While having dinner with my family this evening they were asking about the list. Everyone threw out countless films that “for sure had to be on there” to which I shook my head no. Sometimes it was a film from a director who was otherwise represented. Maybe a genre film that was represented elsewhere, but more often than not it was just left off because well, there are only so many spots.
Now back to the first post, if there are more than 100 essential films why limit yourself? Well I didn’t exactly limit myself to 100. Like the NSFC list, I grouped a couple of similar films together. I don’t think there are any outright ridiculous pairings, but well they cheated so I will as well. Yet as I mentioned before when you start extending beyond those 100 film parameters everything starts to break down, and well nearly every film can be essential by some criteria.
I realized I could have made a few people happy (mainly myself) if I left out all documentary films, but well they have their place and I already said I’d include a couple. That said I by no means can hope to encapsulate all facets of documentary filmmaking here, and well that’s an entire other list of essentials, so my apologies in advance if documentaries are treated more as a genre than a type of film. At the very least the few representatives are closer to fiction films and help to blur that gap between the two, serving as you will as a gateway towards non-fiction film. In other words start here, and you’re on your own for all your documentary needs.
As originally advertised this tier is a little larger than the previous two. Here are what some people might call the “real” greatest films of all time. Their inclusion on so low a tier doesn’t mean they are lacking in quality in any way, just that some films benefit from context more than others. After I saw Pulp Fiction I watched Apocalypse Now, and although I liked it, the ending went right over my head and it wasn’t until later viewings that it started to come together a bit for me, and now well let’s just say it’s on my short list of favorite films ever. Same can be said for such other epics as Lawrence of Arabia or such critical darlings like Battleship Potemkin, Rules of the Game, and Sunrise among others.
So to put it plainly, I think you’re ready for it. Now if you’ve followed my advice and seen all the films on the first two tiers already then you have all my blessings in the world. This next batch should be easy for you. Some films may still seem difficult, or in some cases even “boring” or at the very least confusing. It’s ok these are all tried and true tested masterpieces. Sure you can see 10,000 movies and still find a few of these overrated, that’s inescapable. No matter how much acclaim a movie has gotten it’s still possible to look like crap to you personally. All of us have these films that we just don’t “get” or can’t figure out how it’s so well respected. Even a few of these overrated films are on my list. I intended from the start to make this list as objective as possible, so yeah if this was my personal list I can tell you a few films wouldn’t be on it, and you’re probably think I was a snotty, esoteric, elitist jack ass who didn’t know anything about great cinema. Point is these films are all worthy entries, but you personally might be more impressed with some than others.
So enough forewarning. I may have coddled you in past blog entries, but you’re going headfirst into the fire this time. Tackle this bunch of films and you’ll be ready for anything, from 15 hour multi-part epics, to some of Andy Warhol’s never ending static shot “movies”, to Stan Brakhage’s intricate light shows. This is the advanced stage. Some of these films are more accessible than others, and I guarantee a few will seem extremely easy to digest. They aren’t all torturous art films designed for the intellectual elite, hell I’d wager to guess even the greenest among you have seen one or two of these already. I’ve pretty much neglected any sort of order to these films, watch them as you find them or go chronologically if that suits you better.
Third Tier
2001: A Space Odyssey (1968) - Dir. Stanley Kubrick
Fat chance in hell I’d leave lord and master Stanley Kubrick off this list. If it were up to me he’d have a nice handful of films as I find nearly all of his movies personal essentials. However objective me is saying 2001 is the film above all others that must be watched. Reading between the lines I’ll say watch ‘em all, but sometimes even among a host of masterpieces one stands out in a truly profound and significant way. My words of advice, just watch the film. Don’t try to dissect it, don’t attempt to figure out it’s ending as it unfolds just allow it to come over you. Repeat viewings help but well the first time I ever saw this I sat in a daze staring at my TV unable to move or speak for damn near an hour. There aren’t a lot of films that can do that to a person.Nanook of the North (1922) - Dir. Robert Flaherty
When it comes to documentaries, Robert Flaherty is largely considered the father of them all. Truth be told the earliest films pretty much were all documentaries, so it’s origins are as old as cinema itself. Flaherty was a showman however, and while living and breathing with his subjects he often took to historical flights of fancy which made for better cinema. Many a documentarian after him ascribed to the same brash showmanship (Michael Moore anyone?) but well in 1922 when this film was made the whole concept of a feature length documentary was unheard of. It can be argued that Man of Aran or even The Louisiana Story might be better films, but you’d be hard pressed to find a documentary more important than this.
Talk to Her (2001) - Dir. Pedro Almodovar
I’m sorry it took so damn long to get to this century, my sincere apologies. The world of Almodovar is unique to say the least. Anytime someone new is introduced to his bizarre and sordid cinematic world I love to be around because no two people seem to react the same. Talk to Her was part of his more “mature” phase that followed after the tremendous success of All About My Mother. This film even won him a best original screenplay Oscar. For my money, and many other people Talk to Her is Almodovar’s best film. For decades now he has been Spain’s most famous cinematic export, and all of his films get distributed here in the US and all he needs to sell them is his last name. Talk to Her creatively and artistically is possibly his peak, and perhaps diving headfirst into his zanier early work, check this out, however be prepared for something a little different.
Apocalypse Now (1979) - Dir. Francis Ford Coppola
This film is almost as well known for the utter catastrophe of it’s production than the movie itself (brilliantly documented in Heart of Darkness). Coppola’s Vietnam odyssey started as an adaptation of Joseph Conrad’s Heart of Darkness but as shooting dragged on and more and more complications arose the film started to evolve and take on a life of it’s own. Some people who were in the war objected to the film, but it wasn’t so much about Vietnam, but was Vietnam as Coppola himself famously put it. After a brilliant opening the film takes a pretty standard war mission approach until you get to a point where you’re about ready for a final confrontation. Then it deteriorates completely into insanity and if you’re hoping for coherence and closure this is where the film will lose you, if you happily subject yourself to the ride then be prepared for cinema of the most bizarre and brilliant nature.
Blue Velvet (1986)/Mulholland Drive (2001) - Dir. David Lynch
Did someone say bizarre? Welcome to the world of David Lynch our generations foremost cinematic surrealist and damn near the most brilliant and innovative artist to emerge from the last several decades. From his first feature Eraserhead, Lynch has been a cult idol to countless film lovers. Blue Velvet to me is the best example of everything indicative of a “Lynch” film. It incorporates his predominant obsession with the seedy side of suburban living, a dreamlike narrative that still maintains perfect coherence. Disturbing in an exhilarating way for many this was the peak of his cinematic prowess. Mulholland Drive is a perfect place to go afterwards, and I admit a bit of “cheating” grouping these two together. Mulholland Drive was voted the best film of the past decade and it’s dreamlike narrative is far looser than Blue Velvet and much less coherent. It all does make sense with maybe a few viewings and a little bit of research but like several other films on this list, just enjoy the ride. Seeing how Lynch has vowed to go all digital in future films, this also serves as something of a conclusion to Lynch on celluloid, and arguably this is his best looking film.
Chungking Express (1994) - Dir. Wong Kar-Wai
For decades Hong Kong cinema was principally known for action. Even Wong started out in this vein with his first film As Tears Go By, but it was clear even from that first offering that this wasn’t going to be another John Woo or Tsui Hark. While directing the problematic action epic Ashes of Time, Wong and crew took a brief break. It was during this short interval that he made Chungking Express. Shot without any real script in an extremely short time it has the improvisational feel of the earlier French New Wave films with a style all it’s own and has served as perhaps Wong’s most definitive film. A welcome alternative to the usual Hong Kong flair, this isn’t entirely without action, but well calling this an action film would be laughably missing the point.
Vertigo (1958) - Dir. Alfred Hitchcock
In 2002 Sight and Sound released their every-decade poll of the greatest films of all time and many people were a little surprised to see a new number 2. That film second only to Citizen Kane was Alfred Hitchcock’s Vertigo. When it was first released the film was largely dismissed as a lesser and forgettable effort from the master, no better than The Wrong Man, The Trouble with Harry, Stage Fright, or I Confess. In the 70s, British critic and historian Robin Wood made the wild claim that it might be Hitchcock’s masterpiece. He was prepared to defend his seemingly ridiculous choice, but since then more and more people started to come around. As a tale of personal obsession and the ultimate personification of a real life Svengali it isn’t the most “entertaining” of Hitch’s oeuvre. Stylistically it may very well be his finest hour, from the opening credits (again courtesy of Saul Bass) to it’s brilliant score, San Francisco location photography, dizzying camera tricks, from opening to close it is visually as exciting as any film you’re likely to see. Personally I have my problems with the film, but I won’t deny that it isn’t very well worth watching.
Persona (1966) - Dir. Ingmar Bergman
When art house cinema was en vogue in the 50s and 60s few directors were more esteemed and respected than Ingmar Bergman. It seems outrageous to think that by the mid-60s most people thought he was washed up and his best days behind him. After another failed marriage, a poorly received comedy, and a self imposed exile it was assumed that he would never again reach the heights of The Seventh Seal, Wild Strawberries, or The Virgin Spring. Then he came out with Persona, his simplest and most profound film of his career. With Bibi Andersen and Liv Ullman he created a profound, slightly surreal, incredibly intimate drama of two women whose bond together grows into something metaphysical. It’s hard to describe this film in terms of plot points but from it’s brilliant de-constructive opening it’s clear Bergman was far from finished. Instead he produced what many (myself included) consider to be the finest film of his career.
Sunrise: A Song of Two Humans (1927) - Dir. F. W. Murnau
When critics of the time were convinced that sound would destroy the art of cinema, this is what they were talking about. By 1927 silent cinema as an art form had reached it’s creative peak. With Murnau’s films the camera was free to roam and every cinematic tool previously established was available to tell a story. Keeping his film as simple as possible with character names like “The Man”, “His Wife”, and “The Woman from the City”. The story is as simple as it is beautiful, and in terms of the poetry and artistry of the silent film this was arguably the highest high point. Murnau who was brought over from Germany was given complete control on this project but when the film after receiving critical acclaim failed to return as much commercially his subsequent films had much more studio oversight before his early death while making Tabu, a collaboration with the aforementioned Robert Flaherty. Considering his German career included such well regarded masterpieces as Nosferatu, The Last Laugh, and Faust saying this was his masterpiece is high praise indeed.
Tokyo Story (1953) - Dir. Yasujiro Ozu
If you love explosions, car chases, hot sex scenes, gore, and rapid dialogue laced with profanity than Yasujiro Ozu might very well be your favorite director ever. Ok, hopefully you didn’t stop reading there and run out to see Tokyo Story, because anyone who knows Ozu would probably be laughing hysterically at my first sentence. Ozu is an acquired taste. That doesn’t mean your first reaction to his work would be to flee and run away in bored terror. It just means that with age, repeat viewings you’ll slowly start to see just how inexplicably brilliant the simplest gestures and dialogue can be in a film. Amongst a long career that included many high points, Tokyo Story is the film for which Ozu will best be remembered. Borrowing its plot from Leo McCarey’s little seen but brilliant Make Way for Tomorrow it tells of an old couple who finds themselves an unwanted burden to their loving but ultimately unhelpful children. Many of Ozu’s family dramas focused on the young and their relation to the old, but in this case the story largely centers around the old, and not having their young children leave them, but more of the struggle of them being put out to pasture largely. Explosions aside, I’ll say this is a damn sight better than any Michael Bay movie you may poison your eyes with.
The Rules of the Game (1939) - Dir. Jean Renoir
Since the very first Sight and Sound Poll in 1952, only two films have ever appeared on every single list and this is one of them. Renoir’s final film before World War II was the culmination of a decade in which he delivered nothing but gold. No director besides possibly Kurosawa in the 50s had such an impressive decade of dominance. Renoir was at his peak and was still fresh off his American breakthrough after The Grand Illusion (an equally essential film) became the first foreign language film nominated for a best picture Academy Award. Rules of the Game on paper tells the story of a bunch of rich antiquated aristocrats who spend the weekend in a large chateau in the country, but with any film this praised it’s a lot more than that. Equally parts hilarious and tragic this remains the culmination of not just Renoir but a brilliant French film industry whose growth was severely stunted by a little asshole named Hitler.
The Passion of Joan of Arc (1928) - Dir. Carl Theodor Dreyer
It’s a shame to include a French film to help stand in for all the great Scandinavian silent films that are so important yet often very hard to come by. Carl Theodor Dreyer was Denmark’s greatest director who spent the 20s keeping very busy and producing an extremely diverse portfolio. It would blow people’s minds familiar with his four principle sound films to go back and watch this film because you wouldn’t even remotely be able to recognize the director’s style. Known for extremely long takes and a slow pace, the short running time, extremely short ASL (average shot length) and frantic tension of Passion would seem like it came from another world by comparison. Before the “talkies” came Hollywood had a great many reason to fear European cinema. A great many countries banded together to help make this film and the result was considered at the time to be quite possibly the best film yet made. As language differences forced European films to play to smaller and smaller domestic markets this remained but a glimpse of what could have been. It still packs a punch and remains a sacred treasure of the cinema.
The Apu Trilogy: Pather Panchali (1955), Aparajito (1957), The World of Apu (1959) - Dir. Satyajit Ray
It seems ironic that the best known Indian film in the West would be one of the most atypical films to come out of that nation. Today India is the largest producer of film in the world, and we all know of those lavish operatic epics filled with colorful costumes and endless singing and dancing. In the 50s an alternative emerged, filmed in the Bengali language associated with more rural provinces and centered around Calcutta it represented a remarkable alternative to the Hindi Bollywood product. Satyajit Ray became an internationally acclaimed auteur on par with Kurosawa, Fellini, and Bergman following the release of this trilogy which for many people outside of India was their first glimpse into Indian cinema, however atypical it might have been. Ray’s films owed more to the Italian neo-realist movement than domestic product, borrowing heavily from it’s literary source. If you need a little extra indication of it’s influence Matt Groening admitted that the Apu character from the Simpsons was named after the title character in this trilogy (although there is nothing about a convenience store cashier in this film so just to let you know).
Pulp Fiction (1994) - Dir. Quentin Tarantino
I know what you’re thinking, finally a damn film I’ve heard of. Well for many a learned cinephile the films mentioned here should be as well known as the collected plays of William Shakespeare to an English major. Ok now there isn’t anything too esoteric about this film, and some of you might think it’s accessible enough to have gone in one of the first two tiers (or insignificant enough to be saved for the fourth, or ignored entirely). Well in 1994 people were a little confused with it’s chronology. It doesn’t take long to figure out the order of events but it certainly caught a few people off guard at first. The influence of this film is still being sorted out and I wonder if any independent American film hasn’t borrowed or stolen from it in some capacity. Its so good that it even makes later Tarantino films feel like they’re plagiarizing a bit from it. Hell if you’re one of the 10 people who haven’t seen this film stop being ignorant and take care of that already, I’m not going to sit here and justify it’s inclusion here.
Rashomon (1950) - Dir. Akira Kurosawa
For an extremely long time Japan was a very foreign and very exotic little island. Most Americans didn’t know anything about Japan until called upon to fight them in WWII. Following the war and an occupation Japanese cinema was still a large mystery outside of the island. When Rashomon was picked as something of a throwaway film for the Venice Film Festival no one expected it to win the top honors. In 1951 it even garnered attention from the Academy Awards and suddenly there was a vogue for all things Japanese cinema. Through Rashomon people started to discover Kenji Mizoguchi, Ozu, Kon Ichikawa, and scores of others. This was the film that really broke down the wall between east and west cinema considering that very little of all Asian film was known in the west. Say what you will about the film or even Kurosawa but who knows what if anything we’d know today about that golden age of 50s Japanese cinema if it weren’t for this.
The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari (1920) - Dir. Robert Weine
Many people have heard the term Expressionism brandied about in relations to art and cinema without having a clear cut understanding of what it really is. Rather than offer any dictionary definition, I’d just say watch Caligari. No film, or piece of art for that matter is more representative of the style than this. It is also considered by many to be the first truly great horror film, and any aficionado of the genre will no doubt recognize the importance of this early gem. It goes along with a recurring theme throughout history that often times a defeated nation in a war can produce the best films immediately afterwards. The films hand painted sets might seem like a gimmick but they were done almost more out of necessity than anything else, but they certainly made the most of them.The Man With a Movie Camera (1929) - Dir. Dziga Vertov
Another silent film? You guessed it. Few nations ever embraced a concept like montage as readily as the Soviet Union did. Dziga Vertov was a politically motivated documentarian that spent the decade filming in remote provinces as part of his landmark Kino-Eye series. This film was a feature that at the time might have recalled the “city symphonies” a odd subgenre exclusive to the silent film, but far outlasted and outshined all similar films. Less geared towards Communist aims this film is his least political and most brilliant. At it’s core it is a feature length demonstration of rapidly advanced editing techniques. A film that would be impossible a few years later and well you still wonder just how the hell it was done at all. For what montage was all about you’ll find no greater representation. This film has no plot to speak of but it certainly doesn’t need it, I dare you to be bored while watching it.
Metropolis (1927) - Dir. Fritz Lang
It seems no matter what science fiction film comes out it owes a debt to Metropolis. Long since public domain the film has been released in so very many awful incarnations (remember the 80s re-release with original music from Loverboy?). Recent years have brought some much needed integrity back to the picture. Back in 2003 a restored version was released, and a few years later even more lost footage was found. Today the film is as good if not better than it was when initially released and it remains the crowning achievement from the once prominent Ufa studios in Germany, before America took away all their best talent. Lang certainly made a few more gems, but in terms of scope an influence this would remain his longest lasting contribution to cinema. Amazing to think how iconic the film has been even in a butchered state, now that it’s back to it’s original glory (or as close as it’ll get anyways) the film just seems that much more extraordinary.
Lawrence of Arabia (1962) - Dir. David Lean
It’s rare when a big budget Hollywood epic is also an art film. After years of pumping out glorious Technicolor epics designed to dwarf the films shown on television, Columbia pictures decided to make Lawrence of Arabia. Given the helm was David Lean, fresh off his Oscar for Bridge on the River Kwai. Like Apocalypse Now this production would prove extremely problematic and would take infinitely longer than anyone would have anticipated. The wait was worth it because Lean brought back the epic to end all epics and arguably the best film ever photographed in color. An introspective epic that isn’t short on large scale battles it is at it’s core a complicated character piece of a complicated character. It seems even more modern epics turn up the CGI and forget things like character development. There are moments in this film where you simply feel lost in the enormity of it and realize you’re witnessing a one of a kind gem. Not the easiest epic to digest as one friend referred to it as a four hour movie about sand, but well worth the time and as good a Hollywood product as you’ll find, one that will never be duplicated.
Andrei Rublev (1966) - Dir. Andrei Tarkovsky
When looking at the original NSFC list I didn’t really complain about what was excluded. After all the list should be more about what’s included rather than what got left out. However the fact that there was no Tarkovsky seemed like a glaring oversight that needed some justification. A filmmaker of enormous importance whose style is uniquely singular yet an inspiration to countless European auteurs. His films are mesmerizing in their scope and execution. From the films opening sequences of flying it’s clear that Tarkovsky is at least figuratively operating on another plane here. A near 4 hour epic about an iconic Russian painter this isn’t the type of film that screams masterpiece, but along with his subsequent films Solaris and The Mirror it is one of the supreme testaments to European cinema. It seemed like a bold statement to declare Tarkovsky the greatest director to come from the Soviet Union, but the more I watch his films the more I stand behind that remark, and this is his first unquestionable masterpiece and arguably his greatest.
M (1931) - Dir. Fritz Lang
It might seem overkill to have two Fritz Lang films on this list, that is at least until you see both films. Lang often referred to M as his greatest film and watching it today you can still see why. It’s nowhere near the scope of some of his silent films, and this was his first venture into sound, treacherous waters for many a great director. However Lang made the most of it and employed arguably the creepiest offscreen whistling of all time. Showing his horror largely through cutaways, editing, shadows, and juxtaposition it’s a film about a serial killer that doesn’t show the killer until long into the film and actually makes him seem sympathetic. One of the last great German films before Hitler came to power this was Lang arguably at his best. It might not have the pop culture influence of Metropolis but myself and others would probably say this is the better film, and absolute must.
8 ½ (1963) - Dir. Federico Fellini
Well here’s another repeat offender on our list. Fellini can be debated as Italy’s greatest director, but his influence and stature in his time far surpassed any of his countrymen. 8 ½ was the second film of his in a row to earn him a best director nomination from the Academy (he won neither time go figure), but this is one of those films that virtually every director would point to as an all time favorite. The film blends reality with dream, fantasy with flashback so seamlessly that it doesn’t even seem to matter which is which by the end, and I’ve never been quite sure about that final sequence. 8 ½ is also bittersweet because after this Fellini would go on in a similar direction for the remainder of his career and for those who fell in love with his films La Strada, Nights of Cabiria, or even La Dolce Vita would never forgive him for it. This is the ultimate in autobiographical surrealistic art house extravaganza and quite possibly the best foreign film ever made.
The Battleship Potemkin (1925) - Dir. Sergei Eisenstein
When I mentioned Rules of the Game being one of two films on every Sight and Sound poll, this was the other. Eisenstein was recognized as master in his day and was the figurehead of the highly innovative and still influential Soviet montage school. Potemkin was his second film, commissioned on the 20th anniversary of the incident depicted and it was one of those rare brilliant marriages of propaganda and art, and one of the few films he produced that the government actually approved of. An incredibly powerful film that easily puts you on the side of the mutineers as well as the civilians supporting their cause it will forever be known for it’s massacre sequence on the steps of Odessa. Film textbooks break this down shot for shot and nearly everyone whose taken a film class has probably had to sit through it. Even if you haven’t you’ll recognize it’s enormous list of cinematic homages from The Untouchables to the Simpsons.
L’Avventura (1960) - Dir. Michelangelo Antonioni
Along with La Dolce Vita this film marked a crucial turning point in Italian cinema in 1960. The film angered people like no other when it first appeared on the international festival circuit. Antonioni turned his focus the over-privileged spoiled upper class, and had the audacity not to offer any sort of closure at the films conclusion. This film may still anger you when it’s all over, but once you get used to Antonioni it’ll seem like the rule rather than the exception. It’s a mystery where the mystery isn’t terribly important at all, and it’s more about the people involved. It is a seminal film that severed the ties from what came before it dramatically and ushered in a whole new world of Italian cinema where filmmakers like Francisco Rosi, Bernardo Bertolucci, Marco Bellocchio, and of course Pier Paolo Passolini could establish a new kind of Italian cinema.Fourth Tier is coming soon, and just for the record it’s “all of the above” so don’t think it’s necessarily lesser films by any stretch. So if you haven’t seen a particular favorite by the end of that list, then feel free to email me and complain.
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