My Top 30 Greatest Movies, Part 3.
Continuing from Part 1 and Part 2, here’s the final ten films in My Top 30 Greatest Films. I’ve made a particular omission in these lists, in that I’ve not added any short films, as these are only feature length films. I might make another list for shorts, as there are many that I love and that have played an important part of my film appreciation and education.
And now, the final ten:
10) 12 Angry Men, 1957, directed by Sidney Lumet.
This was a recent addition, having posted about seeing a stage production of this classic story in 2010. After seeing the film thereafter, I reveled in Lumet’s genius, particularly in his economy. Creating a visually interesting story out of a single setting for almost two hours is no easy feat, but Lumet, employing numerous lenses, framing, and lighting schemes, creates a gorgeous progression from uniform to foreboding. Add to this twelve flawless performances and you’ve got one of the greatest films in history.
9) The Shining, 1980, directed by Stanley Kubrick.
One of the most influential films in my career and life, I connected to The Shining on so many different levels. Being born in Colorado, it was especially chilling that this was all set in my backyard (even though the film was shot in England and takes place in Sidewinder, CO, which doesn’t exist). But Kubrick’s use of negative space, both in visuals, pacing and performance is what really sticks with me. This is how my nightmares play out, when there are subtle shifts in normalcy and then there is a very macabre image of pure terror that materializes for a second, and disappears from sight but remains burned into the psyche. And the film is an absolute assault on the mind, replicating Jack’s fragmentation and our own anxieties. It’s a film that requires us to let simply happen, and also simultaneously requires us to engage in every detail, thereby creating a strain that is reflective of the narrative. This is filmmaking of the absolute highest order, from the master of the medium.
8) Le Fils (The Son), 2002, directed by The Dardenne Brothers.
As aforementioned, I’m a huge fan of European realism, and nobody does it better than The Dardenne Brothers. Bookended in a trilogy by the lauded Rosetta and L’Enfant, Le Fils is an outright masterpiece. Carried on the broad, hefty shoulders of lead actor Olivier Gourmet, the Dardennes employ a handheld-only aesthetic that bathes in its fair share of darkness and shadow. It’s a confluence of realism and manipulation that is unsettling, and like Kubrick the Dardennes make aesthetic choices that psychologically resonate within the narrative. The film immerses itself into the routines of everyday life, focusing on the rituals of work and nourishment, but there is always an underlying tension - a dark, unresolved secret from the past - that gives purpose and meaning to every movement. The film’s ending is a release from the shackles of the past, ghosts liberated in a flurry of brief violence. Touching and simultaneously devastating, Le Fils is without compare.
7) The Battle of Algiers, 1966, directed by Gillo Pontecorvo.
I wrote about the influence of The Battle of Algiers in a post some time ago, you can read it here. My passion project, an Indian martial arts film which I wrote many years ago called The Killing Moon, is my dedication to The Battle of Algiers, a document of a conflict that gives credence to both sides of the conflict, and gives faces and lives to its participants. When we are able to identify with both sides of the conflict, it is only then that we truly question the action of war, and take its ramifications seriously. Pontecorvo’s film bursts with incendiary energy and didactic detail, and no stone is left unturned in his dissection of conflict. Bolstered by gripping cinematography and a blistering score from Ennio Morricone, The Battle of Algiers is required viewing for all.
6) Fargo, 1996, directed by The Coen Brothers.
There’s this thing that the Coens do in all their films that marks their genius. They always have a scene where violence casually impedes on our normal lives, and we watch it passively as it unfolds, the reality and gravity of the situation hitting us only when it’s too late. It’s a commentary on the deadening of human instinct, something I’ve been fascinated with for decades, and the Coens have fed into my morbid curiosity with elan and pitch black humor. Fargo is the crowning achievement of the Coens, a formidable assertion given their body of work. The film plays innocence against the darkness of human nature as boldly as the specks of red and black against the white plains of snow in North Dakota, and the dialogue is as cracking as ever. Perhaps the most interesting dissection of human behavior happens in its most unlikely scene, a reunion of old high school classmates Margie Gunderson and Mike Yanagita. Mike is painfully uncomfortable and ruthlessly kind, and his breakdown at the end is a shattering of the illusion of normalcy. It’s a scene that resonates with the graphic violence and ill-fated actions of its lunkheaded protagonists, and even Margie Gunderson is not immune to selfishness, as she pushes Mike away in his time of need. A true film noir in its execution and conception, in that every character is flawed, everyone is capable of violence.
5) Akira, 1988, directed by Katsuhiro Otomo.
The second anime to make my list, and it is arguably the greatest anime ever made. Meticulously animated in 24 frames per second, Katsuhiro Otomo condenses his 1000+ page manga into a two-hour spectacle of violence, technology, science and metaphysics. The film fires on all cylinders, and the English dubbing (Streamline Video edition) is not bad at all. Like all great Japanese science fiction, Akira is a parable on man’s reliance upon technology and playing God, a direct reference to the aftermath of Hiroshima and Nagasaki. The film opens with a shot of a giant crater left from a nuclear explosion, so it doesn’t even hide its metaphysical ambitions. Characters infected with energy mutate and grow uncontrollably like a hyperstimulated cancer, yet another reference to the aftermath of nuclear Armageddon. I have my doubts about the American live action remake simple for the fact that it no longer will take place in Neo-Tokyo, but rather New Manhattan, thereby invalidating the nuclear provenance of the original story. And the question begs to be asked: why mess with a masterpiece?
4) There Will Be Blood, 2007, directed by Paul Thomas Anderson.
I wrote about There Will Be Blood extensively in my Best Films of the Decade post last year, you can read it here. The film continues to get better with every viewing, and with the developing story of worldwide corporate greed and the Occupy Wall St movement, it resonates even more. PT Anderson conceived the script as a horror film, and it is evident throughout, with Daniel Plainview embodying the worst kind of monster - the compassionate devil.
3) Raging Bull, 1980, directed by Martin Scorsese.
Jake LaMotta cries that he is not an animal while punching the walls of his cell, an ironic juxtaposition of a man expressing his civility through an act of violence. It is a juxtaposition throughout Scorsese’s masterpiece, from the playing of classical music over a boxer prepping for a bludgeoning in the opening credits, to LaMotta’s handling of his fragile, exquisite wife with hands meant for meat tenderizing. It’s also an acidic commentary on how our work defines us, almost to a detrimental effect. LaMotta’s work defines him to the point where it is all that he knows, and violence is his language, even in his most tender and vulnerable moments. The use of black and white photography further cements the juxtaposition of extremes - there is no middle ground with LaMotta, it is only black and white with him. You are either with him or you are against him. You either love him or you’ll have to kill him. That is his cosmology, that is his existence. And from that dichotomy comes a stubbornness and firm rooting - you can’t knock him down. DeNiro’s method acting is the stuff of legend, and he delivers one of the greatest performances ever captured on film. This is a complete film, rooted in cinema tradition and rendered by the greatest film scholar and film fan of our times in Martin Scorsese.
2) Do the Right Thing, 1989, directed by Spike Lee.
In my ninth grade US History class we had an assignment to write an essay on an influential American. My classmates chose people like Thomas Jefferson, The Wright Brothers, Robert Oppenheimer and Andrew Jackson. I chose Spike Lee. My teacher said he wasn’t a historical figure, and I argued otherwise. We ended up taking it to the principal, and despite his backing up my teacher, he had to concede to my choice. I wrote the paper using references from periodicals like Sight and Sound and Cineaste, which I found at the local library. The paper was titled “Doing the Right Thing: A Portrait of Spike Lee, an Artist Against the Establishment.” I got a C+ on the paper, because my bibliography did not include any books.
That’s a true story, and it reflects how important Do the Right Thing has been to my development as a person and an artist. I simply devoured this film, taking in hip-hop, New York, and racial divides as if they were my own story. And in many ways, it was. I was a racial minority in Colorado, my Dad’s office had swastikas spray painted on his front door, and I had found a voice that spoke to my anger and frustrations in the form of bands like Public Enemy, Poor Righteous Teachers, Gang Starr, EPMD and A Tribe Called Quest. I wasn’t trying to be a black kid from New York, I was a brown kid from Colorado, and Do the Right Thing made me understand that and embrace it. The film gave me a voice and a visual, and asked the questions I was too afraid to bring up. When Mookie threw that garbage can through the window of Sal’s pizzeria, it was that irrational act of anger and retribution I had so long been wanting to do, but Spike Lee did it for me in his art. Riots spread throughout theaters that showed the film, and a national dialogue on race started and continues to this day. Do the Right Thing is also a cinephile’s treat. References abound like Charles Laughton’s Night of the Hunter, brought back in the form of LOVE and HATE on Radio Raheem’s hands. There is Shakespeare and Killers of Sheep. Air Jordans and classic jazz. When I played my first film 19 Revolutions at the Cinequest Film Festival in 2005, during the Q&A local critic called me “the next Spike Lee.” I was honored to pieces by the comment, but I replied back to him that “there is only one Spike Lee.” In my career if I can make anything close to the bristling energy of Do the Right Thing then I’ll know I’ll have done something truly special.
1) Hate (La Haine), 1995, directed by Mathieu Kassovitz.
This is my favorite film of all time. I wrote an entire post about in in great detail, and you can read it here. Not much else to say about it, other than it is my holy grail, and the reason why I’m making films today.
So that’s it, my Top 30! But wait, I know what you’re thinking, which is that in previous posts in this blog I’ve consistently referred to Andrei Tarkovsky, Akira Kurosawa, Kryzstof Kieslowski, Ingmar Bergman and Jean-Luc Goddard as inspirations for Lilith and to my greater philosophy towards filmmaking, and yet I’ve failed to list any of their magnificent films in this list. In theory I should have Stalker, The Double Life of Veronique, High and Low, Seven Samurai, Persona and Band of Outsiders in this list, and believe me I considered them deeply. But this list is about my greatest movies, the ones I’d turn to if I was stuck on a desert island. I can’t imagine myself watching Tarkovsky’s Andrei Rublev in that scenario, but give me Coming to America any given day. Nor would I watch Godard’s Contempt when I’m bored and want something to see. I’ve got Akira for that. I admire and respect Godard, Kurosawa, et al as filmmakers, but their movies are not the ones I’d take to my grave. The filmmakers I admire is another list altogether, and without their contributions, the films on this list wouldn’t even exist.
I know I’ve also mentioned films like Sexy Beast, Irreversible, Tetsuo the Iron Man, The Music Room and All the President’s Men among others as flawless films, but in the end, I can live without them. The films in this list, however, I require them in my life because each of them speaks to me in a very different and personal way. I’d imagine that someone could know almost every facet of my being by dissecting these movies.
Sigh. Making lists is hard.
