My Top Ten Films of 1970

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.

Little Big Man - It's easy to describe "Little Big Man" as the Old West version of "Forrest Gump," where our main character stumbles through major events in American history. However, "Little Big Man" is far more daring and subversive than "Forrest Gump." It's a revisionist Western that sympathizes with the Native Americans, often portrays the encroaching pioneers as villains, and satirizes figures like General Custer and Wild Bill Hickock. It's frequently funny and absurd, but also remarkably touching at times, featuring excellent performances from Dustin Hoffman and Chief Dan George.

Tora! Tora! Tora! - Darryl F. Zanuck and crew tried to replicate the success of "The Longest Day" with a massively ambitious war epic about the bombing of Pearl Harbor, told from the POVs of both the Americans and the Japanese, with multiple productions carried out by different countries. The resulting docudrama provides an intriguing macroscopic view of events, coupled with one of the most terrifically destructive battle recreations ever filmed. We'll probably never see a production of this size and scope again - which is likely why they're still reusing clips of the film in other projects.

The Ballad of Cable Hogue - One of Sam Peckinpah's gentler films follows the career of Cable Hogue, a ruffian who discovers water in the desert in the waning days of the Old West. The film is a Western, but largely non-violent and incidental. It's mostly concerned with charting Hogue's evolution from vengeful, selfish varmint to a more enlightened breed of human being. The filmmaking is playful, the tone easygoing, and the performances of Jason Robards and Stella Stevens are delightful. The offbeat romance and comedy sneak up on the viewer, and prove very enjoyable.

The Conformist - A portrait of a man with a coldly Fascist worldview that is equally damning and sympathetic, but above all gorgeous. The art direction and Vittorio Storaro's cinematography are stunning. The non-linear storytelling, editing, and mise-en-scene are beautifully executed, creating a psychologically fraught world of spies and secrets, where our hero can't ever seem to escape his lingering demons. I love the way Bernardo Bertolucci often ends scenes on these little visual punchlines and grace notes, and the way they add little shadings and ironies to the narrative.

Diary of a Mad Housewife - Frank and Eleanor Perry continue to explore the American psyche, this time through Carrie Snodgrass's endlessly put-upon housewife, Tina Balser. Snodgrass's performance, her film debut, is what drives the film and gives it so much bite. The defeat on her face and the placating tone of her voice tell you everything you need to know about Tina in the first five minutes. And I still can't help wanting to wring Richard Benjamin's neck every time I see him in anything. His narcissistic husband is one of the most aggravating characters I've ever seen onscreen.

Deep End - It's difficult to describe "Deep End," or even put it into a proper genre. It's mostly a coming-of age story, set in and around a London bath house, but contains elements of comedy, thriller, melodrama, and perhaps satire. Jerzy Skolimowski makes great use of setting and space - the empty swimming pool, the labyrinthine baths, and the London Underground. As the young hero's frustrations mount, so do the dangers that he keeps encountering, both internal and external. It's a rare film that kept me guessing as to its intentions for the entire running time, but also left me entirely satisfied.

Even Dwarfs Started Small - Is this an experimental film? A satire? A farce? A cruel joke? But if it is a joke, at whose expense? Ninety minutes of dwarfs running amok on a remote island, rebelling against society and enjoying their own outrageousness - is there a point? Filming was reportedly extremely dangerous, resulting in multiple injuries. Clearly, there are some serious questions about the exploitation of the cast and the nature of the production that need to be addressed. And yet, I can't help but look on Werner Herzog's finished product with great admiration, for his vision, for his wildness, and for his utter lack of apparent limits.

Patton - It's George C. Scott's show from beginning to end, as magnificent a biography and a war film as General Patton himself could ever wish for. Scott's Oscar-winning performance is legendary, of course, but it's Francis Ford Coppola's script and Franklin J. Schaffner's direction that do a lot of the heavy lifting, creating an unusually candid portrait of a major historical figure, and positioning him in such a way that makes the audience love him for his faults and foibles. At the same time, Patton remains very much a mystery in the end, both to his comrades and to the audience.

The Wild Child - One of the more accessible Truffaut films recounts the history of a feral boy and the attempts to reintegrate him into society. Truffaut himself takes the lead role as the boy's doctor and caretaker. It's a very thoughtful, sensitively made feature where Truffaut is once again examining the lives of children and their process of socialization. The situation here is more intense, creating a more dramatic, allegorical experience. At the same time, realism is carefully preserved - the narrative is a direct dramatization of the real doctor's journals and observations.

Zabriskie Point - Michelangelo Antonio's foray into American subject matter was widely panned at the time of release, and remains divisive, but I love its weirdness and its psychedelia, its vision of the American counterculture through the eyes of a curuious foreigner. From the soundtrack full of familiar rockers to the anonymous lead actors froliking in the dunes to the hypnotic finale scenes of suburban detritus literally being blown to bits, there's nothing else like it.

Honorable Mention
Scrooge

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