Best Films of the '80s

by Greg, Karla, Scott

Part Two

Greg

Raiders of the Lost Ark - Steven Spielberg:

The 1980's were undoubtedly a fun decade at the cinema, but Raiders of the Lost Ark is quite possibly the most enjoyable flick of the decade. The film was Spielberg's love letter to serials that most of us had never seen, but he created a movie that could pull in any viewer, whether they knew what a serial was or not. No small part of that universal appeal can be attributed to Harrison Ford in his greatest role as one of the most iconic heroes in Hollywood history. And can you possibly find cooler villains than Nazis bent on unlocking biblical power for their own evil designs?

 

Aliens - James Cameron: It's rarely a good sign when a sequel is helmed by someone other than the original director. Unless of course that person is James Cameron. I've often heard people refer to Michael Bay as the ultimate action movie director. I'm pretty sure those people have never seen a James Cameron movie that didn't take place on a boat though. With Aliens, James Cameron took a great thriller and adapted it into the quintessential sci-fi action movie. Just about everything in this movie has become an action cliché over the years, but you can't fault Mr. Cameron for making a blockbuster so effective that people would be ripping him off wholesale for decades.

 

Batman - Tim Burton: OK, so the movie is not without its flaws, but Tim Burton's Batman inarguably set a new benchmark in Hollywood blockbuster filmmaking. Batman proved to be one of the earliest examples of a summer movie not just being an entertaining way to kill an evening, but an event met with months of anticipation and spectacle. It also helped set up the elevation of the super-hero from comic book escapism to modern American mythology, a trend that reached fruition this decade. And no one can deny the classic performance of Jack Nicholson, one of our greatest actors as the Joker.

 

E.T.: The Extra Terrestrial - Steven Spielberg: I've long considered Steven Spielberg film's greatest director, and as much as I love just about all his movies, there is no doubt in my mind that ET is THE Steven Spielberg film. Science fiction has always been a staple of cinema, but ET brought a warmth and humanity to the genre that had never been seen before and seldom since. The movie is one of those rare timeless works of art that is every bit as effective today as it was in 1982 and probably will be for another 100 years.

 

Hannah and Her Sisters - Woody Allen: I'm always surprised when I find an ensemble picture that I really enjoy. 90% of the time they just don't work for me. And in Woody Allen, you have a filmmaker so talented at crafting a personal and intimate story, that you don't expect his style to work so well when taken into a broader scope. Hannah and Her Sisters showed that he was more than up to the task however and that he was capable of making great films that didn't revolve entirely around himself.

 

Back to the Future - Robert Zemeckis: Time travel and the fate of one's existence hanging in the balance are themes commonly found in blockbuster popcorn movies. A plotline hinging on trying to get your parents to hook up is not. It's funny that in many ways Back to the Future is one of the templates for modern event movies, but it's such an unlikely blockbuster. It's drenched in 50's nostalgia, and there's very few of the "money shots" typical of your usual summer movie, but for my money there's few films I have more fun watching.

 

Rain Man - Barry Levinson:

I've always been of the mind that Dustin Hoffman stands among the pantheon of greatest living American actors along with the likes of Al Pacino and Robert De Niro, even if his recent filmography doesn't support it (Hey, you can say that about those other 2 names too). Well to any disbelievers I offer up Rain Man as exhibit A. Playing the mentally challenged is always a tight rope act, often resulting in unintentional humor. I love Tom Hanks, but when I watch Forrest Gump, I see Tom Hanks playing dumb. In Rain Man, I just see Raymond Babbitt. Sure there's plenty of humor that comes from the situations the characters find themselves in, but you're never pulled out of the film by it. Incidentally that's a characteristic becoming increasingly rare in Tom Cruise movies too, but despite how big a jerk his character may be at times, you can't help but find yourself reminded of what a great actor the guy is when he's on.

 

The Right Stuff - Philip Kaufman: Most films about the Cold War era of the 1950's and 60's focus on the turbulence of the time, and frankly that angst can grate on me like nails on a chalkboard at times. How refreshing it is then to see a film about that period that focuses on optimism and perseverance against insurmountable odds. There are certain movies focusing on an event or place in time that capture said event so well that no other movie ever need bother trying. The Right Stuff is that film for the space race.

 

Say Anything - Cameron Crowe: Women want to be with him and men think they are him. No, I wasn't talking about James Bond just then, but Lloyd Dobler, the essential John Cusack role. Admittedly there is a fair amount of soap opera cheese in Cameron Crowe's directorial debut, but one thing it accomplishes very well is infusing its teenage characters with a realism not often seen in teen movies. And if you keep an eye out, you'll see one of the first appearances of longtime Cusack-associate: Jeremy Piven.

 

Sixteen Candles - John Highes: You can't make a list of important 80's movies without John Hughes. Most consider The Breakfast Club his finest hour, but I've always preferred Sixteen Candles. It's got all the elements of a cheesy high school movie, but somehow they work. The film has been ripped off approximately 1875 times, but how many of its imitators have a cast that includes Molly Ringwald, Anthony Michael Hall, and John Cusack? If you can find me three actors more representative of teen dramedy (and a film that includes all of these supposed people), I'd be quite impressed.

 

The Terminator - James Cameron: If there's a trend in my entries, it's probably a surplus of blockbusters and action movies. Maybe that's not what one tends to think of when compiling a list of great films, but hey that's what the 80's were all about. In that case, The Terminator is the granddaddy of them all. Nearly all modern action movies can be traced back to this film. Sure the effects may be dated, but you'll have a hard time finding a tighter and more pulse-pounding thriller.

 

Who Framed Roger Rabbit - Robert Zemeckis: For someone who loves film noir and classic cartoons, Who Framed Roger Rabbit? is just about one of the coolest movies ever made. There's something about the classic Disney and Warner Brothers 'toons that just never gets old. I laughed myself silly when I saw it as a kid and I still do today. And as groundbreaking as the special effects were, is there anything cooler than seeing Mickey Mouse and Bugs Bunny sharing screen time?

 

Karla

Airplane! - Jim Abrahams, David Zucker, Jerry Zucker: The ZAZ boys' (that's Zucker-Abrahams-Zucker to you) piss-take on the limpid disaster movie genre of the mid-1970s hit number one on Entertainment Weekly's "Funniest Movies of All Time" list a decade or so ago, and while these rankings predictably leave room for debate, it's pretty difficult to argue that this gleeful mishmash of knock-knock jokes, shit jokes, and libidinous automatic pilots doesn't achieve some kind of comic nirvana.  While the film's standouts - Lloyd Bridges as the air traffic controller ("Looks like I picked the wrong week to quit smoking/drinking/amphetamines/sniffing glue"), Peter Graves as Captain Oveur ("Joey, you ever been inside a Turkish prison?"), and Leslie Nielsen as the doctor ("I am serious. And don't call me Shirley")-deservedly score the loudest laughs, stars Robert Hays and Julie Haggerty offer up a charmingly goofy romantic subplot through virtue of their just-on-the-safe-side-of-satire straight man performances.  But it's Airplane!'s underlying intelligence that elevates the grade-school humor above itself, an element that, sadly, ZAZ wasn't quite able to duplicate in the nonetheless wildly successful Naked Gun series.

 

Radio Days - Woody Allen: Woody Allen's bittersweet, admittedly over-romanticized love letter to his 1940s childhood has been dissed in some quarters for those very qualities, but it's this unabashed sentimentality, paired with Allen's famous wit, that makes this movie so effective.  Featuring a very young Seth Green as Allen's childhood self, Allen's adorably nasal narration ushers us through a parade of old-time radio legends, including Wallace Shawn as The Masked Avenger and Mia Farrow as Sally White, the cigarette girl turned Hedda Hopper-esque radio gossip columnist who isn't quite able to shake her Brooklyn roots.  The film's final shot, a larger-than-life neon top hat slowly raising and lowering on the rooftop of a Manhattan nightclub, coupled with the wistful piano version of "September Song" that opens the movie, will leave you quite literally clutching your heart, despite-or perhaps because of-its deliberate grandiosity.

 

The Purple Rose of Cairo - Woody Allen:

Yet another uncharacteristically gooey offering from Mr. Allen, the film's brilliantly executed conceit - a romantic hero steps off the screen and into the drab life of a New Jersey waitress - appeals to unabashed romantics and film snobs alike.  With Mia Farrow as Daisy, the waitress trapped in an abusive marriage to everyone's favorite lug, Danny Aiello, and Jeff Daniels as Tom ?, the intrepid lover who, thanks to Breen Office-era mores, doesn't quite know what to do with a woman after the final dissolve, the film's, yes, madcap hilarity begs the question of what we would do if faced with the choice between our celluloid fantasy and our flesh and blood counterparts - not to mention the host of irate cinema owners screaming that Daniels' departure is obviously a Communist plot.

 

Sophie's Choice - Alan Pakula: The book is always better?  Not in the case of Sophie's Choice, thanks to Alan Pakula's masterful direction and screenplay adaptation and beautiful performances by Meryl Streep, Kevin Kline, and Peter MacNicol as the trio of friends/lovers who meet, love, and heal each others' deep wounds in a rooming house in post-World War II Brooklyn.  As the virginal, jug-eared young writer from the South, MacNicol's entrancement with Sophie and her brilliant, insane lover Nathan drives the story, blending seamlessly with Sophie's long confessional of her sentence in a concentration camp and her inevitable, devastating loss of her two children in an emotionally fraught but never overplayed relationship that more than earns the gallons of tears you'll shed at the film's equally devastating ending.

 

Au Revoir, Les Enfants - Louis Malle: Louis Malle's semi-autobiographical story of two boys who befriend each other in a French boarding school during World War II is as dramatic as you might expect, but Malle's deftness at portraying the everyday, often hilarious particulars of friendships between young, lonely teenage boys saves this film from maudlin tearjerking.  With Gaspard Manesse as Julien, the young Malle figure who discovers, quite by accident, the life-or-death secret his friend Jean Bonnet (Rafael Fejto) is hiding from the other boys, Au Revoir, Les Enfants is a stark, sobering reminder of both the terror of the Nazi occupation and the tragic, lifelong aftereffects of a single, split-second action.

 

Out of Africa - Sydney Pollack: Epic in the best sense of the word, Sydney Pollack's film version of Isak Dinesen's (known in the film by her given name, Karen Blixen) autobiography is at once a passionate love story between Meryl Streep and Robert Redford and an immensely engrossing history lesson about the oft forgotten European settling of East Africa at the end of World War I.  For me, though, the best moment of this film is one of its smaller ones, when Dinesen's former husband (Klaus Maria Brandauer), a philanderer who infected his wife with syphilis, returns to find Redford has moved in with Streep at the plantation house they once shared. Brandauer: "You should have asked her permission." Redford: "I did.  She said yes."

 

Tootsie - Sydney Pollack: Later for Rain Man and even The Graduate - Dustin Hoffman as Michael Dorsey/Dorothy Michaels is his best performance ever (well, okay, it's a toss-up between this and Kramer vs. Kramer, but still). With Jessica Lange as Hoffman's soap costar with whom he unwisely falls in love, Teri Garr as his fellow out-of-work actress friend with whom he, also unwisely, has sex after plundering her closet for drag garb, Dabney Coleman as the piggish director, and an uncredited Bill Murray as Hoffman's hilariously droll roommate, Tootsie's wet-your-pants merriment is generated, in no small part, by the non-gimmickiness of Hoffman's female alter ego who, unlike the vastly inferior Mrs. Doubtfire, we can totally buy as a force unto herself.  Also worth watching for the nostalgia trip of early '80s New York, back when it was still, you know, the city we love and miss sorely.

 

A Room with a View - James Ivory: Back in the day, before Ismail Merchant and James Ivory split up (which was not long after they became parodies of themselves, sadly), this veddy British producer/director team regularly produced such gems as A Passage to India and this giddy adaptation of E.M. Forster's novel.  I've never cared much for Helena Bonham Carter, but her portrayal of the stubbornly repressed Lucy Honeychurch is adequately charming, thanks to the superior supporting cast of Dame Maggie Smith as Bonham Carter's brittle, old maid cousin/chaperone, Dame Judi Dench as their libertine novelist traveling companion, Simon Callow as the prototypically jolly vicar, and Julian Sands as the brooding, beautiful romantic interest with whom Lucy is characteristically unable to admit she is madly in love, choosing instead to marry a side splittingly foppish Daniel Day-Lewis (whose subsequent heavy-handed dramatic roles make you wish he'd do more comedy).  Of course, the money shot of this film, so to speak, is the "come and have a bathe" sequence featuring the buff Sands and Rupert Graves and the portly Callow squealing and chasing each other around the local swimming hole, which left the stubbornly repressed fourteen-year-old me gasping for breath, and not just because seeing naked men running around is funny, if you get my drift.

 

The Killing Fields - Roland Joffé: It's perhaps no surprise that this immensely affecting semi-biographical film about the friendship between an American war correspondent and a Cambodian journalist was not a Hollywood blockbuster, as comparatively small and subtle as both its subject matter and performances are.  But it's this subtlety that gives The Killing Fields its continued staying power, embodied in Sam Waterston's portrayal of journalist Sydney Shanberg and non-actor (and Oscar winner) Dr. Haing S. Ngor's turn as the imprisoned Dith Pran.  Also worth the admission price is John Malkovich as the apathetic, drug-addicted American photographer who rouses himself from his stupor to forge documents for Pran and, of course, the late, great Spalding Grey's blip of an appearance that sparked the equally affecting (and non-Hollywood) Swimming to Cambodia.

 

An Officer and a Gentleman - Taylor Hackford: The ladies love Richard Gere; the fellows love Richard Gere doing pushups in the rain under the stern aegis of Louis Gossett, Jr. (and Debra Winger naked).  Panting aside, Taylor Hackford's An Officer and a Gentleman is also an intelligent and moving look at the brutal regimentation of both the American military and factory life, and of the complexities of human behavior around the minefield known as falling in love.  And even as a self-professed feminist, try as I might, I can't shake the intense eroticism of the film's ending, with Gere carrying Winger off the assembly room floor - and that's one of the scenes where the lovers actually have their clothes on. Sigh.

 

Christiane F. - Uli Edel: Despite the godawful dubbing job inflicted upon the English language release of this German film, it's impossible to diminish the impact of the image of a teenage heroin addict leaping over the wall of a public toilet to yank a syringe out of the fourteen-year-old protagonist's arm.  As directed by Uli Edel, Christiane F. is a raw, unrelenting shout of a film; those used to and expecting a simple just-say-no tale along the lines of Lifetime fodder should slip this back into the Netflix envelope posthaste.

 

The Accidental Tourist - Lawrence Kasdan: Director Lawrence Kasdan's faithful adaptation of author Anne Tyler's novel (Tyler also co-wrote the screenplay) is a lovely, literate version of the now-de rigeur Zorba the Greek plot, rendered all the more affecting by William Hurt's fine performance as Macon, the emotionally crippled travel writer further damaged by the brutal death of his young son and the end of his marriage to his wife Sarah (played beautifully by Kathleen Turner), and his tentative romance with an exuberant yet pragmatic Geena Davis as Muriel, the dog trainer and single mother who takes charge of Macon's errant Corgi and, ultimately, Macon's sterile life.  Adding further richness (and comic relief) are Ed Begley, Jr., David Ogden Stiers, and Amy Wright as Macon's similarly kooky, repressed siblings who pass the time alphabetizing the spice rack and wondering who could be calling instead of answering the phone.  Fans of Baltimore (yes, we exist) will adore the myriad, equally lovely location shots.

 

Born on the Fourth of July - Oliver Stone: I confess to having avoided this one for years thanks to the unfortunate presence of Tom Cruise, so I was pleasantly surprised to discover in my early twenties that Born on the Fourth of July is one of those rare films that actually lives up to its hype - and Cruise's presence is quite welcome for a change in an atypically human performance as Ron Kovick, the all-American good ol' boy who enlists in Vietnam because he believes it's the right thing to do and returns a drug-addicted paraplegic with a deep mistrust and loathing for the U.S. government.  Never one for subtlety, Oliver Stone's implacable directing (and co-writing of the screenplay with Ron Kovick) is also more than welcome here, as he and Cruise fully realize Kovick's transformation from Establishment apologist to rage-filled post-traumatic stress victim to an outspoken anti-war advocate and champion of human rights.

 

Bull Durham - Ron Shelton:

Another usually unwelcome presence, Kevin Costner, is uncharacteristically palatable in this energetic tale of sex, baseball, and rock and roll (well, at least the groupie aspect).  It doesn't hurt that the groupie in question is played by Susan Sarandon, whose luminous sexiness is at the center of a love triangle featuring Costner as the minor league catcher sent to the Class-A Durham Bulls to tame a rookie pitcher, played by Tim Robbins, who holds down the other end of the, um, fort.  Their erotic gymnastics aren't the only sport worth watching here, however; Bull Durham's unabashed love for the other all-American pastime elevates this film far above B-grade sex romp silliness.

 

High Hopes - Mike Leigh:  Don't be misled by reviewers' claims that this film is comic genius.  It is, all right, but in the way of Chekhov's The Seagull, not The Vicar of Dibley. That said, Mike Leigh's indictment of the British class system (and really, is there a Brit flick that isn't an indictment of the British class system?), as embodied by Marxist potheads Cyril and Valerie (Philip Davis and Ruth Sheen) and their Tory in-laws Martin and Valerie (Philip Jackson and Heather Tobias), is a grimly funny, slice-of-life gem.  Edna Doré as Cyril and Valerie's sweet, senile old mum is the standout here, and perhaps nowhere is the social commentary more scathing- or uproarious - than the scene in which Mum finds herself sheltering with her upwardly mobile neighbors after having locked herself out of her council flat, to be rescued by her daughter who shouts, after touring the neighbors' newly renovated public housing, "Mum, look what they've done with your coal-hole!"

 

Scott:

Raging Bull - Martin Scorsese:

Quite simply one of the finest films ever made and my choice for best film of the 80s. Raging Bull is brutal and unflinching inside and outside of the ring, but also finds the time to be lyrical and poignant as well. The sequence juxtaposing Jake's rise to boxing stardom with Super 8 home movie footage is one of the best uses of montage to advance the story. There are plenty of other moments that showcase Scorsese's flawless directing and they would be too many to name. His collaboration with DeNiro is at its best here as well, and I believe their work together in this and Taxi Driver are still their respective finest career achievements.

 

Koyaanisqatsi - Godfrey Reggio: A groundbreaking film that was the first of its kind and began Reggio's trilogy that also includes Powaqqatsi and Naqoyqatsi. The film's cinematographer, Ron Fricke, went on to make Baraka, which is in a similar vein as well. Koyaanisqatsi uses some of the most expertly photographed shots ever put to film to create an experimental work that displays man's chaotic effect on nature. The title itself translates to "life out of balance," and this notion is explored through the manipulation of images and use of montage that would have made Eisenstein proud. Also worth noting is Philip Glass' eerie, hypnotic score, which he only agreed to do after seeing footage from the film. Breathtaking and highly influential, Koyaanisqatsi is essential viewing for film buffs.

 

Raising Arizona - Coen Brothers : In my opinion, still the most entertaining Coen Brothers film. And that's saying A LOT. It's pretty hard to find better comedy writing than this. The tone is pitch perfect throughout and you can tell that the Coens got the best out of everyone involved. Whenever I find myself running down the street with a baby in one hand, diapers in the other, and the cops hot on my tail, I can't seem to get the film's catchy score out of my head. Also of note is Hi's epilogue voice over, which I just can't help but find oddly moving every time I watch the film.

 

Down By Law - Jim Jarmusch: I seem to always be including this on some kind of list for the site. But whatever, it deserves it. Jarmusch's simple, offbeat, and strangely poetic film tells the story of three men (played by Tom Waits, John Lurie, and Roberto Benigni) who couldn't possibly be more out of place with each other, yet wind up meeting in jail, forming a bond, and then escaping together into the Louisiana bayou. Their chemistry together is a joy to watch and can be looked at as one of those rare examples of perfect casting that turned out even better than expected. The film is gorgeously shot in black and white by Robby Muller, a classic 80s DP who was also responsible for photographing another film on my list (Paris, Texas).

 

The Shining - Stanley Kubrick:

Kubrick. Nicholson. Strange, supernatural hotel. Crazy hedge maze chase. Scatman Crothers. There really isn't much else to say. This choice is pretty obvious.

 

Wings of Desire - Wim Wenders: Wenders' beautiful, moving film focuses mainly on two angels who are "stationed" in Germany towards the end of the Berlin Wall days. This set up is used to give a sort of cross section of Germany at this time, as the angels shift their perspective amongst various individuals. Two people in particular become quite important. One is Peter Falk, as himself, who is on location for a film and may just have a surprising connection with the angels. The other is a beautiful trapeze artist who catches the eye of one of the angels, thus renewing his desire to be mortal again. Out of all of this, a life-affirming tale emerges with numerous political and philosophical implications. Though it was crappily "redone" in America as City of Angels, this film has very few similarities and should be experienced by all film lovers.

 

Paris, Texas - Wim Wenders: If you're familiar with how brilliant Harry Dean Stanton is, then chances are you've seen this film. Stanton plays Travis, a man who turns up in the middle of the desert, unable to recall what happened in the past four years of his life. Wenders' offbeat film is engaging from the first frames and takes its time unfolding as the pieces of Travis' past slowly fit into place. It all leads up to a long, climactic encounter between two individuals that is one of the best written, directed, and acted scenes of all time.

 

Ferris Bueller's Day Off - John Hughes: As a young kid, it sort of became a tradition between my brother and I to watch this movie any time we were home sick from school, so it has a special place in my memories. Even today though, I still find great pleasure in viewing Ferris' adventures across Chicago with his friends. It's Hughes' finest achievement in my opinion. Sure, Ferris and his friends are all spoiled brats when you really think about it, but the film's final act makes up for it with the cathartic destruction of the Ferrari – a metaphor for the pointlessness of material possessions. Also deserves mention for being one of the rare screenplays in which the main character does not undergo a life-changing arc, but instead serves as the catalyst for change in the characters around him.

 

Crimes and Misdemeanors - Woody Allen: One of Allen's most ambitious efforts, Crimes and Misdemeanors brings his obsession with the dichotomy between comedy and tragedy to the forefront. "Comedy equals tragedy plus time," remarks Alan Alda's character, in one of the more memorable lines. Half the film follows Judah (a superb Martin Landau), a man dealing with the guilt of deciding to have his mistress whacked by a hitman. The more comedic half follows Allen's character Clifford, a filmmaker who falls for the producer of a TV documentary that he doesn't want to be making in the first place. Structure is the key here, and though it's not cohesive in the typical narrative sense, it all comes together in the end when Judah and Clifford happen to meet up with each other at a wedding. The philosophy towards life that Allen deals with in the film is a tad cynical, but difficult to disagree with.

 

The Elephant Man- David Lynch: One of Lynch's more accessible films tells the tale of the "hideous" John Merrick, a disfigured outcast whose inner soul allows him to mingle amongst the social elite of Victorian society. The Elephant Man is a bittersweet, expertly crafted film featuring great performances from John Hurt, Anthony Hopkins, and Anne Bancroft. Also boasts top notch photography, production design, and music, while also displaying Lynch's enormous directing talents that were only hinted at in his more experimental debut, Eraserhead.

 

A Fish Called Wanda - Charles Crichton: Penned by John Cleese (his funniest post-Python project), A Fish Called Wanda is one of the best comedies of all time. It's filled with laughs from start to finish and is worth watching just for Kevin Kline's amazing comedic turn as paranoid criminal Otto and Michael Palin's stuttering animal enthusiast who keeps accidentally killing dogs.

 

Platoon - Oliver Stone: I'm really not a fan of Oliver Stone, yet here I am including one of his films on another best of the decade list. Though it's not the best film ever made about Vietnam, and maybe not even the best 'Nam film of the 80s, Platoon is still a powerful and effective piece of work. Stone actually fought in Vietnam and his own personal experiences add a certain layer of authenticity to the proceedings. Great character work from Charlie Sheen, Tom Berenger, Willem Dafore, and John C. McGinley.

 

Dead Ringers - David Cronenberg: Have you ever sat around and said to yourself, "I wonder why no one ever made a film in which Jeremy Irons plays twin gynecologists." Well, turns out your prayers were answered back in the 80s when David Cronenberg made Dead Ringers. Like most of Cronenberg's films, Dead Ringers is equal parts disturbing and fascinating. The unusual bond between the twins is explored with great depth and their plunge into despair plays out perfectly. A large amount of credit goes to Irons, whose work is flat out genius. Viewing the film can be somewhat draining, but it ends in such a masterful, cathartic fashion that one can't help but be stunned by its brilliance.

Continue to Part III