*These films are in no particular order
Bicycle Thieves (1948)
A man and
his son go in search of a lost bicycle: to say that this is the plot of Bicycle Thieves is both true and a
massive oversimplification. The film is an emotionally breaking piece of human
conflict that shows how important things become when we have nothing, how far
we are driven when we are desperate, and how cold and uncaring the world is when
we need it the most. It is at once a reflection of post-World War II Italy, the
way life and society were re-shaped in the wake of such brutality, and an
experience so universally sympathetic that its ending will haunt even the
coldest heart. It is also one of the best crafted films I have seen this year;
shots emphasise the emotional and societal positions of its characters, or
subtly stress the importance of particular movements or objects, and all in aid
of reinforcing the film’s incredibly poignant message. It’s not just a movie
with ubiquitous themes, it expresses them in the most efficient and effective
ways possible.
After Hours (1985)
If you’ve
ever had social anxiety or paranoia, especially if it borders on agoraphobia,
then I have the movie that will confirm all your fears and make you never want
to leave the house or interact with another person again. After Hours is a black comedy about Paul Hackett, a word processor
who becomes mildly bored with his life one night and calls up a girl he met earlier
that evening to hang out. From there, absolutely everything that could go wrong
does, and everything that you couldn’t even account for manages to go wrong
too. This is one of the funniest, most anxiety-inducing movies ever made,
always keeping you just enough off-kilter to make you uncomfortable and never
sure whether to laugh or yell in frustration, so cleverly fatalistic in its
writing and packing one of the greatest movie endings of all time.
Once Upon a Time in America (1984)
This is the
best film that I may never watch again. Sergio Leone’s final film is a
sprawling story set over the life of a gangster in New York. The film is
meticulously crafted and brilliantly acted, telling a series of vignettes that
blend in to one another perfectly and create an incredibly comprehensive
overview of the existence of one character. It’s also almost four hours long.
This may be one of the greatest films I have ever seen, but I’d have to plan my
life around seeing it again… I’ll probably watch it again.
Singin’ in the Rain (1952)
I have now
seen the reasons that
this I considered one of the greatest musicals of all
time. A musical about the changing times and back-stabbing in Hollywood, the
film is ire disguised by delight, and crafted so perfectly. The film is filled
to the brim with incredible numbers that are so meticulously choreographed and
so thoroughly detailed that it’s worth watching the movie them alone. Combine
that with clever and deceptively cynical dialogue, as well as Meta commentary
about the cutthroat nature of the whole industry, and you have one of the
greatest films about Hollywood ever made. As an aside: Gene Kelly is perfect.
Sunset Boulevard (1950)
Here’s the
other greatest film about Hollywood. Sunset
Boulevard is one of the great films that didn’t personally resonate with
me, but as I watched it I saw a film that had been imitated hundreds of times,
shots that have since become cinematic shorthand for noir style, and a cynical
story of the delusion and impact of Hollywood. While the film didn’t entirely
suck me in, I have to respect the influence this film has had on filmmaking,
particularly noir, and regardless of how I feel about the rest of it I doubt
I’ll ever forget the film’s opening and closing scenes.
12 Years a Slave (2013)
Soul-crushing
tribulation. This movie earns its spot in no small part due to the unbroken
shot of Solomon struggling to stay alive, as we the audience are forced to
watch for minutes on end. Director McQueen knows exactly what he wants to show
people and how to make sure they see it, and this scene is a microcosm of all
the films successes, how it is able to create a situation so difficult to look
at but unable to look away from.
The Seventh Seal (1957)
My first
exposure to Bergman’s work, The Seventh
Seal was the film that put him on the world stage. The image of a crusader
knight playing chess with death is burned in to cinema, a striking tableau of
Bergman grappling with the meaning of life and the nature of life and death.
The parallel of ancient Christian values and their waning in those times as
they were happening around Bergman is a particular metaphor that just fit, and
is a reminder of the cyclical nature of history as much as the film meditates
on that possibility for life.
Rosemary’s Baby (1968)
A movie that
manages to prey on our sense of paranoia so subtly that as everything slowly
pieces together you realise it’s too late to stop anything and you’re left
simply reeling at the pure horror of circumstance you witnessed. This isn’t
scary in the way most modern audiences would be accustomed to, but the film
elicits some of the most genuine horror with its slow burn and incredibly
clever script, supported so precisely by the camera. Trapping the audience with
a pregnant woman, leaving us as helpless as her, as we learn along with her all
too late of the intent of the people in her life, leaves you feeling cold and
defeated at the world. Alternatively, if you call the events that will unfold
before they happen, you still have to watch helpless as the most vulnerable of
people is subjected to a living nightmare of paranoia and gaslighting. The film
is true horror in the classical sense, and it contains some of the most subtle
scares, moments that will delay the fear just so that a person will feel terror
much more intensely.
Rashomon (1950)
Kurosawa’s
work has never resonated with me personally, but it’s impossible not to
recognise his technical contributions to film. Combine that with an examination
of the subjective nature of storytelling and portray it all through
Kabuki-style overacting and you have one of his greatest movies. Rashomon is absolutely brilliant
storytelling, and Kurosawa’s composition of movement and positioning are always
at the forefront of the subconscious, reinforcing the shifting power levels as
a story is told again and again from different perspectives to create
conflicting tales of lust and violence. This is piece of filmmaking history,
one that I found more engaging than the others of Kurosawa’s that I’ve seen.
The Mirror (1975)
Tarkovsky’s
work is, by its very nature, difficult to engage with. It’s personally
important to Tarkovsky himself, effectively a method by which he tried to
figure out the meaning in his life by reflecting on it through the lens of a
camera. This is also why his work is so important to the development of
Arthouse film. The Mirror is a
meditation on a single life, looking back from the end of it, and expresses
itself through a stream of consciousness that subtly and cleverly shows the
strange way in which we remember life. Everything’s all out of order, images
get placed in the wrong spots, figures and ideals get conflated in odd ways;
the choice to use the same actress for main character Aleksei’s mother and wife
is particular stroke of genius. The whole film is incredibly niche and
profoundly crafted, and this combination makes for an ethereal experience.
Honourable Mentions
Full Metal Jacket (1987)
La Dolce Vita (1960)
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