Top 100 Films 75-51

75. The Third Man (1949) - Carol Reed
If you want to know what my ideal movie would look like stylistically, The Third Man might be it. Carol Reed did his best Orson Welles impression and even got the man himself to deliver his most iconic acting role. Post-war black market Vienna is the backdrop for the film once named the greatest British movie of all time. Not hard to argue it as the years have only made this film better and better. Cinematographer Robert Krasker also shot Brief Encounter, easily the best looking of David Lean’s black and white features. The German Expressionist influence is all over it, but distilled through the prism of American post-war noir films, and great advancements in lenses and deep focus photography. All of that means nothing without a damn interesting story courtesy of Graham Greene, who makes this his best collaboration with Reed. There’s also the little matter of the zither score by Anton Karas, which oddly enough became a mini-sensation after the release. When the parts are this great, the sum is truly exceptional.

74. Sansho the Bailiff (1954) - Kenji Mizoguchi
This one is dedicated to John-5 wherever you are. In the long, long ago when the foreignfilms.com board was active a particular member there spoke often on how Kenji Mizoguchi was the greatest director to ever live and Sansho the Bailiff was the single greatest movie ever made. As you can tell by my numbering, I don’t quite agree with him, but 20+ years after that idea was planted in my brain I finally can at least agree it is Mizoguchi’s masterpiece. I have also posted here about Mizoguchi being Japan’s greatest director as well. Sansho is in the middle of what would prove to be a late career surge for Kenji, which saw him as prolific as ever up to his death. In fact this was one of 3 films he made in just 1954. After the triumphs of Life of Oharu (featured in the 2013 edition) and Ugetsu, the old master topped himself with Sansho. It displays a rare humanist streak in his work which would probably be more in line with Kurosawa. The world is cruel and often unforgiving but there can be some redemptive justice, but often not for everyone. The acting in the film also seems very restrained by 1950s Japanese standards with only a few violent outbursts which seem very much in context. If I had a complaint it would be that the score often sounds like a 5 year old is playing a recorder over the otherwise well composed music, something that was impossible to un-hear after my wife brought it up.

73. Pierrot le Fou (1965) - Jean-Luc Godard
There are a growing number of people who get subjected to Breathless in a film class or see it on a list only to be underwhelmed. It isn’t that Breathless is bad, but it definitely is a film with a director who had a lot to say but hadn’t figured out how to say it. I also feel like Godard was so anxious to make a movie, he didn’t actually bother to figure out what that movie should be. By 1965, Jean-Luc Godard was the figurehead and master of the Nouvelle Vague. Working again in scope with Roul Coutard he took the melancholy film-within-a-film setting of Le Mepris and opened it up. The “plot” in this film is almost completely irrelevant, it’s just a great filmmaker flexing on us all. This is before his Marxist period where the entire movie would come to a screeching halt so people can be his mouthpiece for politics. Godard was still fun, and still experimenting with how to tell a story. Flashes of bold color here, and a leap in narrative logic there, it remains a joy to experience. Perhaps the most “fun” you can have with Godard.

72. Aguirre the Wrath of God (1972) - Werner Herzog
My first encounter with Werner Herzog remains the best. Here I go bringing up Danny Peary again but this was included in Cult Movies and his write-up seemed to suggest it was superior to Apocalypse Now. While I might not agree with that, they are in many ways two-of-a-kind. The slow trip down a jungle river while descending into madness subgenre produced at least these two masterpieces. This was also the first time Herzog worked with Klaus Kinski and hearing the stories from the shoot it’s amazing that either lived long enough to make another movie together let alone four. Sometimes to capture a lunatic you need to be a little crazy yourself, and nowhere was their toxic friendship/partnership on better display than Aguirre. One of the breakthrough films of West Germany in the 70s that has lost none of its edge 50 years later. How many other movies end with a raft full of spider monkeys? 

71. Sherlock Jr. (1924) - Buster Keaton
What makes a film a feature? This is a debate that might have actually defined rules when it comes to Academy Award consideration but simply a feature is a feature. Buster Keaton’s 1924 gem Sherlock Jr. holds the distinction of being the shortest film on this list, by a pretty wide margin if I’m being honest. I first heard of this specific film when it was ranked one spot higher than Schindler’s List on Entertainment Weekly’s 1999 edition of the 100 Greatest Films. At the time I felt insulted, how could some dumb silent comedy really be better than Spielberg’s Holocaust epic? Well 20+ years later it seems far less crazy to me. In my lifetime I have thought Steamboat Bill Jr., Our Hospitality, and now this are Keaton’s greatest achievements. Funny I never seemed to love The General as much as others, although I had the revelation that it felt like a proto-Fury Road last time but that can be a stretch. Sherlock Jr. remains a perfect, and succinct Keaton film. It shows his ingenuity, his inventiveness, and how extremely gifted and occasionally insane of a comedic actor he was. I can’t guarantee a future visit might make me change my favorite of his a fourth time, but in the year of 2023, Sherlock Jr. is the tops. The phrase all-killer no-filler certainly applies to Sherlock Jr.

70. The Cremator (1968) - Juraj Herz
There are few national cinemas I dove as deep into as Czechoslovakia. Between roughly 1964-70 it was arguably the most interesting national cinema around. The films were weird, subversive, darkly comical, and always inventive. Among those early Czech filmmakers only one seemed to embrace horror as a genre. That was Juraj Herz, who continued working in and around the genre for decades after The Cremator. You can argue whether The Cremator is a proper horror film, but it is quietly unnerving and there’s something just unsettling about Rudolf Hrusinsky’s constant grin and endless narration. Stanislav Milota films so much of the film with a wildly distorted wide-angle lens to add to the creepiness. It’s the kind of psychological horror that doesn’t necessarily creep you out, just kinda gets under your skin and makes you feel uneasy. With all due respect to Daisies, Diamonds of the Night, Closely Watched Trains, or Marketa Lazarova this remains my favorite Czech film.

69. A Clockwork Orange (1971) - Stanley Kubrick
I can count about a half dozen films from Danny Peary’s Cult Movies 2 on this list. It was probably the first real book on film I ever read, but let's be honest I was mainly interested in the movies with boobs. At the age of roughly 12 I watched A Clockwork Orange for the first time, and along with The Shining I’m pretty sure Stanley Kubrick became my favorite director not long after that. Truth be told he’s probably the only person to ever occupy that space for me. Some of that credit should go to John Alcott who shot both A Clockwork Orange and The Shining (along with 2001 and Barry Lyndon). Together they created a look that just spoke to me. Kubrick’s background in still photography I’m sure played no small role in his near perfect style. With Clockwork though he takes a seemingly juvenile story, makes it simultaneously a parable on fascism and communism. There is hardly a wasted moment and the few things that seem extraneous just sprinkle the right amount of absurdity into the mix. Malcolm McDowell is absolutely perfect as Alex, and just how damn memorable is Wendy Carlos’s score? Oh yeah, the movie also has boobs.

68. Predator (1987) - John McTiernan
I’m not sure what is about male bonding, but I have entire friend groups who can speak exclusively in Predator quotes. From the world’s greatest handshake to two Shane Black pussy jokes, this movie has possibly the most testosterone ever committed to celluloid. John McTiernan instantly became a major force in directing action and it’s still shocking this was his first film. He handles the task well, always keeping his camera moving, tracking across the jungle, and visually giving us tiny slivers of information before the rest of our swole cast gets it. How the film goes from generic action movie to slasher to science fiction is a tour-de-force. Fox has spent the better part of 35 years insisting this is a franchise but nothing ever came remotely close to this movie. Legendary score, legendary cast, phenomenal creature design and Bill Duke shaving his sweat. This isn’t even a guilty pleasure, I defy you not to find this an incredibly well made movie. Arnold’s signature one-liners earlier in the film seem to be repaid tenfold when he starts getting his ass handed to him. It has everything, even two future governors.

67. Kill Bill (2003-2004) - Quentin Tarantino
There are people out there who hate Quentin Tarantino, and hate his films. Sucks to be them, because let me tell you they are missing out. Tarantino made the 6 year wait after Jackie Brown worth it with the first installment of Kill Bill. Knowing a lot about classic martial arts films may help, but it certainly isn’t necessary. Tarantino has always been a master of taking the best elements of what he loved in cinema and making it his own creation. Most of the best directors did similar things and you can hear someone like Scorsese pointing to exact shots in Powell/Pressburger films or Godard that he swiped for his movies. As one giant epic, Kill Bill seems to have everything, covering yakuza films, anime, kung fu, horror, and some spaghetti western while we’re at it. A gleefully entertaining bloody mess of an epic that never ceases to impress me. It is maximalism at its finest, all reigned in by some of the best performers in the business.

66. Duck Soup (1933) - Leo McCarey
Pure fucking chaos, and I mean that in the most hilarious way possible. The Marx Brothers final film with all four of them, and their final Paramount picture will forever be the best. Sure it’s funny and ridiculous, but the mere absence of their trademark musical interludes might be the real secret. Simply put nothing slows down the mayhem here, unlike the usual grind-to-a-halt piano and harp solos we were blessed with. Not that we don’t love those, but this film barely creeps past the hour mark, and that’s just the way it should be. There are still musical numbers, most of which are pedestrian but the brothers themselves just wreak havoc. Nearly every line of dialogue Groucho and Chico speak is a joke, and Harpo has never been funnier ruining everyone’s day who crosses his path. There is some subtle political satire here, but that is all irrelevant, it’s just a backdrop for more gags and absurdity. A brazen anti-establishment masterpiece that needs to be seen at least a dozen times just to catch your breath and get all the jokes.

65. The Apartment (1960) - Billy Wilder
Many times on these lists I am content to have one movie represent a director. Many times these filmmakers deserve multiple spots but with only 100 to go around I often find myself making a concession and picking one to stand in for many. Of course there are a few exceptions and Billy Wilder is certainly one of them. The interesting thing about The Apartment though is that 10 years ago I might have considered this his 6th best film. Well with a little age and wisdom this could very well be Wilder’s masterpiece. So why do I feel like it’s underrated? It won a best picture Oscar, and nabbed Wilder his second best director trophy. Even Wilder himself claimed this was his best film, as he felt it was the best balance between comedy and drama that he did. I’ll hold off on proclaiming this his supreme masterpiece but I can’t find a single flaw with the film. Even the dated sexist central premise works beautifully. Much in the same way there is heart-wrenching drama from the reformers taking The Dear One’s baby in Intolerance. Hell how many classic horror films wouldn’t exist without a cell phone? It sums up everything Wilder did well, there are genuine laughs, both Lemmon and MacLaine are perfect, and I just absolutely love it. I have a friend who watches this movie every New Years and makes sure it’s the first film of the year. Not a bad tradition, certainly can start the year off worse.

64. The Royal Tenenbaums (2001) - Wes Anderson
Before he was a meme and a brand of filmmaking unto himself Wes Anderson made this absolutely perfect film. The Anderson aesthetic was really only two films deep, although early hints of it might have been present in Bottle Rocket. Rushmore was truly the birth of his style, but this was his first time juggling the approach with an ensemble. He has never come close to balancing all the moving parts this well, despite some very noble attempts. It may have something to do with the fact that this was the first Wes Anderson film I’ve seen, and to date probably the one I’ve watched the most. I sadly skipped re-watching it for my last list, and it probably would have made the cut. Now when I watch the note perfect cast I can’t help but miss Gene Hackman. He’s still alive but hasn’t acted in nearly 2 decades. This was also perhaps the first time I realized I might actually be able to stomach Ben Stiller in a movie. Brings a little bit of sadness to know people aren’t discovering Wes Anderson through this movie, and his style and reputation appears to precede him.

63. Moonlight (2016) - Barry Jenkins
Moonlight might seem better known for being part of the most hilariously awkward fuck up in Academy Awards history. It’s a shame because god damn was it great. I’ll let you decide if you think it deserved to beat La La Land, but its placement on this list would at least tell you both were deserving. What made Jenkins' film somewhat of a revelation when it came out, was how subtle it is. It tells of a uniquely personal story of black America that most of the people outside of a Miami project wouldn’t know anything about. Rather than give you some narration or a large set up, it plays out in tiny slices of life. Watching the film a second time I’m not even sure there is a single white person in the movie. We get something of an anthology structure with three separate actors playing Chiron in different phases of his life, and how those small slices of life make a man. Few if any films shot in the last decade look as beautiful as well, Jenkins making sure that even if the surroundings aren’t glamorous they can still be visually enticing.

62. Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind (2004) - Michel Gondry
Film school nerds are occasionally right, even if insufferable, and I say this as one of them. Before he became hell bent on alienating everyone Charlie Kauffman was the most exciting screenwriter in Hollywood. Before he became too preoccupied with being “inventive” and sacrificing style for substance Michel Gondry was what you might call a “visionary”. After two extremely successful (at least creatively) collaborations with Spike Jonze, Kauffman and Gondry made this film that can quietly break your heart in between its leaping narratives. The entire concept is playing with the idea of what would people do if they could erase painful memories. In the end we realize it’s always better to have loved and lost, but it also shows how well these small moments and interactions shape who we are as a person, and sometimes we may be doomed to do it all over again. Without the heart of this film I don’t think it holds up and probably plays out more like Mood Indigo or The Science of Sleep. Jim Carrey after a decade of trying to convince people he was capable of being a great dramatic actor, put all doubts to rest here. Kate Winslet perfected the archetype of the damaged girl with the weird hair who can “complete someone” only to realize she’s just another fucked up person trying to figure their own shit out. Its setting makes me wonder if it isn’t the best or the worst film to watch on Valentine’s Day.

61. Werckmeister Harmonies (2000) - Bela Tarr/Agnes Hranitzky
The thought of long, slow takes in black and white with an oppressive gloominess might send some people running and screaming. Lucky for me that is absolutely my jam. It may sound like blasphemy but I will be honest, Satantango is too long. I know it shouldn’t sound preposterous to say a 7 hour movie is a bit lengthy, but it seems like it could have been 3 hours or under and lost none of its impact. There’s a weird psychological effect to watching something that long where you have to convince yourself you didn’t waste your time. That particular epic I’ve watched three times so imagine how I feel. Tarr’s follow-up Werckmeister seems like he understood that memo. It has everything in it that made Damnation and Satantango so memorable while also keeping it around 130 minutes, perfectly acceptable for a slow burner like this. For my money this is a master at his best, balancing a gripping narrative with those never ending shots. Between the form, style, music, and story which is still a bit loose everything succeeds. Even watching this on the ancient and awful Facets DVD didn’t distract from how incredible it is. Look for the new 4k restoration from Janus/Criterion soon and be prepared to be blown away. I believe this is also the first time he credited his wife Agnes Hranitzky as co-director.

60. City Lights (1931) - Charles Chaplin
The theme of this list could very well be described as “what a difference a decade makes.” I knew before I started this process that a few titles were going to be swapped around, and my favorites from particular filmmakers might change. Well in the case of Mr. Chaplin, you have to go all the way back to 2003 when City Lights sat comfortably perched on the top of my list as his best work. It was something of a shock to me a decade ago when it was Modern Times that seemed to hit the spot so perfectly. City Lights and its blustering drunken friend-turned-sober-asshole that seemed to wear on me. In 2023 however any annoyance at this character was gone and I was left with what feels like the perfect Chaplin movie. It has the pathos his best work has, some genuinely good comedic bits, and just enough social commentary to still be subtle rather than preachy. In short, my once and current choice for his masterpiece.

59. Videodrome (1983) - David Cronenberg
There are a number of films I gave another watch to that I don’t think I even considered a decade ago. I’m not sure how much Cronenberg I checked out for the 2013 edition, but that’s an oversight on my part. Perhaps it was the semi-retirement of Cronenberg that seemed to elevate him from cult genre master to world class filmmaker in the eyes of more established credits, or maybe I’m just more into this shit than I used to be. Crimes of the Future reminded everyone that the old man still had it, but for my money Videodrome is the movie you show people when they want to see what David Cronenberg is all about. Like his best work, it fucks with your head, is sexually perverse, there is body horror a plenty, and it all feels like a bit of a bad but fascinating dream. You can argue whether or not other films of his are better, but few seem to sum up everything that made him great quite like Videodrome. Not at all an exaggeration to say this is Canada’s greatest export. Long live the new flesh.

58. Weekend (1967) - Jean-Luc Godard
Weekend is the apex of Godard’s career. The moment where he emptied his bag of tricks and delivered his most nihilistic, experimental, yet coherent attack on upper middle class colonialist values. His message would get progressively more acerbic and his delivery would get far more abstract in the coming years/decades, but here there is still a solid grounding. That isn’t to say Weekend is entirely coherent and narratively straightforward. The film throws as many diversions and curveballs as our married couple seem to go through. It depicts a literal capitalist hellscape, which is perhaps optimistically upended by violent slightly cannibalistic guerillas. We are also blessed with perhaps the most famous tracking shot in all of cinema, or French cinema anyways, with a traffic jam that dips into surrealist territory as the movie continues its descent into madness.

57. Touch of Evil (1958) - Orson Welles
It can be hard to define what makes a great director. Styles are all over the place and some directors seem allergic to camera movements. For Welles though he had an almost compulsion to avoid any flat shot/reverse-shot set up. Everything needs an angle, a track, a crane shot, something visually to make things flow better. Sometimes you notice it, such as the legendary opening shot of this movie, other times it’s a lot more subtle like the two even longer single shots during the interrogation. There have been numerous iterations of Touch of Evil, and even in its butchered form it is still a stone cold classic. Sure Charlton Heston is one of the least convincing Mexicans in cinema history, but at least he spares us the embarrassment of a shitty offensive accent. Truthfully if it weren’t for Heston, Welles wouldn’t have been hired to direct, so we have him to thank. It shows for one final time what a master can do with just a little bit of a budget. If I had one thing negative to say about it, I still very much do not understand Dennis Weaver.

56. Ali Fear Eats the Soul (1974) - Rainer Werner Fassbinder
Every decade I cast a wide net with this list. Certain films I’ve seen a couple times I realize probably have no shot, and others I think a fresh take would be in order. After deciding Berlin Alexanderplatz was not eligible (it is technically a mini-series), I had a vacancy for my favorite Fassbinder “film”. The likely candidate to replace it is the fantastic Marriage of Maria Braun, and although that film is still damn good, its larger budget and scope almost betrays what made Fassbinder so remarkable. So I took another look at Fear Eats the Soul, a film I thought was a little preposterous as a central premise and I was far too cynical to take it seriously. My stomach for melodrama and improbable love stories has apparently grown. This went from middle of the road to one of my new all time favorites. What a difference a couple decades make. It broke my heart, but oddly enough just felt so much more grounded in reality this time. Just two lonely people finding each other and dealing with some of the bullshit surrounding it. Before I even knew what it was, I will forever associate couscous with Ali. It’s simple and powerful, and sometimes you just need a little life experience to understand how great a movie this could be.

55. No Country for Old Men (2007) - Joel and Ethan Coen
It’s hard to remember now, but by the mid-2000s it seemed like the Coen brothers' best work was behind them. The 1-2 punch of Fargo and The Big Lebowski was years ago and they were coming off of Intolerable Cruelty and a deeply forgettable remake of The Ladykillers. With this backdrop they returned to what they did so well, back to Texas where their brilliant debut Blood Simple was set. Adapting Cormac McCarthy’s neo-noir tinged contemporary western, would land them a best picture and director Oscar. Among many great Oscar battles it was between this and Paul Thomas Anderson’s There Will Be Blood. I have always preferred the Coen’s film and 15+ years later and several revisits for each I still do. A profoundly perfect film that brilliantly illustrates how two minds in sync can work wonders if given the right material and backdrop. Just another in a long series of goofy haircut psychopaths played by Javier Bardem, this is also his most terrifying and menacing. The brother’s work would get slightly more nihilistic after but this film remains pretty god damn bleak, yet always compelling.

54. LA Confidential (1997) - Curtis Hanson
Some 21 years ago I rented this movie from the library. I watched it, went to work and didn’t stop thinking about it. When I got home, I watched it again. This is not a normal occurrence for me but it still stands out because every time I return to LA Confidential it hooks me right back in. In the 26 years since it was released there is less and less discussion about the film. Few people seem to dislike it, but it rarely gets brought up in the greatest ever debates, and the spark that Curtis Hanson had after that movie, which continued through Wonder Boys and 8-Mile seems to have faded. Sure they didn’t quite measure up to this, but look at this list, not many films have. Some credit must be given to Ellmore James who wrote the novel this was based on. When the plot can throw some twists in there and still be exciting after 6 viewings, something is working. As revisionist history continues to downgrade Polanski’s work, I wonder if this may be re-discovered by another generation as the ultimate neo-noir. I, for one, need no validation for loving it. However with the eradication of Kevin Spacey it might just be a wash. Just the facts, folks.

53. Mr. Smith Goes to Washington (1939) - Frank Capra
Even the most hardened of hearts tend to soften a bit when confronted with Frank Capra. It’s hard not to feel a little bit of optimism in the human race when faced with his particular brand of Capra-corn. After a torrid stretch where Capra won best director 3 times in 5 years and helmed 2 best picture winners, he outdid himself. Mr. Smith Goes to Washington began as a sequel to Mr. Deeds Goes to Town but morphed into something unique. That isn’t saying Gary Cooper couldn’t have played Jefferson Smith, but this was the role of Jimmy Stewart’s lifetime. Many people may point to It’s a Wonderful Life or even Vertigo, but Mr. Smith is Stewart at his best. Watching it in 2023 stings a little because we do know the entire government has been bought and paid for decades ago. However this is the movies and for just a little bit it’s nice to think that people of integrity can still fight for the right thing. Top-billed Jean Arthur’s Saunders is probably my favorite role she ever played.

52. Magnolia (1999) - Paul Thomas Anderson
Sometimes the pupil becomes the “master”, ah a PTA joke. Paul Thomas Anderson took a healthy cue from Robert Altman, particularly Short Cuts, and fashioned his own definitive ensemble epic. Armed with a perfect cast, and perhaps an even better group of songs from Aimee Mann, Magnolia was as good as he ever got. PTA might have gotten more serious, perhaps even more ambitious in later films, but Magnolia is a marvelous juggling act. All the pieces fit and rarely have 3 hours flown by so fast. Like many of the greatest films, and ones that populate this list, it rewards the viewer who pays attention and watches it repeatedly. All those 82s hiding in plain sight, all those sexy connective tissues between one story and another. It is a gigantic swing and is just surreal enough to work.

51. The Grapes of Wrath (1940) - John Ford
Classic literature and Hollywood have been strange bedfellows since the earliest days of cinema. Popular fiction and Hollywood have also worked well together over the years, but rarely has a truly great book been turned into a truly great film. The Grapes of Wrath is certainly one of the exceptions if not the ultimate example of getting it right. Perhaps it was those stars aligning. Henry Fonda was a perfect Tom Joad, Greg Tolland was the right cinematographer, and John Ford was absolutely the correct choice to direct. Ford won his second of a record 4 best director Oscars for this, and for my money it’s the one he probably deserved the most. Condensing a gut-wrenching cross country migration to a little over two hours is no small task. The film breaks things up beautifully with Ford’s trademark humor and sense of community, but when things need to get bleak, boy do they. The original ending of the book wasn’t shot for censorship reasons, but the film chooses to end on a slightly more optimistic note, straight from the pen of Steinbeck. I used to cringe at what I perceived was hogwash sentimentality but now I see it as the summation of what makes these Okie’s persevere. What can you say besides it’s one of the all time greats?
 

Top 100 Films (2023 Edition): Introduction 100-76

 So it’s come to this. A decade in the making, 500+ movies rewatched just this year, and far too many tough decisions. For the sheer enormity of this project I vowed some time ago to only update things once a decade. A lot can change in a decade however, 32 films to be exact. That is how many films from this list weren’t present on the 2013 edition. To be fair it is far more turnover than I would have initially estimated, but that’s why I do the work.

So I should point out the obvious, 32 new movies, means 32 previous films have disappeared. Even with nearly a third of the entries changing I stand by that 2013 list. It might not directly reflect my current taste, but next time around many of these could return. Two “films” however will not return simply because I essentially changed the rules for this edition. After a little bit of searching I determined both Berlin Alexanderplatz and Carlos were mini-series rather than films. Sight and Sound may let people vote for entire seasons of a television show or even YouTube videos, but not me. Fassbinder’s opus has always been a series, it is even broken into episodes with their own credits, but I chose to be a lot looser with my definition in 2013. Looking at the Wikipedia page for Carlos the first sentence mentions it as a mini-series. So in the interest of consistency and getting more films in here, they were left out.

This distinction meant that for things like Fanny and Alexander or Scenes From a Marriage I could only consider the theatrical version, even if the extended TV cut is superior. That doesn’t mean made for TV movies are ineligible, and with the current Emmy nominees deciding that direct to streaming films count makes everything a little muddier. At the end of the day, movies are movies, and TV is TV. As before I kept the same idea regarding documentaries. There is one film on this list that may be considered a documentary but I never really thought the description fit. A number of the best films of the past decade were made exclusively for streaming services, but I don’t believe any of them actually made the final list, maybe next decade.

As much as I did try to spread the love, there are a lot of great directors who are not represented here. Many of them appeared in 2013, and some just barely missed the cut. I could certainly make a case there are more than 100 great filmmakers so it stands to reason someone gets left out. However I didn’t anticipate more than one of my top 20 directors would be sitting out the 2023 edition. So apologies in advance, even I was deeply disappointed in the final outcome.

Should be pointed out that a few folks earned multiple spots on the list. A new director(s) joined the 3 film club. No one had 4 however. A total of 13 people had more than one film, so blame them if your favorite director is missing out. Every list I start with the idea that the best films will make the list and I won’t just pick one movie to represent entire careers. Then reality sets in and a few great directors get reduced to a single entry (or less) for a career.

Now I should point out something that hasn’t changed and that is the subject of “cheating”. There are technically more than 100 films on this list, so if you were reading this on Letterboxd it might seem like I’m taking liberties. More than one film in a series can be grouped together provided they are consecutive releases. For example Lord of the Rings can be one entry, despite three separate films, however I couldn’t put only Rocky 1 and 4 on. To further explain things, a complete franchise isn’t required. Say I only wanted to put The Dark Knight on and not Batman Begins and the Dark Knight Rises on, that is fine. I could make the same argument for Avengers: Infinity War, and technically by my definition only include Infinity War and Endgame. Again these are hypotheticals so don’t necessarily look for these films on the list.

However, thematic trilogies or film series do not count. Things like Ingmar Bergman’s trilogy (Through a Glass Darkly, Winter Light, The Silence) or The Man With No Name Trilogy (Fistful of Dollars, For a Few Dollars More, The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly) do not count since they don’t share a consistent storyline. Of course any individual film from these does count. It gets a little grayer when a similar character appears, such as the Monsieur Hulot films from Jacques Tati, but ultimately the eligibility is mine to determine. I am also not counting massive series like the entire MCU, or the Zatoichi films. Hypothetically, if I was braindead and wanted to include Star Wars episodes 1-9 they may technically count, but if you put Rise of Skywalker and Phantom Menace on a top 100 list you might have brain damage. Does this make sense? Well when you make your own top 100, then you can decide what counts.

A few more in the “don’t count” category. There is no film and remake grouped together. Not sure what the best example of this would be, but say I wanted to include the 1958 Fly along with the Cronenberg 1986 Fly, despite a similar source they are not the same. Substitute Ben-Hur or one of the 2,000 adaptations of Dracula or Frankenstein and you get the point. It would have also been a little lazy of me to allow ties. Despite many films appearing equal in my eyes, ultimately everything needs its own number. The full Sight and Sound list had 264 titles in the top 250 because of multiple ties. I consider this cheating so I’m not grouping multiple unrelated films in the same spot because they are “equally good”.

I had no requirements beyond the best films. So there was no mandate of inclusion whether that be ethnicity, gender, country, decade, etc. I believe I sampled a wide range of movies from all over the place, but again 100 movies is not enough to include everyone, everywhere. I happen to be a lousy American, but I feel that international cinema is well represented. I’m not going to pretend Jeanne Dielman is a masterpiece just to earn brownie points with people who sniff their own farts. There certainly are films that could be considered pretentious art films, but again if I like ‘em they make the list. So there were no minimums for decades, however there was at least one film from the 1910s through the 2020s.  

If you read this far, thank you. It has been an ordeal putting this together, so enough talking, let’s start the list.

100. Spirited Away (2001) - Hayao Miyazaki
Perhaps the hardest part of putting this thing together were these last 8. I spent an agonizing amount of time making those final cuts and ultimately settled on Hayao Miyazaki’s masterpiece as the final entry. There were plenty of worthy films left on the chopping block, but it ultimately came down to how damn much I enjoy this film. I’m not sure if it is necessary to mention I am far from an anime fanatic, and if you point out any of the cultural touchstones I would probably be clueless. Over the past several decades Miyazaki has emerged as the definitive force in Japanese animation. If you take the del Toro approach that animation is cinema, then he may be Japan’s greatest filmmaker of the past 40 years (Kore-eda his greatest competitor). In a short amount of time, the spirit world sets up its own rules and you buy in instantaneously. This is pure imagination and it is delightful.There is also a darkness to it that harkens back to the earliest recorded fairy tales.

99. Come and See (1985) - Elem Klimov
Time has been quite kind to Elem Klimov’s 1985 masterpiece. Two decades ago this seemed like a good also-ran among Soviet cinema, and now there are some folks claiming it might damn well be the greatest film ever made. Given enough time I suppose everything finds its audience. It is perhaps the bleakest “war is hell” movie since All Quiet on the Western Front. In fact it plays into the despair that it borders on a surreal horror film at times. If you go off to fight you might be disfigured or killed, if you stay behind your entire village could be massacred. All of it has a dreamlike (or nightmarish) quality with constant tracking shots and a wide angle lens. How could I not be drawn into it?  

98. Walkabout (1971) - Nicholas Roeg
Following an impressive run as a cinematographer, Nicholas Roeg co-directed Mick Jagger in Performance. It was a damn fine trial run, but then Roeg up and went to the Australian outback to make his first solo venture with essentially a cast of three. I’m not sure the exact count but it feels like there are less than 100 words spoken in the entire film. This makes sense coming from a man making his living purely through visuals up to that point. The disjointed editing could sometimes be a detriment in later films, but this is the perfect balance of artsy fartsy experimentation and a compelling story. Everything is reduced to the most basic terms as these three kids make their way out of the wilderness. I’d be lying if I said the plot was important, it is merely the set up for a visual journey. It does seem to recall a few wordless unga-bunga caveman movies that were popular at the time, but transcends the exploitative side of things. Just gets better each time.

97.  Playtime (1967) - Jacques Tati
If I’m being perfectly honest, Jacques Tati is not for everyone. His style of comedy seems painfully French, where his films might as well be dialogue free. Playtime was his most ambitious outing as a director. Large, incredibly designed sets were constructed, an entire village known as Tati-ville was erected for this movie, and the shoot went massively over-budget and over-schedule. Of course when it finally got released it was a flop and severely curbed Tati’s ambitions for his eventual follow up. Audiences can appreciate folly with some distance. This meticulously crafted movie is probably the best designed comedy ever made. I won’t pretend to say it is the funniest because much of the humor revolves around subtle gags designed more for a chuckle than uproarious laughter. However, by the time we make it to our fancy restaurant and everything starts falling apart the subtle accumulation of gags makes it something truly sublime. Tati was always described as a filmmaker you appreciate more with age, and repeat viewings. I am starting to agree.

96. Beau Travail (1999) - Claire Denis
I was a little taken aback when Claire Denis’ film wound up in the top 10 of the most recent Sight and Sound poll. I had watched it a couple times and despite being a huge fan of hers, Beau Travail just sailed right over my head. I gave it another viewing right at the beginning of my research and filed it under the maybe category. A curious thing happened though, I found myself thinking about this movie for the next 6 months. Granted a large part of that was Denis Lavant’s closing dance to “Rhythm of the Night”, but the rest of the film seemed to flash by me in fond remembrance. Beau Travail is meant to sort of wash over you, but the true impact is the aftershock. The narrative with its shifting narration and languid pace is meant to almost evoke a nostalgia or get you reminiscing. Even the legionnaires themselves appear to be a relic of a distant imperial past. The details are a little fuzzy but that adds to the after effect. Even now while typing this I’m getting flashes of various scenes, and details that might not be vital to the story but are essential to the appreciation of it.

95. Last Year at Marienbad (1961) - Alain Resnais
As you progress further down this list you may notice a similar refrain when dealing with “weird movies”. That essentially amounts to, who cares if it makes sense just enjoy the ride. Alain Resnais was ready to follow up on the success of Hiroshima Mon Amour with the help of Alain Robbe-Grillet. He contacted the author about adapting one of his novels. Robbe-Grillet responded with an original screenplay that seems to highlight the best of both strange worlds. Marienbad confused me the first time I saw it, and eventually I just stopped caring. Each viewing reveals more details, but it's all details. There is no great mystery, simply more layers to enjoy and admire. It looks spectacular and I can get lost in the long tracking shots through hallways just as easily as the story. This one took a long time for me to come around on, but I feel like each successive viewing makes it a little better than the last, maybe it gets a little higher in 2033 when I do this all over again. I implore all of you to give those films you deemed overrated another look every so often, you may be surprised when something starts to click.

94. Cleo From 5 to 7 (1962) - Agnes Varda
For quite a number of decades Agnes Varda seemed little more than a footnote in the history of French cinema. An also ran who didn’t have the same brand recognition as the major new wave figures or even her husband Jacques Demy. As she outlived many of them she popped up every few years with a new film and grew to become a sort of eccentric grandmother of French film. It has caused a number of people to retroactively review her earlier work that may have been glossed over. There are numerous parallels to this film and Godard’s Vivre sa Vie, but whereas that film seeks to alienate the audience, Varda embraces it. Told almost in real time, it is an essential chronicle of Paris as it stood in the early 60s. People smarter than me can read into its feminist overtones, but it is just a damn good watch. The critical re-evaluation of Varda is a major point of the 21st century, and this remains her masterpiece, or at least the one I want to revisit the most.

93. Rocco and His Brothers (1960) - Luchino Visconti
The last time I did this Rocco and His Brothers was a true revelation. My expectations were now sky high for the re-watch, and it was…still good. Obviously it is on the list so I can’t say it was a disappointment, but certainly didn’t have the impact it did a decade ago. To be fair it is a true masterpiece, and if only The Leopard had Burt Lancaster’s voice dubbed in the full Italian cut that might top it. Anyway, despite chapters for each brother, it feels like the tale of Rocco and Simone. One is practically a saint, willing to sacrifice his own well being and future for a brother who might very well be the biggest piece of shit in cinema history. Told over an engrossing 3 hours, it allows layers and layers to be built up so by the end, man does it hit hard. Visconti came from the aristocracy but somehow delivered his finest film slumming it with a family of migrants. 

92. The Battle of Algiers (1966) - Gillo Pontecorvo
There are many impressive things about Gillo Pontecorvo’s Battle of Algiers, but perhaps the most impressive was the fact that there is no stock footage used. Everything in the film was shot for the movie, and it makes the documentary-like approach all the more impressive. Like his neo-realist forefathers, Pontecorvo enlists mostly non-actors for the major parts. Plenty of people made the logical comparison to the French-Algeria war to the US-Vietnam one, so this found a rather enthusiastic audience immediately. The wounds from the war were still fresh to both sides. Seems even more fitting that the first major restoration and DVD release would have coincided with the Iraq war. All those tactics of cafe bombings, and alleged torture, child fighters etc was all there in 1966 for anyone willing to look.

91. Brazil (1985) - Terry Gilliam
Brazil sure is a movie, I tell ya what. It showed what Terry Gilliam could do with a budget and a vision, although Time Bandits was a decent fore-runner. When the final cut was submitted though, the studio promptly said “fuck no” and butchered the hell out of it. Like most great cult films it missed its initial audience, and then the legend grew. There are definitely some comparisons to Blade Runner here, especially in the commercial disappointment angle. However Gilliam’s dystopian vision is partially 1984, but in this tech heavy society nothing ever works. The all important ducts constantly have issues, elevators get off on the wrong floor, and the whole story is set in motion in true Hitchcock fashion with a bureaucratic error. Along the way Gilliam the satirist never fails to poke fun at nearly everything while taking everyone on one hell of a ride.

90. La Ronde (1950) - Max Ophuls
After an artistically successful stop in Hollywood, Max Ophuls took his talents to France for his final four films. The first in that incredible run was La Ronde, and for my money his masterpiece. This isn’t taking away anything from Madame De or Lola Montes, but there is just something extra special about this one. Ophuls starts things off with a time traveling extended take that sets up our narrator and gets the ball rolling. Angelopoulos would take note. Then a series of connected romantic trysts bring it all full circle. Along the way there is so much style, so much wit, and so many long takes. Ophuls was a huge influence on both Kubrick and Paul Thomas Anderson and it isn’t hard to see why. No one could shoot a waltz more beautifully, and he found a deft way of keeping his melodrama surprisingly light. It’s an exercise in how to stage a scene, how to dress a set, and how to make one hell of a movie. It also seems to sum up everything that made Ophuls one of the all time greats, while still keeping the running time mighty respectable.

89. L’Avventura (1960) - Michelangelo Antonioni
Many years ago when I was fully embracing many of the world’s greatest auteurs for the first time there were three whose work I looked forward to more than any. One was Godard, the other Bunuel, and the third was Antonioni. The thing is though, none of Antonioni’s films screamed “5-stars!” to me on the first viewing. However something about the way his films just unfolded at their own pace, all the existential dread, the apathy, the beautiful locales. I recognized something in his work that didn’t impress me on a surface level but resonated in my soul. After re-visiting 6 of his films a decade ago, ultimately none made the list. This time I had to face facts, L’Avventura belongs on any great movie list. Antonioni had scratched the surface before, particularly on Il Grido, but this was such a quantum leap forward not just for Antonioni but Italian cinema in general. Death to neo-realism, and to hell with any sort of closure. This is meant to frustrate you, but the more you return to it, the less it matters. Life doesn’t wrap itself up in a neat little package, so why should cinema?

88. Talk to Her (2002) - Pedro Almodovar
A few films on my list appear to have some strange revisionist attitudes about them. Looking through some of the Letterboxd reviews of Talk to Her and I can only lament the fact that some poor souls clearly missed the point. These same people seem to be unable to differentiate what a character does and where our sympathies should lie. This is Almodovar baby, where the melodrama is palpable and the style is everything. Talk to Her was his follow up to All About My Mother, which was up until that point his masterpiece. To take things one step further he achieved a truly sublime masterpiece. Yeah it’s fucked up, but beautiful and I think that contrast is what confuses some modern audiences, especially ones not familiar with his work. At its core the movie is about two men who love women in comas, but as we find out neither really should. Their unlikely friendship and mutual loneliness drive things forward but it’s more about the ride. Also there is a silent film interlude where a man crawls into a woman’s vagina, now that’s pod racing.

87. The Incredibles (2004) - Brad Bird
Over the last 20 years superhero movies went from nerdy wish fulfillment to one of the 2-3 reliable cash cows in the film industry. It’s not an exaggeration to say that they have probably kept a few studios in business, and for better or worse have led to a large amount of creative bankruptcy. So it is fair to wonder if the comic adaptations that helped entrench these films in the popular consciousness would hold up after so many endless re-iterations. While Marvel seems to have unmistakably won the cinematic battle, enough people cling to random Batman highpoints as the true champions of the medium. Yet it was Brad Bird at Pixar who helmed the best superhero movie we may ever see. Somehow in 2004 he made the best Fantastic Four, James Bond, and Pixar film all at once with The Incredibles. Perhaps it’s that timeless mid-century design, or the fact that these were original characters (albeit based on decades of comic books) that makes The Incredibles still seem fresh. Knowing Disney’s scraping the barrel mentality of adapting animated classics for live action stories, we may come to a time when we get a live action Incredibles film. We can also wait a few years for Marvel’s proper Fantastic 4 movie, but before a foot of film is shot in that or a script is even finished, I can safely proclaim it won’t get better than this.

86. A Matter of Life and Death (1946) - Michael Powell/Emeric Pressburger
Every time I get around to making a greatest film list this Powell/Pressburger joint always seems to fall right around 101. The next film I would have included. It is a special film to me because it is one of the first two movies I ever rented from Facets, and I may have disclosed how instrumental that store was in my film education. For the record the other film was L’eclisse from Antonioni, this was the one that really stuck with me. It was another in a string of classics that carried them throughout the 40s. Brilliantly shot by Jack Cardiff, it is among their most impressionistic works. The design of the afterlife, and the epic scale on an intimate story all take a backseat to what is at heart a beautiful and simple love story. Long before hiding in makeup for Planet of the Apes Kim Hunter made what was essentially her film debut as the American in this inter-continental romance. After twenty years I think it is time this actually takes its place in the list proper.

85. Last Tango in Paris (1972) - Bernardo Bertolucci
I’m going to get this out of the way right now, cancel at will. I don’t care if Bernardo Bertolucci and Marlon Brando lit Maria Schneider on fire for this movie, it would have been worth it. Brando himself delivers what I consider to be the finest acting performance I’ve ever seen in a movie, which is all the more remarkable considering he mostly made up everything on the spot. Jean-Pierre Leaud is absolutely perfect as a pretentious artsy jack-ass turned unwitting cuck. Schneider was never better either, and I do feel sorry for her miserable experience on the film, but few people ever get to be part of something this special. This is a great director realizing perhaps for the first time that he is one of the greats, before the irresistible urge to excess made 1900 a self-indulgent wank-fest. Reading Letterboxd reviews of this hurt my heart, so many people missing the point, review bombing it without seeing it, even a few people having the audacity to knock the cinematography as if it wasn’t shot by one of cinema’s greatest masters.

84. Big Trouble in Little China (1986) - John Carpenter
Years of watching high brow cinema has certainly shaped me and my tastes. Yet below the arthouse offerings is my love of martial arts and the films of the 80s. It’s hard to reconcile the movies that shaped you as a person with those masterpieces you found in adulthood. Every time I put together a list like this I find myself wondering how to rank those formative films with objectively better movies. Well in certain cases those formative films are objectively better. John Carpenter has more than proven himself as a world class director, even making his own appearance on the Sight and Sound poll, and no matter how many times I go through his work, Big Trouble in Little China remains my favorite. This movie distilled everything I loved into about 100 minutes, and I watched it so much I memorized fight choreography, sound effects, and dialogue. Entirely possible there is no movie I’ve watched more in my lifetime. It also has all the markings of a classic Carpenter film even if it steps outside of that horror comfort zone. A classic hero's journey where the sidekick might actually be the hero and our lead might in reality be the comic relief. Perhaps my only complaint is when I saw the actual Chinatown in San Francisco there were no Wing Kong and Chang Sing battles raging.

83. Chinatown (1974) - Roman Polanski
Duh, Roman Polanski is a bad person, 1 star. Anyways don’t mind me separating the art from the artist. Before it even had a name, Chinatown set the standard for neo-noir. Based on Robert Towne’s book about how Los Angeles was built, it took everything great about those classic hard boiled detective stories and updated it for the Easy Rider generation. The setting of course stays period accurate and the subject matter couldn’t have been hinted at in 1945. Jack Nicholson delivers another in a seemingly endless stream of iconic 70s performances, and Faye Dunaway got her best role since Bonnie and Clyde. Sure Dunaway might have gotten the Shelly Duvall in The Shining treatment at the hands of Polanski, but if I’ve said it before I’ll say it again, when the result is this good, I’ll forgive the methods.

82. The 400 Blows (1959) - Francois Truffaut
There are plenty of predecessors to the French New Wave, and plenty of early examples, but Francois Truffaut’s The 400 Blows is the first one where it all seemed to come together. This was the goal things were moving to. Personal stories, shot on location, often without permits, with your movie friends helping out. Making films that hadn’t been seen before with techniques no one thought to try. Truffaut tells a slightly fictionalized story of his own childhood set against a Paris background. It was the first in a series of films starring Jean-Pierre Leaud as Antoine Doinel, Truffaut’s alter-ego. The others, although varying in quality never quite struck the same nerve as this. With this film, Truffaut entered an impressive pantheon of directors whose greatest feature was their first.

 81. The Best Years of Our Lives (1946) - William Wyler
Every year something wins a best picture Oscar, and most of the time you scratch your head and wonder how. Even with the benefit of hindsight it isn’t hard to look at films that although good, haven’t aged well. You could make such an argument for William Wyler’s first best picture winner Mrs. Minniver, which seemed doomed to obsolescence as soon as the war ended. The Best Years of Our Lives still packs a punch, but keeps things from getting so relentlessly pessimistic to seem somehow anti-American. The film is flagrantly patriotic, but realistic in terms of admitting that even the best of us will have struggles. Wyler was a longtime proponent of staging in depth, and he has set up a masterclass in the subject here with the help of GOAT cinematographer Gregg Tolland. If I had any complaint it’s that there are too few scenes with Homer and Wilma, but enough of Harold Russell to win him a best supporting actor Oscar.

80. Ashes and Diamonds (1958) - Andrzej Wajda
A lot has been written about the transition from fighting Nazis to Communists. Quite a number of films deal with the same subject, most recently Oppenheimer. Andrzej Wajda however speculates on that transition happening in real time over a single day. Taking place on the day of Germany’s surrender, two assassins are given a new target. They kill the wrong person and the rest of the film is more or less a study in shifting loyalties and the mental gymnastics people go through. It was the last of Wajda’s early World War 2 trilogy, and the best. It might not be as bleak as Kanal, but it remains nihilistic to the end. I can make the same analogy of finishing this list then trading the greatest cinema of all time for trashy cult films, in a way you can say I am a fighter too.

79. Frankenstein/The Bride of Frankenstein (1931/1935) - James Whale
Am I cheating by putting these two classics together? Well that’s your opinion, I make the rules and I make the list and if you read the intro, this counts. Despite vast tonal differences, James Whale’s two Frankenstein films have forever been my favorite monster movies. Frankenstein relies on a slow creep factor, atmosphere, and has that slightly risque pre-code energy. Bride of Frankenstein is the first “bigger is better” horror sequel and takes up the camp factor. It seems a rare studio film where it feels like everyone was actually having fun making it. Chewing the scenery and having a blast. Sadly this was not the norm for horror sequels, despite the tendency for them to get more ridiculous. Most horror films were a tale of diminishing returns, losing star power, smaller budgets, and far less memorable. It also seems to be a last hurrah for the first golden age of Universal horror. There were some later gems, notably Wolf Man and Creature from the Black Lagoon, but Bride was definitely the apex of that magical run.

78. Trouble in Paradise (1932) - Ernst Lubitsch
Sometimes 100 films is not enough. There are some truly great filmmakers who are left on the cutting floor, and in 2013 Ernst Lubitsch was one of them. Trouble in Paradise went a little over my head on the first viewing and I frankly didn’t rate it as highly as things like Ninotchka, Heaven Can Wait, The Shop Around the Corner, or Design for Living. Well nothing against any of those films, but I was wrong. Like Design for Living this also doubles as one of the supreme triumphs of the pre-code era. The type of sex comedy that simply wouldn’t have been allowed past censors a mere two years later, certainly not in this form. Herbert Marshall may seem like an odd choice for a romantic lead, but the real stars are Kay Francis and Miriam Hopkins. Hopkins in particular gets hands down some of the best lines in the movie, and it’s no surprise Lubitsch and several other directors fell madly in love with her. The opening courtship/theft which is reprised later is some of the finest dialogue free filmmaking you’ll ever see. For a director who relied so heavily on nuance and subtlety, the “touch” was never better than here.  

77. Fargo (1996) - Joel and Ethan Coen
When first digesting the AFI 100 Years 100 Films list, Fargo was the most contemporary movie on it. In fact it seemed one of the most recent hyped up critical darlings I can remember. Even by 1999 people seemed to completely forget about The English Patient whereas the Coen’s film had some staying power. So it is one of my earliest examples of being confronted with massive expectations, and it didn’t quite click. The thing is, these two boys from the Twin Cities are smarter than me. Like most Coen films Fargo gets better every time you watch it. There are countless details that accumulate throughout, and brilliant performances start to finish. After the failure of The Hudsucker Proxy, Fargo also seemed to be the first indicator of the brother’s nihilism, which we all know must be exhausting. With the exception of Marge, played by Frances McDormand who was pregnant with husband Joel Coen’s baby during the filming, no one really has a happy ending. Similar to their other great films, this is all about the little things, which is why it only gets better with age.

76. Uncle Boonmee Who Can Recall His Past Lives (2010) - Apichatpong Weeraskatul
A decade ago I did revisit this right before making my list. I knew immediately it was the best work Apichatpong Weeraskatul had ever done, and wondered if he could ever top it. I’m not here to knock Cemetery of Splendor or Memoria, but Uncle Boonmee is something special. Nearly all of his films share similar threads, so subtle you might not pick up on them unless you binge them all. Uncle Boonmee seems to sum up everything that makes him tick. He takes the wordless primal sequence of Tropical Malady and starts the film there. Then he throws in some Syndromes and a Century, and takes the viewer on a ride. It is so languid and hypnotic with a soundtrack of perpetually chirping crickets. It is the cinematic equivalent of relaxing on your porch at night. The only difference is it may make you contemplate the spiritual world, reincarnation, and the existence of ghosts and spirits. I’ve probably watched this 4 or 5 times now and the most recent viewing had me completely under its spell.