This is part of my continuing series looking back on films from the years before I began this blog. The ten films below are unranked and listed in no particular order. Enjoy.
Brazil - Terry Gilliam's pitch black comedy about a dystopian future required the director to engage in and out-and-out battle with Universal Studios and its president in order to release the film with its nihilistic ending intact. And the effort was worth it. The film remains a marvel of practical special effects and epic art direction, possibly the most ambitious and elaborate production that Gilliam ever undertook. It also proved to be eerily prescient and mercilessly satirical, taking aim at all the dehumanizing aspects of modern bureaucracy and industrialization.
The Color Purple - In retrospect, Steven Spielberg simplified and toned down Alice Walker's novel more than he should have in the process of adapting it for the screen. However, the end result is still an uncommonly powerful and emotional cinematic experience. The jawdropping screen debuts of Whoopi Goldberg and Oprah Winfrey, the shameless tearjerker ending, and the vivid depiction of the black experience in rural Georgia during the pre-Civil War era all help the film to leave a remarkable impression. And it's an impression that's hardly faded at all over time.
Come and See - This is one of the most brutal films I've ever seen, presenting the nightmare of war in its most distilled form, as seen through the eyes of a naive child. Over and over again we see mindless death and destruction, carried out with brutal efficiency against the helpless and innocent. Though the invaders are Nazis, there is a disorienting universality to the carnage. The film was shot in color, but the images are so stark that I tend to remember them in black and white. This is one to approach with caution, as there are atrocities depicted that will not be easy to forget.
My Beautiful Laundrette - A British crime film, a Pakistani immigrant memoir, a cross-cultural gay romance, and more. This early Stephen Frears film is full of unexpected twists and turns, combining multiple genres in ways that never feel inauthentic, and remain fairly unique even now. It's also become an important snapshot of the less visible communities of London of the 1980s. I only wish that we could have spent longer in the universe of "Laundrette." There's so much packed into the film that it easily could have run twice its length, and there would still be plenty to explore.
The Purple Rose of Cairo - A lovely, nostalgic little fable that is one of the best commentaries on the relationship between the movies and a certain breed of movie fan that I've ever seen. Plenty of media has gone the meta route in recent years, but there are still few that try to deal with the actual ramifications of breaking the fourth wall and inviting your fantasies into your life. Short, sweet, and heavy on the whimsy, this is nonetheless one of Woody Allen's most thoughtful films. It's also a charming romance on its own terms, featuring Jeff Daniels and Mia Farrow at their best.
Ran - One of Akira Kurosawa's undisputed masterpieces, an epic war film loosely based on "King Lear" and Japanese folklore. The imagery is beautiful and terrible, realized by an ambitious production that was the most expensive cinematic undertaking for a Japanese film of its time. The chaos of "Ran" has been suggested to symbolize many struggles, from modern day warfare to the director's own storied career. However, what's certain is that Kurosawa saw himself in the main character, a weary titan in the waning days of his life. The film was not his last, but it's a fitting goodbye.
Shoah - As we move farther in time from the film, it becomes all the more important in its own right as a historical document. Not only does it capture the survivors' memories of the Holocaust, but how those survivors processed and lived with those memories decades later. Claude Lanzmann was wise not to use too many reference materials like photographs, instead keeping the focus on the present day and his interview subjects. And as massively long as the film is, it's clearly not enough to capture more than a fraction of the horror and the tragedy that was already slipping too quickly in to the past.
Tampopo - A rolicking Japanese comedy about food and people's relationships to food. The film is also an enthusiastic goof on other films, particularly martial arts movies and American westerns. There's an appealing silliness and earnestness to the whole enterprise, especially all the little side stories that involve sex, revenge, and over-the-top behavior. Any lack in cinematic sophistication is made up for with plenty of creative energy and passion. I especially love the universality of the final shot, and the way that it neatly sums up the the film's whole philosophy toward food.
The Time to Live and the Time to Die - Hou Hsiao-hsien's partially autobiographical story of a Chinese family transplanted to Taiwan from the mainland, and how each generation adjusts during tumultuous times. It's a bittersweet, deeply felt domestic drama that unfolds over several years until it quietly reveals itself to be an epic story. Like the best coming-of-age films, it mixes the characters' triumphs with losses, and new dreams with old regrets. However, it does so with great restraint and subtlety, making wonderful use of meaningful silences and small interactions.
A Zed and Two Noughts - The film that really cemented Peter Greenaway's modus operandi as a filmmaker, straddling a fine line between art piece and commercial film. The ornate tableaux, the myriad artistic references, Sacha Vierny's cinematography, and of course the Michael Nyman score, all reflect the obsessions of the main characters and their director. It's difficult not to be caught up in the downward spiral of our wonderfully weird protagonists as they indulge their insane quest for perfect symmetry and self-destruction. There's simply nothing else like it.
Honorable Mention
Vagabond
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