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.
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