From the immediate post-war period to the present day, cinema has undergone transformative changes, reflecting societal shifts, technological advancements, and the ever-expanding scope of human imagination. Each year has offered its unique contribution to the tapestry of film history, presenting masterpieces that resonate with audiences, challenge conventions, and elevate the art form. This journey through the best films annually since 1945 is not just an exploration of cinematic excellence, but a window into the changing landscapes of culture, politics, and technology. As we traverse from the golden age of Hollywood to the digital age, these selections encapsulate the milestones of cinema, marking each year with a landmark film that has left an indelible mark on the hearts and minds of viewers around the world.
1945 — The Lost Weekend
Despite being the earliest film on our list, The Lost Weekend stills holds up, earning its place as a Hollywood classic. Don Birnam is an alcoholic, plain and simple. Where Hollywood used to make the town drunk tantamount to comic relief or the village idiot, The Lost Weekend chose to tackle the issue of alcoholism and addiction head on by putting the pain, anger, and destructiveness behind the disease on full display. Through fantastic and amazingly symbolic cinematography, director Billy Wilder explores the misery and consequences of sloshing through life. The Lost Weekend does not strive to answer why Don drinks or the genesis of his addiction because in the end that doesn’t matter — saving his life does.
Using milk bottles outside his door as a marker of time, the audience realizes that each day with his favorite amber liquid is a day further away from recovery. The titular time frame sees Don push away his loved ones and embrace his enablers — but the depths of Don’s struggle even leads his facilitators to abandon him.
With horrifying imagery of withdrawals, the film’s hopeful ending is more a question than a promise — after what we’ve just gone through with Don, can we be sure his sobriety will last? It’s a question those who have struggled with addiction — and those who try to help them — frequently ask themselves, another signal of The Lost Weekend’s serious and realistic view of this horrible disease.
1946 — It’s a Wonderful Life
Every Christmas season, television stations bustle to get this film in their time slots. Perhaps the ultimate feel good movie, It’s a Wonderful Life shows us the value of self-love and that gratitude is never a wasted or misplaced feeling. George Bailey (the incomparable Jimmy Stewart) is a despondent family man on a snowy Christmas Eve who is contemplating suicide. Despite all his good efforts with everyone in town, this beloved bank employee has been conned by his scheming boss — and now believes the police are coming to arrest him on fraudulent charges.
In a literal answer to his prayers, Angel in training Clarence (Henry Travers) arrives just in time. Audiences are treated to flashbacks of George Bailey’s life where his intervention in the lives of others saved and helped them — an entire town wouldn’t be the same if George Bailey wasn’t there. A dam of depression bursts forth and unleashes a torrent of gratitude as Bailey can see his success in life and all its wonders more clearly than ever before.
In an age where movies are filled with caped, superpowered heroes, George Bailey reminds us that heroism exists in the simple acts of life. It would be easy to compare Bailey to a plain-clothed Superman — but in reality, it’s Superman who would want to be a man like George Bailey.
1947 — Gentleman’s Agreement
Before he tackled the esteemed role of Atticus Finch, Gregory Peck starred as another character seeking justice for those who would be persecuted. Magazine writer Skylar “Phil” Green (Peck) is assigned to tackle anti-Semitism present in New York City. Unable to make his piece work with research and statistics alone, Green pretends to be Jewish for months in order to live the experience — and his results become increasingly startling.
Nearly every time he tells his co-workers or associates that he is Jewish results in exclamation and questions — no matter what he does, people wish to call attention to the religion, especially when they say it doesn’t matter to them. What starts as simple wayward glances from the people around him devolves into his young son Tommy being attacked by neighborhood children. Its conclusion is bittersweet, and far too unfortunate knowing the world we still live in today.
Gentleman’s Agreement greatest strength is the assertion that true evil lies in silence when good people do nothing. People who scoff at prejudiced jokes in their heads alone are in fact complicit in the ongoing crime — if you don’t stand up and say that it is wrong, it becomes a free pass for the rest of the world.
1948 — The Treasure of the Sierra Madre
The lust for gold has always been the bane of the frontier, driving men to madness and throwing their morality into the depths from which they are digging. Humphrey Bogart traded in his anti-hero charms from Casablanca to play Fred C. Dobbs, a man whose ambition makes him primed for a downward spiral. He and his fellow out of work buddy Curtain find old prospector Howard happily telling tales of his searches for gold. Using the last of their desperately fought for cash to employ him, the three set out into the harsh arid landscape. They find their gold, but that’s only the start of their tumultuous journey.
Its narrative becomes less about the treasure, and more about the sanity of the would-be prospectors. Bogart’s Dobbs becomes entrenched in manic behavior, convinced the others are trying to swindle him out of his share. His neuroses reach their peak, and violence is soon the name of the game.
What seemingly began as an adventure in the mountains of Mexico quickly transformed into an examination of greed and paranoia. Like many of us, our pursuits start out innocent enough but enough setbacks and shining visions of a rich future can lead us to do things we never thought imaginable.
1949 — The Third Man
After World War II, the narrative of floundering men seeking meaning became a common theme explored in the moody black and white of film noir. The Third Man’s post-war Vienna is a tired and desperate place where criminals and cover-ups are far too common. Pulp writer Hollis answers a call from his old friend Harry Lime who has offered him a job. Upon arriving in Vienna, Hollis receives word that Lime has suddenly died, struck by a car. With an eye for crime, Hollis notices how the facts don’t quite add up. All witnesses to the crime indicate that a third person helped to drag Lime’s body away — the police report only mentions two.
The search for this titular figure is steeped in intrigue and uses the gorgeous black and white cinematography of the 1940s to full effect. The Third Man’s Vienna becomes the hotbed of all things corruption in multiple institutionalized forms.
The film makes it easy to imagine how desperate Europe must have been after the war — even more obvious when taken into account this was a British production, not American. With its central mystery revolving around the black market distribution of medical supplies, such a desperately needed public item shows the immorality of the age after witnessing such senseless horrors of war.
1950 — Sunset Blvd.
The quintessential film about Hollywood, Sunset Blvd. remains one of the greatest character studies ever told. When down on his luck writer Joe (William Holden) stumbles upon the fortress-like estate of former silent film queen Norma Desmond, he finds himself trapped within her own damaged psyche and yearnings of yesteryear. Seeing Joe’s writing as a chance to make a comeback — in a role suited for a woman far younger than her — Norma undergoes rigorous preparations to stand in the spotlight once again. Temperamental, depressed, and emotionally unstable, Norma would kill to make a comeback — and she does.
Her murder of Joe is a brilliant climax, bringing an analysis of Norma herself to the forefront. In her mind, she is once again that gorgeous femme fatale of noir cinema, the gun-toting vixen who would rather kill than be a scorned lover — real life and reel life are one in the same to someone who has their best years behind them.
For anyone in a creative pursuit, who could argue? Art comes from the soul, so it is rarely up to us when that itch leaves. The film’s haunting final image — Norma thinking the newsreel cameras inquiring about Joe’s murder are actually those of a big Hollywood production — shows how lost she has become in her own pursuit of stardom. Sunset Blvd.’s finale eerily contemplates and asserts that perhaps Norma did get what she wanted — regardless of the level of infamy, her name is known far and wide once again.
1951 — The Day the Earth Stood Still
This 1951 seminal classic subverted expectations long before that was expected from high-concept science fiction. The films of the 50s and 60s were rife with aliens descending from the stars above to conquer and enslave us — so what would happen if an alien came to Earth to observe us? How would we react? Klaatu (Michael Rennie) is a peaceful — peaceful cannot be stressed enough — emissary from the stars, sent to investigate how we live our lives and the extent of our nuclear proliferation. As is expected of humans, the Army surrounding Klaatu’s flying saucer reacts with violence and imprison the alien.
The gifts he attempts to bring — knowledge of the cosmos, an invitation to the stars, and the chance to move beyond nuclear energy — are quickly dismissed as weapons and threats. This parable of the dangers of nuclear weapons continues to be relevant today — the destruction of our environment certainly proves how barbaric we can be with the tools in our hands.
The Day the Earth Stood Still does not leave us with a great feeling about our species’ future — Klaatu and his mechanized bodyguard Gort leave our planet with no success. But perhaps the film itself can continue to give modern audiences and future generations a reason to think twice before choosing violence and destruction.
1952 — Singin’ in the Rain
Arguably featuring the best-known song from any film, Singin’ in the Rain is the peak of the movie musical, a benchmark for all that have come before and after strove to be. There’s a sweet irony in its plot — a musical about the emergence of talking pictures. As silent film stars find their previously unused nasally voices are going to spell disaster for the studios they are contracted under, Gene Kelly’s Don Lockwood finds the perfect new face for the studio in young performer Kathy — the first of many legendary roles from Debbie Reynolds.
With plucky lyrics and show stopping dance numbers, Singin’ in the Rain almost dares you to not enjoy it and beam at its characters. There is humor to be found around every corner as the film embraces the gorgeous pastel color pallet of the era in which it was made with the iconography of the pre-Depression roaring 20s.
The film is a love letter to all the things that are marvelous about Hollywood — the glamour, the dreams, and the years of scrapping by that is rewarded at the end of the day. Stardom is a frequent subject in media, but no experience has better captured its ups, downs, and glorious creative desperation in between than Singin’ in the Rain.
1953 — From Here to Eternity
Like Gone with the Wind before it and Titanic after it, From Here to Eternity brought audiences a beautiful romance set against the sweeping backdrop of a coming conflict. In this case, the hazing rituals of Army life and the plight of military wives and lovers are brought to a fever pitch on December 7th, 1941 — the attack on Pearl Harbor. As military commanders deal with martial issues on the Hawaiian base, we see the days on the calendar get closer and closer to the dreaded day, creating a ticking clock for the entire film.
Burt Lancaster, Montgomery Cliff, Deborah Kerr, Donna Reed, and Frank Sinatra are the central figures of the powerhouse cast, bringing gravitas and gorgeousness to its conflicted and love sick characters. Although the attack on Pearl Harbor is harrowing and beautifully filmed, it creates a backdrop for the fruition of inter-personal action rather than retaliation against the Japanese.
Its heroes confront their fellow American rivals as the gorgeous palm-tree laden landscape is torn apart behind them. Lover’s quarrels and justice against corrupt commanders have never looked so good — and the emotion behind it all has never been so magnificent.
1954 — On the Waterfront
“I coulda’ had class. I coulda’ been a contender. I coulda’ been somebody,” laments Marlon Brando’s Terry Malloy. Regret and guilt form not just this film’s most famous scene, but are the building blocks of Elia Kazan’s magnificent crime drama. The writer-director infamously testified against supposed Hollywood Communists in the 1950s, when fear of dissension was at its height. Dock workers are all but imprisoned by a corrupt union boss — ironically known as “Friendly” — who is hellbent on control. Ex-boxer Terry carries out Friendly’s requests of encouraging the port employees to not testify against him.
But as Friendly’s precautions become increasingly violent, Terry is unable to ignore his own need to go to the authorities — especially after several murders are committed to ensure silence. Choosing to stand up and speak for his fellow dock workers, Terry is alienated, threatened, and caused plenty of physical pain at the hand of Friendly’s goons.
Ready to sacrifice himself for the good of the workers at large, Terry becomes a beacon of hope for the port community — they rally around and protect him, just as he did for them. These redemptive moments allow Terry and his working-class comrades to move forward in life, and hopefully allowed Kazan to forgive himself.
1955 — Rebel Without a Cause
Generational conflict and teen angst hit its high note with this 1955 release. Hollywood heartthrob James Dean embodied the youth of the era, those that were mad at society but had no emotional understanding of why. Dean’s Jim Stark lashes out with his new friends who are all desperate to carve out an existence all their own, away from the world that seems to be casting them aside in favor of maintaining a status quo and emotional curb appeal.
As conflicts brew, build, and burst, it becomes depressingly clear that all these teenagers truly want at the end of the day is the attention of their parents and authority figures who prefer to sit back and do nothing — and when they do take action, it is only to scold. In Jim Stark’s case, he is looking for a father that ironically will scold him. His father has allowed time to emasculate him, becoming a shell in a time when Jim needs direction the most.
Male domination of a household was (unfortunately) rarely questioned in films, and Rebel Without a Cause remains a fixture in Hollywood with its rare glance at men figuring out their own destiny without the emotional tools to deal with it.
1956 — Invasion of the Body Snatchers
Hollywood has always been a more politically left-leaning industry, a place where in the 1950s it could be easier to be confused with a Communist. No film has better reflected the anxieties of Cold War life than 1956’s Invasion of the Body Snatchers. In a time where nearly everyone was convinced their neighbor could be a communist, there was never a more perfect time for sci-fi horror to exploit the terrifying concept of doppelgängers.
Massive seed pods are distributed by an extra-terrestrial threat and planted in the homes of the unsuspecting citizens. Exact duplicates emerge and replace the residents as they sleep. The coordinated attack is silent, exact, and terrifyingly easy. These placid duplicates are the perfect scapegoats to accept their new alien overlords.
Soon, protagonist Dr. Miles Bennell is left as the only true human left in his neighborhood. The motif of mass hysteria is executed perfectly as a mob of pod people chase and attempt to conform Miles — much like how left-leaning filmmakers may have felt targeted by the public at large.
1957 — Paths of Glory
Although a war film with bloody battle scenes, Stanley Kubrick’s Paths of Glory’s true grandeur, drama, and pain comes from the trial at the center of the film. An overly eager and corrupt commander needs someone to blame for a botched battle — rather than taking the blame, he chooses one soldier from each company and court martials them for cowardice. Rising to the occasion, Colonel Dax (the legendary Kirk Douglas) acts as the defense attorney for the three men. A kangaroo court from the beginning, the plight of the common soldier is at the forefront of Paths of Glory — the corporals are expected to carry out orders that the commanders themselves would never have dreamed of. Despite all of Dax’s evidence to the contrary, the men are sentenced to death.
Carried out with painful precision, Dax is barely able to claim the moral victory — all his superiors assume he defended them to promote his own career. Though many have criticized Kubrick for his on-screen coldness, the film’s final scene is a heartwarming reminder of humanity. British soldiers slosh beer and yell for a captured German girl to sing for them — and sing she does.
Her tearful eyes and vibrating voice turn the men into children as they cry right along with her, painfully reminded of their fallen comrades. Dax walks away, not notifying them that they will be returning to the front soon — he believes they should be able to enjoy this moment a bit longer. Dax may not realize it, but the moral victory he felt he was not worthy of is won in that moment.
1958 — Vertigo
Alfred Hitchcock — the eternal Master of Suspense — shifted away from his own thriller formula with his latest pursuit of mistaken identity. Re-teaming with one of his favorite actors Jimmy Stewart, Hitchcock crafted a tale of unrequited love and a descent into mania. Stewart’s Scottie Ferguson is a former detective forced out of retirement when an old friend asks him to tail his wife Madeline (Kim Novak) — Scottie does so, and falls in love with her in the process. When Madeline falls to her death, Scottie is in a state of grief almost unbearable. He soon meets Judy, a woman who looks almost exactly like Madeline (also Novak), and who could be the solution to his forlorn existence.
While all the elements of Hitchcock’s usual thriller are present, he takes the time to slow down his trademark tension and action and fill it with Scottie’s dangerous progression into becoming like a quasi-Dr. Frankenstein — he encourages Judy to change her hair and the way she dresses to become more and more like Madeline.
Her changing aesthetic only drives Scottie further into the mental depths of believing he might resurrect his fallen lover. With hypnotic visuals of delirium and panic, Vertigo has only become more revered upon reexamination — its lead’s inability to handle reality and the attempts to change it are natural parts and anxieties of the human condition, fears that only Alfred Hitchcock knew how to tap in to.
1959 — Ben-Hur
In a stroke of brilliance, movie studio MGM — on the verge of bankruptcy — gave it their all and adapted this 1880 novel of Roman tyranny, revenge, and forgiveness. Unable to stomach the cruelty of Roman commander and former friend Messala, Jewish prince Judah Ben-Hur (Best Actor winner Charlton Heston) rescinds any populist support. Messala retaliates by imprisoning Judah’s family, and condemning the titular character to slave labor. Judah’s next four years are spent sweating with one thought in mind — vengeance. Judah’s thoughts come to fruition when he is given the chance to battle Messala in one of cinema’s most astonishing sequences ever committed to film — the Judean chariot race.
The ten-minute action scene took three months to shoot and a full year to plan — and the results are astonishing. While most films today would rely on frantic editing and excessive CGI, Ben-Hur’s preparation was able to account for and capture every on-screen element. A massive arena was built and filled with thousands of extras while actual four horse chariots raced in nine grueling laps.
The films of this era didn’t have the accessible technology we do now — if they wanted their audiences to see something, they needed to create it. Audiences had never seen a film dare, achieve, and soar to such heights since Gone With the Wind. Did MGM’s gamble pay off? A massive box office return and eleven Oscar wins would certainly say so.
1960 — Psycho
Leaving entire theaters thinking twice before entering their shower, Alfred Hitchcock created yet another classic that not only defined the era in which it was released, but has continued to be viewed and reexamined decades later. Within the first third of the film’s running time, we see a toilet (insanely enough something censors tried to remove), Marion Crane — our lead character — remove her clothing, enter a shower, and then see that main character murdered.
Subversion of expectations has become increasingly commonplace in cinema, and Psycho is undoubtedly the genesis of that creative moment. Similarly, Norman (Anthony Perkins) is never portrayed as a monster — he is a man, through and through. He’s handsome, polite (but not deceptively so), and wants to please his motel’s guests.
Audiences suddenly had their trajectory completely thrown off, their minds bouncing around perhaps as much as the killer at the center of the film. With its action taking place at a location as isolated as its subject, Hitchcock was able to explore all layers of the characters involved, giving us perhaps the most famous film of all-time.
1961 — Breakfast at Tiffany’s
We all know a Holly Golightly — someone obsessed with material wealth, status, and without a care in the world. Rather than keep her as a stereotype, this adaptation of Truman Capote’s novella explores both the past and hopeful future of Golightly — played to effortless perfection by the iconic Audrey Hepburn. Making Holly a caricature would have been far easier, both to Hepburn and the writers. But the decision to make the socialite a fully rounded individual trying to hide pain and anxieties makes for a far more engaging and heartwarming film.
With a past mired in choices made for her — she was married off at only 14 before she ran away — Holly is conflicted between following her heart, or the financial security of marrying a politician. It’s not a decision that only exists in the hands of Hollywood writers — more people than we realize are forced to make choices that sacrifice happiness for security.
Can we blame them for choosing the latter when faced with uncertain times? In the end, Holly chooses to follow her heart. We applaud her for it, knowing she is giving up the things in life that made her feel safe and secure — including dreams of those gorgeous Tiffany diamonds.
1962 — Lawrence of Arabia
War time journalists always love a good tabloid headline, and the adventures of Colonel T.E. Lawrence made the perfect subject for British and American papers. In the bloody haze of no-man’s-land, there was suddenly hope, courage, and a face of victory in the tired World War I trenches. Director David Lean’s remarkable epic indulges in set-pieces and blazing desert action while also peeling back the layers of the man behind the journalistic myth.
What begins as an attempt to rally various Arab tribes to fight against the Ottoman Turks in the Great War ends up with Lawrence becoming fully integrated into the daily lives of these complicated clans. By the end, Colonel Lawrence laments the role he played in allowing greater British control — all his victories with his newfound comrades simply resulted in the expansion of his home empire.
The sweeping desert landscape and audacious cavalry battles can easily take up all the mental room when it comes to this film, but Lawrence of Arabia gives the same amount of attention to its lead character’s subtle intricacies as well — and flawlessly so. It takes extraordinary skill to stage battle scenes and the tactical genius to create a near mythical figure and then dive into the heart, soul, and regret of the man underneath it all.
1963 — The Great Escape
While cheerier among the war film genre for the most part, The Great Escape remains a fixture of classic Hollywood cinema. As American and British forces are dumped into a Nazi prison, the Allies band together to dare escape after escape. Steve McQueen uses his effortless charm to full effect as the cocky and determined Captain Hilts.
Notorious among the Germans for his uproarious escapes, his typical showy one-man efforts are the perfect distraction for the larger group of Allies to plan a month’s long escape using the most classic of methods — digging a hole and coming out the other side. Their fervent preparation under the domineering Nazi eye creates grating tension throughout the film — the same tension that celebrates the heroism of these men who never give up the hope of escaping. Hope in the face of impossible is what makes The Great Escape such a rousing experience.
Despite all the efforts of the Allies, they are all recaptured or executed by the time the credits roll. But with a pep in his step and a whistle on his lips, Captain Hilts happily begins to plan his next escape attempt. Film heroes are rarely celebrated for patience, but these brilliant men — successful or not — are all given their time to shine.
1964 — Dr. Strangelove
When describing the Stanley Kubrick filmography, one uses words such as “terrifying, mysterious, experimental.” No one ever thinks to use the word, “hilarious” but that’s exactly what the master of filmmaking delivered with his classic anti-war film, Dr. Strangelove. A demented general has given himself full power over access to nuclear missiles — and they are all aimed at Russia, the general’s paranoia induced enemy.
The Americans scramble to warn their fragile allies and try to lure the general out of his self-hostage situation. Featuring multiple roles from comedy genius Peter Sellers, the War Room becomes a circular circus — the wonderfully inept leadership creates a raucous atmosphere in this biting satire of politics in the nuclear age.
Though veteran actors like George C. Scott and Sellers are able to ham up their anxiety-driven dialogue, so much of the humor of Strangelove comes from Kubrick’s insistence to play the scenes straight — no moment is acted like the characters know they are in a comedy. With mutually assured destruction at the forefront of Cold War paranoia, Dr. Strangelove uses its cynical view of politics in a doomsday scenario to hilarious full effect.
1965 — The Sound of Music
Among the ultimate “feel good” films, this seminal musical has brought laughter, music, and love into the homes of generations of audiences. With too much spirit and a smile that beams sunshine, Maria (Julie Andrew) is far from the perfect nun. Her infectious nature becomes better suited when she is assigned to become governess of Captain Von Trapp’s (Christopher Plummer) seven children.
What starts as a quiet, military-esque household becomes filled with the splendors of music. Even the domineering Captain can’t be immune to the wonders of joyous melodies — or the heart of Maria. Maria and the Captain’s love story is the heart of The Sound of Music, wonderfully contrasting them in every lifestyle choice imaginable. Maria’s love of music not only begins to melt the Captain’s guarded heart, but it bridges the gap between them.
Though he is still stern and at times unyielding, it’s a common ground they now share — and becomes their shield for the darkness to come. As the Nazi regime begins to spread through Europe forcing the Von Trapp family’s escape, The Sound of Music reminds us that hope and happiness can be found in the smallest of places — even in a song.
1966 — The Good, the Bad and the Ugly
Whether you have seen it or not, this spaghetti western is undoubtedly your foundation of the genre as a whole. Its whistling, howling main theme has pervaded popular culture as has the man that frequently strides into frame with it — Clint Eastwood, who cemented himself as the eternal king of cool. Three richly defined characters outwit and try to outgun each other in a search for Confederate gold that leads to the greatest Old West standoff and shootout that cinema has ever seen. Director Sergio Leone jumps from the massive expanse of a wide shot to a sweat dripping extreme close up of Eastwood’s calculating eyes with perfect timing while Ennio Morricone’s haunting and triumphant score creates tension that has no equal.
Leone was a rare breed of director, allowing himself to put things on screen simply because it looked and felt cool. A slew of modern filmmakers has attempted to replicate such a strategy, but fall short with nearly all the elements that made Leone a master of it.
The wise attention to framing, timing, and score put the emphasis on the lead up to a shootout — today’s directors incorrectly assume that gun blazing action is the time to categorize a character as “cool.” Leone proves them wrong time and time again — what’s cooler than a lone gunslinger like Eastwood’s knowing he’s won the battle before it’s even happened?
1967 — The Graduate
It’s rare that a film can have defined a generation. It’s even rarer when it can define each new generation that sees it. The film chronicles Benjamin Braddock’s (Dustin Hoffman) first summer as a college graduate. Legions of nosy neighbors congratulate him, immediately asking him the same terrifying existential question: “what’s next?” Floundering in an unsure future, Benjamin finds himself taking comfort in the cougar-ish claws of Mrs. Robinson.
The film uses the illicit affair to highlight the anxiety that post-college students frequently go through. For so many, life is lived based on the path laid out before them. Deviating from it could be too risky, despite the threat of monotony and regret later in life. Benjamin, though very smart and charming, feels burnt out and has no desire to apply himself anymore. One needs only look to the news today to feel not only dread, but a sense of apathy.
Why continue to strive and fight for success when so many foundations of society seem on the brink of crumbling? These are personal questions best answered by individual people, but The Graduate was a film always ahead of its time and is possibly even more relevant today than ever.
1968 — 2001: A Space Odyssey
The magnum opus of director Stanley Kubrick’s ridiculously impressive filmography, the oft-abbreviated 2001 is a triumph of the highest order. Through its use of matte paintings, miniatures, and early computer wizardry, the film became a pioneer of visual effects. In an almost meta-fashion, the film charts humanity’s journey to the stars, one that started from our earliest ancestors. Far from a fanciful space adventure, 2001 asks harrowing questions about our origins and evolution, and its answers are convoluted at best, and frightening at worst.
The theme of creation appears in so many forms of media, but 2001 uses it perhaps to its appropriately most experimental effect. Space, time, ancient aliens, humanity, and artificial intelligence become wildly combined in an almost psychedelic trip through the cosmos. Just as astronaut David Bowman voyage to uncover the mysteries of an alien monolith begins, the ship’s onboard AI — a creation of humanity’s — starts to go rogue.
Man fights machine at the edge of the universe with tension that has never fully been replicated on film since as our greatest achievement attempts to destroy us — few parables of creation exist that have been so artfully done. Just like the film’s mysterious black monolith frequently appears as humanity’s evolution surges forward, 2001 stands as a monolith among films, having pushed it further beyond its limits than filmmakers and audiences alike never thought we could go.
1969 — Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid
The end of the summer of love saw the release of this classic buddy-western, bringing Old West hijinks, humor, and excitement to the big screen. Paul Newman and Robert Redford were among Hollywood’s most iconic partnerships, and this film perfectly encapsulated the charm of these two stars. Newman’s Butch and Redford’s Sundance lead the Hole in the Wall Gang, who become the bane of the Union Pacific railway.
When a train robbery goes wrong, their gang betrays them and are even hired by the railway to hunt them down. With dwindling prospects around them, Butch and Sundance perfectly embody the outlaws that media would lead us to believe existed — that regardless of dire circumstances, a charming smile and tricky gun play will put them on top.
Though slightly fanciful in its presentation, Butch and Sundance delightfully represent the Old West for how we remember it, rather than how it was. The same could be said for the legends the two men think they are — their names are mildly well known, but humorously realize they need to start from scratch when they flee to Bolivia. Even when the Bolivian police garrison has them pinned down, the two outlaws still banter about where they should flee to next, always believing they will live to see the next day. Thanks to the infamous charm of Newman and Redford, Butch and Sundance entered into the canon of film’s eternal memory.
1970 — MASH
With the horrors of the Vietnam War an ongoing event in American minds and media, it seemed a prime time to give in to despair with the greater context of world events. MASH made the wise decision of giving American audiences the exact opposite — a satire of war and those involved. Set in the Korean War, the film focuses on a handful of army doctors who are more content to cheat, steal, and slack off rather than perform their duties. It was a sense of levity to audiences during a time where an entire generation was sent into the harrowing jungles of Vietnam.
The images of battle they were now used to seeing had become so depressing, that not even the war films of the late 50s and early 60s could compare to the real-life horrors that television was bringing in. MASH gave its viewers the chance to breathe a little easier, relating to characters who were begrudgingly in their fatigues and away from home.
Much like Brooklyn Nine-Nine brought laughs to the standard drama police procedural, MASH took the patriotic stoicism of war time movies and let it go AWOL. The central idea that brought so many laughs to audiences gained even greater popularity when the film was adapted into its more well-known television series of the same name that ran from 1972-1983.
1971 — Dirty Harry
In continuing his rebellions hot streak of characters, Clint Eastwood gave us arguably his most recognizably grizzled performance as a cop with a perennial chip on his shoulder. Moving the action away from the typical mean streets of New York, director Don Siegel focuses on the shining city by the sea, San Francisco. Its cleaner atmosphere makes Inspector Harry Callahan the one that stands out as rough and tough. More suited in the lawless Old West than modern society, Harry believes justice can only be carried out through blazing gunfire rather than the slow procession of bureaucratic paperwork.
Fully embracing the handheld camera style of the 70s and infusing it with the grit and grime of real life, Harry patrols the streets like a wolf keeping his pack in line, and Eastwood’s trademark grimace isn’t just for show in this ultimate cop classic. Harry is a fuse that could explode at any moment — his superiors seem to treat him with greater hostility than the suspects he is chasing (and frequently gunning) down.
Imbued with the institutional cynicism of the 1970s, Dirty Harry became immediately controversial upon its release — and the rogue cop at the center of the film could have cared less, as long as it got the job done. This ultimate cop film still remains an action-packed cool as ice classic to this day. Job well done, Inspector Callahan.
1972 — The Godfather
The Godfather is the apex of cinema. It is infinitely quotable, aesthetically and visually gorgeous, and its story of family — no matter how violent or traitorous — will always be timeless. The story of America is the story of immigrants — people and families who came here to achieve the glorified American Dream. As leader of his family, Don Vito (Marlon Brando’s greatest performance) brought the Corleone’s to the forefront of success — through less than legitimate means.
With enough money, influence, and power on their side, youngest son Michael (Al Pacino) is hoping to break the cycle and become a legitimate businessman outside of his family’s mob dealings. But when Don Vito is shot in an assassination attempt, love, loyalty, and anger draw Michael further into the dark corners of his family — and as fate would have it, he might be the most ruthless of them all.
As Don Vito weeps upon hearing Michael will be the one to exact revenge, The Godfather questions if the fabled American Dream is as golden and moral as we initially imagined. The cycle of violence Michael wanted to avoid is now the one he relishes in — with his family’s safety secured, Michael is free to bring the Corleone’s into the next generation of behind-closed-door dealings. A true American tragedy through and through, the saga of the Corleone family continues to enwrap us in cinematic wonder.
1973 — The Exorcist
Horror is a genre that sadly prefers to follow trends rather than create or deviate from them. You see your spooky abandoned house that teenagers have shacked up in, and a madman with a knife takes them out one by one. In order to create a truly visceral and horrifying experience, director William Friedkin thankfully abandoned all other tropes. Set among the beautiful estates of Georgetown, evil does not lurk behind every single corner. It’s not even hiding in your closet. It’s right in front of you, in the sickening snarl of a possessed child.
The aforementioned teenagers typically endure knives in their backs, but The Exorcist elects to painfully torture the soul of a young girl while a demon slowly takes over her body. With a brilliant non-reliance on jump scares, the horror comes from an uncomfortably long time spent suffering with young Regan (Linda Blair, who received an Oscar nomination at just fourteen).
Her body breaks down, forcing us to absorb every inch of her pain as scars and sores break out across her face. The unrelenting sound design and forked-tongue dialogue work seamlessly to create a creature of pure malice and hate. By the time the titular priest arrives to save young Regan, we’ve nearly forgotten that any form of help was coming at all.
1974 — Chinatown
Widely regarded as one of the best screenplays ever written, Roman Polanski’s slick direction and deeply layered performances from Jack Nicholson and Faye Dunaway elevated this crime thriller to classic movie status. Brilliantly making its central mystery more accessible — the buying and drought-ing of land to sell it at a greater profit — the story becomes enriched with intrigue and details that makes the conspiracy feel far wider and nefarious than one could imagine.
Meant to emulate the noir-films of the 1940s, Chinatown elects to ditch the overly moody atmosphere of the genre and instead use it as a platform to create detailed and troubled characters. While investigator Jake Gittes (Nicholson) looks into these Los Angeles based crimes, he is paired with Evelyn Mulwray (Dunaway), the femme fatale stand-in who never makes it clear if she is Jake’s ally or foe. Her own personal pain and suffering ends up becoming the emotional crux of the film — and appropriately so.
The noirs of yesteryear were too overly content to not dive into the inner workings of their female characters. With Gittes as our harbinger of information, we are able to peel back the layers on all these characters as a fully rounded individual comes into view, eventually giving Chinatown the feeling of a psychological drama by the time it’s all over. Rife with cynicism in a crime-riddled conspiracy, Jake walks away from a situation he realizes he can do nothing about — he may be upset, but we as an audience are perfectly contended to have an ending that reflects more of real life than a phoned in happy one.
1975 — Jaws
In 1975, a killer swam to our shores that has gained as much infamy as any film slasher. The peaceful getaway of Amity Island is terrorized by a monstrous shark and it’s up to the police chief, an oceanographer, and a grizzled boat captain to take it down. The sea-faring horror/adventure has given audiences thrills from release to today. Steven Spielberg’s first cinematic triumph plays on our fears of the unknown — in this film, represented by the vastness of the ocean and the horrors that come from beneath us.
Shark attacks are well documented in the news — we hear a few stories each year during the summer. But Spielberg’s visual tension-fueled style and John Williams’ iconic two-note score make these attacks feel like this killer could walk on shore to continue its onslaught — even the sandy beach doesn’t seem so safe as the blood rolls on shore.
The final battle at sea is typically a losing one for our heroes who are constantly outsmarted by the massive finned terror. Jaws treats the shark as a horrid hybrid of a mindless beast and a calculated killer — its operating on instinct alone, but goodness gracious, what ingenious instinct! Audiences continue to marvel at this beacon of filmmaking excellence — thanks to Jaws, the blockbuster was born and the entire business of cinema has never been the same again.
1976 — Taxi Driver
An appropriately major inspiration for the recent Joker, Martin Scorsese’s Taxi Driver explores the difficulties of life’s sensory overload through tackling the sadly taboo topic of mental health. As the title suggests, Travis Bickle (Robert DeNiro) battles depression and violent behavior while transporting passengers back and forth across New York City, the only job that lets him forget his horrid lack of sleep. The neon lit avenues are almost like a blacklight to Travis — he sees the grime, filth, and muck that inhabitants these streets.
He attempts to find hope in local lawmakers before he feels the need to take the law into his own hands. Travis wants to be a hero, a savior, but struggles with exactly what that means. His plans shift from political assassinations to rescue attempts as fast as he can turn the wheel of his car. Taxi Driver painfully captures Travis’ existential crisis — he does not know how to function in society, and at time even exist at all.
To him, it could all be a game of charades, his character constantly changing to fit the situation. For a world increasing disconnected and modernizing, Taxi Driver remains essential viewing to show why simple stable and grounding forces in life are so important.
1977 — Star Wars
No other film in history has been cited more by filmmakers as their career inspiration than 1977’s Star Wars. A cinematic achievement on all fronts, from narrative to technological, the original entry in a galaxy far, far away took us to worlds and introduced us to characters we never thought we could meet. Mythic storytelling reminiscent of King Arthur was combined with lasers and space battles, enthralling and entrancing audiences the world over.
Despite its mixture of fantasy and science-fiction, the public has gravitated to Star Wars not because we escaped somewhere else — we love Star Wars because we saw people and stories that reminded us of ourselves. When young Luke Skywalker looks towards the setting suns of Tatooine, it is the same type of yearning we have all felt in life — who hasn’t looked towards the horizon dreaming of achieving bigger and better feats?
Star Wars took that relatability and desire for more and took it to lightspeed. Luke is soon swept up into the greatest adventure the screen had ever seen, meeting the charming rogue Han Solo, the daring Princess Leia, and the fearsome Darth Vader. No matter the generation, Star Wars has become infused with the national consciousness, always giving audiences the chance to come back for more — more fanciful adventures we want, and more reminders that the heart and soul of these characters are who we are.
1978 — Halloween
The pantheon of horror slashers is filled with killers all desperate to become the next Norman Bates — and only one succeeded. Seemingly born without a soul and with eyes as dark as the Devil himself, Michael Myers is a legend among the children of Haddonfield, Illinois — a modern day boogeyman. Brainy babysitter Laurie Strode is forced to learn that startling reality only too well on Halloween night.
Director John Carpenter had Psycho at the forefront of his mind when making this killer classic. Jamie Lee Curtis was cast as Strode, not only for her talent, but her mother was the actress behind Marion Crane, the victim of Norman Bates’ brutal shower attack. But Carpenter wisely kept the similarities there. Where most horror film’s villains were on the outskirts of society, Michael could easily be in your backyard. It was almost taboo to see death and misery on the streets of American suburbia before Halloween, but Michael brought it right to our doorsteps.
While Norman Bates will try to charm you, Michael does not speak — he only acts. Like a rabid wolf, Michael Myers operates on instinct alone, with his only function in life satisfying his overriding sense to kill and maim. Halloween gives no answers as to how or why Michael became the monster he did, and that is perhaps the most frightening of aspect of this film — he has simply always been this way. Michael’s characterization still haunts audiences, reminding us true evil can just be waiting outside.
1979 — Alien
Pitched as “Jaws in space,” no description could be more appropriate to highlight the anxiety audiences were about to see when Alien premiered in 1979. A simple elevator pitch became bone-chillingly expanded on when the crew of interplanetary hauler Nostromo are stuck in the vacuum of space with an organism far more advanced than them. Adapted to only kill and lay eggs, the titular creature is among cinema’s greatest and most horrifying designs.
Director Ridley Scott and designer H.R. Giger’s combination of insectoid features and sexual imagery brought the Xenomorph to life in an all too uncomfortable way. The creature at the center of the film speaks to humanity’s greatest fear — that which we do not understand. The recent Prometheus franchise prequels foolishly attempted to flesh out a backstory of the Xenomorph’s evolution, which went against Alien’s greatest strength.
No explanation is given to the giant corpses found with their chests bursting out. There is no great reveal of how to get the one up on this crawling monstrosity. The Xenomorph was nature at its most deadly — should humanity tread further into darkness of space, there is no telling what we may find waiting for us.
1980 — The Shining
A story of domestic abuse, ghosts, and environmental isolation seems like it should be three different scripts — in the hands of Stanley Kubrick, the narratives meld together seamlessly to bring the horror at the Overlook Hotel to life. Notorious for wildly deviating from Stephen King’s source material, Kubrick gives us his usual cryptic narrative and images as Jack Torrance (Jack Nicholson’s most recognized role) descends into madness. Torrance, his wife Wendy, and son Danny become caretakers for the hotel over what will be a winter more brutal than anything they’ve ever experienced.
Far from your typical ghost story, Kubrick and Nicholson’s collaboration shows how resentment and anger fester and degrade into violence — especially when a supernatural force is egging it on and feeding off of it. The curse of the Overlook Hotel is never fully explained — just when enough clues are given, another one is found that goes in a very different direction. Danny’s ability to Shine — a psychic force that the hotel seems to feed off of — is our only real concrete evidence that spirits beyond the moral plain inhabit the Overlook.
But part of Kubrick’s typical brilliance is framing Wendy’s account of the situation as completely different — through her, we imagine that maybe there’s no curse at all. Trapped in a harsh snowstorm, who wouldn’t go a little mad? Jack’s barely contained alcoholism adds fuel to his angry fire, giving him the horrid desire of maiming his family. Stanley Kubrick’s films were always more events than typical narratives — only through his lens could such wildly different stories and perspectives become one of horror’s finest films.
1981 — Indiana Jones and the Raiders of the Lost Ark
Among cinema’s most iconic character silhouettes, few can truly top the rugged simplicity of a whip and a hat. Inspired by the serialized trailer-esque short films that would end on daring cliffhangers, the minds behind Jaws and Star Wars combined to bring us media’s greatest adventure of all of time. Archaeologist Indiana Jones (Harrison Ford, in a role as equally iconic as Han Solo, how lucky can one actor get??) traverses the globe for rare and dangerous antiquities that time has forgotten, with each heroic snatch-and-grab pursuit more difficult than the last.
The film’s rolling bolder that caps its opening scene can easily be viewed as a metaphor for the film’s whole run-time — the story moves with such constant danger and excitement, you’re constantly wondering what new challenge waits behind each undiscovered corner for Indy. Yet, while modern media’s adventure film show Terminator-type indestructible leads, Raiders gave us a somewhat sloppier, more relatable hero.
Indy is certainly a talented brawler and unquestionably brave, but at the end of the day he is still closer to our own reflection — he’s typically in over his head and always has a bump or bruise to show for his exploits. Yet for all that, Ford’s Indiana Jones keeps smirking his way to the next adventure — movies simply don’t get more exciting than this.
1982 — Blade Runner
Blade Runner trapped us within claustrophobic cityscapes before post-apocalyptic films became popular. Society may not have collapsed in this film, but director Ridley Scott effortlessly shows — not tells — audiences that the obvious overpopulation, limited resources, and oppression are all monitored by mega-corporations and their greedy wills. Harrison Ford plays Rick Deckard, a man tasked with taking down rogue Replicants — bio-engineered super-humans bred for war and slave labor. Yet with that description alone, how could one blame any Replicant for going AWOL?
Blade Runner’s advanced society becomes the perfect contrast for the moral center at its story — despite all manner of technological leaps forward, the social standings of living organisms has been sacrificed. We see a vision of humanity that has once again relied on the slavery of living people. The future Los Angeles, despite its flying cars, reminds us more of the lawless Old West or debauched ancient Rome.
Deckard himself is left shaken by the end of the film, unable to fully complete his task — and having fallen in love with a Replicant, recognizing she CAN love. Blade Runner uses its story and gorgeous art direction as a cautionary tale of a doomed future that has repeated the worst mistakes of the past.
1983 — Return of the Jedi
The final movie in the holy grail of film trilogies sees the battle for freedom in the galaxy hit its most daring highs — and at the same time, its main hero and villain explore their increasingly complicated relationship. The original Star Wars trilogy was brought to a satisfying conclusion as the war between the Rebels and the Empire reached a fever pitch, giving audiences a battle at a scale we had never seen before. But while two massive fleets collided — and the Death Star’s operational status a horrifying ticking time clock — it was a far more personal battle that sets Return of the Jedi apart from other bombastic finales.
Luke and Vader’s archetypal battle transformed from bitter, Arthurian enemies into the son fighting to redeem — not defeat — the father. While most series finales would build up to the moment where the hero swings their weapon and strike down the dreaded villain that has tormented them for three films, Return of the Jedi operates with the spirit of the titular warrior monks — the way of peace. When we first see Luke enter Jabba’s palace, we know the young Rebel hero has changed.
He is more confident, calmer, and far more dangerous if provoked — the perfect candidate to be used as a weapon of the Dark Side. For all of the nefarious Emperor’s machinations, Luke refuses to turn, inspiring his father to return to the light. His victory is not through strength of arms, but a philosophical and moral triumph — that is the victory that only a true Jedi Knight could achieve.
1984 — The Terminator
The 1980s were the pinnacle of B-movie cinema — cheap films that were quickly slapped together with a sci-fi/action/horror premise. To many producers, The Terminator was just going to another in a long line of direct to VHS films that your dad would grab for you and your friends to enjoy during a sleepover. But writer-director James Cameron exceeded all expectations with a film that featured a wholly original concept, inventive action, and the emergence of one of Hollywood’s biggest stars ever — Arnold Schwarzenegger.
As the mechanized monstrosity tracks down Sarah Connor (Linda Hamilton) and Kyle Reese, her guardian from the future (Michael Biehn). The two become lovers and Sarah realizes that her unborn son — John, the future protector of mankind — always knew to send back Reese to ensure his own birth.
It was an unprecedented twist for a genre that typically saw by-the-books outlining. Though Cameron’s later budget films would have budgets of unprecedented size, his breakout film is still proof that a shoestring bank account can lead to wondrous results with the right eye for quality and creativity behind the camera.
1985 — Back to the Future
Time travel movies love to pop up every now and then, but none have done it better than this 1985 classic. Combining the flash of the 80s with the nostalgia of the 50s created a rock-and-roll adventure with layered details to warrant the fun of multiple viewings. Wannabe musician Marty McFly (Michael J. Fox) helps around Doc Brown’s (the wonderfully zany Christopher Lloyd) lab with the latter’s odd experiments — and his latest one is about to change the future… or past… or both!
Traveling back in time thanks to a heavily modified DeLorean, Marty finds himself inadvertently destroying every chance at him ever being born. Any great film starts with a fabulous script, and Back to the Future only proves that rule once again. The film’s earliest moments already begin setting up how Marty will correct the past he’s confounded. So often films leave us scratching our heads at how a certain conclusion came to be, but Back to the Future gives us exposition and minute details with such infectious energy that it can’t help but be planted in our minds.
Director Robert Zemeckis (who would go on to direct Forrest Gump) uses his rich eye for detail to foreshadow the smallest events that lead to Marty getting home with a better future for himself and his family. Creativity should be free flowing, but it still lends itself to a structure of set ups and payoffs — Back to the Future should be a reminder to all filmmakers about the level of thought that needs to be put in to make one cohesive and wonderfully exciting story, especially when that film is dealing with something as fragile as time travel.
1986 — Stand By Me
Stranger Things may have the creative monopoly on friendship in the 1980s, but it couldn’t exist without taking obvious cues from Stand By Me, Rob Reiner’s classic adaptation of Stephen King’s coming of age short story. What starts as a childhood quest to find a dead body becomes far more of a drama than an adventure as each boy is forced to face the prospect of childhood dreams never manifesting into a reality.
Stand By Me ignores the fanciful aspects of growing up and embraces the difficulties of adolescence. Almost everyone at one point in their life yearns to be young again, but Reiner’s film is a poignant reminder of how hard it was. The trials and tribulations of life as a young person rarely comes from our own mistakes — the mistakes of the parents and the society around us always become the burden of the young to bear.
The four young men all face different battles in their home lives — ranging from neglect to abuse — and have used that common ground to become the best of friends. Stand By Me’s tenderly written dialogue not only sounds like the voices of youth, but the fireside chats between the boys are all too realistic and have never been replicated since. Stories of friendship are often buried in unnecessary nostalgia and the promise of an eternal summer, but Stand By Me faces the harsh realities of growing up — and growing apart — head on.
1987 — The Princess Bride
Though the title would initially bring a House of Mouse rip off fluff piece to mind, all generations have seemed to delight in this classic fairy tale. Brilliantly framed as a grandfather reading a book to his grandson, audiences are immediately given the perfect context for an adventurous and romantic fantasy.
Westley’s and Princess Buttercup’s love story is a gem for the ages, bringing a fresh perspective and an inventive screenplay to the swashbuckling genre. Shifting alliances and twists and turns create an adventure that gives you the feeling you haven’t seen this on screen in quite a long time. It’s a simple assertion, but The Princess Bride oozes the nostalgia we all were hopefully fortunate enough to experience — of being tucked into a warm bed with someone reading us a story.
Wondrous choreography provides thrills while the film’s central romance reminds of the power of escapism. Fantasy was founded on creating a world different enough from our own, and The Princess Bride continues to whisk us away to a time and place where anything seemed possible.
1988 — Die Hard
Is it the ultimate action film? The ultimate Christmas film? Categorization may be difficult, but all can agree that Die Hard is a film that always succeeds when viewed. The 1980s gave us indestructible bruisers like Arnold Schwarzenegger, Sylvester Stallone, and Jean-Claude Van Damme. Bruce Willis’ John McClane is far from Superman. He’s fit — a cop needs to be ready for action — but his muscles aren’t exploding through his shirt. He’s talented with whatever firearm he’s utilizing, but he also forgets to put his shoes on before running into action.
This action-packed hostage crisis was a breath of fresh air for audiences looking to find a more relatable action icon. John doesn’t blaze through his enemies with a torrent of firepower — he uses his wits, the environment, and just enough luck to get him through the current crisis he is facing. Its multitude of sequels may have somewhat forgotten why its initial characterization of McClane was so fresh, but this action classic is still pleasing serious and casual movie viewers alike.
1989 — Glory
In the bloody horror of the Civil War, history books make it easy to view the North as completely altruistic. How could the side desperate to keep the United States together and made abolishing slavery one of its tenants not be viewed as the good guys? It is easy to forget — or be made ignorant of — that the choice to end slavery was made in part to drum up stronger Union support and allow former slaves into the army.
Glory seeks to understand what happens when these two factions are thrown together and forced to become comrades. Colonel Robert Shaw (Matthew Broderick) starts the film as yearning for greater command — but soon learns through the African-American men he is commanding that their daily lives are mired in brutality, discrimination, and the belief that winning the war may not even result in a better life.
The film is unfortunately known for its many historical inaccuracies, but its contemplation of brotherhood and comradery still make it an example of rousing filmmaking. War films are by their very nature difficult to endure — but to examine America’s greatest shame makes it all the more powerful.
1990 — Goodfellas
Even with the existence of The Godfather, Goodfellas is the king of the gangster films. Directing legend Martin Scorsese chose to enwrap the naïve with a gilded and glorious view of mob life — before it all comes crashing down. Henry Hill (Ray Liotta) has always dreamed of being a gangster and the lack of consequences that seems to come with it. Plot wise, that’s about as far as Goodfellas goes — which is exactly what makes it such a gem of filmmaking.
Scorsese lets his film move through the years from scheme to scheme, honing in on the smaller, intimate — and sometimes bloody — moments that are present in day-to-day mob life. The perfectly cast Robert De Niro and Joe Pesci play off Liotta like the devil and the other devil on his shoulders, dragging Henry and the audience further into the rules and power plays of a crime family.
With his typical fast paced style, Scorsese moves his camera and cuts furiously from scene to scene, bringing a gut-wrenching level of anxiety to the audience as these wiseguy schemes begin to catch up to them. Nearly all of Scorsese’s films are essential viewings, but Goodfellas stands above the rest as a near-perfect movie and examination of a particular lifestyle from one of cinema’s greatest voices.
1991 — The Silence of the Lambs
While most horror icons are content to simply hack you to pieces, Dr. Hannibal Lecter (the eternally creepy Anthony Hopkins) prefers to get under your skin and manipulate your mind to achieve his own desires. He also gets under your skin in a far too… intimate fashion as well. When FBI trainee Clarice Starling (Jodie Foster) needs to capture a skin-wearing maniac, she turns to the one person who can give her an accurate profile — Hannibal the Cannibal.
Despite the horrid nature of Lecter’s crimes, there is nothing supernatural to this terrifying film. Lecter and Buffalo Bill (Ted Levine) are startlingly real men — the same flesh and blood that makes us is what makes them. Lecter — thanks to the sharp script and Hopkins renowned performance — eerily reminds us that Starling and those on the side of good are not far removed from what makes someone a killer.
Director Jonathan Demme uses every trick in the book — from camera framing to blocking — to make Lecter and Starling’s scenes become an electrified battle for dominance. For all the unsavory gore the film presents, its greatest horror comes from Dr. Lecter’s acute breakdowns of the all too sordid human condition.
1992 — Unforgiven
The Western is the jewel of American cinema — a genre unique to the United States alone, one that for the first time, European directors were trying to emulate. The Westerns of the 1940s to 60s had white-hatted do gooders standing up for justice against the black-hatted villain. Clint Eastwood’s Unforgiven alters the history books and completely revises the realism that the genre desperately needed.
Are we so naïve to imagine that virtue was at its peak in the Old West, when lawmen were few and far between? Eastwood’s William Munny is a man burdened by decades of killing, a retired gunslinger who wants a quiet life with his children — but a failing farm forces him to take one last job. The romanticized Old West becomes draped in grime and blood as Eastwood (who also directed) brings his all to the role of Munny, showing audiences what a tortured past does to the soul — and in this case, he was the one who did the torturing.
Eastwood and his team make it abundantly clear that there will be no redemption for the outlaws and killers in this film. As the title suggests, they’re all going to Hell one day — it’s only a matter of when the devil decides to cash in on all their horrid deeds.
1993 — Jurassic Park
Creativity stems from one simple question: “What if?” Just by asking that question, you open your mind to unlimited possibilities. Thanks to author Michael Crichton and director Steven Spielberg, audiences were able to see one of cinema’s most exciting questions: “What if dinosaurs could come back and live in our time?” And the answer was both exhilarating and terrifying.
Cloned dinosaurs brought back to life is an exciting premise on its own — but in the hands of a director like Spielberg, it moves beyond what could have just been a film about running away from dinosaurs (and of course when the film does focus on that, the tension is expertly crafted). Away from all the jaw dropping visual effects and photo realistic animatronics, Jurassic Park muses on responsibility in the scientific community.
Humans and dinosaurs are separated by 65 million years, how could anyone predict what happens when a perversion of natural creation brings us together again? As Jeff Goldblum’s Ian Malcolm says, “Your scientists were so preoccupied with whether or not they could, they didn’t stop to think if they should.” The mindless blockbuster will unfortunately be around forever, but those wanting to see a grand scale cinematic adventure with a soul guiding its story need look no further.
1994 — Pulp Fiction
Mouthy characters moving at a mile a minute became egregiously commonplace after Pulp Fiction broke the mold, but the second feature film from writer/director Quentin Tarantino still proudly wears the crown as the one that did it best. With a fresh style and approach to filmmaking, Pulp Fiction nearly created a genre of its own.
Told in nonlinear fashion, the crime caper examines a handful of richly written characters through one particular harrowing day in Los Angeles — and some of them, it’s the last day they will ever live. The unique time frame gives Tarantino the opportunity to relish in allowing his characters to indulge in the moment. Just as we unwittingly do in daily life, a simple conversation about a cheeseburger reveals so much about a person and reflects what they would do in more dire circumstances.
Mundane situations became outrageously cool as his typically whip-smart characters bantered back and forth. Film is a medium that relies on relatability, no matter the genre — Tarantino’s most iconic film helped shape an entire generation of future screenwriters looking for clues on how to inject character beats into the simplest of establishing shots.
1995 — Toy Story
To those fortunate enough, childhood was spent with endless imagination, thanks so much in part to the adventures we created with our toys. But what do our toys do when we’re not playing with them? That genius yet simple concept led us to one of the greatest animated films of all-time. Young Andy has his treasure trove of toys, his favorite being Woody (voiced by America’s favorite actor Tom Hanks), the heroic cowboy of the old west.
But Andy’s latest birthday has marked a new arrival — the hotshot space ranger Buzz Lightyear (Tim Allen). The flashy futuristic Buzz brings Sheriff Woody to a fascinating existential crisis: what is a toy to do when no one wants to play with him? Toy Story uses its premise to tell a story of finding meaning, belonging, and friendship.
Buzz himself is not immune to these life musings — he is unaware initially that he is a toy, made of plastic and meant to bring joy to a child. Both characters are confronted by (ironically) mortal issues and the results are both poignant and hilarious. It allows these polar opposites to become the best of friends and to accept that being a toy may be more complicated than either of them ever thought.
1996 — Fargo
Any great crime story has to begin with an investigator out of their depth. To the criminals in Fargo, Minnesota, they think they have nothing to worry about when it comes to heavily pregnant police chief Marge Gunderson (the Best Actress Oscar winner Frances McDormand). But boy oh boy, they could not have been more wrong. Marge heralds a theme of the overall film — that appearances can be oh so deceiving.
Fargo delights in its exploration of ordinary people, whose surface level lives can mask something far more sinister. Marge seems the least likely to be a class-A investigator, but she is able to see through the lying guises of those in her crosshairs — ordinary people do the darnedest things to give themselves away. This North Dakota murder mystery is a testament to the need for sharp screenplays — thanks to master writers (and directors) Joel and Ethan Coen.
Extortion, ransoms, and fraudulent loans are made less complicated for the audience yet remain complex and captivating. Characters that appear in a single scene are far from stereotypes — as opposed to bit parts on Law and Order, these characters feel like real individuals who help shape and frame the snowy plains that Marge is investigating. Sharp dialogue using the popularized “Minnesota nice” accent has made this film and its screenplay a treasure of American cinema.
1997 — Titanic
A film as grand and visually awe-striking as the titular ship itself, director James Cameron traded in his typical gun-toting action for a daring romance amidst a doomed sea voyage. Titanic made instant heartthrobs and icons out of lead stars Leonardo DiCaprio and Kate Winslet, pitting them against each other as lower- and upper-class individuals, respectively, and pairing them as partners in a steamy love affair.
Cameron frames his story almost like a two-part saga — the first half allows the audience to know its characters and care for them before the terror and destructive second part begins. Classism rears its ugly head throughout the film, but maddeningly so when the wealthy passengers demand to be let off the sinking ship first — but the cruise liner’s destruction does not discriminate.
Social strife and an immaculate attention to historical detail elevate this film beyond the typical romance-drama — and what a romance it is. DiCaprio and Winslet’s chemistry is always a joy to watch, whether they are smiling at each other or escaping rushing water. Their characters prove that love can propel a life from monotony to boundless excitement — even though Rose is left without Jack, the few days they had together were enough to have loved a lifetime and inspires her to embark on thrilling adventures.
1998 — Saving Private Ryan
While Steven Spielberg’s masterpiece Schindler’s List harrowed audiences as they saw the horrors of the Holocaust, his 1998 film Saving Private Ryan took us to the frontlines of World War II, using every frame of its first half hour to show us the terror of the beachfront assault at Normandy. Blood and salt water become one as German gunfire reigns down. Just as our eyes absorb one horrific visual of pain and death, the film has already moved onto the next.
Much like the actual frontlines of war, the sequence does not stop for us to fully absorb it. Yet, in typical Spielberg fashion, there is a silver lining to all of the torment. The film is a tribute to the sacrifices of the greatest generation the world has ever known — men and women who answered the call of their country. Captain John Miller (Tom Hanks) was never “meant” to be at Normandy — he’s a school teacher.
He didn’t sign up to fight, but didn’t run away when he was asked to. In the search for the title character (Matt Damon), the same idea can be found. Why are these eight men risking their lives to save one? For the greatest generation, the answer was simple — because it was the right thing to do.
1999 — The Matrix
With a genre as popular as action films, one scratches their head when they realize how long it took to bridge the high flying and graceful eastern kung-fu with the western gunplay of America — but 1999 finally brought us The Matrix, and fans of on-screen fighting have been praising it ever since. The Wachowski siblings not only turned Keanu Reeves into an action icon, but used its stylistic approach to adrenaline fueled battles to change the fight choreography landscape forever.
A masterful blend of on-set wire work and computer-generated imagery brought slow motion and physic-altering stunts to the big screen for the first time for audiences in the Western Hemisphere. The beauty of this style of action is not just in the visuals and fights themselves. It is part of the soul of the film — that is when action hits the hardest and is the most resonant.
In a film where all of humanity is plugged into a computer, why wouldn’t you be able to suspend yourself in the air while pummeling your enemies? Action in films is so often an irritating cacophony, but The Matrix remains one of cinema’s most important films because of its necessary usage of it.
2000 — Gladiator
The sword-and-sandal genre had all but disappeared from Hollywood — until director Ridley Scott and star Russel Crowe let it roar back onto the big screen with Gladiator, a film that returned to the pure triumphant spectacles of filmmaking. Former Roman general Maximus (Russell Crowe, in his most powerfully understated role) is thrown into slavery by the scheming Commodus (Joaquin Phoenix) after the latter assassinates his father — Rome’s emperor.
Maximus’ pursuit of vengeance against Commodus — through winning battles in the Colosseum and winning the hearts of the Roman public — is quiet, and seething, but no less brutal. Maximus’ focused rage is representative of the film itself. Despite the massive opening battle or the grand entrance into Rome, Gladiator tells an overwhelmingly intimate story. To Maximus, Rome is not a place — it is a belief.
Maximus sees the barbaric world for what it is, both on the frontlines and in the fighting pits. He believes in what Rome represents — truth, justice, and peace. He is the harbinger of those ideals and fights with ferocity to restore those tenants to Commodus’ twisted governance. A film in less capable hands could have been lost in its own scope, but Scott and Crowe bring the best ideals of Rome onto the screen with cinematic precision.
2001 — Training Day
Set in roughly a 24-hour period, this Oscar-winning film explores the grimy corruption and abuse of power in a neighborhood that needs the best protection and role models possible. Detective Alonzo Harris (Denzel Washington) mentors newest detective Jake (Ethan Hawke) during a ride along meant to get him used to the streets. Jake can’t help but become seduced by Harris’ policing style — and the audience can’t either.
His gun-toting antics are so magnetic that we cheer for him to enact his version of justice, even at the detriment of the people around him, those who — as a detective — Alonzo is supposed to help. Under his cool and easy façade, Alonzo’s schemes are catching up with him — and Jake learns too late that he is being used as the patsy for it all. These two would-be partners soon become involved in a deadly cat and mouse chase — David versus Goliath more accurately.
In another grandiose comparison, Alonzo likens himself to King Kong, the ruler of the urban LA jungle who keeps all the other scurrying creatures in check. But it is those scurrying creatures who bring him down in the end when they realize they don’t need to be under his thumb. Like all who are corrupt, Alonzo realizes they didn’t need his protection — he needed their fear, and their lack of it becomes his downfall.
2002 — The Pianist
Roman Polanski’s harrowing true story of survival is both painful and riveting to behold. Wladyslaw Szpilman is a famed concert pianist from Poland who is able to live a comfortable life with his family, believing their good fortune will keep them safe from the rumblings of the Nazi regime targeting Jewish communities. He and his family soon learn that no one is immune from the effects of evil and they are driven from their home. It is only the introduction to Szpilman’s horrifying journey that we experience from beginning to end.
He becomes separated from his family and put into slave labor in a Jewish ghetto. He is able to flee and finds refuge in an abandoned neighborhood. As the world has forced greater and greater isolation from him, the audience feels like Szpilman’s only companion through illness, starvation, and constant paranoia. Tension reaches its fever pitch when a Nazi officer discovers him — and Szpilman’s talent becomes his salvation. In exchange for private performances, the officer keeps his location a secret.
Battling disease and hunger, Szpilman plays with all the heart he would give if it was one of his own concerts. His passion for music and his desire to live have become intertwined — all anchored by Adrian Brody’s Oscar-winning performance. In the modern film landscape, strength is often associated with an overpowering martial victory. Brody’s sensitive exploration of survival shows us that survival is the victory.
2003 — The Lord of the Ring: Return of the King
Much like Return of the Jedi twenty years before, Return of the King is the triumphant cap to a trilogy of wondrous and unprecedented proportions. Fantasy has never been a genre that Hollywood award shows took seriously, but the sheer might of excellence in every frame of Return of the King let it take home twelve Oscars. Despite its on-screen grandeur, this fantasy trilogy always succeeded because of how intimately it treated its characters.
After the War of the Ring is finished and our heroes are victorious, Return of the King takes its time before the credits roll — to the chagrin of many — to see the core four Hobbits at home. When J.R.R. Tolkein wrote his epic saga, it was partially based off his service in World War I. He — and therefore director Peter Jackson — viewed Frodo and Sam as soldiers recovering from the horrors of war, no longer able to relate to the simpler life around them.
Return of the King embraces the themes of loss, regret, and pain. It is a far more bittersweet approach than one finds in fantasy, but that it exactly what makes it all the more powerful — Middle-earth is a place that could have been so foreign to us, but the skilled hand of Peter Jackson made it feel like home.
2004 — Kill Bill Vol. 2
Quentin Tarantino’s signature penchant for violence has always been prevalent, but the egregious blood spewing didn’t truly begin until the release of Kill Bill Vol. 1. Using all the tropes of classic kung-fu, samurai, and western movies made this two-part film the ultimate revenge experience. Vol. 2 continues the Bride’s (Uma Thurman) pursuit of vengeance against those who left her and her unborn daughter for dead.
While Vol. 1 embraces the bloody gallon-squirting violence of Japanese cinema, Vol. 2 elects to evoke the calm teachings and patient dialogue exchanges that one could find at a temple or monastery. We are given the chance to learn more about both the Bride and Bill (David Carradine) and their gorgeously complicated relationship.
Tarantino’s trademark dialogue is as sharp as ever, showing audiences that vengeance against someone you hate is difficult enough, and vengeance against someone you love is a road that no one should have to travel. The Bride travels down both roads through the course of this film, but her resolve remains as steely as ever. It is cathartic violence at its best, and no one but Tarantino could have delivered it.
2005 — Brokeback Mountain
Sadly known by too many as just the “gay cowboy movie” Brokeback Mountain is a poignant and ultimately tragic love story from start to finish. The perfect contrast between deeply conflicted and closeted Ennis Del Mar (Heath Ledger) and the sensitive but lively Jack (Jake Gyllenhaal) is the beginning of any powerful romance. Ang Lee’s tender direction allows the film to become a major stepping stone for queer cinema while never giving in to tropes or characterizations that are (thankfully) outdated and offensive.
Mostly set in the stunning, dramatic vistas of the Wyoming mountains, the film begins with all the elements of a classic Western. The quintessential American genre has always been the backbone of masculinity on screen — and there is no better setting to show that love has no boundaries, no matter the genre.
The isolation of sheep herding allows Ennis’ and Jack’s love story to play out freely, creating a fantasy that any two people in love deserve — and simultaneously, the film never pulls any punches in exploring the inevitable tragedy that comes with a romance like theirs in this time and place. Ennis and Jack can’t build a life together away from the shadow of Brokeback — they know it, begrudgingly accept it, but love each other with intense ferocity all the same, as anyone of any preference deserves to.
2006 — Pan’s Labyrinth
Guillermo del Toro may have won his Best Director Oscar for The Shape of Water, but many would argue that 2006’s Pan’s Labyrinth is his finest film. With his trademark gothic fantasy aesthetic, del Toro crafted an imaginary world fit for both children and adults. The Mexican-born director never forgets that the genesis of most fairytales — which are typically watered down by Disney or Universal — are tales of dangerous curses, destructive magic, and have endings that even Game of Thrones would balk at.
When young Ofelia interacts with these mystical creatures, we don’t feel happy and fanciful — these monsters are out for blood. Her mythical journey is rife with terror as she explores her prophesied birthright as princess of the underworld. So why would a child embark on this dark, twisted pursuit? Her reality is mired in daily conflict as the Spanish Civil War rages around her.
Her fantasy and reality become intertwined as it becomes harder to distinguish which world is more dangerous. In her quest to protect her infant brother from the same hateful reality she faces everyday she loses her own life — but is rewarded by being crowned as princess of the underworld. Whether true, or in her head, there is no film that better encapsulates the wonders and woes of childhood.
2007 — There Will Be Blood
The idea of the American Dream is a theme in so many films that it could easily be a genre of its own. In a true examination of history, the idea that success comes from hard work and honesty alone is bitterly naïve — the moral dilemmas (or startlingly lack thereof) of business and personal gain are all at the forefront of Paul Thomas Anderson’s dramatic masterclass.
Lead character Daniel Plainview (the ever-committed Daniel Day-Lewis) represents the worst of the American Dream — unstoppable capitalistic ambition that is anchored by greed alone. In his search for oil, Plainview’s actions begin as captivating to watch — but soon become predatory in nature. Films are typically anchored by the “good guy”; the character that we sympathize with, relate to, and root for. But much like the oil he is attempting to find, Day-Lewis gives Plainview the fury of a brewing eruption — and even the crumbling lives of others around him cannot elicit his sympathy.
There Will Be Blood tells a true American tragedy by framing its lead character as a villain rather than a hero. It’s a film that forces us to question the large corporate entities around us, and how they got to the stature they now enjoy. Similarly, we despise Plainview and all his corrupt victories by the end — and we never want to look away.
2008 — The Dark Knight
2008’s The Dark Knight paved the way for all comic book films as we know them today — by not treating it as one. The battle between Batman and the Joker wasn’t filled with over-saturated neon or foolish gimmicks, but was instead cloaked in the aesthetic of an epic crime thriller, with a lead character brooding in pain, and a cackling villain that murdered at a whim.
With its mortal foes representing order and chaos, the soul of Gotham City is left in the balance, allowing the film to achieve cinematic heights that haven’t even been topped by mega blockbuster that is Avengers: Endgame. The Dark Knight’s view of heroism to this day is wholly unique to itself.
Bruce Wayne is a protagonist that wants to retire, wants to hang up the cape and cowl for good — a hero with a trajectory was a rare occurrence before The Dark Knight. Director Christopher Nolan’s vision showed audiences and critics that a comic-book film can exist beyond the confines of its own genre, allowing for a story that continues to have a legacy in the national cinematic consciousness.
2009 — Avatar
Director James Cameron is among cinema’s most prolific, entertaining, and daring voices. With a belief that technology and filmmaking must be intertwined to remain a relevant medium, he has always pushed the boundaries of movies to places we never thought they could go. Though it may be lacking in characterization and plot, it would be foolish to dismiss the cultural and technological impact Avatar has had on the filmmaking landscape.
Entire digital environments were rendered with such precision and detail that we forgot we were on Earth. Thanks to Cameron’s subtle — and subtle is the key word — use of 3D technology, we found ourselves in the bioluminescent jungles of Pandora. An alien world suddenly became a bit less foreign as the audience became part of the environment.
Unfortunately, it never became the industry game changer Cameron hoped it would be — a slew of major releases after Avatar used 3D in the typical foolish manner that he was trying to get away from. They were trendy cash grabs, but we can hope Cameron delivers the same immersive experience with the Avatar sequels he is currently filming.
2010 — Inception
How do you follow up the near-universally celebrated Batman film The Dark Knight — an adaptation full of fresh perspective, inventive action, and iconic performances? For director Christopher Nolan, you deliver a bold vision of a near-future where dreams and reality have become erratically intertwined. Dom Cobb (Leonardo DiCaprio) leads a team of international thieves tasked with planting an idea rather than stealing one.
Too often, filmmakers are given the gift of a great idea, but the curse of not knowing how to explain it. Nolan and his screenwriting partner/brother Jonathan take careful measures to make sure the act of inception is never too lofty or impersonal to be misunderstood. As Cobb’s team delves deeper into more chaotic levels of dreams, the rules of physics and time warp — just as they do in our own subconscious sleep state.
The attention to detail in the screenplay lets Christopher Nolan shoot with his trademark eye for grand-scale cinema — the stunts and camera work make us feel like we are floating simultaneously in someone’s dream and nightmare. The infamous spinning top at the end of the film continues to be debated — in an age of mindless blockbusters, we should be fortunate to get films that still encourage us to discuss and communicate.
2011 — Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows: Part 2
The story of the titular boy wizard came to a close in 2011, but it was a far cry from where the franchise started. The filmmakers — appropriately taking a cue from the changing writing style of author J.K. Rowling — had slowly desaturated the color pallet and let the growth of the characters reflect the world which they lived in. Deathly Hallows Part 2 shows teenagers in a time of war and the harrowing realities that come with it.
Harry never had a typical adolescence, but this film goes deeper in exploring how the identity of entire generations can be forged in fire. No longer a children’s series, this film explored the morality of sacrifice and our inherent fears of dying. Harry faces that challenge with nothing short of grace. His bravery does not come from an absence of fear — it comes from acknowledging and accepting he WILL die.
It is that same courage that is rewarded when Harry is — as always — able to save the day. All his years of triumph and misadventures led him to this moment, and Deathly Hallows Part 2 made us aware of how we saw Harry grow up over ten years. The Potter series was nothing short of a cinematic movement, and it was a gleaming sight to see the stories of these eternally iconic characters come to a satisfying — and happy — conclusion.
2012 — Skyfall
It may seem hard to believe, but pre-Skyfall, the James Bond franchise was struggling to regain its footing. The introduction of Daniel Craig’s “Brutal Bond” in 2005’s Casino Royale was praised, but the cheers quieted down with Quantum of Solace. Director Sam Mendes (most recently behind the astonishing 1917) didn’t just refuel the fire of film’s most famous spy — he made it a blazing inferno.
With more and more trust being put in computer and drone strikes instead of the gut-feelings of the man behind the trigger, Bond’s place in the world is put in question — do men like him need to continue to save the day? It’s a fabulously unique perspective on one of cinema’s most veteran characters. Audiences saw Bond fight back from the depths of defeat and uncertainly to reclaim why his status as 007 is so important.
As Bond says to the brainy Q, “Youth is no guarantee of innovation.” The film tightropes a stunt as daring as any Bond himself could attempt — proving why your saga should continue while updating it for a modern audience. Relevance is key to allow a franchise entry into the next generation and Skyfall delivered in droves.
2013 — 12 Years A Slave
The power of filmmaking allows us to go back in time and confront our worst history and horrors, especially in times of social strife where we see the past begin to rear its ugly head once more. With a recent spike in animosity between the African-American community and authoritative bodies, Steve McQueen’s exceptional 12 Years A Slave came at the perfect time to reminds audiences that atrocities of the past can eerily echo in present day actions.
Oscar-nominee Chiwetel Ejiofor plays the criminally unknown (by abolitionist standards) Solomon Northup — a free man living in the North who is kidnapped and sold into the South’s brutal slave trade. As the title suggests, Solomon spends twelve horrid years under the heel of various masters, desperately trying to send letters to prove his status as a freed man.
His plight typically goes unanswered, but even under the sadistic tyranny of Edwin Epps (a devil incarnate played to uncomfortable perfection by Michael Fassbender) Solomon never gives up hope. He himself states that he “refuses to give in to despair.” It is a powerful platform for any era, but especially rousing in his captivity — it’s that optimism that lets Solomon live, escape, and reunite with his family.
2014 — Guardians of the Galaxy
2012 saw the culmination of the Marvel Cinematic Universe — as we knew it at the time — with the release of The Avengers. But writer/director James Gunn upped the ante in 2014 by creating a similar superhero family with more poignant emotion, deeper chemistry, and in one film instead of five. Whether from Marvel or DC, the quintessential “team up” film always has the characters battling each other before they team up — and even when they do, their type-A egos still have them slightly begrudging each other.
Movies are built on conflict, but truly great films know when to bring resolution to it. In the pantheon of superhero films, why are they always bickering? Being a hero means making hard choices, morally isolating yourself for the good of others.
The Guardians grow to become a family, a group of people whose experiences only the others can understand. James Gunn brought us a story of five individuals who in their own way felt alone in the cosmos — characters who are able to bond over their losses and their woes towards their choices and roles in the universe.
2015 — Mad Max: Fury Road
To most, on screen action is a great way to fill time and keep the audience slobbering over drops of blood or fancy camera work. Movie critics tend to ignore its artistry, just as plenty of filmmakers choose to not embrace its potential. When George Miller returned to the franchise he created, he crafted a film that fills the frame with stunt work so visceral and game-changing, not even The Matrix could have dreamed it up.
As Max and Furiosa (Tom Hardy and Charlize Theron, respectively) protect a warlord’s enslaved brides, the dusty wind-swept excitement is always shot wide enough to clearly set the stage for the upcoming onslaught. Dizzying action should be an on-screen mood, not a description of its visual style.
The battles reveal key insight into characters, the same way well-crafted dialogue would. Fury Road treats its violence and perilous stunts as a means of heightening the tension, framing the world’s context, and uproariously challenging what can be achieved on screen.
2016 — Moonlight
With the infamous award faux pas at the Oscars, Moonlight never appropriately got its time to shine. Though not as flashy as its main competition — the Ryan Gosling / Emma Stone musical La La Land — Moonlight succeeds by telling a powerful story of the desire for acceptance and belonging. It is a theme that can be applied to any place and time, but it comes off especially raw and devastatingly real when examining a gay African-American youth growing up in a drug infested home and neighborhood.
Director Barry Jenkins wisely chooses to explore lead character Chiron at three phases in his life — childhood, teenage years, and adulthood. As circumstances around Chiron change, we see how the young, frightened boy who grew up around drug dealers has become a muscle-bound pusher himself.
A victim of physical and emotional abuse, Chiron has bottled and repressed his sexuality and inherent kindness. When he reconnects with an old childhood friend — someone who could have been something more — Chiron realizes embracing his identity through love as opposed to burying it with violence is a far better way of living.
2017 — Get Out
Who would have thought that the latter partner of the comedy duo Key and Peele would deliver a film that has kept audiences talking since its first trailer? The ominous title alone strikes visceral horror straight into our hearts and the impact of the film has left us trembling long since the credits rolled.
What starts as a happy weekend away with his girlfriend turns into a fight for freedom and survival for photographer Chris Washington (the Oscar-nominated Daniel Kaluuya). With his debut film, Jordan Peele explored a horribly heightened sensation of how the African-American community feels in day to day life — targeted. Even while his girlfriend and her family exact a sinister plot against him, they shower him with compliments — about his physical prowess and attributes only.
Chris is simultaneously praised and victimized for his appearance alone. With all the terror Jordan Peele concocted, he never loses sight of the true horror — that his racially charged metaphor could be just as frightening with no metaphor at all.
2018 — Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse
The storied halls of the Marvel Cinematic Universe have been praised the world over for their near perfect comic-to-screen adaptations of their characters, but 2018’s Into the Spider-Verse may have taken the crown from them — at least for the classic web-slinging hero. Embracing the multitude of universe-hopping narratives and the pop art style of the pages themselves, the uproarious animation is gorgeous, evocative, and filled with more Easter eggs than a modern Star Wars film.
While Peter Parker has always been the focus of any Spider-Man film, Into the Spider-Verse dedicates most of its run-time focusing on Miles Morales — a half African-American, half Hispanic high school student whose love for art and music is interrupted by a spider bite.
Soon, universes literally collide, bringing together so many underutilized characters that only comic book fans — not comic book movie fans — would know. Like any great superhero film, Spider-Verse shows us that having powers doesn’t make you any more special than someone that doesn’t — true heroes are born when they choose to use that power to help.
2019 — Parasite
It’s the film you keep hearing about — and for good reason. The most recent Best Picture Oscar winner has not only made history by being the first foreign film to receive cinema’s most coveted award, but its themes and story are overwhelmingly timely and executed with the utmost subtlety and talent. The story of rich vs. poor has been around far before film itself was even invented.
It has taken innumerable forms over the years, but Parasite elects to show the relationship between lifestyles when the lower earning family decides to infiltrate and integrate into the other. While initially we know the titular reference is how a bug feeds off a larger predator, it becomes increasingly blurred as who draws life from the other.
The wealthier family’s inability to function without blue collar workers is palpable from the beginning. Class warfare has seen many a battle on the big screen, but Parasite let its interpersonal and familial conflicts boil to an uncomfortable level before exploding in vengeance that appropriately never feels quite cathartic enough.
2020 — Nomadland
2020 produced a slew of great films. Films such as Minari, Da 5 Bloods, Mank, The Father, Judas and The Black Messiah, Beanpole, Sound of Metal, First Cow and Lover’s Rock were all splendid and worthy of this honor. However, Nomadland stands above the rest. The iconic Frances McDormand stars as Fern — a widow who travels around the United States in a van following the economic collapse of her hometown. Jobless following the closure of the USG plant, Fern sells a ton of her belongings and takes off on a journey (in a van) to find a new job.
Chloe Zhao’s film painfully captures the idea of the failure of the American dream. McDormand’s performance is arguably the best of her career — which is saying a lot considering she has won the Oscar for Best Actress three times (Fargo, Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri, and Nomadland). The Academy had a positive opinion of the film, as well. In addition to McDormand winning Best Actress, Zhao claimed the Oscar for Best Director and the film was awarded Best Picture.
2021 — CODA
The most memorable Hollywood moment related to the films of 2021 belongs to Will Smith, his open hand, and Chris Rock’s face. And while that wild moment from the 2022 Oscars will overshadow all of the films that were being recognized that evening, it doesn’t mean fantastic films weren’t released in ’21. The year is home to some great movies including King Richard (starring Smith), The Power of the Dog, Drive My Car, West Side Story, Belfast, Dune, and Netflix’s Don’t Look Up. Ultimately, however, we believe CODA is the defining film of the year.
The movie tells the story of a girl named Ruby — the only hearing person in her deaf family. As a CODA (Child of Deaf Adults), Ruby feels as if she is trapped in her hometown — incapable of leaving due to her apparent need to help her family communicate with others. CODA is a true coming-of-age tale. As Ruby battles with her decision to stay with her family or pursue her dreams, the family similarly fights to prosper in their community while also embracing Ruby’s passions. The feel-good film won three Oscars including Best Picture and Best Supporting Actor — with Troy Kotsur (Ruby’s father) becoming the first deaf actor to win an Oscar.
2022 — Avatar: The Way of Water
2022 was capped off with a return to Pandora. 13 years after Avatar changed the way the world saw film, director James Cameron finally delivered its sequel — Avatar: The Way of Water. The film is set in the same universe as the original, and follows the story of Jake Sully — a paraplegic former Marine who becomes part of the Avatar Program. Key to both films, the program allows him (and others) to control a genetically engineered body in the form of an Avatar.
In The Way of Water, Sully and his family are forced to confront the challenges posed by the human desire to mine Pandora’s natural resources, as well as the conflicts between the human military and the native Pandora inhabitants, the Na’vi. The film explores the concept of family and the relationships between the different characters, and introduces us to a new world within Pandora.
2023 — Oppenheimer
2023 brought us a slew of very good films including Poor Things, Killers of the Flower Moon, Barbie, The Holdovers and Past Lives, but Oppenheimer stands above them all. Written and directed by Christopher Nolan, Oppenheimer tells the story of American scientist J. Robert Oppenheimer and his role in the development of the atomic bomb. Cillian Murphy plays the titular role to perfection, and he is joined by some of Hollywood’s biggest stars in Emily Blunt (Kitty Oppenheimer), Matt Damon and Robert Downey Jr. The cinematography and score are extraordinary to boot. It is hard to nitpick this masterclass.