My Top Ten Films of 1964

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.

Mary Poppins - A clever mix of special effects extravaganza, musical romp, and Julie Andrews showcase that is so charming, even Dick van Dyke's ridiculous accent can't make a dent in its enjoyability. The songs are endlessly singable, the effects work still eye-popping, and the performances of Andrews and David Tomlinson are still terribly heartwarming to this day. Nostalgia plays a large part in the film's placement on this list, but it's nostalgia that's been well earned.

The Woman in the Dunes - One of those psychological thrillers that offers such a singular, strange experience that it's difficult to make comparisons to anything else. Hiroshi Teshigahara's surrealist style emphasizes the psychological effects of lengthy confinement on the protagonist, making great use of the desert environment. Experimental film aesthetics, including a discordant score and gorgeous abstract imagery, add to the bizarre, haunting nature of the prisoner's dilemma.

My Fair Lady - I know the leading role was supposed to be played by Julie Andrews, and Audrey Hepburn had to have her singing dubbed, but I honestly can't imagine anyone else as Eliza Dolittle. Hepburn has never gotten enough credit for her comedic skills, and she's a big reason why the first half of the film is so much more fun than the second. Sure, Rex Harrison makes a magnificent ass, but it's all about Eliza and her transformation from ungainly Cockney duckling into resplendent swan.

A Hard Day's Night - I've been watching a lot of Richard Lester films recently, and what always impresses me about them is their boundless energy. He turns the first Beatles movie into a lighthearted romp full of youthful chaos, built on little more than a basic pseudo-documentary premise. There's a spontaneity to the filmmaking that makes the random encounters and little moments of humor feel so alive and fresh. None of the subsequent Beatles films ever managed to duplicate it.

Dr. Strangelove or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb - Stanley Kubick made the blackest of black comedies about the nuclear arms race, driving home the madness of the conflict far more effectively than the straight dramas on the subject, like "Fail Safe." A lot of the heavy lifting is done by a delightfully grotesque George C. Scott and Peter Sellers, delivering not just one, but three performances, but Kubrick's stamp on the material is undeniable - and indispensable.

A Fistful of Dollars - The first installment of Sergio Leone's "Dollars" trilogy really is just "Yojimbo" in the old west, but Clint Eastwood makes the Man With No Name fully his own character, and the stark spaghetti western style is unmistakably Leone. Its simplicity is part of its success, the reduction of the story and the characters down to their absolute essentials. Eastwood's stranger doesn't need a back story, a motivation, or even a name to be a compelling antihero. Just a hat and a gun.

Marriage Italian Style - In the '60s, Vittorio DeSica had gone from making heartrending Neorealist films to broader comedies. Here, he pairs Sophia Loren and Marcello Mastroianni in a battle of the sexes, both playing desperate characters of ill repute locked in a heated battle over love and marriage. It thumbs its nose at conventional morality, and gently mocks social norms, but is very pro-family in the end. Loren in particular is a scene-stealer, playing the heroine at three very different ages.

The Pawnbroker - One of Sidney Lumet's most challenging films is a small, intense character study of a concentration camp survivor played by Rod Steiger. It was notable at the time of release for going up against the Production Code and winning, but its continued effectiveness has everything to do with Steiger's committed performance. Though lauded for being one of the first films to dramatize the Holocaust, it's the examination of the long-term consequences that really cuts deep.

Red Desert - My favorite Michaelangelo Antonioni film puts Monica Vitti in the surreal expanse of a quickly urbanizing town and simply watches her wander and explore. In Antonioni films, the environment is the story, and the gray world of "Red Desert," occasionally punctuated by meaningful appearances of color, is an easy one to get lost in. The resulting film is a curious, impressionistic, allegorical narrative about the relationship between man and the modern world.

The Umbrellas of Cherbourg - Possibly the greatest French musical ever made, and Jacques Demy's most popular work. Unlike in most Hollywood musicals, there's a tragic finale to the love story that seems determined to leave the audience in tears. The music, by Demy's longtime collaborator Michel Legrande, is unforgettable, the colorful production design indelible, and the performance by Catherine Deneuve nothing less than iconic. It's a beautiful piece of cinema on every level.
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