Quarantine Viewing: The Best Things I’ve Watched So Far, Ranked

Social distancing has allowed for quite a bit of down time for movie watching, which I have so far taken ample advantage of. So far I have watched 38 films for the first time, rewatched others, and on occasion rewatched some of my first time watches because they’re just that good. However fleeting it is, movies have been a welcome distraction from the outside world, even if some of them end up being more timely than I anticipated (looking at you, The Host). I have every intention to make this list outdated in short order, as with nowhere to go, my movie watching seems unlikely to stop. But for now, here’s the 20 best things I’ve watched so far, ranked (could they be presented any other way?)

20- A Day in the Country (Jean Renoir, 1936)

Jean Renoir's “A Day In The Country” makes the case for ...

French master Jean Renoir’s 40-minute mini-film is one of his most beloved works with good reason. It hits the atmosphere he works best in with an ease that fits its slight structure and allows it to glide along leisurely. It’s peaceful and utterly delightful, until Renoir’s typical emotional melodrama mixed with social commentary comes in and ends the thing on a melancholic note that emphasizes all that came before it. Does it feel somewhat lesser than his towering, feature length masterworks Grand Illusion and The Rules of the Game? Yes. Is it still worthwhile? Yes.

19- Modern Times (Charlie Chaplin, 1936)

Past Event: Moonlight & Movies: Modern Times | Museum of the City ...

The second Chaplin film I’ve seen, after City Lights. While it isn’t quite as great as that film, it has a lot to recommend it: it’s funnier, for one, and it feels genuinely relevant today in its critique of industrialized society. It also has the honor of being used in Joker so that Todd Philips can prove how much he knows about cinema while he cruises along at the helm of one of the greatest affronts to the medium in recent memory. Modern Times is a wonderful film that doesn’t deserve permanent association with Philips’ disasterpiece. If that film causes people to go seek out Modern Times, it will have left at least one good thing in its vile wake, as Modern Times is an essential and deeply enjoyable work of early Hollywood, and one that represents such an important place in cinematic history that it should be mandatory viewing for anyone interested in the history of film.

18- What’s Up, Doc? (Peter Bogdanovich, 1972)

Are the hills going to march off?: What's Up, Doc? (1972) A Film ...

Although it’s wildly enjoyable up until this point, what really sold me on What’s Up, Doc? was the ending. In it, Ryan O’Neal of Love Story fame (although his best work is in Barry Lyndon) is confronted with his iconic “love means never having to say you’re sorry” line from that film, and replies with “That’s the dumbest thing I ever heard”. To me, this was one of the great endings in screen history. For, you see, it is a REMARKABLY stupid line, and having the man who became famous off of it disavow it as such only two years later was not only a perfect cap to the movie’s winking sensibilities, but also an affirmation of the fact that it’s one of the worst lines in cinematic history. Even aside from that glorious moment, What’s Up, Doc? is utterly phenomenal. It’s hilarious, it’s entertaining, it’s extremely different. The script, written by the late great Buck Henry, is certainly one of the greatest comedic screenplays there is, and it’s sold every step of the way by stars Barbra Streisand, Madeline Kahn, and O’Neal. This is a weird movie that enjoys its own weirdness to the extent that it doesn’t really care if the viewer does too, and in doing so it reaches a charming and fascinating point where you can’t help but be entranced by it.

17- Hour of the Wolf (Ingmar Bergman, 1968)

The Limit Has Finally Been Transgressed: An Appreciation of “Hour ...

Part of a (rather depressing) Bergman streak in my viewing was the master’s only horror film, and oh my god did he make the most of it. Hour of the Wolf is INSANE. It throws whatever gonzo imagery it can think of at a wall in the hope that some of it will stick, and all of it does. It all blends together in a maelstrom of discomfort and mounting dread that both stands out among Bergman’s filmography and encapsulates the dark perversions that run through his work. It’s one of his masterpieces, inhabiting the second tier of his films among stuff like The Seventh Seal and Cries and Whispers. This is the tier of films that are clearly masterpieces, but not at the same level as stuff on tier one: Wild Strawberries and Persona, both of which have cases to be made for the title of greatest film ever made. Ending the random diversion on my Bergman tiering and getting back to the movie at hand- Hour of the Wolf is a unique experience. It feels like a Bergman film refracted through the very essence of nightmares, calling to the forefront the darkest parts of the human being only hinted at in his other work. It’s unhinged, and it serves as more of a manifesto for the man’s work than anything this different from the rest of it should.

16- Zelig (Woody Allen, 1983)

Zelig takes the form of a mockumentary about “human chameleon” Leonard Zelig, a man who becomes internationally famous in the late 1920s for his ability to essentially shapeshift to mimic whoever he’s around. The concept allows Allen to let loose on the jokes (“As a boy, Leonard is frequently bullied by anti-semites. His parents, who never take his part and blame him for everything, side with the anti-semites”) as well as wax philosophical about identity and conformity. But the real star, almost to a fault, is the satire of jazz age American life. A lot of time is spent on depictions of late-20s society: musical breaks set to invented songs, winking references to stars of the time, et cetera. The film fully commits to the bit, never straying an inch from the faux-documentary style, impressively fitting comedy and storytelling in without ever feeling like it’s trying to do too much. It’s upper level Allen, an intriguing concept that delivers on its potential.

15- Videodrome (David Cronenberg, 1983)

Videodrome - As Disturbing as Ever | Den of Geek

Quite possibly the quintessential Cronenberg. Packed to the brim with body horror, supremely nasty visuals, and, of course, liberal use of the word “flesh”, Videodrome feels like Cronenberg’s mission statement, a perfect encapsulation of the fascinations that define his work. Is it as good as The Fly or Eastern Promises? No it is not, but it cuts to the heart of his recurring themes and ideas in a way that would likely be off-putting to uninitiated viewers but is utterly joyous for fans. It’s all here, from the association of humanity and live flesh to a dark commentary on how the screen eliminates these things. On the surface Videodrome is a gross-out b-movie, but lurking under the seedy surface is an unbelievable bounty of thematic riches. One of my all-time favorite films to analyze, to the point where I might end up doing a whole post on it.

14- Faces (John Cassavetes, 1968)

John Cassavetes’ legendary film Faces is… not exactly a fun watch. Paced with extreme deliberation and shot through with a rejection of cinematic aspects in favor of a more vérité approach, Faces parks you in front of deteriorating people and makes you watch them crumble for over two hours. In total, across the 130 minute runtime, there are like 10 scenes (this is probably not a fully accurate figure but it is not a high number). The focus is entirely on the actors, all of whom turn in brilliant performances: Lynn Carlin (who earned an Oscar nomination for the film), John Marley (of Jack Woltz from The Godfather fame), and Cassavetes regulars Gena Rowlands and Seymour Cassel. This is a raw film, a grueling experience, a difficult sit, and that’s the whole point. Cassavetes wants this to hurt, because he wants the viewer to fully empathize with the ailing characters. He wants this to feel hard to get through, because in doing so he avoids the aspect of escapism inherent to film. This is designed specifically to stay with and continually needle the viewer, and it works. It’s an astonishing achievement (although The Killing of a Chinese Bookie remains my Cassavetes of choice.)

13- The Fugitive (Andrew Davis, 1993)

The Fugitive Remake Coming From Albert Hughes – /Film

Faces may not be the most fun thing to watch, but do you know what is? The Fugitive. This movie is, in the truest, most primordial sense of the word, awesome. Proof that a movie can be ridiculously entertaining as well as a truly great film, this boasts: career performances from Harrison Ford and Tommy Lee Jones, brilliant action set pieces, weirdly high billing for a one-scene Julianne Moore performance, and an all-time delivery of the line “I don’t care”. What more could you possibly ask for, besides one of the best John Mulaney bits and an appearance from Joe Pantoliano, aka Ralphie from the Sopranos, both of which this movie also has. You know what, I’m out of interesting ways to integrate it into paragraph format, so here’s a bulleted list of stuff that owns about The Fugitive.

The fact that it’s so good that it earned a best picture nomination alongside Schindler’s List despite its status as a lowly action thriller
Jeroen Krabbe’s accent
The brilliantly constructed opening sequence
James Newton Howard’s score
Director Andrew Davis, who went on to make the film adaptation of Louis Sachar’s Holes that’s burned into my memory for some reason. The cast for that movie is insane. Beyond the likes of Shia LaBeouf, Sigourney Weaver, Jon Voight, Patricia Arquette, Henry Winkler, and Tim Blake Nelson, there’s some cool names in here. Basketball player Rick Fox. Ken Davitian, aka Azamat Bagatov in Borat. Wild.
Harrison Ford’s beard

12- Deep Red (Dario Argento, 1975)

Deep Red - Dario Argento (1975) Tallow doll - Memorias del Cine ...

GAHH LOOK AT THAT THING. Deep Red (also known by its cool-ass Italian title Profondo Rosso) was my introduction to the, uh… let’s say flamboyant stylings of giallo god Dario Argento (although it is not his highest film on this list). It’s a shock to the system, a totally original work that manages to toe the line between ridiculous and serious by not caring about “rules” and rushing headlong into both sides simultaneously. It’s fully aware of its comical absurdity, and instead of making a point of pointing it out or trying to minimize it, the film simply lets it happen while also going off in another direction. It’s not really all that scary (although the scene with the above horrifying baby thing did make me jump), but it’s fun, and it’s hard not to get caught up in the wild tone.

11- Black Narcissus (Michael Powell and Emeric Pressburger, 1947)

The Allure and Shock of 'Black Narcissus' 70 Years Later

Black Narcissus takes you up into the mountains with its characters and invites you to spiral out of control with them in real time. The progression from run of the mill drama to psychological horror is pulled off with astounding control by one of the greatest filmmaking duos to ever do it. The sense of atmosphere in the film really kicks in during the darker (and better) second half, which reaches points where it feels like you’re watching something almost as good as The Red Shoes (it isn’t, nor is it all that close, but there are moments of the same level of unbelievable mastery). Jack Cardiff’s cinematography is at its best, elevating the locale of the mountains to the mythic context it requires. It leaves you wondering how they pulled off something this audacious in 1947. The answer is simple: Powell and Pressburger didn’t care about what was possible in their time, they simply did what they wanted.

10- Phantom Thread (Paul Thomas Anderson, 2017)

Phantom Thread - most amazing shot woowowowowow | Pretty baby ...

Is Paul Thomas Anderson just incapable of making movies that aren’t masterpieces? Sure, having maybe the most talented actor of all time in Daniel Day-Lewis helps, but the pieces all come together around him immaculately. Vicky Krieps holds her own against DDL the entire way, and Lesley Manville’s chilly presence is so damn fun to watch. Yeah, this could’ve very easily been your average stuffy period drama, but in the hands of one of the all-time great talents it’s livelier and more contemporary than it has any right to be. Best of all, it’s weird. It’s weird as hell, weirder than any other period piece would dare to be. One of the most daring and original films of the last couple of years, hiding under the facade of something that’s been done a thousand times before. There’s a lot that’s fitting about that. At its core, Phantom Thread is about the disparity between inner and outer beauty, so it’s fitting that it’s so much more than meets the eye. Plus it’s funny as hell. Day-Lewis looking at the dress he’s designed and remarking “It’s just not very good, is it?” before doubling over is the absolute height of comedy.

9- Dawn of the Dead (George Romero, 1978)

The Film Canon: Dawn of the Dead (1978) The Young Folks

Hot take: this is miles better than the classic original Night of the Living Dead. That film isn’t without the aspects that make it deserving of its legendary status, but it never really comes together like this does. Dawn is more polished, more thought-out, and much wider in scale, a transition that’s handled wonderfully. Dawn addresses the wider societal consequences of a zombie apocalypse in fascinating ways, and also goes further into the individual toll it takes. The mall as a setting is utilized brilliantly, contributing to the world-building that makes this movie special while also providing an excellent theater for the suspense needed to propel the story. This is fleshed out in ways never hinted at by the original, and it makes the most of all of its ideas. Absolutely brilliant.

8- The Evil Dead Trilogy (Sam Raimi, 1981, 1987, 1992)

This isn’t cheating, because the title of the post says things I’ve watched during quarantine as opposed to movies. So it’s allowed. Anyway, the Evil Dead trilogy is one of the defining events of the lockdown for me, to the point where I subscribed to a free trial to my sworn nemesis quibi because I found out that they’re doing a show by Sam Raimi (it’s pretty good). The films follow the oddest trajectory of any franchise: the first film, 1981’s The Evil Dead is a straight horror movie and the third, Army of Darkness from 1992, is a straight comedy. Bridging this seemingly impossible gap and making this seem like a natural transition is the 1987 masterpiece Evil Dead II (or Evil Dead II: Dead by Dawn if you’re a sociopath). II makes the insane hypothesis that horror-comedy equilibrium can only be achieved by smashing horror and comedy together violently until you’ve killed them both and created something horrible. This is objectively false, and yet by the end of 84 swaggering, bravura minutes the film has proven it true. It’s one of the most ridiculously well-made movies there is, fully selling you on its own insanity by amplifying that insanity to the point where it’s so ridiculous that it exists in its own plane of logic, one in which it somehow becomes rational. The remarkably assured confidence of Raimi and star Bruce Campbell persist throughout the whole trilogy, but here they invent an entire new cinematic language that sustains their escapades. The other two films are incredible as well, but not to the same extent. The trilogy is one of the greatest out there, and if it isn’t the best, it’s certainly the grooviest. Hail to the king, baby.

7- All that Heaven Allows (Douglas Sirk, 1955)

On paper, All That Heaven Allows doesn’t work. It’s an overly moralistic parable about high society life in which Rock Hudson talks about trees a lot and most of the emotional turns are telegraphed. But it’s elevated to masterpiece status by Sirk and lead actress Jane Wyman, who provides the perfect subtle contrast to the obviousness of the cast of characters around her. The technicolor cinematography is terrific, and it really does manage to earn an emotional investment. Hudson’s performance turned me off a bit at first but I eventually came around to the character’s idiosyncrasies and he wound up oakay with me (when I say he talks about trees a lot I mean a lot). I watched this on a whim and was shocked by how much I loved it, and am now more so by how much it clearly stands as one of the best things I’ve seen during this whole thing.

6- Cries and Whispers (Ingmar Bergman, 1972)

Cries and Whispers | Oklahoma City Museum of Art | OKCMOA

Quite possibly the most oppressively depressing movie ever made, Cries and Whispers would give ample ammunition to anyone looking to prove stereotypes of Bergman’s self-seriousness. But it’s also commonly held up as one of his best films, which is because it is one of his best films. It’s not exactly a lot of fun, but it’s haunting and devastating in the way that his very best stuff is. Sven Nykvist makes brilliant use of color cinematography, using the red color motif in ways that don’t fully pay off until the unforgettable final scene, when the absence of the color in favor of white serves to jar the viewer. Cries and Whispers is full of jarring moments, some in subtle ways like that in some in more aggressive ways. This is Bergman working through some stuff, and it shows not only in the content but in the quality of the finished product. This and The Exorcist were in the same Oscars best picture lineup. The fact that they were both nominated is one of the Oscars’ great triumphs, the fact that neither won is one of their great failures.

5- The Host (Bong Joon-Ho, 2006)

The Host': Looking Back on 'Parasite' Director Bong Joon-ho's ...

Who else but Bong Joon-Ho could take this ridiculous monster movie concept and make it so devastating, so angry, so funny, and still so totally in tune with its underlying ridiculousness? The Host is fun, it’s frightening, it’s intense, it’s a marvel of construction and a miracle of confident filmmaking. It’s everything Bong’s best work is, which makes it something special. Watching Bong at his best, like this, makes me wonder why I ever watch anything else. The scene of the first monster attack is one of the greatest things ever filmed: the initial approach of the beast has the kind of surreal levity that makes it seem like a genuine scene from a nightmare. Fans of Parasite should definitely check this one out.

4- Suspiria (Dario Argento, 1977)

This movie is unfair. Argento blatantly violates every common sense rule of filmmaking and produces one of the greatest films, not only in the horror genre, but in history. Who says you have to actually have a story? Why on earth do you actually have to have things happen to progress your plot? Suspiria is basically just bright red lighting and cinema’s greatest score (which barely qualifies as music, I think) combining to create a mood piece that aggressively resists any attempts to conform to something other than its overarching vibe. Calling it an experience rather than a film feels pretentious and cliched, but it’s true. This is something that happens to you rather than something that you watch. Who cares if any of it makes any sense? Just go with it and you’ll be rewarded.

3- Phantom of the Paradise (Brian de Palma, 1974)

Phantom of the Paradise and Finding a Movie to Call Your Own

How does one describe Phantom of the Paradise? Wikipedia calls it a “musical rock opera horror comedy film”, which is actually pretty good, but doesn’t really go all the way in explaining the full extent of the insanity at play here. Phantom takes elements of Faust, Phantom of the Opera, and The Picture of Dorian Gray, blends them all up into the already existing genre smoothie listed above, drinks it, and then does like a half a pound of cocaine. The result is glorious, an instant personal favorite from the minute the credits rolled. I watched it again the next day, something I never do, simply out of a desire to make sure I didn’t dream any of it. The songs were written and composed by Paul Williams, who plays the villain and would later serve in a similar musical capacity for The Muppet Movie. So Swan is played by the guy who wrote “Rainbow Connection”. The fact that this movie exists is unbelievable. I’m obsessed with it. Easily my favorite film of this whole thing.

2- Portrait of a Lady on Fire (Celine Sciamma, 2019)

Portrait of a Lady on Fire” Is More Than a “Manifesto on the ...

I remain at a loss for the words with which to describe this movie. I genuinely can’t do it. Its greatness is so obvious yet so intangible. It feels like a magic trick, like hypnosis. You’re lured in by the astonishing visuals and brilliant acting and you just watch, not even fully comprehending any of it until the ending. Then you walk away in a daze, unable to shake it. It’s the feeling of seeing one of the greatest films you’ll ever see.

1- High and Low (Akira Kurosawa)

High and Low (1963) – Deep Focus Review – Movie Reviews, Critical ...

High and Low isn’t one of Kurosawa’s most well known films outside of dedicated cinephile circles. It isn’t mentioned with the same frequency as the likes of Seven Samurai and Rashomon. It isn’t as influential as The Hidden Fortress or Yojimbo. But ask any of its devotees, and they’ll tell you that it’s among his very best. Everything here works towards the film’s purpose, every narrative beat has weight. Every single shot is a work of art, with Kurosawa positioning his characters in innovative ways to maximize the single setting location of the first half. It implements a revolutionary structure: there are two distinct halves with three acts each. Toshiro Mifune does what very well may be his career best work, which is saying a lot. It all clicks together perfectly, the commentary, the entertainment, the cinematic value. Clearly one of the greatest films ever made, and its meticulous brilliance appears to have been pulled off with ease. High and Low is something truly special, and pound for pound it’s the best thing I’ve watched all quarantine.

My personal favorite directors, ranked

That thing I did the other day (day? week? month? what is time anymore) going through my favorite films of all time was a lot of fun for me to do, so I’m just going to keep going in that vein and rank my personal favorite directors. Will it be 52 directors, like it was for films? No. It shall be 24. Why 24? Look man I don’t know that’s just how many I wanted to write about. So here. Here are some directors I really like, plus their best film, my favorite of their films, the best moment in one of their films, and why they rule. Enjoy.

24- Michael Powell and Emeric Pressburger

Image result for the archers powell and pressburger

Best film: The Red Shoes

Favorite film: The Red Shoes. That’s just why they’re here.

Best moment: The titular ballet sequence in, you guessed it, Black Narcissus. No, wait. That was in Red Shoes too.

Why they rule: I deliberated for a while (like 45 seconds) on whether or not the archers deserved a spot on this list. This is due to the somewhat inconvenient fact that I have only seen two of their films, Black Narcissus and, uh, what was the name of the other one? Anyway, the reason they are here is that both of those films just happen to be complete masterpieces (although one is more so than the other), and I’m in love with their style. Jack Cardiff’s glorious technicolor cinematography combined with absolutely brilliant writing, ingenious characters, and gut wrenching emotionality makes them an easy sell to me. I’m constantly wanting to watch more of their stuff. And seriously, look at this. From 1947. This is a Jack Cardiff appreciation post now.

Image result for black narcissus cinematography

Unfair. And those are all from the one that ISN’T an earth-shattering super-masterpiece. Just a regular masterpiece.

23- Brian De Palma

Best film: Blow Out

Favorite film: Blow Out

Best moment: “Now that’s a scream”. From Blow Out.

Why he rules: Blow Out. I’m not even kidding. De Palma is not on this list if it isn’t for the absolute legendary film that is Blow Out. Now, if I had just seen Blow Out, he also wouldn’t be here. It helps that his greatest achievement and one of the greatest achievements is buttressed in his filmography by the likes of Scarface, The Untouchables, and Carrie. The style and sheer cool that exudes from these films is ridiculous. Robert De Niro’s indelible Al Capone. Carrie’s prom meltdown. Just everything about Pacino in Scarface. The amount of iconic stuff in De Palma’s films is unparalleled, even from movies that are not Blow Out.

22- Jean Renoir

Best film: You know what? With all due respect to his consensus masterpiece The Rules of the Game, Grand Illusion is better.

Favorite film: Grand Illusion.

Best moment: Either the prison break in Grand Illusion or the very final scene in A Day in the Country.

Why he rules: Renoir’s films are both deeply affecting and continually relevant in terms of social commentary. His recurring themes are some of my favorite to talk about- the irrational division that runs through his work is his reaction to what he viewed as a society that bred it. Each of his films can be read as a rallying cry against conformity. They’re beautifully shot, immaculately performed, and decidedly austere punk rock. His masterpieces leave you absolutely reeling, struggling to fully comprehend the greatness of what you’ve seen. Absolutely singular.

21- Bong Joon-Ho

Best film: Parasite

Favorite film: So, so, sorry Okja, but it’s Parasite. Gee, the fact that this is the fourth straight one in which they were both the same is really undermining the point I wanted to make about how indisputably great The Red Shoes is.

Best moment: Parasite’s peach sequence. Although I have to give a shoutout to the scene Snowpiercer in which Chris Evans, through sobs, talks about how great babies taste. Cinema.

Why he rules: Oh I’m sorry, did I write Bong Joon-Ho? I meant to write FOUR TIME ACADEMY AWARD WINNER BONG JOON-HO. If you want proof of Bong’s greatness, go watch his Oscar speeches. See what a great and likable person he is. Then go watch one of his angry, dark, oppressively sad masterpieces. Impressive duality. Anyway, Bong’s four (FOUR!) Oscar wins couldn’t have happened to a more interesting or deserving director. His tone hopping and genre defying films are unlike anything. They’ll make you laugh, they’ll make you cry, they’ll instill you with both raw societal dread and the sensation of watching a truly flawless work of art. And come on. How can you not love someone who says things like “Perhaps this is something the western audience could also take part in” when talking about subtitles. Plus, his preferred movie seat choice is back middle, which is objectively correct. What a god.

20- Francis Ford Coppola

Best film: uuuuuuggggghhhhhh. Apocalypse Now.

Favorite film: The Godfather

Best moment: Ooh. Going against the balcony scene in The Conversation feels wrong, but there’s absolutely no other answer besides the climax of The Godfather, in which Michael’s murders of his opponents are intercut with a scene of him baptizing Connie’s child.

Why he rules: The greatest run in cinematic history? Churning out The Godfather, The Conversation, The Godfather 2, and Apocalypse Now back-to-back-to-back-to-back is the kind of unfathomable and unmatched achievement that earns FFC a place among the all time greats, even if he’s done little to nothing since to back up that placement. That 70s streak produced four of the greatest films in American history, and ones that I adore. Special shoutout to The Conversation, easily the weakest of the four masterworks, for containing my single favorite theme in cinematic history.

19- Hayao Miyazaki

Best film: Spirited Away

Favorite film: Spirited Away

Best moment: Princess Mononoke’s climactic battle is stunning.

Why he rules: The very best at what he does (yeah present tense, don’t try to tell me he’s retired). Miyazaki is anime’s most well-known director for good reason. His films can be uplifting, like the sublime Kiki’s Delivery Service, or devastating, like the brilliant Princess Mononoke. Or they can be remarkable, unbelievable combinations of the two, like in his masterpiece Spirited Away. Angry and wonderful simultaneously, Miyazaki’s work is is incredible, that of a truly complete artist. One of the true visionaries, and the rare one who, you get the sense, executes his vision to its full extent.

18- Steven Spielberg

Best film: Schindler’s List

Favorite film: Jurassic Park, or maybe Catch Me If You Can. Or, you know, Jaws.

Best moment: Saving Private Ryan’s opening D-Day sequence is rightfully legendary. The rest of the movie is also great, even if the ending is dumb.

Why he rules: I feel like Spielberg is one of the biggest reasons for my love of film. Loving Jurassic Park when I was younger was one of the first times I truly loved a movie. Seeing things like Schindler’s List and Saving Private Ryan when I had started to realize my movie obsession further cemented it. Stuff like Minority Report and Catch Me If You Can makes for great recent first watches I can never believe I hadn’t seen sooner. Spielberg’s work is immortal, it’s universal, and the thing that gets lost in his celebrity is that he’s brilliant.

17- David Cronenberg

Best film: The Fly, right? Objectively, I think yes, but Videodrome feels so much like the quintessential Cronenberg to the point where it deserves a mention here.

Favorite film: Eastern Promises

Best moment: That bath house fight in Eastern Promises. That’s a type of filmmaking I had never seen before and haven’t since.

Why he rules: Yeah, he looks like the type of weirdo who makes this type of movie. Cronenberg’s films are aggressively visceral, marked by an obsession with flesh, bloodshed, humanity, and how these all connect. These are tough films to watch and tough films to analyze, but they are so rich and so entertaining. The Fly is an absolute masterpiece of horror that also happens to be an operatic melodrama (which he did turn into an opera). Videodrome is gross as hell, but the whole point is that it’s gross as hell, it’s a commentary on being gross as hell. A Cronenberg film is levels of meta upon meta, it’s deeply layered and imbued with meaning. These are not films for everyone, but they are beautiful in a perverse, broken way.

16- Yorgos Lanthimos

Best film: The Lobster

Favorite film: The Lobster

Best moment: I can’t pick one single moment from The Lobster, although the ending is pretty ridiculously great, or from The Favourite, so my pick is from The Killing of a Sacred Deer. It’s the scene where Colin Farrell blindfolds himself and lets fate decide the solution to his problem.

Why he rules: Lanthimos is an unclassifiable weirdo who makes unclassifiable weirdo movies. They’re so shot through with uncomfortable and dark humor, pervasive melancholy, and such a singular oddity that they’re easy to love if you like weird movies, which I do. A Yorgos film is a strange occurrence. They’re brilliant mood pieces that relate to no mood known to man. They’re just remarkable. In certain instances, nothing hits the spot quite like Lanthimos’ work. Plus, the man made The Lobster, one of my absolute favorite films.

15- Claire Denis

Best film: Beau Travail

Favorite film: U.S. Go Home

Best moment: THIS IS THE RHYTHM OF THE NIGHT.

For real let’s talk about this freaking scene. This has no business being as masterful as it is. It’s just Denis Lavant dancing ridiculously, to a bad song, in a way that goes completely contrary to the slow and serious tone of the film. And yet it works. It’s absolutely unforgettable. It’s a perfect ending to a perfect film.

Why she rules: Denis is a definite artiste, a filmmaker whose work is so difficult and inaccessible that it really does make sense that she isn’t widely popular. But oh my god is she great. Her films are ones that refuse to leave your mind. Their deliberate pacing and decidedly bleak ideology makes them hard to watch, but at the close of one it feels as if you’ve gone through a legitimately religious experience. Her films are so well made, so well acted, and so utterly brilliant. She’s one of the absolute greatest working directors, and her newfound collaboration with Robert Pattinson is a dream pairing. I can’t wait for that next one.

14- Wes Anderson

Best film: The Grand Budapest Hotel

Favorite film: Ooh. Grand Budapest, I think.

Best moment: “Nobody move. Everybody’s under arrest”.

Why he rules: Oh man the style. Nobody ever has been more committed to his or her idiom than Wes Anderson, and it is wonderful. Wes’s films are so highly stylized that even the ones that aren’t very good (hello, Darjeeling Limited) are still watchable and even enjoyable. His cabal of actors are always perfectly suited for the material, the visual perfection is always spot on, and the films are always funny. These are just pure cinematic sugar. They’re fun and wonderful and just great. I don’t get people who don’t like them. Who cares if it’s the same movie over and over again? It’s a fantastic one. I cannot wait for The French Dispatch.

13- Ingmar Bergman

Best film: Persona, but oh man is Wild Strawberries close.

Favorite film: Wild Strawberries, but oh man is Persona close.

Best moment: The opening of The Seventh Seal. Few things are more iconic or just cooler than Max Von Sydow playing chess with death.

Why he rules: Maybe history’s most prodigiously talented filmmaker, Bergman has not one but two films (the ones listed above in best and favorite films) that have legitimate claims to the title of greatest of all time. They’re always fascinating, always flawlessly made, and always unforgettable. A Bergman film is searing and indelible like nothing else. They earn their reputation for heaviness, sure, but that absolutely isn’t a bad thing. Also, the thing nobody ever talks about with Bergman? The humor. The Seventh Seal, the very image of impenetrable foreign film, is actually pretty funny. Bleak and philosophically dense, yes, but fart jokes!

12- Jean-Luc Godard

Best film: Breathless. Duh.

Favorite film: Pierrot le Fou

Best moment: It has to be a dance sequence. Vivre Sa Vie’s pool hall scene is a contender, but although it’s a weaker film, Bande a Part gets the win for the Madison scene.

Why he rules: Pretentious? The most. Obnoxious? Oh totally. Genius? One hundred percent. If Bergman’s films are the stereotype of boring foreign films, Godard represents the stereotype of weird arty nonsense, of French films just being people smoking cigarettes, of whatever. It’s hard to talk about why I love Godard without sounding like I’m just buying into the image, but the films really are the image. They’re entertaining, they’re breezy, they’re as fun to watch as they are brilliant in their casualness. The lightness with which Godard characters throw around philosophy is the same attitude with which Godard himself does. It’s rare to see a filmmaker who so philosophizes through his characters. Godard’s worldview is so omnipresent in his work that it’s impossible not to fall for the blend of style and substance, even if the style really is the substance.

11- The Coen Brothers

Best film: Fargo

Favorite film: The Big Lebowksi

Best moment: “What’s the most you’ve ever lost on a coin toss?”

Why they rule: I have seen 14 films by Joel and Ethan Coen and there isn’t one that I would describe as anything less than great. Yes, I haven’t hit the bad stuff, still no Intolerable Cruelty or Ladykillers, but I genuinely love the ones I’ve seen. This includes, by the way, Hail, Caesar!, which is a genuinely fantastic film that people hate because they hate fun. And the highs are so incredibly high: Big Lebowski, No Country, and Fargo are stone cold classics. A Serious Man is almost among that group. Raising Arizona, Miller’s Crossing, and Barton Fink are incredible. Add in the fact that the lower level stuff is tremendous and you have one of the most balanced and consistently great filmographies ever.

10- Stanley Kubrick

Best film: 2001: A Space Odyssey

Favorite film: The Shining

Best moment: It doesn’t get much better than the opening of A Clockwork Orange. The slow pull back, the eerie voiceover narration, the industrially hellish score. It’s the most flawless moment from a career full of them.

Why he rules: There’s not much to say about Kubrick that hasn’t already been said. He’s the greatest visual stylist ever. He was a purveyor of epic narratives that fall into a genre entirely of his own making. His films are experiences, every one of them. They’re also entertaining, impeccably made, and obviously remarkably influential, in addition to possessing a totally marvelous atmosphere that is paralleled by nothing else in existence. It’s Kubrick. What more can I possibly say?

9- Akira Kurosawa

Best film: High and Low (caveat: I have yet to carve out three and a half hours for Seven Samurai. Soon.)

Favorite film: Ikiru

Best moment: Ikiru. In the snow.

Why he rules: A master entertainer, flawless craftsman, and general eternal legend, Kurosawa’s influence can be found in a few things. Like, for instance, every western and also Star Wars. The samurai stuff is all ridiculously fun, and yet it’s beaten by the remarkable contemporarily-set work he turned out on occasion. Ikiru and High and Low are the two best of the films I’ve seen by a lot (and this is no small statement considering how incredible Rashomon is). These are stunning achievements, ones with brilliant social commentary, gripping emotional stakes, and perfect craft. Every single frame of High and Low is an impeccable composition. There’s no point in Ikiru where it’s anything less than fully heartbreaking or wonderfully triumphant, often at the same time. Kurosawa’s work can range from testaments to the human spirit to super entertaining samurai thrillers, and it’s all wonderful.

8- David Lynch

Best film: Mulholland Dr.

Favorite film: Muholland Dr.

Best moment: Mulholland Dr.’s dumpster hobo! No but for real it’s Dennis Hopper’s first appearance in Blue Velvet.

Why he rules: The weirdest of the weirdos on this list by far. Not just in terms of the films, although Eraserhead alone would take that title. Lynch is a bona fide strange man, this is clear if you’ve ever seen him talk. Or if you’ve seen the delightful short recently dropped on Netflix, What Did Jack Do?. Lynch’s absurdity is half of why he’s so brilliant, the other is simply how good he is. He’s formally brilliant, and a perfectly tailored writer for furthering the purpose of his oddness. All of his craft is geared towards this end, towards making sure that this weirdness is supported by good enough quality to stand on. He has endless imitators, but he’s the only person who can fully nail his style.

7- Paul Thomas Anderson

Best film: There Will Be Blood

Favorite film: Boogie Nights

Best moment: I. DRINK. YOUR. MILKSHAKE.

Why he rules: A perfect hybrid of technical brilliance and skill with his actors, PTA is one of our great modern talents, and this is evident in every one of his films. They’re all bold works of art, totally unique and trailblazing originals that feature totally different reasons for their greatness. He’s versatile, with work ranging from sprawling epics to tiny character studies. He’s consistent, turning out masterpiece after masterpiece. He’s important, having made some of the most notable films of his age. And the movies themselves are compulsively watchable as much as they’re able to be studied and analyzed. He’s just relentlessly brilliant. Seriously, who else could’ve made Phantom Thread work as well as it does? Maybe just Scorsese? Maybe not even him?

6- Wong Kar-Wai

Best film: In the Mood for Love

Favorite film: Chungking Express

Best moment: I have no idea how many times on this blog I’ve talked about my love of the ending of Fallen Angels, so this may sounds repetitive, but it’s that.

Why he rules: A totally singular stylist whose films also contain more substance than most other filmmakers could ever dream of. If this list has made nothing else clear, it should’ve indicated that I love directors with unique styles, and Wong is among the very best of the bunch. Bold colors, liberal use of slo mo, Christopher Doyle’s all-time-greatest cinematography, totally unique use of music. It all combines in Wong’s films to create works of melancholy and daring hope, stories that still pop into my mind at random moments. Wong’s work lingers like nobody else’s, and to call that his defining characteristic does a disservice to how wonderful the films are to actually watch.

5- Pedro Almodovar

Best film: Talk to Her

Favorite film: All About my Mother or Pain and Glory

Best moment: The bookending opera scenes in Talk to Her. Technically two moments, but who cares.

Why he rules: Style! Almodovar’s bold and bombastic nature is a breath of fresh air in every one of his films. They’re amazing to watch: they can range in scope from tragic to life affirming, usually spanning the entire spectrum in one film. Talk to Her is one of the greatest films of the 21st century, and Pain and Glory is one of the most religious experiences I’ve ever had in a movie theater. He also displays a remarkable skill with his actors, although it helps that he works with talents as brilliant as the likes of Penelope Cruz and Antonio Banderas (ROBBED of that Oscar for Pain and Glory). At the end of the day, a film by Almodovar instills a feeling in me like no other, and that’s invaluable.

4- Alfred Hitchcock

Best film: Vertigo

Favorite film: Psycho

Best moment: Come on. Shower scene.

Why he rules: The master of suspense. The first horror director. Hitchcock is incredible because he made films that remain more entertaining and well done than everything that followed. His work is so well known that he’s become the largest household name of any filmmaker from his era. He’s an icon. A legend. An image of the straw man of Old Movies. And deservingly so. The films are remarkable. When he was at the top of his game he was untouchable. Vertigo, Psycho, Rear Window These are strokes of absolute genius. Enduring classics that set the tone for everyone who decided to follow in Hitch’s footsteps. And they are just so fun to watch.

3- Quentin Tarantino

Best film: Pulp Fiction

Favorite film: Pulp Fiction

Best moment: Speaking of scenes I’ve no doubt run into the ground on this blog:

Why he rules: For someone who so shamelessly and openly steals from what has come before him, Tarantino has a way of making his work feel fresh. This is also the case considering he keeps recycling the same basic ideas and styles. This is not a complaint- the man has his niche, he knows he’s great when he’s in it, and he just churns out remarkable entertainment that conveniently doubles as high art under the surface of pulp. He has made films that have been absolutely formative experiences for my love of movies, and ones that I continue to love and watch obsessively. I can’t wait for whatever the hell film number 10 ends up being, as long as it isn’t Star Trek.

2- John Carpenter

Best film: Halloween

Favorite film: CUE THE GODAWFULL MUSIC.

That is the song that plays over the closing credits of Big Trouble in Little China, sung by the Coup De Villes, horror cinema’s greatest rock band (nope. Sorry. Goblin. Can’t believe there was an actual answer). The Coup de Villes were made up of Carpenter himself, Nick Castle (who played Michael Myers in the original Halloween, and Tommy Lee Wallace (who directed, among other things, the legendarily insane Halloween III: Season of the Witch and the possibly nonexistent sequel to Carpenter’s Vampires). All very talented people. Who suck as a band.

Best moment: Oh man. Is it the blood test in The Thing? Is it the ending of The Thing? Is it the ending of In the Mouth of Madness? Is it the dream/vision in Prince of Darkness? It’s actually Roddy Piper’s iconic They Live declaration:

Why he rules: The films of John Carpenter may not exactly be Bergman. There are more sophisticated directors to love. But there are exactly zero who are more entertaining. Every Carpenter film is a relentless good time, whether it’s a horror movie, an action film, or whatever on earth Big Trouble in Little China is. They’re also uniformly well made, well acted, yada yada he’s incredible. I could regurgitate the stuff I’ve said about the formal excellence of every other filmmaker on this list, and it’d all be true, but there’s something about that that’s just unfitting of the master of horror. Carpenter is a king among men, a consistently awesome filmmaker who also happens to compose the (fantastic) scores to his films. Seriously, the only thing as impressive as making Halloween is making Halloween and creating the iconic theme.

1- Martin Scorsese

Best film: Goodfellas

Favorite film (of all time): Goodfellas

Best moment: It really bothers me that there’s no way to type the opening to Harry Nilsson’s “Jump into the fire”.

Why he rules: So we come to the end of the list. A foregone conclusion. The king of cinema. The greatest living filmmaker. The greatest American director of all time. A man who, in addition to creating countless classics, has worked tirelessly to preserve and restore obscure films from around the world. But none of that even matters for the purpose of this exercise. Martin Scorsese made Goodfellas, which is why he’s at the top of this list. The other stuff just solidifies something that I’m not trying to measure here: the combination of endless range, masterpiece after masterpiece, and devotion to the art form makes Martin Scorsese, simply put, the King of Movies. And not one that has to choose between being king for a day or schmuck for a lifetime. An icon deserving of his stature. A living legend who’s still putting out some of the best work we’ve seen from him. The greatest ever.

The 25 greatest shots in cinematic history

I should begin this list with a disclaimer: it isn’t really meant to be taken seriously. At some point the ranking becomes pointless, as some shots aren’t deceptively better than others, or it’s too hard to choose. This was a fool’s errand, and I don’t necessarily stand by my ranking. Except number one, that one is absolutely and indisputably correct.

There are a lot of factors at play here- how well they fit in with their individual films is a big one, as is visual stunning-ness (I think that’s a thing). However, because of the former, I didn’t feel as though I should incorporate shots from films I haven’t seen. So before the list begins, a quick look at a few absolutely stunning shots from films I haven’t seen yet:

Blade Runner 2049, Denis Villenueve, 2017

And now for the list (and again, this is a largely arbitrary ranking):

25- The Grand Budapest Hotel (2014, Wes Anderson)

Wes Anderson’s magnum opus possesses his trademark visual perfectionism in intense and overpowering excess. The use of color in the film is one of its more notable qualities, and this is on display in the above shot.

24- L.A. Confidential (1997, Curtis Hanson)

Curtis Hanson’s brilliant look at corruption in the 1950s LAPD, adapted from the James Ellroy novel of the same name, isn’t known for its visuals- the film is one of the all time greats (and very high up on my list of all-time favorites) due to the masterful character study at its center. And the culmination of the arc of one said character, Guy Pearce’s Ed Exley, takes place immediately preceding this shot. The moment that it’s associated with doesn’t entirely get this shot on the list- it’s pretty fantastic visually, too.

23- There Will be Blood (2007, Paul Thomas Anderson)

There Will be Blood is a dark movie (massive understatement). In this shot, the idyllic blue sky is violently interrupted by a manifestation of Daniel Plainview’s thirst for oil- an explosion of darkness, flame, and smoke that disrupts its peaceful surroundings. It’s hard to think of a better metaphor for There Will be Blood’s central conflict.

22- Kill Bill vol. 1 (2003, Quentin Tarantino)

I just want it to be known that the House of Blue Leaves scene at the climax of Kill Bill’s first half is an awesome, perfect scene in which stuff like this happens every so often and also hundreds of people lose limbs and lives in swordfights. Nuts.

21- Blue Velvet (1986, David Lynch)

I couldn’t explain the significance of the central metaphor of Blue Velvet in a paragraph that’s supposed to be this short, so suffice it to say that if you haven’t seen this film, this image isn’t as haunting to you. If you have, you know why it’s up this high. If you haven’t, you probably shouldn’t watch it unless you can handle some upsetting stuff.

20- Reservoir Dogs (1992, Quentin Tarantino)

Reservoir Dogs’ opening credits sequence is pure style- the slo-mo, the music, the close-ups. The first shot of said sequence is iconic, and it lands on this list as both a perfect intro to the film and to Tarantino’s career.

19- Seven (1995, David Fincher)

By now you know the finale of Seven- even if you haven’t seen it, you probably know what happens after this. But if you have seen it, it holds more weight- it’s the first shot that isn’t drenched in the perennial rain, smog, and despair of the unnamed city in which the majority of the film takes place. This is a reprieve from that, although it’s soon revealed that just as much sinister stuff can happen in brightness as in darkness.

18- Sunset Boulevard (1950, Billy Wilder)

Man, the guts it takes to open your film with narration from the main character’s dead body floating in a swimming pool. Sunset Boulevard was directed by legendary auteur and Super Gutsy Filmmaking Guy™ Billy Wilder, who completely redefined the American cinema for decades. Shots like this go a long way towards explaining why.

17- A Clockwork Orange (1971, Stanley Kubrick)

By FAR the most represented filmmaker on this list is Stanley Kubrick, and his A Clockwork Orange (based on an equally astounding book by Anthony Burgess) is one of four films to be represented twice (one of those was also directed by Kubrick). A Clockwork Orange’s opening scene ranks among the greatest ever- the slow pan back accompanied by Malcolm McDowell’s menacing narration and the chilling synth score form something legendary, indelible, and terrifying.

16- Moonlight (2016, Barry Jenkins)

This list’s most recent film, and a deserving one- Moonlight is, in my opinion, the greatest film of the 21st century, and one of the greatest of all time. Jenkins, between this and last year’s If Beale Street Could Talk (robbed of a best picture nod), has cemented himself as maybe the best filmmaker in the world, mainly due to his gift at creating brilliant and beautiful imagery, much like one of his greatest influences…

15- Fallen Angels (1995, Wong Kar-Wai)

…Wong Kar-Wai, who rules. There’s no way to differentiate between any given artistically brilliant frame in Wong’s masterpiece, In the Mood For Love, so I opted for this shot from the ending scene of Fallen Angels, a movie drenched head-to-toe in the auteur’s legendary and intense style, yet in possession of the same inner longing as ITMFL. I almost prefer Fallen Angels (well, it’s obviously not better, but I almost like it better), if only because of that final scene, which is one of the all time greats. The collaboration between Kar-Wai and longtime DP Christopher Doyle has rarely been better. The neon green of the tunnel that has been seen many times before in the film finally reaches its conclusion, its final purpose, before the camera pans upwards to reveal a glimpse of sunlight, a first in a movie completely bathed in neon and darkness.

14- Vertigo (1958, Alfred Hitchcock)

There isn’t much more to be said about Vertigo, the king of the most recent Sight and Sound poll. There is no misplaced step, no frame unnecessary. The scene where Madeline jumps into the water is incredible, because it displays this shot, illustrating the beauty of San Fransisco and the surrounding scenery before immediately depicting an attempted suicide. Alfred Hitchcock, ladies and gentlemen.

13- Apocalypse Now (1979, Francis Ford Coppola)

Apocalypse Now’s vibrant, surreal, and dangerous atmosphere is its most important quality, as the film’s crux is the slow descent of everything in its universe into madness, into hell on earth. The visuals of Coppola and cinematographer Vittorio Storaro go a long way towards turning the film into what it as become, as it has two spots on this list.

12- Fight Club (1999, David Fincher)

David Fincher’s dark visual style is incredibly effective in films such as Seven and The Social Network, but it’s at its apex in Fight Club. The best shot in the film is the last, as the film’s themes- of inner conflict and lunatics causing destruction- come full circle in the last scene. The narrator and Marla Singer look out on the mayhem that’s been caused, The Pixies’ Where is My Mind plays, “You met me at a very strange time in my life”, it all comes together to form one of the all time great endings. I’m just now realizing I shouldn’t have said any of that.

11- The Shining (1980, Stanley Kubrick

Out of all of the brilliant shots in The Shining (in the snow, “HEEEEEEEEERE’S JOHNNY!), this is the greatest and most haunting one. Kubrick deploys his trademark one point perspective and fames this scene in an unforgettable way. It’ll stay with you forever, and ever, and ever (sorry).

10- The Third Man (1949, Carol Reed)

Honorable mention to the final shot, but my love of the final scene will have to wait for another time. The one that makes the cut is this one, at the conclusion of the climactic chase in the sewers. Reed’s legendary noir puts Joseph Cotten’s Holly Martins through hell, but at the end of it all, there is a way out. There’s a light at the end of the darkness.

Ok I couldn’t help it here’s the last scene.

9- The Seventh Seal (1957, Ingmar Bergman)

Ingmar! This shot has ingrained itself into popular culture more than any other from Bergman’s legendary career (thanks Bill & Ted, I guess), and come on- it’s a guy playing chess with death. That’s awesome. This shot rules, this scene rules, this film rules.

8- Apocalypse Now (1979, Francis Ford Coppola)

The vast majority of Apocalypse Now’s imagery can be described best as haunting. The film portrays Vietnam as a hell unlike anything else, and it all comes down to that one symbol- the helicopters. They are the lasting legacy. Out of all of its most parodied moments, the helicopters rank near, if not at, the top.

7- Vertigo (Alfred Hitchcock, 1958)

One of Vertigo’s defining aspects is the revolutionary and hypnotic use of color. The use of green in this scene, when Judy “becomes” Madeline, is downright trance-inducing. It’s the kind of visual artistry that causes the viewer to experience a bit of the titular condition. On a side note, Hitchcock is one of the greatest directors ever in terms of visuals, and it’s a pity he didn’t make more appearances on this list (this is it).

6- 2001: A space odyssey (1968, Stanley Kubrick)

Well, here it is: the most visually stunning film of all time. This list could’ve pretty much been “Top 25 shots from 2001” (I held myself to 2). Kubrick’s supreme artistry has never been better, as he creates a masterpiece by stringing together awe-inspiring and astounding images. More on 2001 to come, but I’d like to take this opportunity to push my propaganda that HAL has one of the greatest deaths in movie history.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5DX142NtqOE

I mean COME ON.

5- A Clockwork Orange (1971, Stanley Kubrick)

Seriously, a fifth of the entries on this list are from Kubrick films, and one of the four from before the list. That’s insane. This Clockwork Orange shot is one of the best from his illustrious career. It frames Alex and his droogs in the background, their shadows occupying the foreground. It’s ominous, brilliant, and it does so much to communicate the themes of the film, which (hot take time) is Kubrick’s best. Don’t hold me to that, I could change my mind in favor of 2001 or even The Shining tomorrow.

4- Mulholland Dr. (2001, David Lynch)

I couldn’t tell you what Mulholland Dr is actually about, but it seems pretty clear that one of the themes is, in some extremely twisted way, being lost in the nightmare that is Los Angeles. This shot puts the figure at its center in at the very bottom, allowing her to occupy an extremely little amount of space. What fills the rest? Towering palm trees, telephone poles, and eerie light. Mulholland Dr is an astounding, dumbfounding, totally nonsensical, brilliant, perplexing film that makes no sense and compels an insane amount of thought (I saw it five months ago and still dedicate a lot of time to trying to crack it). This shot communicates both the alluring beauty and sinister atmosphere of the film, which is why I love it so much.

3- Ikiru (1952, Akira Kurosawa)

Ikiru, Kurosawa’s best film (fight me), culminates in heartbreaking fashion. The protagonist, resigned, spends his final night basking in the result of the only thing that he did in his life- his government work. He enjoys the park he helped make possible, and this act is the most fun he’s ever really had. It snows, and he gets one final moment of beauty in his life. If you needed confirmation as to how great this scene is, it gets homaged in Scott Pilgrim vs. The World. For real, watch this movie, even if you’ve never seen a foreign film in your life. It’s so great.

2- 2001: A Space Odyssey (1968, Stanley Kubrick)

I’ve said all I can about 2001 and about Kubrick. This is one of the film’s most legendary shots, and with good reason. Kubrick’s one point perspective returns, and the sci-fi brilliance of the film shines through in this iconic, fantastic shot. It probably would be number one on the lists of most people dedicated enough to make one. But it has to settle for number two here, taking a backseat to…

1- The Exorcist (1973, William Friedkin)

C H I L L S. The Exorcist spends most of its runtime building to a conclusion in which nothing good can happen. It reaches that conclusion with this- the arrival of Father Merrin. This is the last thing that happens before the exorcism, and everything about it works. The silhouette of the priest, the streetlight, the mist coming from the house. Perfection.

That’s it. Again, I take no responsibility for the rankings except number one, which I completely stand by. Feel free to disagree, and if you take one thing from this, let it be that Stanley Kubrick was a god.