By way of introduction...

At the dawn of cinema, films were less than a minute long. Cameras were simple and held only a small amount of film, and films usually documented real-life happenings. Of course, when you consider that so many people buy video cameras only to use them to record kids' baseball games and birthday parties, have we really come so far?

As cameras became capable of holding more film, movies got longer, and eventually directors began to connect individual shots. The shots had a progression, which gave birth to cinematic narrative. Finally, in 1903, the Edison Company made THE GREAT TRAIN ROBBERY, an 8-minute film often acknowledged to be the first feature film. One hundred years later, there are music videos longer than THE GREAT TRAIN ROBBERY, and the generally accepted duration for feature films is somewhere around two hours. Still, it's easy to see the progression that has taken place in the past century.

I kicked off this list in 2003. Along with the centennial of the feature film, 2003 marked the year in which I turn 25. That's fully one-fourth the age of the feature film, for those of you keeping score at home. To commemorate both my personal milestone and the larger cinematic one, I decided to compose a list (with commentary) of my 100 favorite feature films.

How did I go about making this list? What I ended up doing was to make a long list of every film I've seen that I considered even remotely worthy of a list of this kind. Both acknowledged greats and sentimental favorites made the list. And then I made a few criteria by which to pare down my list. To begin with, since I was making a list of feature-length films, every film I chose had to be over 45 minutes long, to accommodate the slimmer running times of the silent era. Also, I limited myself to a maximum of two films per director, so as to spread the wealth, and since some personal favorite directors (Hitchcock, Godard, Bergman, etc.) would've eaten up quite a bit of valuable list space otherwise. After I used those criteria to cut out some of the films (quite a few, actually), I had to knuckle down and ask myself which movies I couldn't bear to part with, and which I could (with some trepidation) give the axe.

I managed to confine myself to 100 selections for my original 2003, but even then I knew that I wouldn't be able to leave well enough alone. So rather than setting it in stone I decided to keep it constantly evolving, to add new titles as they sprung to me, and move existing ones around as I saw fit. Who knows? Perhaps I'll eventually include every masterpiece I've seen.

In short, I wanted the films on the list to reflect the double-edged nature of my cinematic appreciation. On the one hand, I consider every film on this list to be a masterpiece, fascinating on an intellectual and aesthetic level. On the other hand, I love every film on the list. I've seen each film I've included a number of times (a number larger than 1, smart-alecks), and each has a special place in my mind and in my heart. These are the films that play in my memory.

Some thoughts on films I haven't included. There are a number of "important" films that get talked up in film courses and textbooks but didnt make my list because I dont really feel especially strongly about them. For example, yeah, I see why OPEN CITY or BATTLESHIP POTEMKIN are great and influential films, but if I'm browsing the shelves at the video store, I'm not going to stop and say "ooooooh, OPEN CITY!" and reach for the box. Conversely, there are certain films I enjoy greatly but don't really qualify as "masterpieces" in my book, such as DIE HARD or DUMB AND DUMBER. And then there are the movies for which I just didn't have enough room.

Aside from those films shoved aside due to my two-films-per-director limitation (which I'll mention when I comment on the directors films which did make the cut), I imagine the following omissions will be glaring to some:

- THE GODFATHER / THE GODFATHER PART II- I really like these, particularly the first, but it came down to a choice between this and another Coppola film, so out it went.

- STAR WARS trilogy- call me crazy and revoke my geek license, but I really don't enjoy these that much anymore. Sentimental value just wasn't enough of a reason to include this.

- GONE WITH THE WIND- this movie has never- NEVER- done it for me. Something in my genetic makeup just won't allow me to like this. Which is fine by moi.

- RAGING BULL- I respect this, but it just doesn't hit me as hard as the Scorseses that did make the list.

- THE WIZARD OF OZ- I saw this again recently, and realized that it just didn't grow with me. See the "nostalgia" comment for STAR WARS.

- SOME LIKE IT HOT- lots of fun, but drags somewhat for me in the second hour. Not as tight as the classic comedies which did make the cut.

- PULP FICTION- for a long time, this was a big and important film for me, but now just a pretty damn good one, and there just isn't room for pretty damn good.

- SCHINDLER'S LIST- one of Spielberg's better movies, but not quite one of his masterpieces. Sue me, I like the entertainments more.

- THE GRADUATE- never really shared everyone's love for this one. Bancroft's pretty great, but Ben and Elaine don't really hold much interest for me.

- THE EXORCIST- plays great in the theatre, on the big screen with surround sound, but the films I've included on the list carry over their impact to a more intimate home viewing, while this loses much of its effectiveness on video or DVD. In other words, watching a film in a theatre is ideal, but a masterpiece is a masterpiece no matter where you see it.

So there you are. I believe this list is a reflection of the breadth of my personal tastes in, and experience with, cinema. Hopefully, to read it will help you better know me as a movie lover.

Detour (1945)

Directed by Edgar G. Ulmer. Starring Tom Neal and Ann Savage.

B-pictures in the 1940s were scruffy and scuzzy, shot quickly and on the cheap, and starring grade-Z has-beens and never-would-bes. They were inconsequential and forgettable as a rule, merely whetting the appetite for the more expensive and respectable A-picture on the double-bill. Yet, after many of those other films have faded from memory, DETOUR endures. Perhaps this story of a lovesick loser's domination by a "dame with claws" lives on because it so perfectly conveyed the desperate sleazy essence of what was later dubbed film noir. Stars Neal and Savage would never be mistaken for good actors, but they were just right for DETOUR.

My Dinner With André (1981)

Directed by Louis Malle. Starring André Gregory and Wallace Shawn.

In which the stars (playing versions of themselves) meet for dinner and talk for an hour and a half. Oh, what things they say! André, recently returned from a series of adventures all around the world, relates experiences such as a Polish theatre group who meets in the forest, British farmers who talk to insects, and being buried alive. Wally listens intently to what André has to say, but then resists, asking if all these exotic adventures are necessary to live fully, when he is perfectly happy with his normal life, drinking coffee, living with his girlfriend, reading Charlton Heston's autobiography. You'd never guess that two guys talking for an hour and a half would make for great cinema, but here it does.

Two For the Road (1967)

Directed by Stanley Donen. Starring Audrey Hepburn and Albert Finney.

Audrey Hepburn is one of my favorite classic Hollywood stars, and this is my favorite of her films. She and Finney play a married couple who remember their tumultuous history together on a road trip through France. Frederick Raphael's screenplay jumps back and forth in time, between the blessed early days of their relationship to their current discontent. Donen's stylish swingin'-60s direction is one of the few cases of this style not dating over the years. Witty and comical, but never frivolous, the film contains some hard emotional truths.

The Hustler (1961)

Directed by Robert Rossen. Starring Paul Newman, George C. Scott, Piper Laurie, and Jackie Gleason.

Hollywood in the early 1960s was in flux- the old glamour was fading away, new and more down-to-Earth stars were rising, and the studios didn't know which direction they were going in. This is one of the most fascinating and emblematic of that period's films, a film made within the system that nonetheless embraced a kind of realism. Newman, in a great performance, plays Fast Eddie Felson, a cocky kid trying to make it as a pool hustler, only to learn hard lessons both in the game and in life from Laurie's handicapped drunk, Gleason's smooth-operating champ Minnesota Fats, and Scott's ruthless manager. The film is the pinnacle of the nearly-extinct art of black-and-white 'Scope, with the wide framing and deep focus ideal for re-creating the smoky, lonely world of late-night pool halls and bus stations. The very opposite of a formulaic sports movie, Fast Eddie is forced to learn things from playing the game that he would prefer not to learn.

High and Low (1963)

Directed by Akira Kurosawa. Starring Toshiro Mifune and Tatsuya Mihashi.

Looking back on Kurosawa's filmography is like reading a list of classic films (RASHOMON, IKIRU, THE SEVEN SAMURAI, THE HIDDEN FORTRESS, THRONE OF BLOOD- and thats just the 1950s). Kurosawa was dismissed by Japanese critics in his time as being "too Western", and like his famed samurai epics owe a debt to American Westerns and adventure pictures, HIGH AND LOW was adapted from a pulp novel by Ed McBain. On the surface, it's a gritty kidnapping drama, and the film observes the crime and the investigation in great detail. However, what makes the film truly great is how acutely Kurosawa examines the notion of social class in modern-day Japan.

On the Waterfront (1954)

Directed by Elia Kazan. Starring Marlon Brando, Eva Marie Saint, Rod Steiger, Lee J. Cobb, and Karl Malden.

This film is a sticking point among many who believe Kazan was a rat who basically used this as a venue to excuse his actions, but in the greater scheme I think it's an important capsule of a prickly and difficult time. Brando's Terry Malloy struggles with the idea of standing up to the criminal element who has taken over the Hoboken docks, including his own brother Charley (Steiger). The film is informed by a more hard-hitting style than most Hollywood films of the time, and Kazan takes much of his cue from the Method acting of his stars- this, along with Kazan's earlier A STREETCAR NAMED DESIRE, is one of the great demonstrations for a new kind of cinematic acting. In my mind, it's Brando's best "early" performance, in service of a film which, though ideologically tricky, can't be ignored.

Broken Blossoms (1919)

Directed by D.W. Griffith. Starring Lillian Gish, Donald Crisp, and Richard Barthelmess.

Griffith's film, which is sometimes called the first depiction of an interracial relationship produced in Hollywood, is one of the most visually beautiful films of the silent era. The film's story, about a battered girl (Gish, of course) who seeks solace from a Chinese immigrant (Barthelmess) is simple even by silent melodrama standards, but what makes the film endure is Griffith's visual sense. BROKEN BLOSSOMS was produced around the same time as the rise of German Expressionist cinema, and while Griffith may or may not have been directly influenced by German films of the period, his visualization of the city, with its shadowy streets and foggy docks, has a striking similarity to those European works. Add to this the expressive face of Lillian Gish (who, incidentally, was born near where I grew up) and the film remains a classic even when so many of Griffith's other works have dated.

Rififi (1955)

Directed by Jules Dassin. Starring Jean Servais, Carl Mohner, and Perlo Vita.

After Dassin was blacklisted by the McCarthy-era Congress, he decided to move to France rather than stop making films. It's our gain, since RIFIFI is a masterpiece of the heist genre. All the ingredients are here- a veteran con, a crack team of crooks, seedy locations. As for the heist itself, it's a doozy, a low-tech affair involving such gadgets as an umbrella, unfolding over the course of a half-hour of pure cinema without music or dialogue. The film's wrap-up is fascinating in its nihilism, as one by one the team members begin to betray each other. Sure, it's all been done over and over again since RIFIFI was made, but Dassin should be praised for making such an influential film. What makes it a classic is how wonderfully it still works for me even after so many have imitated it.

Jaws (1975)

Directed by Steven Spielberg. Starring Roy Scheider, Richard Dreyfuss, and Robert Shaw.

Nowadays, this film takes a good portion of the blame for the downfall of risk-taking Hollywood and the rise of the blockbuster mentality. Seen on its own, however, it remains a crackling suspense yarn. Spielberg sets the audience up beautifully, establishing the beachfront community setting, while tantalizing us with scenes in which, well, something is killing the swimmers (love the shot in which the floating pier turns around). In the film's second hour, it becomes more of an adventure story, in which the film's three main characters hunt down the great white shark. These scenes are where JAWS takes off, with three specific men- Scheider's pragmatic and water-fearing police chief, Dreyfuss' nebbishy young scientist, and most memorably Shaw's crusty sea salt- on a single mission. One of the most popular movies ever made- and it still works.

Wings of Desire (1987)

Directed by Wim Wenders. Starring Bruno Ganz, Solveig Dommartein, and Otto Sander.

Here's another film we shouldn't hold responsible for what it spawned (in this case, the jaw-dropping Cage/Ryan vehicle CITY OF ANGELS). Wenders' poetic film has been criticized by people I know as being insubstantial, but just as there's a place in music for symphonies and piano preludes alike, so too great films come in every stripe. WINGS OF DESIRE tells the story of angels who inhabit the skies over Berlin, able to hear the thoughts of people and to transcend time, but incapable of experiencing life. Much like Wenders' other masterpiece PARIS, TEXAS, which I almost chose instead of this, the film focuses on a character who regards life impassively while those around him go about their business. Eventually, one of the angels decides to "take the plunge", trading in his wings and immortality for the chance to live and die as a human. The film isn't really about its story though (that was the mistake the remake made), but rather about the choice between standing outside of life and seeing everything, or experiencing life despite its inherent limitations.

Alien (1979)

Directed by Ridley Scott. Starring Tom Skerritt, Sigourney Weaver, and Ian Holm.

Simply put, one of the scariest movies I've seen. Scott (whose subsequent film, BLADE RUNNER, just missed the cut), making only his second feature, cannily fused the horror and sci-fi genres to create a creepy haunted-house movie in outer space. Sure, everyone now knows Weaver's Ripley character as a tough-talking hardass, but she's one of the crew here, and it's interesting to see her as she earns her action hero stripes in a trial by fire (or, more appropriately, a trial by acid-blood). Likewise, everybody knows about the chest-bursting scene- sorry if I spoiled it if you didn't- but what makes the film frightening even to people like me who've seen it dozens of times is the atmosphere of dread set by the film's chilly, sterile visual style.

See also: Blog entry at Film Dribble

Monsieur Verdoux (1947)

This Is Spinal Tap (1984)

Directed by Rob Reiner. Starring Christopher Guest, Michael McKean, and Harry Shearer.

This film about the trials and tribulations of the "World's Loudest Band" would deserve a spot on this list simply by virtue of how funny it is. Few films are this quotable, or this consistently clever (or stupid, since theres a fine line between the two). But what really makes the film a masterpiece is how fully-realized Spinal Tap really is- there's never a time when Spinal Tap doesn't feel like a convincing band, and indeed the film's stars toured a number of times as Tap after the film was released. THIS IS SPINAL TAP perfected the format of the "mockumentary", a goof on documentary style which would be impossible if the filmmaker and his actors hadn't so completely figured out their characters and their mythology. We watch the film and while we know that SPINAL TAP was a fictional band at the time, the film convinces us that they could be real, which makes everything even funnier. Really, the comedy gets turned up to eleven, and if you don't know what I'm talking about, see the film.

The Discreet Charm of the Bourgeoisie (1972)

Directed by Luis Bunuel. Starring Fernando Rey, Stephane Audran, Jean-Pierre Cassel, Bulle Ogier, Paul Frankeur, and Delphine Seyrig.

Luis Bunuel is another great filmmaker who made so many great films (VIRIDIANA, BELLE DE JOUR, THE EXTERMINATING ANGEL, L'AGE D'OR) that many of them won't make this list (though if I could include shorts, UN CHIEN ANDALOU would be near the top). In Bunuel's later years, he held onto his famous fetishes and obsessions- hypocrisy, perversity, feet- while displaying a more cutting wit. In DISCREET CHARM, we observe six idle bourgeois as they repeatedly sit down to dinner only to find themselves unable to eat. At one point, they visit a restaurant and order their food when they see a corpse lying on a table in the next room; in another scene, they sit down for a feast only to discover their food is made of plastic and they are sitting onstage in front of an audience. Bunuel's film skewers bourgeois manners and ceremony, revealing them as mere window-dressing to mask our more primal urges- he seems to ask why it's necessary to make such a fuss over eating, something we need to live? Throughout, Bunuel also adds surreal asides and circles in and out of dream sequences, making for a highly original and quite entertaining experience.

After Life (1998)

Directed by Hirokazu Kore-Eda. Starring Arata and Erika Oda.

The issue of where we go after we die has been an question on the minds of people throughout the world ever since humans discovered their mortality. This film posits a place somewhere between the living world and the eternal where the recently deceased are asked to select one memory from their lives to carry with them for eternity. AFTER LIFE has an almost documentary-like feel to it, with friendly interviewers and hurried office workers who have deadlines to make so that the newly-dead can move onward. Much of the film's impact comes from this realism, and the way it avoids the religious iconography that's common to films about the hereafter in favor of a more secular and universal approach. The film's premise not only invites us to know the characters onscreen better, but also to consider what memory we might choose if we were asked. Much like Kore-Eda's first film, MABOROSI, AFTER LIFE is a thought-provoking and beautiful film.

See also: Review at Epinions.com

The Umbrellas of Cherbourg (1964)

Directed by Jacques Demy. Starring Catherine Deneuve and Nino Castelnuovo.

I've never really been one to cry at movies regularly, and musicals are hit-and-miss with me, but this film is not only one of my favorite musicals but makes me cry every time I watch it. The film's opening scenes depict a young couple in love, but then reality sets in and they are parted and forced to accept life's compromises. This was Deneuve's star-making role, and Demy does justice to her youthful beauty and charisma here (though she wouldn't prove what a deep actress she could be until later in her career). Just as glorious are the Technicolor version of the title city and the all-sung score by Michel Legrand and Demy, with cornerstone song "I Will Wait for You" used adeptly throughout. This is a great and overwhelmingly emotional film.

Apocalypse Now (1979)

Directed by Francis Ford Coppola. Starring Martin Sheen, Robert Duvall, and Marlon Brando.

Coppola's Vietnam-era update of Conrad's HEART OF DARKNESS took four years of his life to complete, and the result was a mad but often glorious meditation on the insanity of war. Sheen plays a marine assigned to find and kill Brando's Kurtz, and as he journeys upriver to find him he also finds himself agreeing and empathizing with Kurtz's highly unconventional ideas. When he meets Kurtz, however, he discovers that he is insane and dangerous and must come to grips with his own conflicting feelings, his own heart of darkness. Coppola went through hell to make the film, but the finished product is full of indelible images and goosebump-inducing soundscapes (see it on a big screen, if possible), and the finished product is haunting. Seek out the original version of the film, as the REDUX version is not an improvement.

L'Argent (1983)

Directed by Robert Bresson. Starring Christian Patey and Sylvie van den Elsen.

Bresson was famous as perhaps one of the most artistically rigorous of the master filmmakers, and I wasn't sure which of his films to choose for this list (I also seriously considered were MOUCHETTE and AU HASARD BALTHASAR). In the end, I found myself drawn back to his final film, an adaptation of a Tolstoy story, about the tragic path taken by a forged bill, and those whose lives it touches. What makes the film effective is its message- dishonesty leads to dishonesty, crime leads to crime- made particularly poignant in the tale of a truck driver who is arrested for using the forged bill (which someone else gave him, though no one will 'fess up), and then loses his job and his wife, is forced by a lack of money to assist in a messy bank robbery, is thrown into jail, and then when released is completely without resources. In the wrong hands, it could have been a wrongheaded bleeding-heart screed, but Bresson's spare style makes the story a universal parable about how fate can pull the rug from under our secure lives when we least expect it.

The Trial (1962)

Directed by Orson Welles. Starring Anthony Perkins and Orson Welles.

While similar to L'ARGENT in some of its themes, this plays more like the nightmare version of the story. Taking Kafka's famous novel as a starting point, Welles tells the story of Joseph K. (Perkins), a mild-mannered managerial type who wakes one morning and finds out that he is suspected of committing a crime. He doesn't know what the crime could be, nor will anyone tell him, but every facet of his life is placed under scrutiny by those around him, from the police officers who turn over his apartment and jot down every Freudian slip, to Welles as the mountainous Advocate, a distinguished lawyer who demands the respect of his clients only to string them along. The blending of the sensibilities of Welles and Kafka results in a world of shadows and disarray, in which despite a man's best efforts he is at the mercy of those more powerful and influential than he- is it possible that Welles' own career made him think of himself as a Joseph K.-like figure?

My Night at Maud's (1969)

Directed by Eric Rohmer. Starring Jean-Louis Trintignant, Marie-Christine Barrault, and Francoise Fabian.

The films of Eric Rohmer are an acquired taste, to say the least. Some find him a minor talent at best, favoring long conversations over visual flair or intricate narratives, but I think that his best films cleanse the palate of big-budget bloat or show-offy technique. This film, my favorite of his (though CLAIRE'S KNEE and THE AVIATOR'S WIFE come close) centers around a few days in the life of a serious young man (Trintignant), after he falls in love with a girl he sees in church (Barrault). The centerpiece of the film is an all-night bull session with Maud (Fabian), the lover of an old friend. During this sequence, which takes up at least half the film's running time, the two discuss everything from love to Pascal to Catholic dogma, which turns out to be a kind of verbal seduction without the traditional payoff, and what makes this sequence wondrous is not only how long Rohmer sustains it, but also how the characters repeatedly surprise themselves (and us) with what they have to say.

West Side Story (1961)

Directed by Robert Wise and Jerome Robbins. Starring Nathalie Wood, Richard Beymer, and Rita Moreno.

At a more ironic point in my life, this was one of my favorite cinematic targets of ridicule. I mean, snapping, dancing gangs? Nathalie Wood as a Puerto Rican? How dopey! So it was with no small amount of shock that I turned on the television a few years ago and proceeded to watch it all the way through, feeling pretty stupid for having dismissed it in the past. What really struck me on this viewing, and subsequent viewings, was how brassy and exuberant it was, and how perfectly the tone of the music and the dance modified the tone of the story. This is one of the great dance films, and the camera, rather than remaining a passive observer as in classic Fred Astaire films, takes an active role in the choreography of the scenes in a way that is constantly surprising. So now that I'm older and not as padded in irony, I'm free to appreciate and love this film, silliness and all.

Glengarry Glen Ross (1992)

Directed by James Foley. Starring Jack Lemmon, Al Pacino, Alec Baldwin, Ed Harris, Alan Arkin and Kevin Spacey.

Many filmmakers adapting stage plays make the mistake of focusing on how to "open up the action", how to make the play more "cinematic". This time around, Foley does absolutely right by David Mamet's play, realizing that what makes a great theatre-to-film transfer isn't variety of locations or cinematic razzle-dazzle, but focus on the characters and the dialogue. The characters in GLENGARRY GLEN ROSS are real-estate salesman each at a different point in his career- Lemmon is the old pro long past his prime, Pacino's the smooth-talker currently riding a hot streak, Harris is a middle-aged man who's getting fed up with the new ways, and so on. The film introduces the men, then stirs them up when it's discovered that one of them stole a batch of precious "leads" which would allow him to get the upper hand on the rest of the salesmen. Figuring out who stole the leads occupies much of the film's second half, but this mystery also illuminates the desperation of all the salesmen, who put forth a great deal of effort with little payoff. Great acting too, by the entire cast, particularly Lemmon as a modern-day Willy Loman coming to grips with his own obsolescence.

Stagecoach (1939)

Directed by John Ford. Starring John Wayne, Claire Trevor, and Thomas Mitchell.

While I like Westerns, I've never considered myself a fan, usually preferring the recent takes on the genre to the old canon of favorites. However, I can't help but love this prototype for the classical Hollywood Western, mostly because it has everything that makes a good Western so entertaining without any extraneous material, done with high energy and style. The story involves a group of passengers on a stagecoach trip in the Old West, including a pregnant woman, an ex-Confederate gentleman, a lawman, a drunken doctor, and a hooker with a heart of gold. Soon, they're joined by a latecomer, an outlaw called The Ringo Kid, in the role that made John Wayne a superstar. As the journey progresses, the passengers come into conflict at times, and band together at others, particularly during a still-exciting chase scene. The reason the film still works, even after all its imitators should have stolen its thunder, is because of Ford's assured hand, the purity of the storytelling, and above all the performers, especially the practically embryonic Wayne and Thomas Mitchell as the doctor.

Monty Python's Life of Brian (1979)

Directed by Terry Jones. Starring Graham Chapman, John Cleese, Terry Gilliam, Eric Idle, Terry Jones, and Michael Palin.

I've been a fan of Python since high school, and while I can't necessarily reference every episode of the Flying Circus series in detail, I own all three of the feature films and watch them regularly. As is the case for many people, HOLY GRAIL was my first exposure to Python, but in the fullness of time LIFE OF BRIAN has become of favorite of the three. Structured around the story of a boy born the same night as Christ, in the manger right next door, the film follows the character as an adult as he becomes first a revolutionary, then a would-be messiah, until his crucifixion. But as is the case with Python, the plot is merely an excuse for the film's hilarious moments, and though it's not quite as quotable as GRAIL nor as bizarre as MEANING OF LIFE, it's flat-out funnier. This film also was the deciding factor in the decision of my favorite Python member (Michael Palin, whose scene as the speech-impeded Pilate is a classic), and is one of my most-viewed DVDs.

The Sacrifice (1986)

Directed by Andrei Tarkovsky. Starring Erland Josephson and Susan Fleetwood.

The films of director Andrei Tarkovsky aren't made for casual viewing, but for those willing to put forth some effort they can be intensely rewarding. My favorite of his films is this one, his final work, made shortly before his death. In the film, a man living on a remote Swedish island hears over the radio that the end of the world is approaching, and gathers his family and close friends together to await the end together. They talk, and while some accept their fate, others (to quote Dylan Thomas) "rage against the dying of the light", until the man decides to try to do something. He visits a local mystic, who helps the man fend off the end of the world, but at the cost of the man's sanity. Tarkovsky's film is profound, asking a number of difficult questions, and the film is also very beautiful, courtesy of the great cinematographer Sven Nykvist. Certainly not a film for everyone, THE SACRIFICE is a must-see for those who take cinema seriously as a philosophical medium.

Faces (1968)

Directed by John Cassavetes. Starring John Marley, Lynn Carlin, Gena Rowlands, and Seymour Cassel.

John Cassavetes is widely acknowledged as one of the forefathers of American independent cinema, making intimate films on a limited budget, often using 16mm cameras and casting friends, family members, and his wife Gena Rowlands. While his loosely-styled direction sometimes led to self-indulgent films (like GLORIA), it also crackled with the rawness and spontaneity of its characters' lives, and nowhere is this more in evidence than here. FACES tells the story of a married couple (Marley and Carlin) who decide to separate. While Marley carries on an affair with a prostitute (Rowlands), Carlin goes out with friends, meets a young man (Cassel), and has a one-night stand with him. Cassavetes relishes long scenes of dialogue, and his handheld camera is attuned to minute details of his characters as they drink, ramble, become enraged, then try to put themselves back together again.

See also: Review at Epinions.com

Last Tango in Paris (1972)

Directed by Bernardo Bertolucci. Starring Marlon Brando, Maria Schneider, and Jean-Pierre Léaud.

This film aroused (no pun intended) quite a scandal in its day for its frank depiction of sexuality, but I believe there was more to the controversy than simply sex. After all, the 1970s saw the rise of porn both of the soft- and hardcore stripe. What I think really struck viewers at the time wasn't the explicitness of the sex scenes, but the emotional nakedness of the main characters. Marlon Brando, in perhaps his greatest performance, stars as the recently-widowed Paul, who meets Schneider's Jeanne for anonymous sex only to find it increasingly difficult not to connect with her. The film also examines the characters' outside lives, as Jeanne grows frustrated with her filmmaker fiancé (Léaud), and Paul comes to grips with his wife's death, culminating in one of the most impassioned monologues on film, as an anguished Paul sits next to his wife's corpse. While the film's sexuality has become less shocking since its release, the rawness of the emotion still packs a wallop.

Pandora's Box (1928)

Directed by G.W. Pabst. Starring Louise Brooks and a bunch of people who aren't nearly as cool as Louise Brooks.

The heyday of the great silent film star Louise Brooks was short, since most of her best work came at the very end of the silent era, but she left her inimitable mark on the history of cinema. If the earlier and more prolific Lillian Gish was silent cinema's embodiment of innocence, Brooks personified experience, and never more vividly than in this film. The bob-topped Brooks stars as an woman of leisure who courts a wealthy man, finds her way onto a gambling ship, and finally becomes a prostitute in late-1800s London, where she meets her doom with a certain infamous client (no points for guessing who). The story is pure silent melodrama, both simple and silly, and that the film works at all, much less as spectacularly well as it does, is a testament to the star power of Brooks. We see her onscreen, playful, smirking, knowing, and realize how the charisma of a truly great movie star can be a spectacle in and of itself.

O Lucky Man! (1973)

Directed by Lindsay Anderson. Starring Malcolm McDowell and Sir Ralph Richardson.

This film tells the story of the odyssey of a meek coffee-seller as he makes his way through many of the circles of 1970s British society, and the film might've turned out a little like FORREST GUMP if not for its surreal sense of humor. Director Lindsay Anderson sprung from the same cultural climate as Monty Python, and watching O LUCKY MAN! one marvels at how anarchic the film feels. With its bizarre comedy and its way of progressing from one anecdote to the next only to seemingly forget what has come before, it feels like a direct forerunner to the Python films. Malcolm McDowell is perfect as the film's Everyman character, open-faced yet roguish, and he's backed up by a distinguished cast including Sir Ralph Richardson, Rachel Roberts, and a young Helen Mirren. Also appearing throughout the film are Alan Price and his band, who also contributed the film's great song score.

Blow Out (1981)

Blowup (1966)

Directed by Michelangelo Antonioni. Starring David Hemmings, Vanessa Redgrave, and Sarah Miles.

I first saw this film back in high school, during my 1960s phase, and I mostly saw the film because it looked cool- the story of a photographer investigating a possible murder in swinging London sounded interesting to me. As I watched it, I was entertained by it, but something else happened- I started doing some serious thinking about what I was seeing onscreen, and I started trying to sort out the deeper issues presented by the film instead of simply appreciating it on a surface level. I guess you could say that this was a key film in my development as a serious and active film viewer, which has led me up to, and beyond, the list you're currently reading. But even since then, after I've seen many other films which have engaged me just as deeply as BLOWUP, the film holds up. The film's issues still resonate, the central mysteries (not of the narrative, but of the film's conception) play around in my mind, and on top of it all it's still really entertaining to me.

Joan the Maid (1994)

Directed by Jacques Rivette. Starring Sandrine Bonnaire.

Jacques Rivette is perhaps the most overlooked of the great French New Wave directors, with no fewer than three genuine masterpieces to his name- at one point, I toyed with including his films LA BELLE NOISEUSE and CELINE AND JULIE GO BOATING on this list. However, in the end I chose this two-part telling of the Joan of Arc story, with Bonnaire's towering performance in the lead role. Rivette's film is not solely focused on Joan's trial and execution, as C.T. Dreyer's version is, but instead Rivette uses the four-hour running time (nearly six hours in its original television version) to supply a historical context for the story. We see the difficulty of the times, not only from the standpoint of the political climate but also the religious suspicion that was rampant in the period. Through these perils Joan strides, and Bonnaire's achievement is that she manages to make Joan willful and touched by grace, while not shying away from the great anxieties that would've plagued a girl in her situation.

Bride of Frankenstein (1935)

Directed by James Whale. Starring Boris Karloff, Colin Clive, Ernest Thesiger, and Elsa Lanchester.

After the box-office success of the first FRANKENSTEIN picture, Whale followed it up with an even greater film, and though the original resides comfortably in the realm of the horror genre, BRIDE is a more singular achievement. To begin with, this film takes the perversities that served as the subtexts in FRANKENSTEIN and brings them right to the surface in the newly-introduced character of Dr. Praetorious, who takes an unnatural sort of glee in manipulating life, as in the still-bizarre "homunculus" scene. Whale takes the Frankenstein myth as a jumping off point and adds his bizarre sense of humor, resulting in many great scenes, such as the Creature and Praetorious' underground dinner and the famous blind-man scene (parodied so brilliantly in YOUNG FRANKENSTEIN). All this leads up to Frankenstein and Praetorious' creation of the title Bride and her chilling scream when she sees her betrothed. More than half a century before the influx of self-aware horror flicks, this one set the standard.

Once Upon a Time in America (1984)

Directed by Sergio Leone. Starring Robert DeNiro and James Woods.

Even with the greatness of the GODFATHER films and GOODFELLAS, this is my favorite organized-crime epic. Leone's sprawling narrative flashes back to various incidents in the life of Noodles (DeNiro), a small-time New York gangster. A quiet and sort of awkward guy, he grew up with the cocky Max (Woods), and together they became involved in organized crime. Now in old age Noodles must come to terms with his life, particularly his decision to rat out Max to the police. Leone, an Italian by birth, had a knack for American iconography, and the film seamlessly jumps back and forth in time, allowing the different stories to unfold while playing them off each other. This complex structure, with its ingenious transitions (the Frisbee, the ever-ringing phone), is completely lost in the truncated version, which was just as disastrous as the long version is transcendent.

Late Spring (1949)

See also: Blog entry from Film Dribble

8 Women (2002)

Directed by François Ozon. Starring (from left to right) Firmine Richard, Isabelle Huppert, Virginie Ledoyen, Ludivine Sagnier, Danielle Darrieux, Fanny Ardant, Catherine Deneuve, and Emmanuelle Béart.

This is almost certain to be one of my more controversial inclusions, not only because it isn't universally liked but also because many will maintain it's too soon to include this. All I know is that I can't get enough of this movie. To a longtime francophile, seeing this movie was like Christmas morning when you're six years old. I love the cast- Deneuve has been one of my favorite stars for years, and Huppert has lately achieved best-actress-in-the-world status, at least in my opinion (the rest are pretty awesome too). I love the way Ozon blends the film's style, inspired by Douglas Sirk's films, with an Agatha Christie-esque murder mystery and the occasional song, and fiddles with each genre like a mischievous child who loves taking his toys apart to see what makes them run. I also love the film's sense of wicked fun, and its more serious undercurrents. There are films on this list which may be more acceptably great- I know this. But I also know that in the week-and-a-half this played at the local arthouse, I saw it four times, and every time I saw it it got better and better. Which I guess is my way of saying- if you don't like it, get your own damn list.

See also: The Movie Moment: 8 Women (Screengrab)

Review at Epinions.com

Grand Illusion (1937)

Directed by Jean Renoir. Starring Jean Gabin, Marcel Dalio, Pierre Fresnay, and Erich Von Stroheim.

Here's the grand-daddy of the modern war film, from one of the great masters. Renoir's classic tells the story of a group of French prisoners of war during World War I, including the great Gabin, as well as Dalio and Fresnay. While Gabin and Dalio are middle-class, yearning to escape their confinement, while Fresnay, a member of the fading upper-class, strikes up a friendship with German officer Stroheim. Renoir was one of the cinema's great humanists, and here he finds poignancy in all his characters, particularly Fresnay and Stroheim, who know their way of life has been doomed by the war, but form a bond in order to hold on to the little they have left. Another director may have made the nobility out to be fools, but Renoir instead has sympathy for them. The escape attempts by the lower-class prisoners are still exciting today, even after we've seen the films that were inspired by this one. GRAND ILLUSION, for all its sadness, also contains no small portion of hope that people may look past their differences and find the goodness in each other.

The Wild Bunch (1969)

Directed by Sam Peckinpah. Starring William Holden, Ernest Borgnine, and Robert Ryan.

Much like GRAND ILLUSION, Peckinpah's classic Western deals with men whose way of life has become obsolete, but in terms of style the two films couldn't be more dissimilar. Peckinpah's film is bleak and violent, with the criminals' credo being "if they move, kill 'em!" Holden, a somewhat shallow screen presence during the 1950s, matured into a fascinating actor as he grew older, and he's great as the leader of the bunch, confronting the issue of his age and the new century which will see the end of the Old West. Most strikingly, we see his history with Ryan, a former member of the bunch who is now leading a group of men hunting them down. The film's violence has been described as "balletic", and indeed Peckinpah uses slow-motion and editing to find a kind of harsh beauty in the carnage. But for all the artistry, the violence doesn't get any easier to watch- which is precisely the point.

Taxi Driver (1976)

Directed by Martin Scorsese. Starring Robert DeNiro, Jodie Foster, and Cybill Shepherd.

Scorsese is one of the best directors currently working- some would say the best- and if this isn’t quite his greatest film it’s certainly near the top of the list. Beyond the obvious filmmaking chops on display, what makes this a classic is its still-relevant look at isolation. Robert DeNiro's Travis Bickle, one of the most memorable of all big-screen characters, is dangerous, yes, but much of this comes from how disconnected he is from those around him. For example, he pines for Shepherd's Betsy from afar, but when he finally asks her out he has no idea what to do, so he takes her to a porno theatre. Ultimately, he becomes obsessed with the idea of being an avenging angel, rescuing women from the men who control them, first trying to assassinate the politician Betsy works for, then turning his attention to a sleazeball pimp who controls a teenage prostitute named Iris (Foster). DeNiro's performance is tremendous, a reminder of what a powerful actor he was before his acting became lazy and bloated.

Two English Girls (1971)

Directed by François Truffaut. Starring Jean-Pierre Léaud, Kika Markham, and Stacey Tendeter.

This film tells the story of a young Frenchman named Claude and the decades-long love he had for the two English girls of the title, sisters named Anne and Muriel. While Anne becomes a fixture of Claude's life (and, for a time, his bed), Muriel is more elusive to him, and he finds himself longing for her. This film is based on a book by Henri-Pierre Roche, who also wrote the source novel for Truffaut's earlier JULES AND JIM, and while the two films are similar in the broad outline, I find that TWO ENGLISH GIRLS is lovelier and more delicate, the work of a more mature filmmaker. I first saw this film not long after a pretty rough breakup, which made the longing of the final scenes all the more poignant for me, but even as time as distanced me from this girl, Truffaut's film retains its effectiveness over me, a testament to how great it is.

Barry Lyndon (1975)

Directed by Stanley Kubrick. Starring Ryan O'Neal and Marisa Berenson.

This has a reputation for being one of Kubrick's most difficult films, but I think it's one of his best. O'Neal stars, in a surprisingly deep performance, as an ambitious Irishman who aspires to the British nobility. He first becomes a soldier, then a gambler, before catching the eye of a beautiful upper-class woman (Berenson). The first half of the film shows his rise, and the second half charts his fall, and Kubrick films everything in a way that captures the maximum amount of sterile beauty. Most reviews of BARRY LYNDON single out John Alcott's glorious cinematography, and rightly so- every shot in the film could be framed and mounted on a wall. But it's the seemingly distanced style Kubrick utilizes that gives the film its power. As humans, the film says, we set goals for our lives, we aspire to more than we currently have, but it's ultimately out of our hands, and we all must have the same end. A sobering message, to be sure, but an effective one.

The Big Sleep (1946)

Directed by Howard Hawks. Starring Humphrey Bogart, Lauren Bacall, and Martha Vickers.

I've always had a soft spot for classic film noir, and this is one of the greats of its genre. Bogart stars as Philip Marlowe, a private eye who investigates a case centering around murder and a pornography ring. The plot is fiendishly convoluted (neither author Raymond Chandler nor screenwriter William Faulkner could figure it all out), but ultimately the plot isn't key to enjoying the film. What makes this film a classic is how delightfully kinky it all is- it's almost like they hid the pornography plotline in plain sight, lest we forget that it was made under the Production Code. Bogart is at his cynical best, and is well-matched by three memorable women- a flirtatious bookseller played by Dorothy Malone, naughty rich girl Martha Vickers, and most notably Lauren Bacall as Vickers' older sister, who volleys tart dialogue with Bogart like a champion.

The Apu Trilogy (1955- 1959)

Directed by Satyajit Ray. Starring Soumitra Chaterjee, Sharmila Tagore, and Karuna Banerji.

This is one of two trilogies I've included on this list, and this one tells the story of a boy named Apu who comes from a poor family, and must find his place in the world as he becomes an adult. Ray, who had never even shot a single frame of a film before starting on the first Apu film, PATHER PANCHALI, tells the story in an unhurried manner, not merely focusing on Apu himself but also on the people around him, as his father finds a job in the city, as his mother struggles over whether to allow Apu to go away to school, and most unexpectedly as a schoolmate takes Apu with him to a wedding and Apu finds himself thrust into the role of the groom. The films are at times quite bleak, as most of the people who Apu loves die, but Ray directs the film with a startling blend of realism and beauty. The films don't fall back on cheap contrivances, but are told in an unadorned and lovely way, like old family stories.

Stroszek (1977)

Directed by Werner Herzog. Starring Bruno S., Eva Mattes, and Clemens Scheitz.

Werner Herzog's films often spotlight people who rush headlong into unfamiliar worlds, and for my money his best work is this, the story of a former mental patient, a prostitute, and a little old man who pool their resources and move from Germany to the United States. Herzog's lead actor, Bruno S., was a diagnosed schizophrenic, and what he lacks in polished acting technique he makes up for with his off-kilter screen presence. It's clear from the beginning that the trio's American adventure is doomed, but they forge on anyway, buying (then losing) a trailer, and trying to live out their version of the American dream until they can no longer do so. The final scenes of the film take the story to another level, as the three are cast to the winds, and Herzog follows Bruno as he makes his way to a rest area and the film introduces the famous dancing chicken. It's hard to say what it all means at times, but it's even harder to forget.

Casablanca (1942)

Directed by Michael Curtiz. Starring Humphrey Bogart, Ingrid Bergman, Paul Henreid, and Claude Rains.

I'm a believer in the idea of the "auteur theory", but there are exceptions to it, and this is probably the most famous of them. Director Michael Curtiz was more a skilled journeyman than an acclaimed genius, and the now-legendary screenplay was allegedly re-written on a daily basis. What is for certain is that CASABLANCA represents sturdy craftsmen and performers working together to produce something that was greater than the sum of its parts. Much of the film's mystique comes from the cast- not only iconic leads Bogart and Bergman but also great character actors like Claude Rains, Sydney Greenestreet, and Peter Lorre. What really puts the film over the top, in my opinion, is the way the film sees Bogart's Rick Blaine, a classic anti-hero who claims to "stick his neck out for nobody" but, when the chips are down, will sacrifice his personal feelings for the greater good.

Gimme Shelter (1970)

Directed by David Maysles, Albert Maysles, and Charlotte Zwerin. Starring The Rolling Stones.

The late 1960s are a time that is often romanticized by popular culture, a "time of peace, love and understanding", and the like, but this film holds up a mirror to that time, showing that despite the period's lofty aspirations human behavior never really changes- there will always be people who feel the need to make jerks of themselves. Much of the film is devoted to planning a free Rolling Stones concert at the Altamont Speedway, but the planning is hasty and careless, and unlike Woodstock the concert doesn't go well. Most notably, the Hell's Angels who were commissioned to work as security ended up stabbing a concertgoer to death, but this was far from being the only act of violence seen in the film. The film's bleak view of human behavior is at a sharp contrast to the nostalgia we often see for the 60s, and by the end of the film when we see the concergoers packing up and going home it's almost like we're witnessing the Age of Aquarius packing it in.

McCabe & Mrs. Miller (1971)

Directed by Robert Altman. Starring Warren Beatty and Julie Christie.

Robert Altman's take on the Western isn't about cowboys and adventure, but rather about the uncertainty of those who settled on the frontier. Beatty plays McCabe, a gambler who decides to open a brothel in a settlement town, and Christie is Mrs. Miller, a former prostitute who becomes his business partner. Beatty's performance is easily his best, loose and funny, but also sad, and Christie projects a coldness which masks deep and untold secrets. Altman sets the film in a cobbled-together little village that bears little resemblance to old-style movie Western storefront towns, and his vision of the West is fresh and bracing, with its characters that come out of the woodwork, whispering rumors and gossip in the background. The weather is a palpable presence in the film, as the story moves from snow into rain and mud and back into snow again, and Leonard Cohen's song score doesn't punch up the story, but instead serves as an emotional commentary.

Freaks (1932)

Directed by Tod Browning. Starring Olga Baclanova, Roscoe Ates, Wallace Ford, and Leila Hyams.

Perhaps the greatest exploitation film of all time, Browning's early-sound-period masterpiece tells the story of the titular freaks, who travel around with the circus for the entertainment of "normal" people. Rather than holding them up to scorn, Browning focuses on how they have formed a family, manifested in their revenge against a gold-digging trapeze artist. By extension, Browning is examining the tendency of all those outside mainstream society, "the unwanted" as they are called in the opening crawl, to band together against the world that has rejected them. There is, of course, the obligatory romantic subplot between the "normal" characters, but that's less interesting than the film's observation of its various genetic misfits, like the legless Johnny Eck, who ambles around on his hands, and the limbless Prince Randian, who lights a cigarette using only his mouth. When the final revenge scene comes, Browning wisely avoids showing the scene in great detail, instead concentrating on shadows and nightmarish imagery.

See also: The Movie Moment: Freaks (Screengrab)

Smiles of a Summer Night (1955)

Directed by Ingmar Bergman. Starring Gunnar Björnstrand, Ulla Jacobsson, and Eva Dahlbeck.

Before Bergman became a legend for his dark, psychologically probing work, he made this lighter film, an ensemble comedy about various people in love and the complications that ensue. It's a romantic roundelay in the classic theatrical tradition, in which the affluent characters are somewhat uneasily paired off at the beginning, and by the end they are more successfully matched, while a pair of lusty servants find time for a romance of their own. At the center of the film are a lawyer played by Björnstrand and an actress played by Dahlbeck, from which all the other relationships radiate, and Bergman controls the story perfectly, as the men take everything with the utmost seriousness, and the younger characters are more swept up in emotions than the older ones.