The PG Cooper List Thread: Gamer Days

I thought for sure when Beatty was reading the Best Picture winner this year he was going to say 'LaLa Land' as a joke. It's a very obvious joke that still would have killed.

You love powell and pressburger.

55. The Lord of the Rings Trilogy (Peter Jackson, 2001-2003)



I tried to avoid cheats on this list, but I really ran into a wall when it came to The Lord of the Rings. Personally, I'm confident in saying The Fellowship of the Ring is the best of the trilogy, but it also felt wrong to leave out The Two Towers and Return of the King. I'm not going to lie that I have a personal connection to these movies because of when I say them. I was seven years old when Fellowship came out, and though a lot of the specifics of that first experience are vague to me, I do distinctly remember the film stirring my imagination and sense of adventure in new ways. Indeed, what Star Wars was for children of the 80s, Lord of the Rings was for my generation, and even all of these years later, the films still inspire me. Even beyond any personal attachment though, the Lord of the Rings are a truly miraculous accomplishment in filmmaking, successfully adapting some very dense literature complete with dozens of major characters and a deep mythos. The films mine J.R.R Tolkien's writing very effectively, emphasizing the most cinematic elements while omitting won't work on screen. Add to that a pitch perfect cast, top-notch technical work, and some of the most masterful special effects in film history and you have yourself a modern classic.


54. The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari (Robert Wiene, 1920)



The granddaddy of German Expressionism, The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari is likely one of the most ripped off movies of all-time, and with good reason. The film presents a fascinating look at a surreal world built on its own logic. The art direction here is still astounding, and when you consider just how early in film history Dr. Caligari was made, it makes Wiene and his team's accomplishment all the more impressive. The story itself as a fairly classic horror tale of an evil monster preying on an innocent woman, but it tells it very well. More to the point, the film also drops a major twist at the 11th hour which, while cliched now, was not in 1920.

It also led to a pretty rad Rob Zombie video.


53. Before Sunset (Richard Linklater, 2004)



I've little doubt that the Before Trilogy will go down as Richard Linklater's masterpiece and I did strongly consider placing all three under a single slot. What stopped me however is that we're not sure if the story is complete. Linklater, Ethan Hawke, and Julie Delpy may yet return for a fourth movie, and possibly even beyond that. For now, I'm choosing to honour just won entry and for my money, Before Sunset is the series highmark. The second film has a sort of Goldilocks "just right" tone, where there's still a clear romance between Jesse and Celine, but they're also older and the realities of adulthood have started to creep in. Both are more guarded in their exchanges, less eager to bare themselves plainly. This leads to a plainly amazing third act where both characters eventually lay their emotions out a lot more openly and have some of the most moving conversations of the series. Hawke and Delpy elevate their performances from Before Sunset, imbuing Jesse and Celine with greater levels of depth and the dialogue is feels remarkably real. The series as a whole is perhaps the best cinematic treatment of romantic relationships and Before Sunset is the finest hour of the series.

The entire list is suspect now.

We're all going to die, bro.

52. The Night of the Hunter (Charles Laughton, 1955)



For a movie with such firm placement in my list, The Night of the Hunter is all kinds of flawed. The opening scene is a little wack, the film does stumble following the climax, and the fourth-wall breaking final scene is also pretty bizarre. So why is the film ranked so highly? Well for starters, the good shit in The Night of the Hunter is fucking awesome. On a visual level, Laughton crafts a beautiful piece of Southern Gothic fiction which is equal parts idyllic dream and horrific nightmare. Some of the expressionist visuals, particularly the use of shadow and silhouette, are just mesmerizing, and contribute to some amazing set-pieces. The film also features Robert Mitchum's iconic Harry Powell, a hateful and frightening villain but also something of a buffoon. There's just nothing quite like The Night of the Hunter, and the film's thick atmosphere, haunting imagery, and memorable scenes have always enamored me.


51. Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind (Michel Gondry, 2004)



What first attracted me to Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind is the neat high-concept. A memory erasure device used to forget unpleasant relationships? What an amazing sci-fi concept! One which opens up tons of potential themes regarding how we view relationships and process negative feelings. The film certainly delivers on those fronts, but when I think about the film, I think less about the high concept or themes and more about the film's emotional affect on me. Eternal Sunshine is an often draining look at romance through all its highs and lows. The film follows a young man named Joel undergoing a procedure to erase the memory of ex-girlfriend Clementine. But during the process, Joel is forced to relive the major memories from their romance and comes to realize he doesn't want to forget everything. Both Joel and Clementine struggle with their feelings and desires in pretty drastic ways and the ensuing journey Michel Gondry and screenwriter Charlie Kaufman take the viewer on is often devastating. Joel and Clem are both wonderfully nuanced characters, and Gondry injects a tremendous visual creativity to the proceedings that perfectly matches Kaufman's unique script.


50. The Matrix (The Wachowskis, 1999)



Like Star Wars before it, a big part of what makes The Matrix so special is the way it combines so many disparate elements to create something singular and cohesive. Taking influence from everything from Franz Kafka, to mid-90s anime, to cyberpunk, to modern philosophy and wrapping it all up in a hero's journey, the Wachowskis delivered one of the most exciting and influential action movies to come out of Hollywood in the last twenty years. One can certainly poke holes in the film's high science-fiction concept, but the basic ideas are still all kinds of disturbing and open up a lot of fascinating possibilities in terms of creative plotting and philosophical depth. The film also introduced mainstream audiences to a pretty extreme visual style, which combines some amazing production design with some very precise and calculated cinematography. This is perhaps most emphasized in the film's rightfully famous action scenes, but even more mundane moments are imbued with an intense creativity. Of course, the film did a lot to push forward special effects and action movie techniques, but the cornerstone of it all is a very well-structured screenplay, one which perfectly immerses viewers in its sci-fi world and bringing them on an engrossing journey, one filled with heroes we come to care about and some really evil villains. It's one of the most satisfying movies ever made and now matter how many times I see it certain scenes still fill me with a giddy sense of excitement.

Well, at least you haven't become too elitist that you reject Shawshank. I think it would probably be at a similar place in my list.

For some reason I would have expect Good, bad, etc to be higher on your list.

46. Harakiri (Masaki Kobayashi, 1962)



The 1950s and 60s really were a gold mine of amazing Japanese cinema and this samurai epic from Masaki Kobayashi stands shoulder to shoulder with the best of Kurosawa and Mizoguchi. A general streak of cynicism and disillusionment runs through much of the post-WWII samurai epics from Japan, but Harakiri really doubles down on this, exploring the moral bankruptcy of the samurai and the facades they present, while also telling a haunting story of displacement and consequences. The film is also one of the best examples of how the structure of a screenplay can influence an audience's feelings, with the flashbacks and mainstory informing each other in fascinating ways. Finally, while the film is by no means an action movie, the sword fights in Harakiri are exquisitely well-rendered and sure to satisfy any fan of samurai action.


45. Ran (Akira Kurosawa, 1985)



From one Japanese master at the height of his career to the ultimate Japanese master's swan song. Ran was not the final film from the great Akira Kurosawa, but it was almost certainly his final masterpiece. Adapted from King Lear, the film is a sad look at the end of a man's life which, rather than finding hope and comfort, Ran only sees misery and disappointment in the final days of elderly warlord Hidetora Ichimonji. Legendary Japanese actor Tatsuya Nakadai gives a deeply layered performance and the cast as a whole is really exceptional, but Kurosawa's filmmaking is clearly the main draw. Ran is an absolutely gorgeous epic, with beautiful costumes, lush colour cinematography, and some phenomenal battle scenes. The film manages to top the scale of all Kurosawa's prior works while simultaneously telling an intimate and tragic story, one which mines its Shakespearean roots to their fullest.


44. The Treasure of the Sierra Madre (John Huston, 1948)



John Huston is rightfully considered one of the great directors of Old Hollywood, but he never fully fit in with the likes of John Ford or William Wyler. Not only did he transition to the New Hollywood the 60s and 70s far more effectively than most of his peers, but even at the peak of the dream factory, Huston was always a bit of an outlier, and The Treasure of the Sierra Madre is one of the best examples of this. Technically a Western, the film feels much closer to Noir, as it probes the dark depths of man's heart sullied by greed and desperation. Crucial to this is Humphrey Bogart, who gives what is probably his best performance as Fred C. Dobbs, whose slow descent into villainy is sinister and absorbing. The film also avoids the stagebound feel of a lot of Hollywood by actually shooting on location and Mexico and the film's editing is also much faster than many of its contemporaries. Beneath the technique though, the modernity of The Treasure of the Sierra Madre stems from its rather cynical world view, which continues to influence media today.

43. This is Spinal Tap (Rob Reiner, 1984)



What the hell is a goofy movie with conversations about how you can't really dust for vomit or why you don't record Heavy Metal in dubly doing ahead of masters like Kubrick and Kurosawa? Well, for one thing, This is Spinal Tap is a hugely influential film. I'm not sure if this was the first comedy to take a mockumentary approach, but it did popularize it, and as far as I'm concerned Rob Reiner's use of the form has yet to be topped. Not only does this feel wholly authentic thanks the the camera work and the performances, but it also makes the jokes a lot more surprising as it doesn't feel like the film is leaning into a gag as much as a traditional comedy. This also makes Spinal Tap highly rewarding on rewatches, as you start to notice jokes that slipped by you the first time. On that note, This is Spinal Tap might well be the funniest movie I've ever seen. I didn't always think so, but every time I rewatch this I notice something new, while the bits I love draw even more laughs. From big gags like the Stonehenge performance to simple dialogue exchanges like Nigel's rant about the bread being too small, the movie just cracks me up from start to finish. But I think the true secret weapon of the film are the characters. Played brilliantly by Michael McKean, Christopher Guest, and Harry Shearer, not only are the members of Spinal Tap hilarious, but they're also strangely lovable and endearing. Before you know it, you genuinely really care about these guys and the film becomes oddly inspiring. And it's also the funniest film ever made.


42. Psycho (Alfred Hitchcock, 1960)



Among other things, Psycho is a masterpiece of structure. The fact that the first act sets up an entirely different movie only for Marion Crane's iconic show scene to change everything is one of the great sleight of hands in film history. Despite what is plainly a massive shift in the story, the transition is still smooth, in part because the established elements still pay off, and in part because new elements like Norman Bates are introduced so seamlessly. I bring all of this up because the uncertainly Psycho generates is a big part of the film's success. Even decades later when most people know the big twists and moments simply from cultural osmosis, the film still holds power over new viewers. This may well be Alfred Hitchcock's most famous film, and with good reason. The showstopping set-pieces are among the best the great master ever brought to screen and the film also taps into core Hitchcockian themes of voyeurism and sexual violence. And yet, this is also a pretty distinct work in Hitchcock's filmography. The stark black and white cinematography is far less elegant than the Technicolor triumphs Hitch was putting out in his golden age, and that trademark Hitchcockian wit largely absent. Psycho is a far nastier piece of horror, and though it stumbles a bit near the end, the final scene is a haunting masterpiece.


41. Rosemary's Baby (Roman Polanski, 1968)



We're currently seeing a wave of slow-burn domestic set horror movies like The Witch and Hereditary get rapturous praise. I'm a little annoyed at the critics which act like these types of horror are totally new and unprecedented though, because that certainly isn't true. Case in point, Rosemary's Baby, which is likely the best example of slow-burn horror in cinema. The film follows a young woman who starts to suspect she is the victim of some sort of conspiracy, one of possible satanic influence. That's a great hook, but the film never truly plays it's hand until the final scene. Much of the film is more dedicated to the build-up, as Roman Polanski establishes protagonist Rosemary, her situation, and the various players who start to influence her life. This is not to say the early scenes of film are without horror because that's not accurate either. A surreal nightmare rape scene is highly disturbing and the film leaves several explicit clues as to where it's going, but Polanski sows just enough doubt for Rosemary, and the audience, to second guess themselves. Paranoia is, of course, one of the defining themes of Polanski's filmography, and Rosemary's Baby is the perfect embodiment of this theme. Rosemary's Baby does require some patience, but if you give yourself to it, you'll be rewarded by one of the most absorbing horror films ever made, with a fantastic cast (anchored by a brilliant Mia Farrow), exceptionally detailed filmmaking, and a gut punch ending you won't ever forget.

No to what