My Top 100 Films (25-1)

25. The Man With a Movie Camera (1929) - Dziga Vertov
For some reason I just never know what to say about this here motion picture. I am not exactly counting documentaries for this list, then again this isn’t exactly a documentary. There is a narrative and well it’s too damn experimental to chalk it up as just some sort of avant-garde cinema verite. Many years ago I watched this alongside Sergei Eisenstein’s Battleship Potemkin and was far more impressed with Vertov. In the 23 years since then what was once an audacious statement seems to be echoed by a whole lot of people. Eisenstein’s classic is still great but it has been dissected in so many books/essays/classes that most of the artistry is academic. Vertov’s film can be broken down a thousand times and it wouldn’t seem any less impressive. It is the longest enduring entry in that all too brief sub genre known as “city symphonies”. Also with a recent restoration (at least in the past 10 years) it is entirely possible that revisiting it recently was like seeing it truly for the first time again. What else can you say besides this is just pure imagination?

24. The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly (1966) - Sergio Leone
One pleasant side note of my year of binging trash before earnestly working on this list, I got intimately familiar with spaghetti Westerns. Although, even after another 25-30 of these movies under my belt there was hardly any doubt that Sergio Leone’s 1966 epic would still retain the title. To be fair, Once Upon a Time in the West nearly made this list, which is a testament to just how damn great Leone was at this stuff. It is reductive to try and say this is a Western for people who hate the genre, but it is certainly fair to say it is one for people who love it as well. This is so damn good that I challenge anyone not to like it or outright love it. The influence of GBU has been felt for generations, but when that opening theme song hits you’re hooked. This not only launched Clint Eastwood’s career, but helped breathe new life into Lee Van Cleef and Eli Wallach’s movie careers. All three were able to successfully capitalize on their newfound celebrity and become icons of a new breed of Western. Regardless of their titles, each of our three leads should probably be called “The Bad” but there was already a Western named 3 Bad Men. This is Leone and Morricone at their best, simply perfection.

23. Before Sunrise/Before Sunset/Before Midnight (1995/2004/2013) - Richard Linklater
I love certain movies because they can take me places and show me things well beyond the realm of possibilities. Likely never going to experience intergalactic space travel, or a zombie apocalypse. In the case of Linklater/Hawke/Delpy’s Before trilogy, I love these movies because they feel so damn real to me. At each stage of my life they seem to resonate, being about a decade behind the characters, I always felt not quite up to speed. Now that Before Midnight is a decade on us, and I’m staring at 40 while being married, they all deeply resonate with different periods of my life. Depending on the mood, or the substances while watching them, I’ve been a blubbering mess on multiple occasions. I still believe the ending of Before Sunset might be my single favorite ending of any film ever. As for Sunrise, it remains my favorite, and god damn did it hit me hard on my most recent viewing. I laughed during the audio commentary for Midnight when a cameraman objected to their fighting because of how idealized Celine and Jesse were to him and his wife. There are a lot of couples all over the world who resonate with these two, and their beautiful, occasionally heartbreaking, and very real romance. If I had any complaint it is that we didn’t get a fourth movie in 2022.

22. The Shining (1980) - Stanley Kubrick
So much of what I have to say about Stanley Kubrick’s adaptation of The Shining has been said a thousand times. Yes, it truly is the greatest horror film of all time. Sure it might not have been Stephen King approved, but that man directed Maximum Overdrive, do you really want to take his opinion? The Shining is so good it makes me forgive the fact that it has jump scares. The Grady sisters (totally not twins) used to freak my ass out as a much younger viewer. Perhaps the greatest element of the film is the Overlook itself. So much time is spent wandering around its hallways and getting a look at its exterior that it feels very much like the main character in this story. I feel like I can wander down those hallways for hours. So many lazier filmmakers have taken tropes from this, with less than a tenth of the Shining’s success rate. That opening theme with the aerial photography is all I need to remind myself I made the right choice watching this for the 40th time.

21. M (1931) - Fritz Lang
It seems almost academic to say Fritz Lang was one of the greatest directors to ever live. For a decade he made some of the most ambitious and best German films in the silent era, often in collaboration with his wife Thea Von Harbou. For his first sound film I would argue he made his masterpiece. In much of his later interviews, Lang would agree even getting that line in Godard’s Contempt. Watching this yet again I was won over by the 10 minute mark. I mean a morbid nursery rhyme, a creepy whistle, and an empty seat at a dinner table. Lang made sure his gifts as a visual storyteller were still paramount, and sound was used only in what seems like expressionist tendencies. Much of the movie is quite silent, which only emphasizes the soundtrack more. The subject matter remains quite brutal and the type of thing no one was making in Hollywood, Hayes code or not. It also forever cast Peter Lorre as that supremely creepy guy you most certainly wouldn’t trust around your kids. Perhaps it was because Lang took a huge step back from the bloated productions of his previous silent epics that really allowed him to distill what made a great film here.

20. The Big Lebowski (1998) - Joel and Ethan Coen
I will refrain from filling this write-up with nothing but quotes from my favorite Coen Brothers movie. There are films in this list that have held up with age and others, often the very best that seem to improve with each re-visit. The Coen’s crafted what seemed like a light, slightly goofy neo-noir about a deadbeat bowler and it took on a life of its own. It seemed like a throwaway after the major critical and commercial success of Fargo, and many critics along with myself thought the same thing. It was fun but wasn’t trying to reach the heights of their previous offering. Then I saw it again, and again, and again, and again, and god damn it if it isn’t their masterpiece. Sure they won’t agree with you, but the people have spoken. It also continues their tradition of making all of their films period pictures, even if it’s only 7 years in the past. I can advise you to not attempt several of the drinking games associated with the film, because well no one should drink 9 White Russians in 2 hours. One time I tried taking a drink every time they said “fuck” and by the end of the first bowling scene had taken down a six pack.

19. Los Olvidados (1950) - Luis Bunuel
At some point in my life I used to debate internally what my favorite Luis Bunuel film was, not anymore. After a brief exile from Spain and movie making in general Bunuel found himself employed in Mexico. In response to sentimental Neo-Realist films, he made Los Olvidados and reminded everyone the master surrealist and provocateur wasn’t done. Of all the films that have seemingly dropped out of existence since my last list, I really expected someone, anyone would have released Los Olvidados. It is out there on YouTube, where the subtitles say “torta” is “sandwich” and a main character “Pietro” is “Peter”, but I’ll take it. We get at least two brilliant dream sequences, which are largely absent from many of Bunuel’s Mexican works. It pulls together the finest of his early days in France and his later masterworks, with by far the strongest narrative of his career. Everyone is reprehensible and those that aren’t, soon will be. By the way, there’s a dancing fucking dog in this shit, case closed.

18. Annie Hall (1977) - Woody Allen
If you’re wondering if I can separate the art from the artist, this might answer your question. Woody Allen has been problematic since before I had ever seen one of his movies, and I grew up hearing jokes about him long before seeing his movies. In fact my first exposure to Annie Hall was that it was the film that had the unmitigated audacity to beat Star Wars for best picture of 1977. Well a couple decades later, that seems less far fetched. In no world can someone say Allen is perfect, but this film is. It represents an artist making the confident leap from comedian to full fledged auteur. He took some big swings this time around and they paid off across the board. Even after keeping his insane movie-a-year pace for the next 4 decades Allen never quite struck that perfect balance as he did here. It’s still damn funny, touching, heartbreaking, and endlessly inventive. The type of go-for-broke try everything film that leaves no narrative stone un-turned. All miraculously crammed into a tight 94 minutes. I don’t think I could ever not love this movie.

17. Monty Python and the Holy Grail (1974) - Terry Gilliam/Terry Jones
Some movies define you as a person, either by informing your world view or shaping your taste. What your favorite comedy is says a lot about what makes you you. I’m not here to tell everyone who thinks a comedy besides Monty Python’s Holy Grail is the funniest is wrong, but they are. No other film in my life also seems to define my family’s taste in people. Most parents might ask where your new girlfriend went to school, what they do for a living, etc. My mom only asks “Have they seen Holy Grail yet, and did they get it?” If the answer is yes, you are officially welcome to Thanksgiving and Christmas. Honestly it’s a film that as niche as it might seem is inconceivable to me that someone wouldn’t laugh at something. I’ve seen it probably two dozen or more times and I still find shit to laugh at every time. It’s one of the early fore-runners of the joke-a-second model adopted by the Zucker brothers and others in later years. The credits are ridiculous, the music is silly, every element of the film is room for a joke. Like many of the best comedies you can spend the entire length of the film either quoting it or trading your favorite scenes. If you agree with the placement of this film on my list, we can be friends, and doesn’t that tell you all you need to know?

16. Taxi Driver (1976) - Martin Scorsese
The first collaboration between Martin Scorsese and Paul Schrader remains their best. This is a new revelation for me, but it shouldn’t be. Thinking back I believe Taxi Driver might have been the first Scorsese film I watched, certainly the first one I remember seeking out. I also remember telling multiple people in 7th grade they had to watch it. This is the obligatory part where I mention that this too was mentioned in Cult Movies 2, and well I think it does fit into that that weird subversive side of 70s cinema, I’m not sure how well the designation fits. Taxi Driver is the type of movie that makes you feel awkward but offers some catharsis. Scorsese does a great job of slightly humanizing Travis Bickle from the far more racist and abrasive character in Schrader’s script. It’s not that this character deserves a softer touch, but he knows that we’re spending almost the entire film from his perspective and the film would be unwatchable if he was completely irredeemable. Perhaps no other film better represents the seedy side of 1970s New York like this, and what a final score to go out on for the legendary Bernard Hermann.

15. All That Jazz (1979) - Bob Fosse
What if 8 ½ was more autobiographical and also a musical? Well let’s all forget about 9 (I know we already did) and instead look upon Bob Fosse’s masterpiece with awe. Roy Scheider is perfect as Joe Gideon/not Bob Fosse, even if his singing voice is less than great. As the saying goes, go with what you know. Watching the Emmy nominated Fosse/Verdon mini-series all I could think was, man I’d really like to revisit All That Jazz. To be honest, that is a phrase I say a lot. Fosse at least had the good sense to surround Scheider with many first rate dancers and singers from his own productions. It is also a master class in editing, jumping from fantasy to reality, flashbacks, musical numbers and just the rhythm of day to day life. In short it is everything you could ask for, and all that jazz.

14. Sunrise (1927) - F.W. Murnau
It is quite possible Sunrise is a film many people admire more than they like, but that wouldn’t be me. F.W. Murnau’s first American film remains the crowning achievement of the silent cinema. Made right as sound was coming into pictures, this even employs a rudimentary score incorporating sound effects and some background noise, it is a dying medium’s final farewell. By this point in time Hollywood’s infinity stone gathering of European talent was complete. A remarkable crew of German technicians met with the deep pockets of Fox studios. All of this would be a waste if the movie itself was mere style over substance. The plot is simple yet effective and George O’Brien does a Herculean task of not just convincing his wife that he isn’t going to murder her, but us in the audience. It is the type of fable that feels like it could have only worked as a silent film, but boy does it. Sometimes the simplest things take the most work.

13. Singing in the Rain (1952) - Gene Kelly/Stanley Donen
There isn’t a more joyous motion picture out there folks. A musical that can make people who hate musicals happy. Gene Kelly and Stanley Donen teamed up for the second time to make the ultimate studio musical. Like many things of its era, it took several decades for folks to get wise. To many audiences in 1952 the film seemed a clear step down from An American in Paris, lacking the finesse Vincente Minelli had along with Gershwin’s music. Arthur Freed largely took his own music from the late 20s and offered a greatest hits of the era. Modern audiences don’t care where the songs are from, they all slap. If I had to choose, it is still probably my favorite movie about filmmaking, at least in Hollywood. I wouldn’t look to this as a historically accurate depiction about the coming of sound in Hollywood, but certainly is the most amusing. One thing I don’t get is how they got booed doing “Fit as a Fiddle”, some people just can’t appreciate greatness.

12. All Quiet on the Western Front (1930) - Lewis Milestone
The first time I watched All Quiet on the Western Front, which I was dreading because how good could a war movie from 1930 be, I was hooked. It instantly jumped into my top 5 and it only climbed since then. There were several times I watched it and thought it might de-throne Citizen Kane, climbing all the way to #2 on the last list. Well I’m not going to blame the awful remake from last year, but this did not hit quite the same. That isn’t entirely surprising, every time I watched the film I expected the magic to fade a little. Yet the scale, the tracking shots, the lack of a musical score won me over again and again. Watching it in 2023 I don’t think it is the 2nd greatest film of all time, and some of the dated performances and thick American accents on German soldiers can wear on you. I still think it is the final word in the “war is hell” subgenre. No other film quite hits the nihilistic notes of war quite like this, although Come and See is an honorable mention.

11. Star Wars/The Empire Strikes Back/Return of the Jedi (1977/1980/1983) - George Lucas/Irving Kershner/Richard Marquand  
I’ll give Disney credit, they’re trying. Trying to ruin one of the greatest franchises we ever had. With every new movie and show I care less and less about Star Wars. Still each time I revisit the original trilogy all of that shit disappears. After all this time Star Wars remains the greatest science fiction/fantasy series, and about the best Hollywood could do in the modern era. Some films are so damn good that you forgive those little flaws. Does it make any sense Luke and Leia are related, no it really doesn’t. Does it also make watching their sexual chemistry in the first movie extra awkward, of course not. Take them as they are, even if things stopped with the first one it would be on this list. Together though they bring me all the member-berries and some sweet amnesia for everything that happened after 1999.

10. Casablanca (1942) - Michael Curtiz
Well here we have what I would probably consider to be the single most important film in my life. Sure I loved movies before this, in fact you can clearly see this isn’t even occupying the #1 spot. However I might not be making this list, or be the person I am today without Casablanca. I’ve told the story often, but it was the movie that I decided to test the waters on to see if all those critics were right, and in this case they were. Perhaps it’s status as a cultural touchstone has dipped a little since the 90s but it was one of those movies that I felt immediately familiar with upon first watch, getting context for so many references, homages, and parodies. I watched it twice during my initial rent, and have seen it more than a dozen times since, in nearly every format and setting. Each and every time I put it on I smile a little to myself and marvel at just how perfect it all is. How did that well-oiled Hollywood machine churn out products this consistent? What strange alchemy aligned all the stars to make this perhaps its greatest triumph? It makes little sense considering how many re-writes the script had. I can accept people saying this isn’t the greatest movie ever made, but if you straight up don’t like it, we can never be friends.

9. Pulp Fiction (1994) - Quentin Tarantino
I saw this in the theater when it first came out. In hindsight I was probably too young for it, but reading about Tarantino seeing The Wild Bunch around the age of 8 makes me feel like the man would have been proud. From the time I started really giving a shit about movies, Pulp Fiction has held a special place in my heart. It has that type of nostalgia that makes me insufferable to watch it with. I will laugh before things happen, I will say lines out loud, and if you aren’t at my level, get there. Plenty of credit rightfully went to Roger Avery for his work on the screenplay but this is Tarantino through and through. Guarantee Avery didn’t write that opening monologue about foot massages. Telling a narrative out of order might seem like a cheap cliche but it blew our fucking minds in 1994. There’s something so 90s about a movie that is so 70s. I also learned far too early what a gimp was, and to stay the fuck out of pawn shops.

8. The Rules of the Game (1939) - Jean Renoir
If I could award something film of the decade, Renoir’s masterpiece would take that title. There is no movie I have watched more in the past ten years than Rules of the Game, that includes Batman and Robin, and even Thor Ragnarok. Much like many of my other all time favorites this one seeps into my brain and tells me on a near daily basis “let’s watch this again”. The journey to this point took a long time, nearly 20 years to be exact. I watched it for the first time in a horribly faded print with white on white subtitles that I could barely read. Then found a better version, and eventually the fine folks at Criterion released it. This January I got to see a 4k restoration at the Music Box and I’m not sure it’s ever going to look better. Along the way I was convinced every time I watched it that Grand Illusion was better. I’m not taking anything away from Renoir’s other all-time great, but I was wrong. There is so much dialogue that it is nearly impossible to catch everything even after three viewings. It helps if you are fluent in French which I’m definitely not. However after watching this 9-10 times I did attempt to watch it without looking at the subtitles, and man there is so much going on in every frame. There is a reason this was in Sight and Sounds top 10 from 1952 through 2012 (curse those bastards for dropping it to the top 20 in 2022). The best films only get better under close scrutiny and under the microscope. Here’s to watching this another 12 times in the upcoming decade.

7. The Godfather/The Godfather Part 2 (1972/1974) - Francis Ford Coppola
The Godfather might be the butt of a hilarious joke in Barbie, but what do you want, it really is that good. Like many of the films this high up, it doesn’t really need me to add any reasons why to praise it. Coppola re-edited part 3 which does a little to help the very damaged reputation it has, but even improved it doesn’t measure up to the first two. You could fault it, but very few films do. You could blame Sophia, but that is taking a cheap shot. What is most impressive about The Godfather is that it was the highest grossing movie in America at one point in time. Rarely has public and critical taste been so aligned. I always wanted to ask why Carlo took that ass whooping? I mean he knew Sonny would go after him, but like he didn’t block a single punch or fight back. Each viewing I wonder if the sequel might actually be superior, but I prefer to look at it as one nearly 7 hour movie. If you haven’t seen it in 2023, find yourself a Ken to walk you through it.

6. Persona (1966) - Ingmar Bergman
When I first had a chance to watch Persona I was angry it didn’t go harder. The narrative was too straightforward after that brilliant wtf prologue. The second time I watched it, I wondered what the hell I was thinking. Then I realized I may have watched it in the wrong aspect ratio. I put it on with an audio commentary track, and shut off the commentary because they were talking over my movie. Around that time I realized that this wasn’t just a masterpiece, it was on the very short list of the greatest films ever made. The finest film from someone I could confidently say was one of the 2-3 greatest filmmakers ever. It shares a lineage with a number of films, Mulholland Drive comes to mind, but is so singular and unique that it stands in a class by itself. Like the greatest films it makes you think about just what is going on, but ultimately the answer is whatever you happen to think it is at that given time. At a nice tight 84 minutes, it also shows that you can re-write the language of cinema in under an hour and a half.

5. Mulholland Drive (2001) - David Lynch
When I first got a chance to watch Mulholland Drive on that barebones DVD I thought “this is so far the film of the decade”. Sure we were only two years in, but as the years passed by nothing came around to really challenge it. This past year it was honored by the Sight and Sound critics with a spot in the top ten, and damned if I don’t agree with it. We can debate whether this or In the Mood for Love are the films of the 2000s, but my vote is cast. What makes the film so great after many, many, many viewings is just how damn perfect it is. In a nutshell it is about as David Lynch as it gets. So many little diversions that seemingly have nothing to do with anything but just add another layer to the proceedings. The plot as it were is perhaps not as complicated as the first viewing might have you believe, and makes a hell of a lot more sense than Lost Highway. With the exception of maybe The Straight Story or Blue Velvet, who the hell ever watched a Lynch movie for the plot? You just shut the lights off and let this weird fucker take you on a journey. I am profoundly grateful this never became a series because it is just cinematic perfection.

4. 8 ½ (1963) - Federico Fellini
Gianni Di Venanzo, perhaps not the first name that pops to mind when 8 ½ comes up is it? I’ll save you the search, he was the cinematographer on this movie. His camera feels like it never stops moving, nothing is static, and it keeps the pace so light. It often gets cited as the definitive auto-biographical movie about movies, but I’m not sure that’s apt. In true Italian film industry fashion, 5 screenwriters are credited here. Does it matter if these flashbacks are his or someone else’s? Of course not. Inspired perhaps by the new wave and Ingmar Bergman, Fellini was ready to take a radical swing here. Despite an ever evolving film industry, no one in Italy was doing what Fellini was here. Plenty of directors took a cue from him to make their own variations, but with the possible exception of Bob Fosse, no one came close.

3. Apocalypse Now (1979) - Francis Ford Coppola
If Casablanca was the first classic I watched, Apocalypse Now might have been the second. That first viewing I remember thinking, wow what a good war film, too bad it got weird at the end. Then I thought, who cares about this boring war stuff, let’s get to Kurtz. Today I just love every minute of the film. I haven’t watched The Final Cut, and frankly don’t know if I will. Redux added nothing of value, and frankly how do you improve upon a movie this good? What a decade Coppola had, almost makes up for the decades of disappointment he’s given us since. I’m not sure I’d call this a cult film, but it’s definitely one that hits quite hard under the influence. Watching Dennis Hopper rant like a madman while Marlon Brando mumbles largely gibberish is the stuff of legend. Sometimes I wonder what alternate reality we would live in if Orson Welles first movie actually was his proposed adaptation of Heart of Darkness. Glad he left it for Coppola to take massive liberties. Like Lawrence of Arabia, and many other infamous productions, this went ludicrously over schedule and budget, but was forged into this beautiful and perfect diamond.

2. 2001: A Space Odyssey (1968) - Stanley Kubrick
If this isn’t the greatest film of all time, it is the next closest thing. Last year the directors of the world voted this the best film of all time. It would be redundant to cite my opinion of Kubrick again here, but it would stand to reason his greatest film would rank among the best ever made. There are still people out here who just throw up their hands because they “don’t get it”. Before I even figured it out, I realized it didn’t matter. This movie is everything. It posits a great theory on how we got here and where we might be going. Nothing before it looked this good visually or in terms of the effects. John Alcott took over as cinematographer mid-shoot and proceeded to shoot Kubrick’s next three masterpieces. Kubrick also stumbled upon a brilliant idea using classical music as a temporary solution and leaving it in. More than anything though I just enjoy going on this ride every time. The final 30 minutes or so truly are my favorite thing in cinema.

1. Citizen Kane (1941) - Orson Welles
A whole lot has changed in the last decade, but this isn’t one of them. There was hardly any doubt Orson Welles’ first film wouldn’t retain the rightful place as the greatest of all time. I purposely made sure I ended all my research with this one, busting out Criterion’s 4k, and hearing grandpa Ebert explain how every shot in the film was done. Many smarter people than me have written books on how brilliant Citizen Kane is. Even the most ardent haters, who bash this film because they think it’s a personality trait, admit it’s influence and innovations. Ultimately though this wouldn’t be my #1 for the past two decades plus if I didn’t profoundly love watching it. From the opening to the mirrored close I adore every second of this, even Susan Alexander’s off key singing is music to my ears. I don’t aim to convince you it’s the greatest of all time, but the past 20 or so years people seem to be going out of their way to challenge it. Sure, go ahead and say it’s Vertigo, or pardon my laughter Jeanne Dielman that’s the true #1, but you’re wrong. We know it’s Kane, it has always been Kane.