a detective story and can't find their way out.  Also, they both star Jeff Bridges.  Yeah, it's kind of weird.  Here, The Dude plays a gigolo named Richard Bone.  Dick Bone!  I swear...check IMDb.  Anyway, Dick sees someone disposing of a body one night, and tells his friend Alex Cutter about it.  Cutter is played by John Heard, an immediately recognizable but not-exactly-famous character actor, in a remarkable, transformative performance.  In addition to authentically portraying Cutter's wounds - he's missing an eye, an arm and a leg - Heard embodies the dizzying combination of Cutter's quick wit, sharp temper and post-traumatic stress.  The Case of the Mysterious Dumped Body becomes a pretty standard movie redemptive journey for Cutter 'n Bone, but there's nothing conventional about Heard's character.  Cutter's pretty much a bastard - he abuses his wife, he's paranoid and delusional - yet we stick with him anyway.  The world owes him a favor.

Das Boot - Wolfgang Petersen: Why didn't Wolfgang Petersen come over to this country and make horror movies?  If Das Boot tells you anything about Petersen as a director, it's that the man knows tension.  This descent into water/madness lasts for 2 and a half to 3 and a half hours, depending on which version you watch, and they're none of them relaxing or comfortable.  I'm just saying, judging from his style here, Petersen's more suited to the quiet, grinding claustrophobia of the haunted house picture than the bloated disaster-at-sea piffle he's worked on lately.  It's hard to believe the same man who perfectly calibrates this hopeless nightmare-journey, with the crew of a German U-Boat fumbling around in the dark hoping to sink a few Allied vessels after joyless months at sea, moved on right after into The Neverending Story" and most recently churned out the one-two punch of Troy and Poseidon.  (New Rule: No more Classical titles for Wolfgang!)

Coup de Torchon - Bertrand Tavernier:

Another list, another gripping Tavernier masterpiece.  His nihilistic, cold Fresh Bait made my Best of the '90s list, and now his Jim Thompson adaptation Coup de Torchon cracks the '80s edition.  Tavernier moves Thompson's "Pop. 1280" from turn-of-the-century Texas to Senegal, 1938.  Broken-down Sheriff Nick Corey is now Lucien Cordier (the late Phillippe Noiret), but the story of his transformation from tortured soul into twisted, scheming monster has otherwise remained unchanged.  As in Scorsese's Taxi Driver, Tavernier provides hints here and there as to the source of Cordier's madness without ever trying to really explain his behavior.  Yes, he's trapped in a sham of a marriage with a woman who belittles and mocks him.  Yes, as a crooked lawman, he sees the blatant evil of a segregated, oppressive society all around him.  But there's something unnatural, gleeful, about Cordier's increasingly complicated, diabolical machinations.  It makes them more frightening and more fascinating.

House of Games - David Mamet: David Mamet's first film is also his best (remember, he didn't direct Glengarry Glen Ross, he only wrote it), centered around an electric performance from Joe Mantegna.  He's Mike the conman, who falls in with a psychiatrist (Lindsey Crouse, Mamet's wife at the time) after she pays off a patient's debt.  Mike's intrigued by her, and she seems fascinated by him and his world, so he slowly begins to take her into his confidence.  Which is never a good thing when you're dealing with a confidence man.  Mamet's film is full of great, instructive sequences about taking money from suckers; one particularly memorable scene finds Mantegna grifting William H. Macy at a Western Union.  As with all of the guy's zippy, quick-witted films, House of Games spins everything around a few times and subverts expectations, becoming almost a psychological thriller for a time before righting itself.  I'm not sure the climax is as successful as The Spanish Prisoner, another one of Mamet's talky headtrips, but it's still 10 times more clever than any of those Ocean films.

The Apple - Menahem Golan: If Satan ever collaborated on a disco musical with a roomful of third graders, the result would be nothing like The Apple.  It would be considerably better.  The Apple gets my vote for Worst Movie of All Time, which makes it essential viewing for any serious movie fan.  It's also quite possibly the ugliest movie ever made, with sequins and glitter covering every surface, even those that have no business coming into contact with sequins and glitter, such as an old man's eyebrows and/or crotch.  A quick plot summary: Evil record producer and possible Satan stand-in Mr. Boogalow (Vladek Sheybal) recruits stupid hippie Bibi (Catherine Mary Stewart) for his evil record label, BIM, which he's using to control everyone's mind!  In order to save her, Bibi's stupid hippie boyfriend Alphie (George Gilmour) will have to join forces with a dirty Hippie Leader (Joss Ackland).  And everyone's singing!  There's no way I can convey to you the awfulness of The Apple in a brief review, so I will instead comment on this one part of the movie that made me laugh in the theater.  An idiot is singing a disco song about an apple, which represents the apple from the Tree of Knowledge, but also disco, and also fame and fortune, and possibly also cocaine, and he needs to come up with a rhyme for the word "desire."  So he sings, "Meet an actual actual factual vampire" and then a woman in bad vampire make-up ducks into frame from below for a moment and shows her fangs.  Now, there are no vampires in this story.  Nothing has anything to do with vampires.  They just put that in there to rhyme with "desire."  I rest my case.

Pete

Blow Out - Brian De Palma:

This masterpiece of pure cinema was inspired by films such as Antonioni's Blow Up (1966), Coppola's The Conversation (1974) as well as real life events such as the Kennedy assassination and the Chappaquiddick incident. De Palma's talents are in top form in which the story and visuals both compliment each other perfectly. In the end it's a brilliant mix of his talents and vision as a post modern auteur.

Southern Comfort - Walter Hill: A stark, moody thriller about National Guardsmen who are sent on a practice recon into the Louisiana Bayou only to find themselves trying to stay alive when they cross paths with some crazed Cajuns. One of Hill's finest films.

The Thing - John Carpenter: One of the finest remakes ever made. Carpenter takes Howard Hawks' original sci-fi B movie and completely ups the ante and delivers a highly engaging, paranoia-filled gore film.

Repo Man - Alex Cox: A highly unique and entertaining punk rock sci-fi comedy piece that touches on the fear of the Nuclear era and blind consumerism. Featuring an incredible soundtrack by SoCal punk bands such as Black Flag, The Circle Jerks, Fear and The Plugz.

Wall Street - Oliver Stone:

A look at the extreme decadence of the 1980s yuppie lifestyle while taking us on a tour through the insider trading scandal. Featuring great performances by Charlie Sheen and of course Michael Douglas as the cutthroat tycoon Gordon Gekko. The film is dedicated to Stone's father, a Wall Street veteran.

The Breakfast Club - John Hughes: Classic teen angst comedy featuring a really incredible script by John Hughes. Everytime I watch this movie I'm stunned at how sharp the writing is. This film has really kept its potency as both a cool 80s film and a study of how young people see themselves and the older generations.

Once Upon a Time in America - Sergio Leone: A sprawling epic spanning 30 years in the life of a group of Jewish gangsters. Leone's final film was later edited (butchered would be a better word) for its initial American release and was ruined. The original cut is a beautiful, poetic look at a group of small time hoods who make their way from being mere street thugs to running vice in New York City. Standout performances by Robert DeNiro and James Woods.

Beverly Hills Cop - Martin Brest: One of the most entertaining films of the 1980s. Eddie Murphy is in top form as the 'fish out of water' police detective Axel Foley. Murphy has this incredible way of being hysterically funny one minute and tender the next. Featuring a memorable soundtrack by artists like Harold Faltermeyer and The Pointer Sisters.

Scarface - Brian De Palma: This film could be seen as a bookend to Stone's Wall Street and also a sort of modern take on Treasure of The Sierra Madre (just substitute cocaine for gold). It's The American Dream seen through paranoid, cocaine fueled eyes of a Cuban criminal. A stunning looking film where De Palma opted to invert the classic dark gangster story and make it a bright, neon filled drug king's paradise. Al Pacino's performance in this movie is just magnificent. I've seen him in all kinds of roles over the years but with Tony Montana he truly became something else.

First Blood - Ted Kotcheff: One of the best action-thrillers of the 1980s but also a very edgy character study dealing with the aftermath of the Vietnam War. Stallone gives one of his best performances here along with Brian Dennehy and Richard Crenna.

Evil Dead - Sam Raimi: The legendary indie film that took gory horror and mixed it with screwball-slapstick comedy in a brilliant way creating the new subgenre known as "splat-stick". Sam Raimi's direction is wild and highly inventive. The first role for future cult film icon Bruce Campbell.

Pee Wee's Big Adventure - Tim Burton: This is a special film that celebrates all the places we can go in movies. It's like some zany and over-the-top film experiment. Pee Wee is a crazy man-child looking for his stolen bike and goes on a road trip where we meet up with an array of odd and colorful characters. Danny Elfman's "Psycho goes to the Circus" score matches up perfectly with Burton's brilliantly bizarre cinematic style.