This is part of a series of top ten films for the years before I began this blog. And it's the last entry for the time being, until I watch enough films to continue into the 1940s. Entries below are unranked. Let's go.
Sunset Boulevard - I admit that I have a rough time with noir. However, even I couldn't resist Norma Desmond, Billy Wilder's enduring symbol of every once-bright star cruelly forgotten by Hollywood. Not only is the film a wonderfully executed examination of the dark side of the silver screen, but has all these wonderful little references and nods to Hollywood's past. Erich von Stroheim, a real silent era director, appearing as Max, is one of my favorite performances of all time.
Born Yesterday - Yes, I'm aware I have both of the Best Actress winners of 1950 on this list, but can you blame me? Judy Holliday is one of my favorite actresses of this era, and this is her best performance. The transformation of her character, Billie, from uncultured bimbo into a gleefully empowered figure of feminine ambition - and patriotism! - is immensely entertaining. The comedy is so well written, and the laughs build on each other so beautifully, I can never resist its ample charms.
Harvey - I've learned to appreciate this film over time. The premise, where an eccentric man insists that his best friend is an invisible six-foot tall humanoid rabbit, is fundamentally silly. However, Jimmy Stewart's performance as Elwood P. Dowd is so gentle and so winning. All the sensible people around him go to pieces in the face of adversity, but Elwood's madness keeps him sane. Eventually, I was won over the way so many others have been by this sweet, whimsical fantasy.
Beauty and the Devil - Rene Clair's take on the Faust legend is an elegantly made piece of fantasy cinema, full of Clair's usual flourishes. Michel Simone stars as a wonderfully watchable Mephistopheles, while Gerard Philipe plays Faust. Clair manages to inject some social commentary into the story, mirroring the downfall of Faust's kingdom with the French revolution. However, the film's best moments are its presentations of dream imagery and dream logic that you could only realize on film.
Orpheus - And on that note, absolutely no one was better at poetic dream imagery in French cinema than Jean Cocteau. His modern retelling of the Orpheus myth depends greatly on its command of mood and tone, with a few inspired uses of special effects. Jean Marais' poet must traverse Cocteau's underworld, a nocturnal dreamscape of mystery and magic, where the laws of nature don't apply. And it's vision of Death as a lovely princess is one of French cinema's great triumphs.
La Ronde - The individual love stories told in Max Ophuls' "La Ronde" are not especially compelling. However, there's something about the format and the structure of the film that I find endlessly appealing. I think a lot of it must be due to the presence of Anton Walbrook as the Master of Ceremonies, who sings us from story to story with such wit and such warmth. And Ophuls has such a light touch, which keeps everyone's sexual misadventures from ever feeling tawdry.
Cinderella - I tried to resist, but it was useless. "Cinderella" remains as lovely a piece of Disney animation as it ever was. Historically, it's credited with jump-starting the studio's fortunes in the post-war era. The real heroes of the picture are the mice, of course, part of an excellent ensemble of caricatured characters that may draw some attention away from Cinderella herself, but have also helped to distinguish this version from all the other Cinderella movies that came before, and have come since.
Stromboli - My favorite collaboration between Ingrid Bergman and Roberto Rossellini is about a woman in a psychic battle with her environment and circumstances. Bergman plays a struggling outsider, Karin, who comes to live in an isolated community on a volcanic island, to be met only with hostility and suspicion. It's a very bleak film, full of discomfort and dark implications, and I'm not surprised that it wasn't well received at the time of its release. Its harshness, however, also makes it unforgettable.
Stars in My Crown - This Jacques Torneau western starts out in typical fashion, with a new preacher played by Joel McCrea coming to a small town, and winning over the locals. However, the rest of the film gradually turns to more personal matters of faith, and concludes with one of the most tense, exciting finales I've ever seen, where the preacher has to rediscover his faith and go up against the Ku Klux Klan. The film is an odd sort of hybrid of different genres that stands out for being so singular and so sincere.
The Gunfighter - I like to think of this film as something of a precursor to "High Noon," and "The Shootist," since it shares many of the same themes of personal responsibility, and looks at the heavy costs of being a man with a gun. Gregory Peck's bitter performance is one of his best, and the black and white cinematography is stunning. And let's all be grateful to Darryl F. Zanuck, for insisting that the ending be rewritten so that the villain could get the real comeuppance due to him.
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