Yesterday, I looked at the 2012 Sight and Sound Critics and Directors Polls of the best films of all time. I said then that making a list of the 10 best films ever was a fool’s errand – and I meant it. But I decided to do so anyway. I decided to limit myself to one film per director, because if I hadn’t, I could easily imagine a top ten list with only 5 or 6 directors on it. Also, these films are listed alphabetically, not by rank, although I do consider the first listed as my favorite of all time. If you really want, you can look back to my second post of all time to see what I said were the 10 best films of all time three years ago. They are not the same. And hence, the fool’s errand part of this exercise. I could list 100 films, and still leave off countless films I love. And I reserve the right to change my mind. But, since everyone is talking about the Sight and Sound list, I thought I’d throw my two cents in. I won’t do so again until 2022. · Apocalypse Now (Francis Ford Coppola, 1979)
· Ikiru (Akira Kurosawa, 1952)
· Mulholland Drive (David Lynch, 2001)
· Sherlock Jr. (Buster Keaton, 1924)
Buster Keaton’s Sherlock Jr. earns a spot on this list for a few reasons. First, I felt an out and out comedy deserved a spot on the list, and since I think Keaton is the greatest comedic director of all time, and Sherlock Jr. is his best film. Second, I think any list of the greatest films should contain at least one silent film – and Keaton was the greatest director of the silent era. And finally, because Sherlock Jr. is one of the first films to realize the power of film itself. The movie is about a movie projectionist, played by Keaton himself of course, who is also studying to be a detective, and trying to win the heart of his beloved. After being accused of stealing her father’s watch, Keaton fails miserably at playing detective in real life – and heads back to his projectionist job. He falls asleep during the film – which has a plot similar to his actual life – and he dreams himself in the middle of the movie- this time of as a great detective. The sequence of the film inside a film may seem standard today – but was daring and innovative in its time. And the sequence is utterly brilliant – especially when Keaton first enters the screen, and find himself in an ever shifting set of backdrops – safe in one, in danger in the next, in the middle of the desert one second, and then on the edge of the ocean. The film also contains some of Keaton’s greatest stunts – him running atop a moving train, and then riding the drain pipe to the ground (in a scene where Keaton actually got hurt for one of the only times), a brilliant scene of him getting off the roof of a building into the backseat of the car of the man he is tailing, and of course, the brilliant motorcycle chase scene climax, where Keaton, riding on the handlebars, doesn’t realize the driver is no longer in control, and yet he somehow manages to survive unscathed. Sherlock Jr. understood the power of movies before most people did – when they were seen as many time wasters. Keaton understands why we go to the movies, and Sherlock Jr. is his greatest achievement – and his most influential. We go, at least in part, because we want to be the people we see – they teach us about ourselves, and even how to act – which Keaton brings to life in the brilliant final shot of the film. · Taxi Driver (Martin Scorsese, 1976)
· There Will Be Blood (Paul Thomas Anderson, 2007)
From the mesmerizing, wordless opening 15 minutes to the bloody climax that ends the film, Paul Thomas Anderson’s There Will Be Blood is a film about the American dream becoming a nightmare. Like Charles Foster Kane before him, Daniel Planview should be an American success story – a man of humble beginnings who becomes wealthy and powerful beyond he could dream – and is still miserable. Plainview is the ultimate misanthrope – he hates everyone. He may have a soft spot for the baby he adopts, but eventually, even he will abandon Plainview. Anderson’s film is about the origins of America – the twin pillars of commerce and religion (represented by Paul Dano), and he sees both as utterly corrupt and worthless. The film was made on the eve of the economic collapse in America in 2008, and it, more than any other movie of its time, shows just what led to the collapse – corruption, unfettered greed, blatant self-interest. As Plainview, Day-Lewis gives one of the greatest of all screen performances – simultaneously larger than life, and yet really just a hollow, empty shell of a man, who has nothing but money. The film may only be five years old, but yes, it deserves a place on this list. · Three Women (Robert Altman, 1977)
· Touch of Evil (Orson Welles, 1958)
In the past, I have usually put Welles’ Citizen Kane on this list. But this time, I decided to put his Touch of Evil on the list instead – in part because I put Paul Thomas Anderson’s There Will Be Blood, a similar film to Citizen Kane, on the list. But mainly because these days, I find Touch of Evil even more fascinating than Kane. From that brilliant, three minute opening shot, that sets the movie up brilliantly, to its dark, violent climax, Touch of Evil tells a labyrinthine, noir plot about violence in a border town. The movie is a clash of ideals – that gets an interesting twist – as Charlton Heston plays a Mexican cop, in this small town with his new wife (Janet Leigh), who is unwittingly drawn into the investigation involving the exploding car in that brilliant first shot. Yet, while we are used to seeing Mexican cops be corrupt, Heston here is virtuous – perhaps even to a fault. It is Welles’ Hank Quinlin, the larger than life, racist Sheriff of the town who is corrupt. He “knows” who committed the crime, and has no hesitation in ensuring that they have the evidence to convict him – and he grows to resent Heston when he stands in his way. Like many of the characters Welles had himself play in his films, Quinlin in an ambition, smart man, destroyed by his own inflated sense of self-worth. He is right, goddamnit, and you better stay out of his way. This is Welles’ greatest performance in front of the camera – and perhaps behind it as well. The plot is, at times anyway, rather ludicrous and overly complicated – and yet, I hardly care, because even when - like in the climactic scene that involves Heston running below Quinlin and his underling on a dock to stay with radio range - there is a much simpler, logical way for Heston to get what he wants, you don’t mind, because Welles’ directorial tricks are so mesmerizing that you do not notice. Touch of Evil was the final time Welles got to work within the Hollywood system – and like many of his films, post Kane, it was taken away from him and recut by the studio. We now have a pretty much definitive version of the film available to us – and the end result is a masterpiece. Welles was a cinematic genius, way ahead of his time and one that was determined to play by his rules - which is often why he ran afoul with movie executives. Perhaps that’s why he wanted to play Hank Quinlin – as evil as Quinlin is, Welles understands him. Yes, Citizen Kane is probably the most “perfect” film on Welles’ resume, but Touch of Evil is the one I return to more often – to sit there in awe of what Welles could do with a camera – and in front of one as well. · 2001: A Space Odyssey (Stanley Kubrick, 1968)
I have sat down and watched Kubrick’s Dr. Strangelove (and very possibly his A Clockwork Orange as well) more often than his 2001: A Space Odyssey, which is why I had in the past put Strangelove on this list instead of 2001. But I have to admit that while I may “enjoy” Dr. Strangelove more, 2001 is Kubrick’s greatest achievement- the most ambitious science fiction ever made, and one of the most profound statements on man’s place in the universe that any art form has ever produced. The movie opens with its infamous scene of apes, and their discovery of tools and then flashes forward millions of years to the title year. This is an alternate view of humankind’s history than the one put forward in the Bible. The Bible teaches us how far humanity has fallen since they had things perfect in the Garden of Eden – Kubrick shows us how far humans have progressed and evolved – and how we are still not done evolving. There are many mesmerizing sequences in the movie – far too many to name, but the “murder” of HAL, one of the great movie “villains” of all time jumps immediately to mind, as does the trippy star gate sequence, that made the film a favorite of drug addled minds. Kubrick’s film is odd because it is not really about the characters at all – HAL is the most memorable character in the film, and he is nothing more than a strange, calm voice and a giant red light. It doesn’t need to be about individual characters – because it is about us all. It trusts the audiences intelligence, which is what Kubrick valued above all else. And he has made a film that is impossible to forget. 
· Vertigo (Alfred Hitchcock, 1958)
The newly minted “greatest film of all time” by Sight and Sound has been a fixture on my list for years now, and I cannot imagine it ever leaving it. It is one of few films that seems to get deeper, more complex every time I see it. The first time through, you see a masterful Hitchcock thriller – an odd one no doubt, since the climax seems to come at the half way point, before the movie takes a bizarre twist. It’s this bizarre twist at the half way point that I think led many critics and audience members to not like the film when it was originally released – but it’s also this bizarre twist that makes the film so complex. The second time you watch the film, knowing the films mysteries, you concentrate on the details – especially focusing on Jimmy Stewart’s Scottie. Hitchcock loved to play with beloved stars screen persona – he knew audiences would immediately love and identify with Stewart, and he uses this pre-programmed love to drag the audience deeper into Stewart’s troubled mind they we really want to go. He plays a former cop, hired to tail the troubled wife (Kim Novak) of a rich man, who worries she may try to kill herself. He ends up falling in love with her, and she with him, but she is too far gone by the time he enters the picture. And because of his vertigo, he cannot save her when she climbs a bell tower and commits suicide. Stewart then goes into a deep depression, eventually, slowly coming out of it. And then, he sees someone who looks just like Novak – except with different hair. What he doesn’t know is this really is the woman he fell in love with – she was hired to “play” the rich man’s wife so he could murder her – and use Stewart as his witness. She fell in love with Stewart during their initial meetings as well – and so when they meet again, she goes along with his requests to make her into the woman he loves. The film, as many have pointed out, is in many ways about necrophilia – Stewart is in love with a dead woman, and wants this live one to become her. This would disturbing enough, and worthy of a spot among Hitchcock’s greatest films. And yet, the more times I watch it, the more I concentrate on Novak, and less on Stewart. If the first time through, you concentrating on the films mysteries, and second time on Stewart descent into madness and sexual deviancy, the third time, you start looking more closely at Novak. When she is merely playing a role – in the first part as decreed by the rich man, in the second part as decreed by Stewart – and when is actually herself. Where is the line between her “performance” and who she really is. The more you watch Vertigo, the deeper the damn thing gets. This is why it is the best film Hitchcock, one of the greatest of all directors who has made countless masterpieces, ever made. And that is why it deserves a place on this list – even at the very top, where Sight and Sound now ranks it. Note: In keeping with my rule of one film per director, these are the other films I considered for my top 10 before deciding on what I did. When you’re talking about movies this good, the difference is so small that it doesn’t even exist. Any of these films could easily have been on the list above, as well as countless others had I considered more than one film per director, which is the reason why I refer to this whole exercise a fool’s errand – although I must admit, it’s a fun one: Breathless (Jean-Luc Godard, 1960), Cache (Michael Haneke, 2005), Chinatown (Roman Polanski, 1974), City Lights (Charles Chaplin, 1931), Do the Right Thing (Spike Lee, 1989), Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind (Michel Gondry, 2004), The Exterminating Angel (Luis Bunul, 1962), A Face in the Crowd (Elia Kazan, 1957), Fanny and Alexander (Ingmar Bergman, 1983), Fargo (Joel & Ethan Coen, 1996), A History of Violence (David Cronenberg, 2005), Inglorious Basterds (Quentin Tarantino, 2009), Jaws (Steven Spielberg, 1975), La Dolce Vita (Federico Fellini, 1960), The Last Picture Show (Peter Bogdanovich, 1971), Lawrence of Arabia (David Lean, 1962), M (Fritz Lang, 1931), Make Way for Tomorrow (Leo McCarey, 1937), Manhattan (Woody Allen, 1979), Natural Born Killers (Oliver Stone, 1994), Network (Sidney Lumet, 1976), Night of the Hunter (Charles Laughton, 1955), Out of the Past (Jacques Tourneur, 1947), The Rules of the Game (Jean Renoir, 1939), Sansho the Baliff (Kenji Mizoguchi, 1954), The Searchers (John Ford, 1956), Sunset Boulevard (Billy Wilder, 1950), The Thin Red Line (Terrence Malick, 1998), The Third Man (Carol Reed, 1949), Tokyo Story (Yasujiro Ozu, 1953), Trouble in Paradise (Ernst Lubitsch, 1932), Umberto D. (Vittorio De Sica, 1952), Unforgiven (Clint Eastwood, 1992), A Woman Under the Influence (John Cassavetes, 1974), Zodiac (David Fincher, 2007).
