F for Fake
It’s truly astounding to consider that Orson Welles invented the postmodern-appropriationist-essay film, along with so much else.
Kurosawa’s secret Dickensian masterpiece: sprawling, sentimental, and encompassingly humane.
Michael Powell and Emeric Pressburger
I Know Where I’m Going!
Powell and Pressburger’s most enchanted and fresh film, storm-tossed and full of gothic romance.
An absolutely riveting prison-breakout story. Becker is the bridge between Renoir and the new wave.
Still Cronenberg’s most nerve-racking, efficient, and, ah, penetrating realization of his vision.
A comic-surrealist fugue from the social satirist—one that deepens with each viewing.
If this dry, hilarious, spooky existential vision had been subtitled in, let’s say, Iranian, would it have been better recognized for the masterpiece it is? Linklate’s sensibility is not so far from Kiarostami’s.
The Sword of Doom
I’m still recovering from the out-of-kilter intensity of this film, which feels like some interior journey into darkness rendered as a samurai allegory.
The Man Who Fell to Earth
In Walter Tevis’s novel Roeg found material absolutely suited to his hallucinatory, prophetic style. Mutilated on first release, eternally underrated, this is one of the great films of the seventies.