What are the greatest movies ever made?
Reflections on the Sight and Sound responses, and my own top 10 picks.
This week, I wanted to write a bit about the British Film Institute’s Sight and Sound top 100 list, which was released last week. The BFI conducts this poll of international film critics every 10 years, and it seeks to determine no less than what are the 100 greatest movies ever made. This is the list that famously was topped by Citizen Kane for several decades (other list-toppers have included Bicycle Thieves and Vertigo). This year, in a major surprise, the list was topped by Chantel Akerman’s Jeanne Dielman 23, quai de Commerce, 1080 Bruxelles, a 1975 Belgian/French film chronicling the minutiae of a single mother’s life over three days. The film only made its first appearance on the list with the last installment in 2012, where it debuted at #35. A jump to the top spot is astonishing, and likely reflects the increased diversity the BFI sought to include in this decade’s installment.
I haven’t seen Jeanne Dielman, but I immediately went and added it to my Criterion Channel lineup (although, at over three hours, I’m not sure when I’ll get to it). And that’s really the purpose of a list like this. Ranking art is inherently silly and futile (although we all do it – my end-of-year list for 2022 will be up in late January), but I think Sight and Sound is the rare list worth paying attention to. Unlike the Oscars, it’s not a reactive response to the last 12 months (or, really, three, for the most part) swayed by marketing and hype. It’s also not white noise that pops up every year. By polling the world’s most respected critics (there’s a separate list for directors' picks, which was topped this year by 2001: A Space Odyssey) and only occurring every 10 years, it sets a canon for film education and discussion. If Citizen Kane weren’t recognized so consistently by legitimate critics, would it be shorthand for the greatest movie ever made? And the increased diversity this year means several underseen movies by minority directors are now part of that cultural conversation. We can argue about list placement all we want (that’s also what these lists are for); the point isn’t their placement, it’s that they’re part of the conversation.
There were several mainstays on this year’s list. Citizen Kane and Vertigo each dropped a spot. Mulholland Drive and Tokyo Story are still there. And there some exciting new additions, like Jordan Peele’s Get Out, Celine Sciamma’s Portrait of a Lady on Fire, Barry Jenkins’ Moonlight and Bong Joon-ho’s Parasite. The list is worth a read, and if you’re like me, you’re probably updating your own queues to fill in those gaps in your film knowledge.
In October, Perry and I talked about Sight and Sound on an episode of We’re Watching Here. We each released our own list of what our top 10 films would be if we’d been invited to participate in S&S. It was a fun episode, and we each had a few overlaps and a good discussion. I thought I’d share my list and some brief thoughts on the films I picked for those who may not have listened to the podcast.
My list is…quite different from the BFI’s. Much of that reflects my age; there are simply too many older films that I haven’t gotten around to yet, which means this list is pretty top-heavy with movies released in the last 40-50 years (which is still a good chunk of time). As I said in the podcast, several films that I know are atop the BFI’s list should be on mine; but for many films, like those of the French New Wave or some early silent movies, I haven’t seen them since my undergraduate days, and I haven’t revisited them, so I can’t trust my judgment. Also, limiting it to 10 movies imposes some constraints. I wanted to make sure this list reflects everything I believe cinema can do, so I tried to make sure there was representation from most genres and formats in there, and yet I still couldn’t fit a documentary, international film or animated movie in there (some films that just missed the cut included The Act of Killing, Bicycle Thieves and Toy Story 2). In some ways, it’s a basic list; but it also helps give some insight into films that might not always be among my favorite (although many are) but that round out what I believe cinema is capable of.
I hope you enjoy – and I hope you share your own! The list is alphabetical, not in order of quality.
Alien (1979, Ridley Scott)
Genre often gets the short shrift on these lists, particularly horror. As I get older, I’ve come to appreciate just how special it is when a filmmaker has the ability to burrow under my skin and really terrify me. Film manipulates our emotions, and it’s a testimony to its power that we actually go in chasing experiences that, in normal circumstances, we’d rather avoid. No film has scared me or continued to scare me like Ridley Scott’s Alien, a masterpiece of tension and terror. The world building is top-notch, with Scott and his collaborators creating a grimy, blue-collar environment for a sleek, otherworldly threat to wreak havoc in. What makes it so effective, even over 40 years later, is how layered its scares are. There’s the visceral terror of a beast hiding in the shadows, the existential dread of being at the mercy of a corporation that considers you expendable, and the sexual subtext in its creature design. On top of that, it features Sigourney Weaver in a career-defining performance, creating one of cinema’s most iconic heroes.
Boyhood (2016, Richard Linklater)
I love Richard Linklater’s “Before” trilogy, and I considered putting Before Sunset on my list (Perry had it on his). But that trilogy’s power comes from the way the three films inform each other, and how Linklater examines time and its effect on his characters over three films. With Boyhood, filmed over the course of 12 years, he did the same thing with one movie. The immense undertaking of Boyhood and the confidence that Linklater would be able to capture capable performances and develop a coherent emotional story through this intermittent filming process, makes it noteworthy in and of itself. But what secures it a place on my list is that Linklater succeeds, getting solid performances from his entire cast – particularly Patricia Arquette – and delivering a film that draws immense power from its surprisingly low-key moments. It’s a deceptively quiet and uneventful film for most of its runtime, until the cumulative power of its narrative hits you like a sledgehammer in its final moments. This is a great movie that I don’t think I can bring myself to rewatch while I still have a son Mason’s age(s).
Citizen Kane (1941, Orson Welles)
The obvious choice? Perhaps. But it’s the obvious choice for a reason: Citizen Kane belongs on the Mount Rushmore of movies. This was Orson Welles, still in his twenties, taking every tool of the trade to tell a sweeping and satirical story, with an unexpected emotional kick in the final frame. The way he used a non-linear narrative is still taught in film courses today, and the film’s shots are still analyzed frame-by-frame. It’s possible that academic love could make Citizen Kane feel like eating your vegetables, but the experience of watching it is funny and vicious; it’s not just a great film, it’s a supremely entertaining one. There’s a reason this topped the BFI list for several decades; it’s just that good.
Do the Right Thing (1989, Spike Lee)
This is another one that, to many, feels like homework. Do the Right Thing has a reputation among those who haven't seen it as just being an angry racial screed. And it is angry; and race is a major part of this film’s themes. But Lee’s incendiary look at one summer day on a Brooklyn corner is one of the most alive films I’ve ever seen, with blistering performances by Lee, Rosie Perez, Danny Aiello, John Turturro, Samuel L. Jackson and others. Yes, it’s about the combustible relationships between people of various races and ethnicities. But it’s also a deeply funny and gorgeously produced piece of cinema, from its scintillating opening credits to its explosive finale. And that’s the truth, Ruth.
The Godfather (1972, Francis Ford Coppola)
When I revisited The Godfather a few years back, it was my first time watching Francis Ford Coppola’s epic in about 20 years. Despite that, the memories of the film came back as soon as the first strings of Nino Rota’s iconic score kicked in, and the lush cinematography enveloped me. This film has only a few scenes filmed at Christmas, and yet it feels like a Christmas movie to me. And it’s because of how many moments are spent in kitchens, dens and family rooms, huddled in with closely-knit characters. This is one of the greatest examples of pure storytelling in Hollywood history, and few films immerse you so well into their characters’ worlds. I know that many people make a strong argument for The Godfather Part II as the better film – and it is, indeed, a masterpiece of its own – but there’s just something about the organic way the story of this first installment plays out, and that haunting final close of the door tells us all we need to know about Michael Corleone’s future without making a single extra moment necessary.
Nashville (1975, Robert Altman)
I saw this for my first time earlier this year, but knew right away that it was one of the greatest films I’d ever seen. Altman’s sprawling, shaggy ensemble piece is an overwhelming experience, bursting at the seams with incident and characters, even if its light on plot. Somehow, despite its more than two dozen main speaking roles, this film creates cohesive, memorable characters and paints a portrait of America unlike anything I’ve seen on film before. This three-hour look at the intersection of capitalism, entertainment and politics is an enthralling and memorable experience, and its final moments mingle heartbreak and dark comedy in a way that sticks to the ribs long after the movie has finished. This is one I’d love to see hit the big screen again; maybe for its 50th anniversary in 2025.
Raiders of the Lost Ark (1981, Steven Spielberg)
An important thought to keep in mind when I was compiling this list is that I was making a list of what I considered the best films ever made; not necessarily my favorites (although I do have that list). But overlap does occur, and that’s certainly the case here, with what on any given day wrestles with Kermit and Company for being my favorite movie ever made. But it’s no mere guilty pleasure; Raiders of the Lost Ark is one of the best examples I can think of when it comes to how a master craftsman uses the tools of cinema to create an indelible experience. It’s paced better than any film I’ve ever seen; the use of score is unparalleled; Spielberg’s camera movements are playful and economical; Harrison Ford instinctively knows how to create an iconic screen presence. Unlike other Indiana Jones movies, which fell in love with the idea of being Indiana Jones movies, this is a movie in love with The Movies, a celebration of spectacle, suspense and good old-fashioned adventure. This is what we chase when we go to the movies.
Singin’ in the Rain (1952, Gene Kelly, Stanley Donen)
Because it’s the most badass movie ever made. The greatest movie musical ever pulls off the impossible and makes it look effervescent. I showed this to my kids recently – over their protests at watching an “old movie” – and they were gob-smacked; “how’s he doing that?” my son asked during “Make Them Laugh.” It’s a smart, sharp and sometimes gleefully mean poke in the ribs at Hollywood, and yet the venom seeps in so organically behind the joyful, graceful and romantic dance sequences. It’s a film able to raise its eyebrows at Hollywood and, at the same time, able to make us remember exactly why we love this art form so damn much. This is joy caught on celluloid, an instant cinematic mood enhancer.
Taxi Driver (1976, Martin Scorsese)
I considered other Scorsese films for this list, and different incarnations played around with Raging Bull, Goodfellas and Silence. And my guess is there’s some critic out there who filled half their ballot with Scorsese movies, and I wouldn’t argue with them. Spielberg is my favorite living filmmaker and I think he’s the most successful at capturing the magic we seek when we head to the theater. But Scorsese is likely the best, a master who isn’t afraid to venture our soul’s deepest, darkest and saddest corners. I chose Taxi Driver for this list because, as I told Perry, “it gets its stink on you.” This is a viscerally lonely movie, a picture of an angry and disaffected man that feels more timely every month. Robert Deniro is at his best; I know men like Travis Bickle, so consumed with anger, loneliness and insecurity that they become terrifying. By turns, the film is haunting, terrifying, sad and compassionate and its final moments are unshakable – it’s a condemnation of a country that turns young men into killers and celebrates them as long as they kill the “right” people.
The Tree of Life (2011, Terrence Malick)
Malick sets out to make the greatest and grandest film ever made, and may have succeeded. The Tree of Life spans the entirety of our human experiences, from the birth of our universe to the heat death of our planet. It focuses on a young Texas family, and captures the human experience with such poetry, beauty and clarity that it doesn’t matter if this wasn’t your growing-up experience; it all feels true nonetheless. With some words from the Book of Job at the beginning, it explores our deepest questions, confusions and fear, and it comes as close to capturing the experience of prayer as any movie I’ve ever seen. Sometimes I turn on this movie and contemplate what it’s saying and where it’s reaching; other times, I just turn up the volume and let the music and images wash over me. This is a great movie; it might be the great movie.