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Highly Recommended: Picks From The Aspect Ratioby Anna, Ari, Brian, Caitlin, Chris, Erik, Fraser, Gregory, John C., Jose, Lons, Scott, and Yuki
What follows is an eclectic list of over 100 great films - a list that represents each of our individual tastes. The following films are a combination of what we consider to be influential and important works, while inserting personal favorites that deserve to be lauded and seen again. These films are old and new, domestic and foreign. A list such as this is meant to be entertaining and enjoyable, not a serious dissection of the many great films that have been released in the last century. Thousands of great films will obviously be excluded, so the following is basically a fun and amusing way to introduce our general tastes and interests in film. And who knows, maybe this will be useful when renting movies at a video store or something. Enjoy. Kissing Jessica Stein (Charles Herman-Wurmfeld 2001) A Woody Allen-esque lipstick lesbian romp through the fast-paced, twenty-something singles scene in New York. Full of witty rejoinders and awkward sex scenes between the leading ladies and co-writers Heather Juergensen and Jennifer Westfeldt. A classically cut, independently produced romantic comedy and a must-see for any bi-curious straight girls looking for tips on how to pick up neurotic women.
Harakiri (Masaki Kobayashi, 1962) This bold and riveting historical drama features Tetsuya Nakadai in his best role as disgruntled warrior Hanshiro Tsugumo, avenging the death of his son-in-law while challenging the very nature of samurai principles. Thrilling and moving, this is one of Koboyashi’s masterworks. White Nights (Luchino Visconti, 1957) Visconti’s beautiful, poetic adaptation of Dostoevksy’s exceptional short story on romance and loneliness, starring the great Marcello Mastroianni and the exquisite Maria Schell. The deeply atmospheric cinematography is among the best I’ve seen, the performances are both sweet and wrenching, and the ending is classic. THX-1138 (George Lucas, 1971) Lucas’ first and most experimental film is his most intriguing and adult. It’s no wonder the director of this disturbing, tense sci-fi thriller went on to change film with his monumental Star Wars series. THX 1138 is inventive and visionary, a stunning debut. Goodfellas (Martin Scorsese, 1990) The ultimate crime epic made by the best American filmmaker of the last thirty years. The meticulous detail, the outbursts of brutal violence, the great performances - Goodfellas is uncompromising filmmaking in every way. Funny, vicious, and completely entertaining. The best American film of the 90’s. Fitzcarraldo (Werner Herzog, 1982) Epic filmmaking. Herzog’s greatest work. One of my absolute favorite films. Herzog’s craft and technique is incredible to watch and Klaus Kinski’s wildly intense performance is unforgettable. Fitzcarraldo is cinema at its most overwhelming and artistic. Amazing. Blue Velvet (David Lynch, 1986) Lynch’s haunting visions represent one of the most singular, fascinating filmmakers in American film. Blue Velvet is a powerful voyeuristic nightmare and peculiar, surprisingly touching love story. Lynch’s blend of ideas and sensibilities is like no other, and Blue Velvet features his most dramatic and intriguing characters. Excellent work by Isabella Rossellini, Kyle MacLachlan, Dennis Hopper, and the fantastic Laura Dern. I Am Cuba (Mikheil Kalatozishvili, 1964) Easily the most visually astounding film I have ever seen. What this film accomplishes with its visuals is beyond extraordinary. I have no idea how they constructed many of the shots, but the sweeping, gliding, flying, tracking camera movements and long, uncut takes dwarf just about everything seen today. A mesmerizing example of visual mastery. Top Hat (Mark Sandrich, 1935) Pure and classical entertainment with the incomparable Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers, two of the greatest performers in Hollywood history. Charming and hilarious, with some of the best dancing put on film. It’s impossible to watch this and not have a good time.
Le Samouraï (Jean-Pierre Melville, 1967) Slick, sharp thriller by the director of Le Cercle Rouge and Army of Shadows with the cool Alain Delon in his best performance. Melville’s precise style and quiet, subtle tone has inspired many great filmmakers since the film’s release. John Woo calls this “a perfect film”. I won’t disagree. Seven Days in May (John Frankenheimer, 1964) Burt Lancaster (my favorite actor) is exceptional as an enraged General who plots a military take-over of the government. Kirk Douglas and Ava Gardner co-star in this expertly written political thriller from the great John Frankenheimer. Fargo (Joel Coen, 1996) "Oh ya?" "Ya." American Movie (Chris Smith, 1999) Documentary about the making of quite possibly the most independently made film of all time. Mark Borchardt manages to be equal parts pathetic and endearing. Almost Famous Untitled: The Director's Cut Bootleg Edition (Cameron Crowe, 2001) Phenomenal… absolutely blows the theatrical version away. Magnolia (PT Anderson, 1999) The pacing and editing are literally breathtaking. I was exhausted after seeing this in the theater. Watching this movie is an emotional experience.
The Departed (Martin Scorsese, 2006) I wanted to have a recent movie on my list, and I firmly believe that this is the best movie to come out of Hollywood since Pulp Fiction. Fantasia (Produced by Walt Disney, 1940) Elevated animation from children's cartoons to a true art form. Rebel Without a Cause (Nicholas Ray,1955) The film that made James Dean an icon. "You're tearing me apart!" West Side Story (Robert Wise/Jerome Robbins, 1940) It should be mandatory to whistle the Jets' greeting anytime a fly over view of New York City is used in a film. The Empire Strikes Back (Irvin Kershner, 1980) Empire has always been my favorite of the Star Wars
Gone with the Wind (Victor Fleming, 1939) Epic in every sense of the word, this admittedly romanticized tale of life in the Old South before, during and after the Civil War is an absolute marvel that still stands up today, despite the presence of a few cringe-worthy stereotypes. Vivien Leigh and Clark Gable embody what it means to truly be movie stars. The Princess Bride (Rob Reiner, 1987) A fairy tale for the modern age, William Goldman's brilliant screenplay takes everything we love about classic tales of adventure and romance and turns it on its ear. Nineteen years later, and it's still laugh-out-loud funny. Memorable characters, spectacular swordplay, witty banter, and a great love story all in one movie? Inconceivable! Moulin Rouge! (Baz Luhrmann, 2001) It single-handedly brought back the movie musical, at least for a little while. Baz Luhrmann's lush, frenetic, and indulgent style lends itself perfectly to the beautiful doomed romance between a writer and a courtesan. Outrageously anachronistic pop songs like "Roxanne" and "Like a Virgin" seem to make perfect sense here, in a wild Bohemian fantasy world where anything can happen, and love matters above all things. Fight Club (David Fincher, 1999) A dismal look at masculinity and consumerism, David Fincher introduced a nihilistic underground society that morphs from a playful haven from mainstream ideals to a dangerous cult-like organization. Edward Norton and Brad Pitt are spectacular as the wide-eyed nameless narrator and the commanding anarchist Tyler Durden, respectively, and spectacular visuals put us right in the middle of their twisted world. Monty Python and the Holy Grail (Terry Gilliam/Terry Jones, 1975) It's the ultimate absurdist comedy – coconuts and French guards and killer rabbits, oh my! Each scene is more nonsensical than the last, and Python fans wouldn't have it any other way. It's unlike any other comedy before or since, and it's a goldmine of outrageously funny moments. Pulp Fiction (Quentin Tarantino, 1994) It's completely off-the-wall, intense, visceral, bloody, vulgar, beautiful, and above all, cool trip. Quentin Tarantino takes a handful of rather despicable characters and lets us follow them around all day as they go about their everyday, underhanded business, and just for kicks, tells the story all out of order. Every scene feels like something out of a fantasy and completely true-to-life all at once. It's endlessly quotable, stylish, and it stays with you for days afterwards.
Batman Begins (Christopher Nolan, 2005) By telling the origin story of Batman, Christopher Nolan essentially erased the previous four films, distancing the character from the campy farce he had become in the nineties and creating a dark, deeply human tale, and possibly the greatest comic book movie ever made. Christian Bale absolutely shines, playing not one but three characters: Batman the symbol, Bruce Wayne the public playboy, and Bruce Wayne the very private man. It's more than a comic book movie; it's a psychological thriller and an intriguing character study. The Wizard of Oz (Victor Fleming, 1939) It's hard to think of a movie moment more magical than when Dorothy steps out of her drab, black-and-white Kansas cottage and into the amazing Technicolor land of Oz. Everything about this film is classic, down to the simple message that, even if the alternative is a magnificent, colorful fantasy world, there's really no place like home. Rocky (John G. Avildsen, 1975) While it could easily be dismissed as schlock based solely on Sylvester Stallone's name in the credits next to "screenwriter," this star-making vehicle is a genuinely great film, and well-written to boot. It's a classic feel-good underdog story with one of the most triumphant finales in cinematic history and more heart than any boxing movie should. It's a Wonderful Life (Frank Capra, 1946) Known to most as a Christmastime staple, this is film that doesn't get the year-round viewing it deserves. The plight of George Bailey is one that anyone can relate to: the feeling that, no matter what you do, everything will always go wrong. It's only when George realizes what he already has that he is able to live a truly fulfilled life, and the audience is more than willing to take the ride with him. 12 Angry Men (Sidney Lumet, 1957) It could easily be the most boring film ever made, with only 12 nameless characters and the action confined to a single room. And yet, excellent acting, magnificent directing, and a truly intriguing storyline come together to form a powerful portrait of a dozen ordinary men who must decide if a young man lives or dies. Toy Story (John Lasseter, 1995) Much more than a technical milestone, with this, the first feature-length computer-animated film, Pixar was able to bring truly human life to toys, and created a genuinely entertaining experience for kids and adults alike. It was groundbreaking, in more ways than one, and big name studios are still trying to imitate it. The Ten Commandments (Cecil B. DeMille, 1956) No book is as epic and massive as the Bible, and yet it is hardly cinematic. Perhaps this explains the extreme Hollywoodization of the book of Exodus, but the many liberties taken do nothing to lessen the effectiveness of the story. It's dramatic and broad, and yes, epic, and the climactic parting of the Red Sea is still captivating today.
Tokyo Story (Yasujiro Ozu, 1953) Yasujiro Ozu's masterpiece of Japanese filmmaking has to take top spot. It works brilliantly as a subtle mood piece that portrays the trip an elderly couple make to Tokyo to visit their grown-up children. The shooting style is minimal and reserved, with the film full of quiet and thoughtful small moments that touch the heart and soul. Amazingly, Ozu totally avoids drowning the film in sentimentality. Its devastating emotional impact is drawn as much from what is unsaid and unshown as from what is revealed. 2001: A Space Odyssey (Stanley Kubrick, 1968) Years ahead of its time when it was released in 1968, and to this day certain critics and audiences still don't know what to make of it. Undoubtedly one of the most ambitious films ever made on a Hollywood budget – it crams in a story that spans the prehistoric age to the beginning of the third millennium. The words 'transcendent' and 'hypnotic' are keywords when describing Stanley Kubrick's science-fiction epic. Hiroshima Mon Amour (Alain Resnais, 1959) Alain Resnais takes the bombing of Hiroshima and uses it as a visual and literal metaphor in this sombre love story – where a French woman and a Japanese man participate in a brief affair in post-war Japan. An important chapter in the French New Wave, not only due to its contrasting themes (love and death, war and peace, living and remembering), but also its innovative use of flashbacks. Leon (Luc Besson, 1994) Luc Besson's outstanding American debut, which is an example of an action film done absolutely right – completely driven by the characters. Aside from expertly choreographed violence, at its core is the complex bond between a young girl and a professional hitman. The uncut European version, which contains 24 minutes of restored footage, develops the emotional drama even more. Badlands (Terrence Malick, 1973) Initally sounding tired and unoriginal, with its tale of a disillusioned teenager and her violent boyfriend going on a gratuitous homicidal spree across the country. However what distinguishes the film is Terrence Malick's unique attitude towards psychological motivation - the dialogue tells us one thing, the images another. The young couple travel across the plains of Montana and South Dakota, where Malick makes use of poetry and lyricism - belying the brutal story he's telling.
Band of Outsiders (Jean Luc-Godard, 1964) Jean-Luc Godard pays homage to American pulp novels and noir cinema with his most inviting and accessible film. Every hallmark of the French New Wave is here, from the jazz score and location shooting, to the guerrilla filmmaking approach. Due to its sense of cinematic adventure there are times the film completely forgets that it's supposed to be a thriller. Helped by its spontaneous moments of energy (the famous Madison dance for example), it's probably the most charming film ever made. All About Lily Chou-Chou (Shunji Iwai, 2001) Shunji Iwai's exploration of teenage angst and escapism in modern Japan is more than simply a film - it's an experience. Iwai tells the story of a group of high school students over a two-year period - shifting back and forth in time to weave a tapestry of emotions and issues. Topics such as bullying, group dynamic, peer pressure and family dysfunction are all explored. At times it's frustratingly opaque, and yet it stays with you in a way similar to that of a fragmented dream. Happy Together (Wong Kar-Wai, 1997) A hypnotic and haunting piece of cinema by Wong Kar-wai - exploring love, exile, reunion, and the border between old endings and new beginnings. A largely improvised narrative follows the unpredictable relationship of two gay men as they struggle for economic and emotional stability in the neighbourhood of La Boca, Argentina. It's perfectly photographed by Christopher Doyle who creates a kaleidoscope of beautiful images - using monochrome, colour filters, and a variety of film stock. The Bicycle Thief (Vittorio De Sica, 1948) Arguably the most important film of the Italian Neorealism movement, The Bicycle Thief is a true classic. It tells the story of an impoverished father and son walking the streets of post-war Rome, desperately looking for their stolen bicycle. Vittorio De Sica combines documentary, melodrama, and social commentary to create a simple but deeply compassionate film. Hana-Bi (Takeshi Kitano, 1997) Takeshi Kitano's mature and personal film is also his finest contemporary work of art. The plot concerns a retired police officer who must care for his dying wife while being hunted by the Yakuza. Not so much about the events described in any given synopsis, rather the moments in between and the emotions they give out. Worth seeing alone for Kitano's Zen-like directing style - one that juxtaposes lingering images of beauty with sudden bursts of violence. Stranger Than Paradise (Jim Jarmusch, 1984) Words cannot convey the enthusiasm and love for this film, one that probably ignited my passion for cinema. Routinely criticized for being a film about nothing - Jim Jarmusch's window into slacker life is anything but. Because it's so minimalist, so lacking interest in building fiction, the film achieves something real - it's as aimless as the world it depicts. Distinctly European in style due to its unusual editing, live sound, and often hilarious thanks to the three central characters that contribute enormously to the films success.
Apocalypse Now (Francis Ford Coppola, 1979) Francis Ford Coppola’s hallucinatory, drug induced rock n’ roll war film is a paean to the art and hell that is filmmaking. More a film about the madness of humanity than another Vietnam War story, Apocalypse Now is proof that no matter what goes wrong during the production of a movie, if you have a brilliant artist behind it all the film can still be a masterpiece. The film’s brilliant opening perfectly captures the essence of the entire film by playing The Doors’ “The End” while a jungle is incinerated by napalm. Chinatown (Roman Polanski, 1974) Roman Polanski won the Best Director Oscar for The Pianist, but this is far and away his best film. Chinatown is the sum of three unbelievably talented artistic voices: Polanski, screenwriter Robert Towne (who came away with the film’s only Oscar), and Jack Nicholson. A dark and intriguing noir built around California circa 1930, it also contains some of the most shockingly memorable scenes in film history (the nose scene, “she’s my sister and my daughter,” and of course the downbeat but all too real ending). A Clockwork Orange (Stanley Kubrick, 1971) Stanley Kubrick’s bleak futuristic tale adapted from Anthony Burgess’ novel of the same name is still capable of shocking today’s desensitized cinema audiences. Malcolm McDowell gives one of the best, most charismatic performances of all time playing the role of Alex, a man whose principle interests include Beethoven, rape, and a bit of the old ultra-violence. The mere fact that the character is so memorable while being so despicable a human being is evidence enough of Kubrick’s artistic luminosity. And it’s one of the most beautifully photographed films of all time. Donnie Darko (Richard Kelly, 2001) Richard Kelly’s mind-bending debut mixes genres and ideas so fervently and frequently, and with such ease that it’s hard to forget that this is his debut film. Part 80’s period piece/science-fiction/character study/suburban drama/black comedy - all melded into one undeniably (and unforgettable) fantastic film experience. A film that requires multiple viewings, and improves upon each one, Donnie Darko is daring enough to let audiences decide for themselves what it all means, making the film a truly singular experience. The Lord of the Rings Trilogy (Peter Jackson, 2001, 2002, 2003) Peter Jackson’s accomplishments on the most ambitious filmmaking project of all time have been highly touted ever since The Fellowship of the Ring was released in 2001. Sometimes you have to give credit where credit’s due. Just how did a relatively unknown New Zealand filmmaker take on J.R.R. Tolkien’s supposed “unfilmmable” trilogy and turn it into the best trilogy of all time? With a love for the material and wonderful use of his home country as a stand-in for Middle-Earth, that’s how. No other film (and yes, this is one big story split in three parts) has delivered the most amazing battle scenes and special effects in history coincided with terrific acting, writing, and emotion. The Godfather: Part II (Francis Ford Coppola, 1974) Francis Ford Coppola may have made the best film of all time with The Godfather, but for my money it doesn’t get any better than seeing the rise of young Vito Corleone (played by a mesmerizing Robert De Niro) juxtaposed with the rise of his son Michael (Al Pacino, in one of the most legendary screen performances of all time). The duel stories are exactly what make Part II better. More complex, and building on the characters from the first film, the best sequel ever made is exactly that because it does what no other sequel has ever accomplished: it enlarges the scope and canvas of the characters and the story.
Memento (Christopher Nolan, 2000) Christopher Nolan may be the smartest filmmaker working today. With Memento, he reinvented narratvie techniques to deliver one of the most mind-boggling forays into a character's head, all in a noir-style mystery thriller. Truly unforgettable. Se7en (David Fincher, 1995) David Fincher's dark, disturbing and suprising thriller is the serial killer film to which all others should be judged. Not only is it incredbily suspenseful, but writer Andrew Kevin Walker mixes in moments of realism not typically seen in this genre. Take the scene where Morgan Freeman and Brad Pitt (brilliantly playing off each other's strengths in their cop roles) discuss if they've ever fired their guns before. Has any cops and criminals movie ever been so forthcoming and honest about the regualrness of being a crime fighter? The Usual Suspects (Bryan Singer 1995) , Bryan Singer has become a comic book-to-film auteur, but his debut is as impressive as anything in contemporary American cinema. The script, written by Oscar-winner Christopher McQuarrie, contains perhaps the greatest twist in film history, and not only does it turn the story on its head it also challenges the notion of storytellers and what can believed as real or fictional. Never has a twist ending commented so articulately on the art and manipulation of filmmaking. The Wild Bunch (Sam Peckinpah, 1969) Sam Peckinpah was clearly a mad genius director. The best western ever made puts on display his incredible talents, and all action films that have come after it have mimiced its slow motion gunfights and elegiac chracters hoping for one last score.
Once Upon a Time in America (Sergio Leone, 1984) Butchered on its original release, the restored version now available on DVD shows that this is Leone's masterpiece. It’s an epic film in every sense of the word. Les Mepris (Contempt) (Jean-Luc Godard, 1963) With Roaul Coutard's incredible cinematography and the luscious Brigitte Bardot, it's almost impossible to dislike this film, despite Godard's best efforts to separate the audience from the onscreen action. Malcolm X (Spike Lee, 1992) This film was to be directed by Norman Jewison until Spike Lee claimed only a black director could properly film the life of the controversial figure. Watching this film alongside Jewison's The Hurricane, it's clear that Lee was correct. Singin' in the Rain (Stanley Doden/Gene Kelly, 1952) What can you say about this movie that hasn't been said? It's just a good time start to finish. Rio Bravo (Howard Hawks, 1959) This is another timeless Hollywood masterpiece. Like most Hawks films it's a tale of men under extreme pressure, and he and the actors create fantastic characters that audience's can really get behind and root for. Born on the Fourth of July (Oliver Stone, 1989) Based on the autobiography of Vietnam veteran Ron Kovic, here played by Tom Cruise here in his best performance. Causes one to wonder how the veterans of current wars will be treated on their return home. Husbands and Wives (Woody Allen, 1992) One of Allen's bleakest pictures, the movie was forgotten on its release due to the controversy at the time surrounding Allen's divorce with Mia Farrow. It deserves a second look, as it's one of the most honest looks at marriage ever brought to the screen. Rear Window (Alfred Hitchcock, 1954) Probably the closest instance of a "perfect" suspense film. No actress has ever looked better than Grace Kelly as shot by Hitchcock here. The Treasure of the Sierra Madre (John Huston, 1948) While the story doesn't sound like much fun - three luckless derelicts strike gold in the mountains and slowly turn on each other - John Huston's direction and the performance of his father, Walter, make this an exciting, supremely entertaining picture. Bogart gives a career-best performance.
The Conversation (Francis Ford Coppola, 1974) It's hard to choose one film of Coppola's four greats (Apocalypse Now and The Godfather I and II being the other three), but this is his most personal, and reveals more and more depth on subsequent viewings.
Star Wars (George Lucas, 1977) - A film that has literally changed the way Hollywood operates (in both positive and negative ways). This film brought back wonder and excitement to the multiplex. Not just one of the greatest films ever, but an essential piece of American pop culture. The Godfather (Francis Ford Coppola, 1972) The most obvious choice ever, but obvious for a reason. It's impossible for anyone to watch this film and not get sucked into the corruption of Michael Corleone. A film that truly gets better with each viewing. Annie Hall (Woody Allen, 1977) The film that redefined Hollywood romance. Nearly every romantic comedy since has attempted to emulate it in some way, but very few have come close to the witty charm and honest humanity of Annie Hall.
The Deer Hunter (Michael Cimino, 1978) One of the most scathingly critical war movies ever made. Art and literature have always acted as means to critique our society and leaders. Rarely has the medium of film done this more effectively than The Deer Hunter. Halloween (John Carpenter, 1978) Possibly the most copied film ever. Today horror isn't a terribly respected genre (and with good reason), but it is hard to deny how suspenseful and revolutionary this film was. Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid (George Roy Hill, 1969) The original buddy action-comedy. Even those who don't usually go for westerns can appreciate the humor and thrills Butch and Sundance encounter. Mean Streets (Martin Scorsese, 1973) The film that introduced the world to Martin Scorcese and Robert De Niro, and changed the face of crime drama. The Graduate (Mike Nichols, 1967) Very few movies can be generation-defining and still be relatable to audiences born after said generation. Equally hilarious and heart-breaking, The Graduate set the standard for films trying to capture the spirit of troubled youth. Oh yeah, and it practically invented the motion picture soundtrack. E.T.: The Extra-Terrestrial (Steven Spielberg, 1982) The film that proved that science fiction could be every bit as personal and human as any other genre. A timeless film that will be bringing new audiences to tears for years to come. Ben-Hur (William Wyler, 1959) The phrase "They don't make movies like they used to" might be a cliche at this point, but it's perfectly appropriate when referring to this film. The historical epic may be as dead as the silent film today, but Ben-Hur stands as a stunning reminder of how grand the movies once were.
Terminator 2: Judgement Day (James Cameron, 1991) After about a decade of mediocre action films, James Cameron set the standard for what an action film needs to be. 15 years later, the special effects still hold their own. Resevoir Dogs (Quentin Tarantino, 1992) Reignited the "indie" film amongst common popularity. King Kong (Merian C. Cooper/Ernest B. Schoedsack, 1933) A breakthrough in visual effects that has lasted long enough to be a favorite of film-lovers today. Jaws (Steven Spielberg, 1975) Any film as simple as Jaws that has the social impact of this Speilberg film has to be included on this list. Psycho (Alfred Hitchcock, 1960) Very controversial at the time of its release, this Hitchcock film challenged the limits of what was acceptable for films of its decade. Rashomon (Akira Kurosawa, 1950) Introduced the world to the perfected non-linear storyline.
The Texas Chainsaw Massacre (Tobe Hooper, 1974) Created the modern horror genre. Guess Who's Coming To Dinner (Stanley Kramer, 1967) Went against racial norms and led to a non-segregated film industry. Citizen Kane (Orson Welles, 1941) Not only had breakthroughs in acting and story development, but had unprecedented achievements in sound and cinematography. The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly (Sergio Leone, 1966) Where would the modern shoot'em up be without this film?
8 ½ (Federico Fellini, 1961) A love song to cinema that showcased Fellini's whimsical ability to make a masterpiece that talks about nothing other than him and gives us a hint of what the creative process of a genius must be like. The 400 Blows (François Truffaut, 1959) The simple and seemingly old fashioned story of a rebellious child heralded the arrival of a style that revolutionized the concept of filmmaking. A Streetcar Named Desire (Elia Kazan, 1951) Bringing together the two most influential acting styles of its time, the film constructs its disturbing plot as a trap that you are more than willing to fall into. The best ensemble of all time. Sunset Blvd. (Billy Wilder, 1950) The harshest look the film industry has ever given itself; Wilder imprints this with cynicism, heartbreak and fills it with that which might be human kind's biggest fear: the idea of being forgotten. The Passion of Joan of Arc (Carl Dreyer, 1928) The cinematic equivalent of the Mona Lisa, it focuses on faces (especially that of Falconetti as the French heroine) but conveys such emotional power and truth that it feels as if you were watching the "real thing". L'Atalante (Jean Vigo, 1934) Perhaps the most romantic film of all time! Its innocence and ethereal beauty haunt you for days after you see it and film romance rarely felt as intense and urgent as it does here. Vertigo (Alfred Hitchcock, 1958) Necrophilia had never been as seductive and romantic as in this tale of a romance destined to fail over and over and over…Hitchcock exposed one of his darkest sides ever and made Jimmy Stewart give the performance of his life.
Far From Heaven (Todd Haynes, 2002) A film inspired by 50s melodramas that avoids camp, cynicism and irony going instead for utter beauty and emotional punch. This is a poem about the unspoken in which Julianne Moore gives one of the best female performances I've seen. Cabaret (Bob Fosse, 1972) Musicals had avoided being all of the following: political, rude, sexual and dark. After Bob Fosse's adaptation of the stage show, the genre was given new cinematic life. Dr. Strangelove: or How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb (Stanley Kubrick, 1964) Life's too short, so instead of settling for panic and hysteria about the "imminent" nuclear war, Stanley Kubrick chose to make us laugh about a situation that still might gives us goosebumps.
The Lady Eve (Preston Sturges, 1941) Preston Sturges' tightly-wound shipboard farce may be the most perfectly conceived and constructed comedy of all time. The elements are set into place with remarkable efficiency - a brilliant sassy con artist (Barbara Stanwyck) messes around with a wealthy halfwit (Henry Fonda) as revenge after a brief flirtation turns sour. From that simple premise comes a 90 minute whirlwind of assumed identities, bed tricks and impossibly well-timed set pieces that has inspired pretty much every funny American filmmaker since. Modern audiences not savvy to classic films beyond Three Stooges shorts, Gone With the Wind and Ben-Hur may be surprised a black and white film from this early could be so edgy, outrageous and even sexy. (Stanwyck already had a reputation at this point for portraying sulty women of questionable morals.) The Third Man (Carol Reed, 1949) American writer Holly Martins (Joseph Cotton) covers a good deal of post-War Vienna looking for some answers. At first, he's curious about the accident that took the life of his friend Harry Lime (Orson Welles); later, he's forced to investigate the larger truth behind why he's been brought into this corrupt haven for graft and villainy, teetering on the edge of chaos. The answers Martins finds are confusing and unpleasant, with the hazardous and increasingly grim pursuit of Lime mirroring a descent into Hell. (He quite literally descends during the film's Third Act, the classic sewer chase sequence.) Carol Reed and Graham Greene's sublime thriller, with its dramatic use of shadow, otherworldly zither score and tongue-in-cheek wit, remains one of the cinema's most idiosyncratic achievements 65 years after its initial release. Earrings of Madame De... (Max Ophuls,1953) As in his previous masterpiece, 1950's La Ronde, Max Ophuls' romance Earrings of Madame De...cycles through a variety of lovers, whose collective experiences give us a sense for the universality of desire. The beautiful Countess Louisa (Danielle Darrieux) secretly sells an expensive gift from her husband (Charles Boyer) to pay off a debt. When he sees the earrings for sale in a local shop, and surmises that his wife has pawned them, he buys them a second time as a gift for his mistress. Eventually, the earrings find their way back to the Countess, in the sort of turn that would typically show up in a farcical comedy. Instead, Ophuls uses the various coincidences and revelations to probe the assumptions we make about romance itself. (Is there really a difference between love and lust? If jealousy necessarily indicates passion, is the converse true? Does a lack of jealousy indicate an essential coldness that can't be overcome?) The clever, twisty narrative (based on a novel by Louise de Vilmorin) perfectly compliments the grandiose, impressionistic style and taste for elaborate metaphor that often earn Ophuls comparisons to Orson Welles. He may even outdo the master with stunning sequences such as the ballroom dance that spans 3 weeks, unfolding an entire romantic subplot in the course of what looks like a single shot. Belle de Jour (Luis Bunuel, 1967) For Luis Bunuel, nothing reveals the essentially ludicrous nature of human life more clearly than the sexual fetish. Here is a creature attempting to live with some modesty and dignity, yet he or she is compelled by unknowable, incomprehensible urges, to lust violently after feet or diapers or animal costumes or leather or any number of other strange ephemera. In Belle de Jour, he gives us a character who seems fairly predictable - a bored housewife played by Catherine Deneueve - and then shows her making inexplicable decisions. Severine, who lives a comfortable if unexciting middle-class lifestyle, doesn't work at a brothel out of a need for money, but more as a release from the overwhelming sexual fantasies (largely involving being tied up and whipped) that dominate her thoughts. Bunuel would sometimes give these sorts of outlandish fetishes and sexual obsessions to "respectable" aristocrats or the clergy in his other films, as a way of mocking their self-importance and false piety, but certainly didn't feel that it was only the hypocritical or religious who were slaves to their passions. As Woody Allen famously (or, rather, infamously) said, "The heart wants what it wants." Army of Shadows (Jean-Pierre Melville, 1969) A war movie with next-to-no actual fighting, Jean-Pierre Melville's Army of Shadows paints a bleak picture of life in the French Resistance that's nonetheless stirring and entertaining. The film opens with German troops marching in front of Paris' famed Arc d'Triumphe, and every moment of the film bears the weight of this foreign occupation. A variety of underground agents fill out the ensemble, but the main focus remains on the former civil engineer Phillipe Gerbier, played by Lino Ventura as a simple man who, to his own surprise, turns out to be quite a clever, resiliant spy. Rather than a dry historical recreation, or worse yet a maudlin remembrance of fallen heroes, Army of Shadows unfolds like a steely thriller. Brave individuals risk life and limb defying a cruel, brutal regime, conspiring against impossible odds. Melville has the good sense to realize how cinematic this situation can be, even without firing a single shot or making room for a car chase. Aguirre, The Wrath of God (Werner Herzog, 1972) Aguirre (Klaus Kinski at his most feral) goes completely insane at some point during his Amazonian expedition. It's unclear exactly when. Perhaps he was obsessive and delusional all along, and the exertion of conquering South America on behalf of Spain merely exacerbated his madness. More likely, his madness lies in a basic failure of purpose. Here he is, a conquistador, and a man perfectly suited for his occupation. Power-mad, driven by an inhuman lust for treasure, sociopathic in his lack of concern for those around him, Aguirre is the ideal murdering colonialist brute. So, upon seeing that this river adventure, the result of a last-ditch effort by Pizarro to locate the lost city of gold before returning to civilization, will necessarily result in failure and death, Aguirre loses the last remnants of his sensible mind. The final scene ranks among the most brutally direct and powerful in film history. In Kinski rants in his trademark fashion, mainly to the monkeys who are the only living creatures left on his flimsy, makeshift raft. "Whoever deserts will be chopped into 198 pieces!" He devises a plan to marry his own daughter and start a new South American dynasty, to rule for 1000 years. And all the time, director Werner Herzog spins his camera around the raft (you can see the wake left by the camera's boat if you look closely at the water), soaking in the full, pitiable reality of Aguirre's final few pathetic moments of life. The effect is overheated and intensely dramatic, but also terrifying in its lack of emotion. Herzog looks on, perhaps with pity, but not with surprise at the ultimate futility of the human struggle, personified. "Here is Humanity, fighting and clawing and resisting even as he's drawn inevitably towards defeat and death," he seems to say. "Accept yourself as you are."
Network (Sidney Lumet, 1976) Paddy Chayefsky's ferocious satire predicted the impending arrival of "infotainment" better than any academic, scholar, theorist or writer of whom I'm aware. The rise and fall of mental case Howard Beale (Peter Finch) has echoes in everything from the confrontational talk show format of "Jerry Springer" to reality television, from battles over tobacco exposes at "60 Minutes" to the Rathergate memo scandal, from Bill O'Reilly to John Stossel to Jon Stewart. Here's a film that was staunchly anti-corporate about 20 years before it was cool, and it still managed to win some Academy Awards! Sidney Lumet directed a vast number of stellar films - including Dog Day Afternoon, 12 Angry Men and the lamentably not-on-DVD Anderson Tapes - so it means something when I say that this near-perfect combination of shrill mudslinging and sharp ridicule was by far his best. (I say near-perfect because the film's vision of television's pernicious influence on our national dialogue did not go far enough. Lumet and Chayefsky saw the danger of a numbed, slack American viewership too easily persuaded by the flashing messages on television, but even they could not foresee just how effectively government and corporate power would wield this propagandizing weapon against the world's citizens and consumers.) This is Spinal Tap (Rob Reiner, 1984) Musicians swear that no film has ever captured the rock and roll touring experience with more dead-on accuracy than Rob Reiner's smart-mouthed, spazzy mockumentary. Michael McKean, Harry Shearer and Christopher Guest are former Flower Children who found an audience playing sleazy, amateurish heavy metal for teenage boys. The Tap endure every possible humiliation during the American tour in support of their most recent LP, "Smell the Glove." Everything flows so perfectly, the jokes connect so effortlessly, Guest has since turned the basic format of Spinal Tap into an ongoing franchise of ensemble improvisational films (with ever-diminishing returns). Difficult though it is to pick out a favorite moment, I'd have to go with David St. Hubbins' elegy for fallen Tap drummer Peter James Bond, who famously choked to death on vomit that was not his own. Miller's Crossing (Joel Coen, 1990) The Coen Brothers epic reexamination of the gangster film may be the most sophisticated, elegant American crime movie of all time. Ethan and Joel bring a novelist's depth, a painter's aesthetic sensibility and a psychoanalyst's insight to the world of Irish and Italian mobsters battling for control over an unnamed Prohibiton-era city. (The plot is sort of an alternate-reality take on Yojimbo/Fistfull of Dollars, with its protagonist caught in the midst of a battle between rival gangs, though the plotting is far more dense here than in either of those versions.) Gabriel Byrne, Marcia Gay Harden, Albert Finney and a slew of Coen regulars - including John Turturro and Jon Polito - give the best performances of their careers as part of a truly tremendous ensemble while Barry Sonnenfeld's warm brown cinematography (particularly during the woods-set climax) perfectly offsets these characters' brooding, amoral nihilism. The Sweet Smell of Success (Alexander Mackendrick, 1957) Sidney Falco, Tony Curtis' sycophantic toady of a PR man, may be the most pathetic, unlikable lead character in all of cinema. (The Conformist presents compelling counter-arguments.) Falco's motley assemblage of clients need the sort of positive buzz that can only be generated by ill-tempered society columnist JJ Hunsecker, played by Burt Lancaster with a seething malice that moves beyond mere cruelty and into antisocial personality disorder. Over the course of Alexander Mackendrick's masterful, jet-black satire, Falco's given numerous opportunities to escape Hunsecker's bilious web of influence, but each time his greed and ambition drive him back to his benefactor with ever-increasing desperation. James Wong Howe's cinematography captures the feverish, impersonal bustle of Manhattan life better than any film since, and Clifford Odets' adaptation of Ernest Lehman's novel remains one of the most cynical, quotable scripts ever produced.
Rushmore (Wes Anderson, 1998): Wes Anderson's breakthrough film is still his best in my opinion, and one of the best films of the 1990s. On a personal level, this film changed my life and opened me up to a world of independent cinema that I had not yet discovered when I was 13. I probably wouldn't be in film school right now if it wasn't for Rushmore. Beyond that though, the film is more than just a quirky comedy and reveals its density upon repeated viewings (especially when that number of viewings reaches into the 40s or 50s - trust me). For a film that is only a tad over 90 minutes, the depth of the characters' personalities is stunning. Combined with Anderson's masterful use of composition and camera movement, Rushmore is a mesmerizing cinematic experience to me. Every time I watch it, I am still blown away by the poignancy of the ending. Taxi Driver (Martin Scorsese, 1976): My analysis of this film can be found in the Scorsese retrospective, which Ari will probably put a link to right about.........HERE. I don't really need to say anything else about how important this film is. Fallen Angels (Wong Kar Wai , 1995): A companion piece to Wong's more celebrated, and probably superior, film Chungking Express, Fallen Angels is somewhat underrated in my opinion. It would be easy to proclaim that the film is overly stylish, but it's a style that works well and serves as a metaphor for the characters' distorted view of the world that they live in. Fallen Angels breaks just about every formal rule of cinema that there is and is one of Kar-wai's most enjoyable films. An interesting meditation on loneliness and isolation with a beatiful ending that is filled with hope. (I must be obsessed with endings for some reason...) Back to the Future (Robert Zemeckis, 1985): "Let's see if these bastards can do 90..." Anyone that doesn't find the concept of travelling back through time and almost erasing oneself from existence cool probably doesn't really understand why movies can be so awesome. The Purple Rose of Cairo (Woody Allen, 1985): I would have picked Annie Hall first, but this film is a favorite also and fantastic in its own way. A loving tribute to the power that cinema has to make life extraordinary, if only for a little while. Day For Night (Francoise Truffaut, 1973): Another ode to the joy and exhiliration of cinema. Perhaps it can only be fully appreciated by anyone that has ever tried to actually make a film. Either way, this film is just as personal and beautiful as Truffaut's Antoine Doinel films. It is also an interesting exploration of the idea of a film crew as a family and dares to ask the question: Is cinema more important than life? A Fish Called Wanda (Charles Crichton, 1988): Easily one of the flat out funniest films I've ever watched. It makes the list due to pure enjoyment. "Asshooollllle!" Adaptation (Spike Jonze, 2002): The best film about screenwriting ever made (though Barton Fink is close), but it's more than that. Adaptation is a profound statement on life itself and the way in which we "adapt", for better or for worse, to the changes that surround us. Sure, at first, the third act just seems like a blatant riff on Hollywood formula, but it is a gutsy and perfectly ironic twist on the film's main theme. Down by Law (Jim Jarmusch, 1986): Jarmusch's minimalist masterpiece is a true delight to anyone who has had the pleasure of experiencing it. Any film that can find chemistry between Tom Waits and Roberto Benigni deserves some recognition. Gorgeously photographed in black and white by Robby Muller and filled with insight and humor, this one shouldn't be missed. "I scream, you scream, we all scream..."
Dazed and Confused (Richard Linklater, 1993): I once read someone describe this movie as "if Fast Times at Ridgemont High was directed by Jean-Luc Godard." I'm not sure how accurate that is, but it made me laugh. I didn't grow up in the 1970s and I don't like smoking pot, but I still find this film extremely relatable. At its core is a simple, universal theme of avoiding conformity, being yourself, and embracing the responsibility that comes with growing up, while still taking the time to have fun and enjoy l-i-v-i-n. The Great Dictator (Charlie Chaplin, 1940) Charlie Chaplin's powerful satire of Nazi Germany, in which the comedian plays both the character of "the dictator" and a bumbling Jewish barber. A film that balances feelings of great fear with absurdity; and of course there are Chaplin's beautiful, ballet-like comedic scenes. The Lower Depths (Akira Kurosawa,1957) The Lower Depths -- an adaptation of the play by Maxim Gorky -- is one of Akira Kurosawa's less accessible films about an eclectic group of vagrants who live together in a slum. Done in Kurosawa's geometric and abstract, stage-like style, it is a fascinating example of how a story can travel through different mediums and cultures. When A Woman Ascends the Stairs (Mikio Naruse, 1960) An elegantly restrained film filled with quiet, intimate scenes by one of Japan's more obscure directors, Mikio Naruse. The film follows the life of a Tokyo Mama-san, or bar hostess, as she approaches middle age and reaches a crossroad in her life. Tampopo (Juzo Itami, 1985) This story about one woman's struggle to open a ramen noodle shop is one of the most broad-reaching and humanistic films I have ever seen. Tampopo glimpses into so many aspects of life through its humorous and poignant exploration of the role of food in culture. Bonnie and Clyde (Arthur Penn, 1967) A breathtakingly gorgeous and radical film of the exploits of these notorious lovers. Hairspray (John Waters, 1988) John Waters tackles everything that is wrong with our society in his hysterical and slightly hallucinatory film about integration. Sex, Lies, and Videotape (Steven Soderbergh, 1989) A chance to see the now all too familiar TV faces of James Spader, Peter Gallagher, and Laura San Giacomo perform bare-bones scenes wrought with tension. The title pretty much sums it up. Chungking Express (Wong Kar Wai, 1994) In Chungking Express, Wong Kar Wai loosely ties together two vivid tales of desire. It is a beautiful film where humans converge and diverge, sliding past each other in a modern day metropolis.
The Virgin Suicides (Sofia Coppola, 1999) Sofia Coppola's first and (by far and away) best film. The images, film score, and story line each unravel with ethereal and haunting beauty. Bully ( Larry Clark, 2001) The film enters the lives of a group of teenagers so distanced from reality they decide to kill the bully of the gang. Larry Clark's work here is gripping on the level of sheer acting, particularly that of Rachel Miner and Brad Refro, not to mention the mesmerizing story (closely based on an actual incident) and one of the most chilling and realistic murder scenes on film. |
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