The Greatest Films Ever Made According to Pipe, Numbers 5 – 1

 

The Art of Film Making

 

The process of selecting my ten favourite films ever made was something that, once undertaken, I certainly relished. I knew however, after reading Sight & Sounds’ list and looking at the history of their poll, that this would be a process that required some guidance. I would therefore have to assert a little order into these ‘proceedings’. As someone who has studied film and has seen many great movies; I felt the best way was to spend a few days thinking in terms of directors, and site the films by them that I admire. In doing this I wrote down every film I liked and thought might merit a place on my list; but without getting too critical about it at this stage. Thinking about directors and the works by them I like, helped me do this. After a few days and much deliberation, I settled on a list of around 80 films. This would be my starting point.

A close inspection and consideration of these 80 films was made. I thought again of the directors I wanted to be represented on my list; the films that had made the most profound impact on me as a student of film and the ones that I believe are the most important to the cinematic art form itself. With this in mind, I reduced the list to around 30 entries. Further reflection halved this list. Then from 15 films I made the very difficult decision to lose the 5 films I felt on this occasion weren’t quite as important to me. I knew then, when I looked at my list that my process of selection had worked. I was as satisfied with these ten films as I could have been.

I decided in order to obtain a list that would represent a variety of my different tastes and thoughts about film, that I would allow only one film per director. I thought of this as a kind of Desert Island Discs, but in a ‘filmic’ sense. I still think this is the best way for one individual to carry out, what is after all an undemocratic process. If one casts their eye over Sight & Sounds’ top ten list, there is no director with more than one film in that list either. I take the point that there is nothing stopping a director from having multiple movies in their best ten films. However, the fact that it has never happened yet, and with it being such a vast voting system, it makes this possibility highly unlikely to occur. Nevertheless, we aren’t Sight & Sound and our voting ‘turn out’ is 1 to their 846; making the comparisons and equal rules on voting structures a little unfair.

Rating art is difficult to do successfully, especially judging the sorts that you love. Nonetheless, I still think that from my point of view these ten films absolutely do embody everything I love about cinema. Therefore my self-imposed logical ‘restriction’, of only one film per director, has still produced a list I can stand by fully. Crucial, when I look at the ten now I can honestly say that they are the films I would pick at this moment if I were only allowed ten for my trip to that island – which, with any luck is located somewhere sunny.

 

5) Force of Evil (1948), dir. Abraham Polonsky (1910 - 1999)

 

Garfield and Gomez, brilliantly reflecting the dark side of the ‘American Dream’

 

This film has to be on my list because, on a purely personal level it played an integral part in fundamentally changing my own vocational direction in life. Having studied Film Noir during a night class, I decided to write the optional essay on this picture. This was a defining moment for me. When analysing the work, I realised that my appreciation of film, and art in general, was something that was far more important than simply being a ‘general interest’. No, from this moment I knew this was a deep rooted passion. Whilst studying this remarkable film and its genre, I came to the realisation that I would now have to pursue these studies as far as I could – and my education continues…

John Garfield (1913 – 1952), the lead actor in the film and Abraham Polonsky it’s director, were both victims of the brutal House of Un-Americans Activities Committees and their associated Communist ‘witch hunts’. Led by Senator Joseph McCarthy (1908 – 1957), this “Committee” ‘black listed’ these two men - along with many others - and they were unable to work and travel freely. At the height of the Cold War this was a truly shameful period in American history. In many respects, the film itself seems to be a subtle metaphor for much of the criticisms of the Capitalist system at that time. John Garfield (who, unlike Polonsky never recovered from not being allowed to work; dyeing of heart failure aged just 39) plays a crooked lawyer called Joe Morse, whose greed is the catalyst for the film’s tragic events. The film’s strikingly theatrical dialogue, all of which was written by Polonsky, makes it utterly compelling to watch. Garfield and Thomas Gomez (1905 – 1971) - who plays Leo, Joe Morse’s brother, a good man in the film, but one who breaks the law everyday. Because of his brother’s actions and the system that creates them both, Leo eventually pays the ultimate price. These two actors’ scenes together and the delivery of the dialogue have an almost biblical undertone. It is not just the script however. The imagery, historical, political and social importance of the picture, makes it one of the 20^th century’s most complete artistic statements in cinema. It is one of those films that I try and watch at least once a year and it gets more impressive each time I experience it. This is one of the greatest American films ever made. In my view it may even be the greatest. Force of Evil makes my list for these reasons and because of the crucial part it played in my own ‘artistic awakening’.

 

4) Aguirre, the Wrath of God (1972), dir. Werner Herzog (1942)

 

The sheer scale of ‘Aguirre’s’ opening scene

 

Like others mentioned in my ten, this  is another tale of ‘Fools Gold’. The film, set in 1560 is the story of a troop of Spanish Conquistadors and their trek through the Andes into the jungle below. It isn’t clear what the purpose of their mission is. Historically it relates to the Spanish conquests of the ‘Americas’ and expeditions which took place during the 16^th century. However these fictitious characters and specific events come from the imagination of Herzog the director. This disastrous journey seems to be directed by the Christian God, associated Bible and forces of Spanish colonialism, and takes them into a totally alien and inhospitable environment. The absolute insanity of these acts, appear as  a sort of pilgrimage. Everything about this venture is doomed to fail right from the moment we the viewers join this troop of Mercenaries.

Klaus Kinski (1926 – 1991) plays the main role of Don Lope de Aguirre and puts in the performance of his life. His strutting mannerisms, animated expressions and the technique he uses to step into the camera’s line of vision, is like nothing I have ever seen in cinema; before or since. His volatile relationship with director Herzog now has a legendary status in film folklore (for more on this see Herzog’s intriguing documentary on the subject called, My Best Friend; 1999). Kinski’s character is a megalomaniac and his awful actions on camera were mirrored with his conduct towards the other actors and crew off it. In fact, the latter was clearly a lot worse as this behaviour took place in reality. However, putting this to one side, the madness that develops in Aguirre and in Kinski’s character is able to transcend the story and the film itself. Being a sited influence on Francis Ford Coppola’s (1939) 1979 film Apocalypse Now; Aguirre has also been read as an indirect comment on The Vietnam War. I would say that this is a far too simplistic comparison. I feel that one of the reasons why this film is so magnificent is its ambiguity; especially relating to such subject matter as this. This reading certainly has plenty of credence. Nevertheless, I believe that this interpretation should, and perhaps now has a broader symbolic significance. The aimlessness and the insanity it creates in the film – on a humanist level – for me acts as a metaphor for much of the West’s foreign interventions and their Imperialist aims.

 

3) Barry Lyndon (1975), dir. Stanley Kubrick (1928 - 1999)

 

Appearing like a painting; Barry Lyndon is a visual masterpiece of unparalleled beauty 

 

On first inspection it would seem odd that this film should be anywhere near my list of ten films. Firstly, I am not on whole particularly fond of what has now come to be described as ‘Period Pieces’. A category that this film almost certainly falls into. And secondly, I largely find Ryan O’Neil (1941) a fairly boring presence as an actor. He plays Redmond Barry, the lead protagonist in the film. This isn’t really a great starting point, if I think of what appeals to my own tastes. However, I am a great enthusiast of Stanley Kubrick; like almost everyone else who is infatuated by film. In my view this is his greatest picture. ‘Better than 2001?!’, I hear you cry. A film that I have marvelled at also, but for quite different reasons. Allowing for only one film in my ten from a director (which I can assure you takes nothing away from the others on my list), I confidently went for Barry Lyndon because of its beautiful imagery; its emotive, sumptuous cinematic ‘flavour’ and its black humour; and how at times, it verges on the ridiculous.

This film is one of those rarities in cinema – not always so rare in Kubrick’s case – when every character is pretty much unlikeable. I think this is actually why the casting has been so brilliantly selected. You believe in the Barry character completely, because O’Neil is totally convincing in this thoroughly loathsome role. It is somewhat of a frustrating dichotomy however, as Barry is an extremely complex character. One is always trying to understand him and make sense of his actions. Oddly you still manage to pity him and his plight. I understand fully why I have chosen this film however. For the way it looks. The cinematography (Director of Photography was John Alcott (1931 – 1986), who won an Oscar for his work on the film), used Zeiss lenses that had been used by NASA, and were adapted to enable the film to have largely only candle and natural light when shooting the night and evening scenes. This atmosphere and the movements of the actors, give the impression of a Reynolds’ or Hogarth painting. This stunning appearance makes the film so unique and perfectly pitched in terms of narrative, character development and the film’s historical period.

 

2) The Life & Death of Colonel Blimp (1943), dir. Michael Powell (1905 - 1999) and Emeric Pressburger (1902 - 1988)

 

Although very British, this scene is like no other; the camera work is totally unique. Powell & Pressburger: ‘Masters of the Mystical’

 

I had a similar decision to make here as I had with Kubrick. Which film would I pick from Powell and Pressburger’s ‘oeuvre’? It was even harder in this case actually. I felt instead of two or three stand out films, I had to try and decide which film I should select from perhaps 6, maybe 7 strong candidates. I elected for The Life and Death of Colonel Blimp, because of the central performances by Roger Livesey (1906 – 1976) and Anton Walbrook (1896 – 1967) - who are incidentally two of my all time favourite actors, and are at their best in this film. The complete charm and warmth that these two great actors convey in these roles, make the film a classic. Not to forget another great actor Deborah Kerr (1921 – 2007); who is equally brilliant, playing three different roles in the picture. Another basis for my appreciation of the film is the parallels between the two men in the story: Colonel Sir Clive Win Candy (Blimp) an English officer (Livesay) and Theo Kretschmar-Schuldorff (Walbrook) a German one; and the relationship between the two co-creators of the film. The founders of Archers - in my view the single greatest production company and working partnership in the history of British cinema - Powell and Pressburger, an Englishman and an Austrian, worked together on and off for almost 30 years and remained close friends until Pressburger died in 1988. The friendship in the film spans 4 decades and is one which endures being on opposing sides during War, a dual against one another and both men being in love with the same woman - Edith (Kerr). Sounds a little far fetched? Well this is Powell and Pressburger after all, and they tended to air on the side of the whimsical. However, this is its unbridled charm. You are able to put all your faith in these individuals and the story itself. They adapt notions of the ‘Epic Tale’ and use imagery customary of their unique mystical treatment to film making. Through this they manage to express a sense of emotional attachment with all the characters in the film.

This film, like all their finest work, is a historical document of true artistic merit. This work is an example of why film should still aspire to create stories and worlds that people can get completely absorbed in. In this film, Powell and Pressburger create a story seemingly about war, but war itself never features. Instead what is presented is a wonderful picture that teaches us a little about European history and a lot more about human decency, true friendship and ultimately, love.

 

1) Mirror (1975), dir. Andrei Tarkovsky (1932 - 1986)

 

Here Tarkovsky presents his ultimate ‘poetic’ vision – cinema as art in its purest form  

 

So I have reached my number one. I must admit this wasn’t as hard a decision as one may have suspected. I consider Andrei Tarkovsky to be not only one of the finest film makers ever, but one of the single greatest artists that ever lived. In my experience, there is no one who surpasses him in terms of his contribution to artistic visual expression; and certainly no one in film. Therefore after a lengthy analysis of this man’s work, I strongly feel that Mirror is his principal cinematic achievement; and as a consequence this is why in opinion it is the greatest film ever made.

As a film it manages to combine and explore the following subjects and themes: a poetic visual language, art historical significance and subtle intertextual referencing; psychoanalysis; human relationships and their lineages; and the implications of 20th century European history as a backdrop to the film’s succession of episodes. This is not a film that one follows in any narrative driven sense. It is a work of art, and as such it is something to ‘experience’. Tarkovsky spent most of his, far too short life as a film maker, striving to create his own cinematic ‘visual poetry’. As a consequence of this single mindedness, his works are a visual expression of human feelings and are emotive experiences that encourage one to question the very nature of human existence and our time worn endeavours. On Mirror itself, the Danish director Lars Von Tier (1956), when being interviewed about his film AntiChrist (2009), recently made this comment, “Have you ever seen a film called the “Mirror”? I was hypnotised! I’ve seen it 20 times. It’s the closest I’ve got to a religion – to me he is God. And if I didn’t dedicate the film to Tarkovsky, then everyone would say I was stealing from him. If you are stealing, then dedicate.” As an artist myself too, and someone who has dedicated their life to art and artistic expression; I interpret this film in a similar fashion to Von Tier. I’m not sure if I would call him a ‘God’, but I would say that in an artistic sense, Tarkovsky is something more akin to a Profit. Ultimately, this film is his own autobiographical account. However this is far from evident, or of any real importance to the viewing experience. Visually, the film’s imagery is produced more like a ‘stream of consciousness’, which has an essential beauty of deeply existential significance. I am not sure what to say about the film’s final scene, other than one day I will attempt an extensive examination of it. To date, this is a moment which has affected me more than any other single moment in film. Using imagery alone, he is able to make a profound comment on real human experience and a life cycle that ultimately we all face. I would agree wholeheartedly with the writer Will Self (1961), and give him the final say on this matter. In June 2012, at a film conference entitled Looking In, Looking Out, Self said that “Mirror remained the most beautiful film ever made”. 

 

So there we have it, my own list of the ten greatest films ever made. I’m fairly certain over time this will change. In fact, I’m already sceptical about one or two. However this is a starting point and I feel it represents my tastes, hopes, feelings and crucially, my vision of cinema at its finest. What it is at its best and what it must aspire to be in the future. I would now love to hear some other thoughts on my list and see other considered lists of the ten best films? After all art is a process of sharing and discovery; so please share some of your ideas on this subject. This is only my opinion after all, so a few differing views would be greatly appreciated. To prompt a debate about this question would be even better still.

The Greatest Films Ever Made According to Pipe, Numbers 10 - 6

 

Sight and Sound have conducted their poll of the greatest films ever made every decade since 1952. So in September 2012 they presented, in various forms, their 7^th definitive list of the world’s finest cinematic works. Although the voting structures for this poll have subtly changed over time; 2012’s vote was conducted from entries by over 1,000 critics, academics, distributors, writers, “programmers” and other cinephiles. I am informed that they received exactly 846 top-ten lists from all these various sources.

Having been published in September last year, I freely confess that we are not entirely ‘current affairs’ with regards this article and its subject matter. However, as this poll is conducted decennially, on those grounds alone, I think we can be granted a little leeway here. In any case, one should be allowed a certain amount of time in order to ‘digest’ such an extensive list. I must confess to the fact that I only saw the final results in Sight & Sound just before Christmas 2012, which has been a factor here as well.

Now either our voting pack was lost in the post, or, as I would far more realistically assume, having not been asked. We have therefore decided to give you Pipe’s very own ‘top ten’ list of cinema’s greatest ever works. Evidently, this is the primary reason for the article. I was prompted to consider compiling our own list for various other reasons also. Of which I can promise you all, not being asked our views on the matter by S & S wasn’t one of the reasons.

Firstly, I will give a little relevant background into the history of this poll, some of the voting information contained therein and some other points we consider of interest. In the process I will attempt to provide an explanation for compiling our list and introduce our ten films.

Prior to 2012, Orson Welles’ (1915 – 1985) magnificent picture Citizen Kane (1941) had been voted the greatest film in this poll in every decade, bar one, since 1952. Vittorio De Sica’s (1901 – 1974) heartbreaking Italian Neo-realist movie The Bicycle Thieves (1948), being the poll’s only other winner - winning the first poll of 1952.

I did have a suspicion that 2012’s poll would reveal a new film to be hailed as the finest and shunt ‘Kane’ from the top spot. I sensed, that although thoroughly deserving of this continued accolade, it was probably about time for a slight shift in critical opinion. Clearly polls of this nature and rating art like this is totally subjective and are - if one was to be completely honest - not always that useful. Nevertheless they certainly can be interesting, and if nothing else enjoyable to ‘mull over’.

Very few genuine aficionados of cinema would disagree that Citizen Kane is one of film’s most complete works and one of this art forms supreme achievements. Whether any film will ever again be deemed as the ‘best’ in this poll for 5 consecutive decades, I would think almost unthinkable now. Therefore, in that sense, there will always be a strong case in arguing for it as the greatest ever artistic statements in film. But, although being an immense admirer of Welles’ work and this film, I still felt it was an appropriate time for a new movie to top cinema’s longest running and most respected poll.

When seeing Sight & Sound’s list in December however, I was still fairly surprised by it. Again these things are all subjective, but I certainly agreed far more with the Director’s vote - their secondary poll, introduced in 1992 - than with the main Critics poll. Vertigo (1958) came 1^st in the Critics list. It is a fabulous film and I would also agree that it is Alfred Hitchcock’s (1899 – 1980) best. Nonetheless, I personally find it puzzling and surprising that it has been considered to be cinema’s very best. To tackle this question in the critical depth it would deserve is something I won’t do on this occasion (sadly for some I hope); other than to say that it isn’t my favourite film. I respect S & S’s poll immensely and there are undoubtedly many great pictures in it. However I must say, I sway far more towards the ten films complied from director’s votes. Have a look at the lists for yourself and tell us what you think. There are links to the definitive results for all the polls on the earlier highlighted titles. S & S’s information about the poll can be found on these pages too. We have linked the pages we feel are of most importance to our article within this paragraph.

When it comes to how the votes are made and compiled S & S state that:

As a qualification of what ‘greatest’ means, our invitation letter stated, “We leave that open to your interpretation. You might choose the ten films you feel are most important to film history, or the ten that represent the aesthetic pinnacles of achievement, or indeed the ten films that have had the biggest impact on your own view of cinema. – Click this statement for S & S’s full description

In relation to their statement, we have tried to apply the same criteria when compiling our ten films. Nonetheless, in all honesty, I do think that their third “qualification of what is ‘greatest’ ” is the governing criteria. I may well be being presumptuous here, but I do consider an individual’s personal connections to an artwork, likely to over shadow their views in cases such as these. Is this not human nature after all? One can very rarely look at art objectively; regardless of what one may say. Ultimately it is what certain films have meant to the viewer. What specific films have meant to cinema is important, but for an individual this is a secondary consideration I would suspect.

Therefore in the spirit of these sentiments, I will introduce my ten films with a short succinct explanation as to what they mean to me and attempt to describe why I believe they are cinemas finest. I won’t re-tell the film – or much of it anyway. If those reading this want to find out about any of the movies in more depth, there are a whole plethora of sources, I would imagine. However, please do feel free to get in contact if there are any questions, or if you are seeking more information from us about the films, poll(s) or any other related topics.

As it often irks me those ‘greatest listings’ that start from 1 and work back; we will start by giving you our first 5 now and will then follow this post with numbers 5 to 1. Numerically I have no idea why it would ever be done any other way.

 

10) Mulholland Drive (2001), dir. David Lynch (1946 – )

 

The Trailer, which is just as ‘unique’ as the film itself

 

A film which has any number of interpretations, for me, is usually a positive; especially when none of them are confirmed or denied by the director himself. Fundamentally, I believe this to be one of the saddest and most poignant depictions of loneliness and confusion - contained within a ‘Post-Postmodern’ situation - that I have seen. Through this it manages to combine two seemingly opposing stylistic themes and treatments. In many ways it gives the impression and appearance of classic Hollywood and plays on this aspect through out. In relation to this, it makes subtle references to Billy Wilder’s (1906 – 2002) film Sunset Boulevard (1950). However I believe the picture’s real importance, is because it is an accurate reflection of a psychological state of mind. Therefore in my view - and as strange as this may seem to some - it is a sort of bizarre visual depiction of actual emotional ‘realism’. Why is this important? Because Lynch ingeniously shows what certain perceptions of fame or celebrity culture can do to individuals isolated in their present-day existences in big city environments - in this case L.A. & Hollywood. All these factors show how people can become absolutely trapped inside their own minds and isolated whilst leading what are in effect often abnormal and emotionally unhealthy lives. I do also include this film because this is one of the best representations of dreams and alternative realities I have seen in cinema.

Lastly, I honestly think that Lynch is ‘having a go’ (if you like) at what has become of the cultures associated with fame, the media and those who make a living from many of these ‘vocations’. What I am doing right at this moment may well fall into these categories. But as is the case with this great artist, he has achieved this critique so that very few people are aware of it. The true extent of this reading is definitely for another time. However, very simply I will say that all the various debates which have ensued on ‘the true meaning of this film’ prove the point some what. So, to put it far more straightforwardly than it should be, I state that: as strange as this movie seems, it will never be nearly as strange as ‘real’ life and ‘the life of the mind’ itself. Even so, it does a valiant attempt at demonstrating these odd facets of this kind of modern western existence.

 

9) Raging Bull (1980), dir. Martin Scorsese (1942 – )

 

“That’s Entertainment” and a monumental performance from De Niro

 

Few performances demonstrate the notion of - the now largely overhyped and misinterpreted “Method” - than Robert Deniro’s (1943 - ) central role as the boxer Jake LaMotte (1921 - ) in this film. Although hugely indebted to the likes of Brando, Dean and others; for me on pure acting alone he surpasses his dramatic ‘forefathers’ with this performance. This is a movie that combines the loose delivery of dialogue, so inspired by John Cassavetes, and evident in Scorsese’s early works like Mean Streets (1971) - with the more ambitious nature of later works such as Goodfellas (1990). I just find it a little sad now that this director has never really returned to this more realistic treatment, to any meaningful extent, since Raging Bull.

I do think the crucial reason for this film making my list is the relationship between the brothers in the film. The scenes between Joey, played by Joe Pesci (1943 - ), and Jake are as powerful as anything I have witnessed in film. The culmination of this takes place when Jake bumps into Joey in the street and attempts to embrace, and in a sense, make amends for his previous violent treatment of him. I have witnessed few more heartbreaking moments in cinema. If one scene was to sum up the film, few would be better than this one. The elusive nature of Joey’s body language and reaction to Jake’s embrace is central to the poignancy of the scene and why I believe it has always stayed with me. I also suspect this is the real reason why it has made my list.

 

8) Love Streams (1984), dir. John Cassavetes (1929 - 1989)

 

The scene we discuss starts at 6:35ish. You may watch the whole film here also

 

When considering why, or even what makes this film so emotionally effecting for me, I realised like many great works of cinema this can perhaps be deduced to a single, almost fleeting moment. This moment arrives as the film begins to come to its conclusion. It is simply contained in one inebriated laugh from John Cassavetes’ character Robert in the film. I have often wondered why this scene and in particular Cassavetes’ demeanour is so powerful. When looking a little deeper into the subject of this scene, I found that the Japanese director Shinji Aoyama had described his feeling about it in this way: At the end of Love Streams, Cassavetes smiles as he sees the dog next to him, which turned into a naked man. I live my life always wishing I can smile like that. I think I get what his sentiments might imply. I also believe that Cassavetes poetic use of the dog and the rain through out the scene act as clear apocalyptic references. Being a major admirer of Cassavetes films in general and knowing the condition he was in during the making of this film and towards the end of his life. I realise that in many ways this use of symbolism and his acting here is one of those rare moments in film when reality and fantasy become intertwined. The depth of emotion contained within this drunken laugh, falls somewhere between a laugh and a cry, and one gets the sense that it is not actually ‘acting’ at all. Everyone - and in particular Sarah, played by the great Gena Rowlands (1930 - ), Cassavetes wife in reality and his Sister in the film - have left Robert by the end. Leaving only the dog for companionship (oh, and some other animals too – but you’ll need to watch it for more on that). Everything in the film is leading up to this moment. As the rain falls and Bo Harwood’s beautiful score plays out, we look through the water soaked glass from outside at Cassavtes. For me this is pure art and truly one of the great moments in film.

 

7) Bring Me the Head of Alfredo Garcia (1974), dir. Sam Peckinpah (1925 - 1985)

 

Simply Warren Oates doing what he does best

 

Unlike many of the other films on my list, I see this movie far more as a sum of all its parts. I believe it to be a great film because it is one of the best examples of fiction or fantasy, as metaphor for reality; or reality as Sam Peckinpah the director saw it. Capitalism’s addiction to money - and more often than not what comes with this seems to be War/violence - is presented in a violent cacophony. In what is in no small way a well acknowledged nod to John Houston’s (1906 – 1987) film The Treasure of the Sierra Madre (1948), a film which equally shows what happens when greed becomes the chief motivation within a ‘narrative’. I also think that the insanity which ensues over the search for a man’s corpse in the film, is an indictment of the political and economic dimensions of a new Post-modern War fair. In the case of this period, this is clearly Vietnam.

I probably picked this Peckinpah picture over the equally magnificent The Wildbunch (1969) and Pat Garrett and Billy the Kid (1973) - which both tackle their respective themes in equally violent visual glory - because of Warren Oates (1928 – 1982). One of America’s greatest screen actors and Sam’s favourite – now often described as a kind of alter ego for the director. Oates spent most of his career playing supporting roles. In this he is given centre stage and carries the picture in an unparalleled fashion. What is a kind of Shakespearean tragedy in a sense; the outcome of the film is inevitable almost from the start. However, by the time the ending comes, spiritually Bennie’s retribution is already complete. We root for him because he has realised that his love for Elita was far more important than money. But in this world, as soon as you stop being motivated by money, I’m afraid you’re finished. That sounds a little familiar; and is one of the many explanations why it is such a magnificent movie.

 

6) The White Ribbon (2009), dir Michael Haneke (1942 – )

 

One of the warmer moments in this often bleak tale

 

Like David Lynch and his previous entry in our list, Michael Haneke quite rightly neither confirms nor denies the variety of interpretations which have been attached to The White Ribbon. The well travelled explanation for the film’s succession of awful events is that it is a ‘cause’ - in a sense - for German fascism and why Hitler and the Nazis were able to gain power. There probably is something in this. However this would simply be a by-product for why the movie is so utterly devastating. One of the main characteristics of the film that struck me initially, was that I had never seen a film which has stronger, more disturbing and heart-rending performances from Children in it. They’re roles are at the centre of the film’s story and are undoubtedly why it has become such a masterwork of cinema; and now one of the reasons why it is on my list of ten. In addition, the reason that I feel it delivers such a meaningful impact, is because of the films perfectly constructed mise en scène, which is heavily reliant of the pictures unflinchingly steady pace. It has been shot in the most pristine black & white. This monochrome is so cool and has what I can only describe as a sort of ‘clean’ feeling that almost seems repressive. Within the context of the narrative and treatment, it fits the style of the film seamlessly. In its small northern German village setting in 1913, just prior to the First World War breaking out - a fact which is almost never mentioned until the end of the film - is a community that has a ‘veneer’ of strong religious moral codes. But as we find out through the film these simply mask the absolutely immoral, despicable and very ‘real’ violent acts which are perpetrated throughout. Lazily it has been called a ‘horror’ by some. However I believe that this film is almost its own category. It is far too frank and understated; that we are prompted to ask ourselves far bigger question than the obvious ‘whodunit’, as to what we have witnessed in the film. The actions of the society in The White Ribbon pose questions that require a much more universal reading. It appears from its countless interpretations, that the nature of Haneke’s open ended conclusion has motivated a greater, more universal enquiry.

The next post will reveal our top 5 films. There we will also give further details on how we decided our final 10 films and hopefully open the discussion out to the readers.