Wednesday, December 11, 2019

My Top Ten Films of 1972

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.

The Godfather - One of the key films of the New Hollywood era, heralding the arrival of a slew of new talent, subject matter, and filmmaking aesthetics.  Francis Ford Coppola successfully married a gangster narrative to an immigrant family saga, creating an entirely new genre of film. The copious violence on display is not nearly as important as the starkness with which it was portrayed, through Gordon Willis' groundbreaking cinematography.  And ironically, the iconic Don Corleone is memorable not for his shrewd criminal mind, but for Marlon Brando's sensitive portrayal of a gentle, humane paterfamilias.  

Cabaret - Bob Fosse pushes so many boundaries, creating one of the darkest and most fascinating film musicals of the 1970s.  His approach to choreography and his directing sensibilities are perfectly suited to a story about the rise of Nazi Germany and the loss of innocence.  I love the way that the musical numbers are used like interstitials, allowing Joel Gray's garish emcee to appear throughout to comment on the twists and turns of the plot.  I love the frank sexuality of the main characters, and the unusually direct discussion of sexual and gender politics. Most of all I love the despairing, cynical mood and tone.  

The New Land - The sequel to Jan Troell's "The Emigrants," featuring much of the same cast and crew.  Having made the journey to America, the Swedish settlers now get down to the business of building their new home and community.  There's less momentum here, and less of a sense of discovery, but the characters remain deeply moving, and the struggles they face are considerable.  I especially enjoy the more personal stories - Kristina turning on an intolerant pastor, and Robert going West in search of gold. This is a story about time, rather than distance, but it connects to the prior narrative beautifully.    

Solaris - An existential science fiction film that invites no easy comparisons, except perhaps to Andrei Tarkovsky's other work.  Thoughtful and deliberate in every aspect, the film's mysteries unfold at their own unhurried pace, occasionally creating startling and disturbing juxtapositions through the performances and editing.  Few answers are provided, but many clues help to suggest the nature of the manifestations we witness. I especially love the look of the film, the way that it combines alien landscapes and science-fiction imagery with deeply personal memories and impressions.    

Aguirre the Wrath of God - One of the earliest and most satisfying of Werner Herzog's collaborations with Klaus Kinski.  The film is a portrait of madness, set in the wilderness, made with perhaps too much fidelity to the plight of the Spanish conquistadors who inspired the story.  Shot on location in the lush Peruvian rainforest, "Aguirre" perfectly sets the stage for one of the greatest screen performances of all time. Kinski wonderfully embodies Aguirre's descent into madness and horror, surrounded by the unforgiving jungle.  It's no wonder Herzog would return to both subjects again and again over the years.      

The Bitter Tears of Petra von Kant - One of the most over-the-top, stylized films from Rainer Werner Fassbender, but still exemplary of his stripped down, low-budget style.  It's a lesbian psychodrama that indulges in all the problematic tropes and stereotypes, but the characters are rich and fascinating, even if they exist in this heightened, surreal place.  The film discusses so many taboo and illicit subjects in a candid, uninhibited way, while never stooping to salaciousness. The performances are very strong, flamboyant but fueled by genuine emotion.  And the film knows how to use silence when it needs to.    

Cries and Whispers - Death and grief transport a trio of sisters into a frightening maelstrom of emotional turmoil.  This was one of Ingmar Bergman's first color films, and one of his most visually striking. The blood red interiors of the house, the ambiguous frames of reality, and the various groupings of the female characters all give the film a very distinct look and unusual tonal intensity.  One trauma magnifies and builds upon another, until the web of shared history and tragedy engulf all the characters. It's a magnificent, devastating piece of work, a painful but deeply rewarding watch.  

Play it Again Sam - Easily the best Woody Allen film that Woody Allen didn't direct.  Allen did write it, however, and starred alongside his frequent leading lady Diane Keaton.  The gimmick is that Allen is playing a neurotic "Casablanca" fan, and is constantly interacting with an apparition of Humphrey Bogart who serves as an imaginary friend of sorts.  The films is a sweeter, kinder counterpart to Allen's later "Purple Rose of Cairo," examining the relationship between a piece of media and one of its fans. The little visual recreations and bits of cinematic magic are especially rewarding for classic film nerds.        

Sleuth - It's such fun to watch Lawrence Olivier and Michael Caine take turns destroying each.  Honestly, the filmmaking isn't much to talk about, but the two central performances are so magnificent that it's all the audience is going to be paying attention to anyway.  "Sleuth" manages to pull off some outrageous tricks, hairpin turns, and surprises that have to be seen to be believed. This is one of the few films I've ever watched that literally got me to scream at the big reveal.  There have been many imitators over the years, and one well-meaning but ineffectual remake, but the original "Sleuth" remains unmatched.

What's Up, Doc? - One of my favorite comedies, a lighthearted farce featuring Barbara Streisand at her most irresistibly charming.  Director Peter Bogdanovich gamely keeps the energy high, fueling screwball antics, silly sight gags, and one of the greatest comedic chase scenes ever filmed.  The Buck Henry scripted dialogue is full of swell puns and one liners, Streisand gives the musical numbers plenty of kick, and the roster of veteran comedic actors is put to excellent use.  It may be a throwback, but "What's Up Doc?" is such a comedic triumph that I'm sorry that they don't make them like this anymore. 

Honorable Mention:
Fellini's Roma

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