My Favorite Films of All Time

Hello, cruel world. Why do you make it such that life is so beautiful when you're on drugs, and only a little beautiful when you're not? My addiction is art; the purest, most intoxicating, and elusive drug I have ever known. You think your body aches when you've been popping oxycontin every day for two years and you run out? That's because it fucking does, but the mind aches when you can't find your art. No. When you can't determine an avenue for expression of it. Writer's block is a bitch with which only Rachel Weisz in The Shape of Things can compete in intensity. Though I won't be the one to say going through the literal, aforementioned drug withdrawal would be preferable. I'm simply attempting some sort of clever parallel between the two. And also to create a segway into what I've been doing today: popping Vicodin and writing. Not on here (except for now), but a new screenplay. I started around noon, equipped with some Vicodin prescribed by my doctor for a temporary back issue, I decided to pop one or two every few hours throughout the day and write. Seventeen hours later, I have written some material, and now move on to a blog entry before I conclude this fine evening, and retire to the sack. Please note: I am not a drug addict. I am, admittedly on the alcohol bandwagon to Sobriety City (every 3 days exactly it crosses my mind it can't be a coincidence there exist 24 hours in a day and 24 beers in a case), but currently my greatest vice is porn. Not to mention, I firmly believe there are two types of criminals: those who get caught, and the rest of us. So shut the fuck up.

I am making this simple. I am posting a list of my all time, absolute favorite films, with a brief explanation of why (no spoilers included). It's a fascinating paradox with me; on principle I despise the idea of lists and banal attempts to objectively categorize works of art, yet I still find it fun. Perhaps because it causes me to compare such phenomenal works of art; once you get down to a top 20 of all time, you're talking about 20 different masterpieces. It's frustratingly joyous to compare them and whittle it down to ten.

These ten are listed in alphabetical order. I shall not go so far with the mental torture as numerically order their greatness.

Anatomy of a Murder (1959), Preminger

An absolutely riveting courtroom drama, where two and a half hours moves like greased lightning. Jimmy Stewart is at his absolute best here, and George C. Scott is amazing as well. It's just such a twisted, perfectly paced and structured work with a performance from Stewart that I'd deem mesmerizing. His trademark commanding voice. His seeming ability to be totally light-hearted and deeply serious at the same time. And most of all, his subtle and graceful approach. He doesn't grandstand. He imbues.

Boogie Nights (1997), Anderson

Paul Thomas Anderson has never disappointed me with a film and he has dazzled and enthralled me with many. Boogie Nights stands as my personal favorite - the one I would most readily rewatch, as I have many times. I love the free-flowing, casualness of the film, as opposed to the formalism of his second and third best films, The Master and There Will Be Blood, respectively. At the core is one story, bolstered by a strong performance by Mark Wahlberg, and surrounding it is a myriad of other fascinating, interlacing stories enhanced by strong supporting performances, particularly from Julianne Moore and Burt Reynolds, both of whom received Oscar nominations.

Ikiru (1952), Kurosawa

The beautiful and touching story of a man diagnosed with terminal cancer who, rather than fearing death, regrets a life not lived. He sets out on a mission: to accomplish one good thing before he dies. Kurosawa was a master filmmaker; he was a brilliant screenwriter, crafting his stories around rich and complex characters. He frames his camera with absolute perfection. Each shot is a lecture in the language of cinema. Of the impact, Roger Ebert said it best: "I think this is one of the few movies that might actually be able to inspire someone to lead their life a little differently." If that's not cinematic craftsmanship, I don't know what is.

In The Bedroom (2001), Field

This is a slow, quiet, observant, and beautiful piece of art. Field foregoes traditional narrative, utilizing a rather lengthy first act, which allows us time to slip into the lives of these characters and take our time observing. Field is correct in inserting us in no particular time of their lives. Nothing major is happening right now with these people. We see life is just existing. We sense conflict and tension under the surface of even the slightest smile or facial expression. We come to know these people. And then we feel the rug pulled out from beneath us, as do the characters. We witness a scene between Sissy Spacek and Marisa Tomei that features few words, and some of the greatest acting put to the screen. We experience one of the greatest films of all time.

The Lost Weekend (1945), Wilder

As I previously mentioned, I am a member of the teetotaller party. Sober. Dry. A pussy, in other words. But, it's for a reason. This is why The Lost Weekend resonates so much for me. No, I was never even close to as bad as Ray Milland in this film. I never went on a binge in my life. I'd never drink all day and night. But for a good while, I drank every night. That was enough for this film to hit home for me. And, Ray Milland is a struggling writer in it. That added a lot too. There are many great films on alcoholism: Leaving Las Vegas, Crazy Heart, Tender Mercies, Days of Wine and Roses, among many others. But no other film has resonated for me like The Lost Weekend. And no other film was as daring upon its release. Wilder truly trend new territory when he made this film, which was considered very dark at the time. It is to this day.

Paris, Texas (1984), Wenders

The film opens and we see Travis, tired, with weathered clothing. He seems to come from nowhere. For all intents and purposes, that's where he's been. Roger Ebert summarized this film quite well: "Wim Wenders' "Paris, Texas" (1984) is the story of loss upon loss. This man, whose name is Travis, was once married and had a little boy. Then that all went wrong, and he lost his wife and child, and for years he wandered. Now he will find his family and lose it again, this time not through madness but through sacrifice. He will give them up out of his love for them." The story, like In the Bedroom, takes its time to tell its story; revealing its characters as if we are watching layer after layer of an onion slowly peeling back. When it arrives at its climax, between two characters who have a mostly unspoken, entirely understood, rich history, the result is one of the most emotionally satisfying and realistic scenes in all of film history.

Pulp Fiction (1994), Tarantino

I didn't see this film until June 27, 2007. Up until that point, I had seen maybe 50 films in my life. Maybe. My favorite two films were Gladiator and, I kid you not, Transformers. I saw Pulp Fiction and it literally changed my life. It inspired me to start screenwriting. Which eventually led to filmmaking. To other forms of writing. To smoking weed for the first time. To dropping out of college because I no longer wanted to major in chemistry. To five years later, today. Okay, in time we may see that it ruined my life; the evidence seems to be leading in that direction. Beyond that, it is one of the most original, audacious, funny, rewatchable, entertaining films of all time. Enough?

The Social Network (2010), Fincher

The most recent film on my list. And quite simply, one of the best films of all time as well. The pairing of David Fincher and Aaron Sorkin was one of the greatest in history. What could have been a silly, light-hearted film became, under Fincher's style, a darker tale of greed, determination, and morality, as well as the most topical film since Jason Reitman's Up in the Air. The cinematography is beautiful. The dialogue is as good as any ever written. The editing job is among the top ten in all of film, allowing three different stories to tell both themselves and each other in a seamless narrative. The acting and filmmaking together elevate this leagues beyond stage-play level material. A perfect film.

Taxi Driver (1976), Scorsese

It would be wrong not to include a Scorsese film on this list. The question is always, which one? Sometimes to solve that question, I ask myself, which would I rather rewatch? The answer is usually split between Taxi Driver, The Departed, Casino, Goodfellas and The Color of Money. When I examine just these films out of his huge filmography, I realize that Taxi Driver had the biggest impact on me, and contained some of the most powerful scenes in any of Scorsese's films.

Vertigo (1958) - Hitchcock

One of my college papers that I actually liked of mine was an analysis of Vertigo. We were given a selection of Hitchcock films to choose from, and I decided to do one I hadn't seen before. I picked Vertigo, and found it enthralling. Along with Anatomy of a Murder, it really solidified Jimmy Stewart as one of my favorites of yesteryear. I have a great fondness for many of Hitchcock's works, though I think Psycho and Rear Window are somewhat overrated. But Vertigo, above all others, not only exists as a Hitchcock film, it defines all his others. For those that know anything of Hitchcock the man, you will see its reflection in Vertigo. A film rich beyond its surface.

Bonus Film

I can't do ten. I hate conventionality, and I refuse to be a conformist! I am a free spirit. So I'm joining the movement of purposefully being against trends without a hint of irony.

Fargo (1996), Joel & Ethan Coen

The first film of the Coens' I saw when I was 9, and that was Raising Arizona. I liked that movie, and still do. The second I saw was No Country for Old Men, twice the day it opened in theatres, once the next day, and once a week later. That's the most I've ever seen a single film in theatres (by double). Then I watched every single other of the films. No Country is a perfect film. It is flawless in every way imaginable. So is A Serious Man. Coudn't be more different of a film. Which is better? Speaking of that, Fargo is as well, a perfect film. I cannot compare these. I am simply going with my old formula and choosing the film I have rewatched the most, and would most feel like rewatching again.