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Director Ridley Scott‘s frenetic, almost overwhelmingly brutal action drama might be one of the few war films to truly capture “the horror” that Col. Kurtz reflected on in his dying breaths in Apocalypse Now. The local militia has declared war on the huge in-country United Nations peacekeeping operation in Somalia, a country being ravaged by famine and civil uprising; when U.S. Rangers and an elite Delta Force team are sent in to capture Mohammed Farrah Aidid, the self-proclaimed president of the country, their Black Hawk helicopters are shot down and they suffer heavy casualties (to say the least) as they engage in battle on the ground. Black Hawk Down expertly depicts just how insane war can be; Scott exercises a sense of “controlled chaos” in telling this story based on Mark Bowden’s nonfiction book, with bullets flying and men screaming and things exploding like it’s truly the end of the world. The impressive ensemble cast includes Josh Hartnett, Eric Bana, Ewan McGregor, Tom Sizemore, Tom Hardy and Orlando Bloom, among others; the film was nominated for four Academy Awards, including a Best Director nod for Scott, and won two (Best Film Editing and Best Sound).
Hilary Swank may be flailing about now with ill-advised appearances at the birthday parties of foreign dictators and supporting roles in wretched studio write-offs like New Year’s Eve, but back in 1999 she was the talk of the town with her stunning performance as Brandon Teena, a woman disguised as a man who ended up being the victim of a brutal hate crime. Director Kimberly Peirce’s slow-burn drama is actually rather grungy-romantic in its depiction of Brandon’s relationship with Lana Tisdel (Chloe Sevigny) and their plans to move to Memphis, where Lana will pursue a karaoke career; the film’s odd white-trash fairy tale tone makes the eventual violence all the more powerful — and enraging. Peter Saarsgard and Brendan Sexton III are both quite good as Brandon’s ex-convict “friends” and Sevigny received a well-deserved Oscar nomination for Best Supporting Actress, but this is Swank’s show all the way — she completely transformed herself both inside and out to play an almost unplayable role. Swank’s performance earned her the Oscar for Best Actress, among several other awards — truly, her other Oscar-winning performance, in Clint Eastwood’s Million Dollar Baby, seems curiously unimpressive as compared to this one.
Ed Harris rules in this hot-blooded biography film about Jackson Pollock, a brilliant abstract expressionistic painter whose love of drink and women as well as his diagnosed neurosis often got the better of him — and put an almost constant strain on his longtime on-again, off-again relationship with fellow artist Lee Krasner (Marcia Gay Harden). Pollock is not only an insightful look into the life and (fractured) mind of one of the 20th century’s most underrated and underappreciated (at least during most of his lifetime) painters but also a rare exploration of the New York art scene of the ’40s and ’50s. This was a longtime dream project for Harris, who also directs (and did all of the paintings); his fiery performance earned him a Best Actor Oscar nomination, with Harden taking home Best Supporting Actress for her strong and sensitive portrayal of the woman who tolerated Pollock’s behavior because, well, she “got” him. Val Kilmer makes for an amusingly fey Willem de Kooning, one of Pollock’s colleagues; Harris’ future A Beautiful Mind co-star Jennifer Connelly plays Ruth Kligman, Pollock’s mistress and fellow artist — and the only survivor of the 1956 car crash that took the lives of Pollock and Ruth’s friend, Edith Metzger.
A terrific tale of winners and losers and how any given person will never completely be one or the other, The Hustler stars Paul Newman as ‘Fast Eddie’ Felson, a small-time pool hustler who sets out to prove himself as the best player in the country by taking on and beating the legendary Minnesota Fats (Jackie Gleason), a seemingly insurmountable task that comes with a great personal price. Director Robert Rossen’s adaptation of Walter Tevis’ 1959 novel is a triumph of direction, acting, cinematography and editing, with the film’s realistic characterizations and dialogue and male-centric storyline contradicting its frequent comparisons to film noir. Nominated for nine Academy Awards but the winner of only two (Best Art Direction and Best Cinematography, both in the Black & White subcategory); Newman made something of a Fast Eddie-style comeback himself when he went on to actually score the Best Actor Oscar 25 years later when he reprised his role in Martin Scorsese’s excellent sequel, The Color of Money, a win that many see as belated recognition for his performance in The Hustler.
An emotionally exhausting drama that was rather notorious at the time of its release due to its X rating (though it would barely qualify for an R today), Midnight Cowboy stars Jon Voight as Joe Buck, a young Texan who quits his dishwashing job and heads to New York City, reinventing himself as a sexual hustler in rodeo cowboy garb; once there, he clashes with and then befriends Enrico ‘Ratso’ Rizzo (Dustin Hoffman), a crippled small-time con man — together they traverse the mean streets of the Bad Apple, with Ratso dreaming of a life in Miami as his health steadily declines. While the film’s “deviant” sexual content has stolen a lot of the conversational spotlight over the years, Midnight Cowboy is actually a very moving and ultimately heartbreaking story of a highly unlikely and very powerful friendship; it’s also quite the bittersweet valentine to NYC, portrayed as a place where lost souls go to either embrace or destroy each other. Nominated for seven Academy Awards, including a Best Supporting Actress nod for Sylvia Miles (who’s on screen for less than four minutes), and won three: Best Picture, Best Director (John Schlesinger) and Best Adapted Screenplay.
Director Milos Forman’s pitch-black comedy in which the crazies take over the madhouse is an anti-authoritarian classic, an angry yet often playful insurrection against “the system” led with charm and charisma by Jack Nicholson‘s Randle Patrick McMurphy, a self-described “goddamn marvel of modern science,” and countered with cruelty and cunning by Louise Fletcher’s Nurse Mildred Ratched. Alternately hilarious and harrowing, One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest may inspire you to start a revolution of your own — or at least take the day off to go fishing (or perhaps arrange for an orgy). While it’s definitely Nicholson and Fletcher’s ball game, Brad Dourif is the pinch hitter with his terrific performance as the stuttering Billy Bibbit (the go-to scene-stealing character role in the stage adaptation as well); Danny DeVito and Christopher Lloyd also have good bits as the delusional Martini and the combative Taber, respectively. The film took home all five major Oscars (Picture, Actor, Actress, Director and Adapted Screenplay) in 1976, an accomplishment that hadn’t happened since 1934 with It Happened One Night and wouldn’t happen again until 1992 with The Silence of the Lambs — though, personally, we think they could’ve thrown in Best Supporting Actor for Dourif as well.
This lavish historical drama chronicles the last years of China’s Ching Dynasty through the life of Emperor Pu Ti (John Lone), from his ascent to the throne at age three to his incarceration and “participation” in the Communist Re-Education Program to his final years as a simple peasant who visits the Forbidden City as just another tourist. The Last Emperor might ultimately be a little too ambitious for its own good and the flashback/flash-forward narrative is sometimes hard to follow, but the film has nothing if not passion and conviction, making for an exciting, fascinating epic that’s often hypnotic in its visual beauty. Sumptuously directed (as always) by Last Tango in Paris director Bernardo Bertolucci with an almost Kubrickian sense of attention to detail; Lone is very effective as he underplays the title role, always bringing a sense of humble humanity to the man behind the throne. A stunning cinematic accomplishment, if not a perfect one, and the winner of nine Academy Awards, including Best Picture, Best Director, Best Art Direction, Best Cinematography, Best Costume Design, Best Film Editing, Best Original Score, Best Sound and Best Adapted Screenplay.
Jane Campion’s more than a little creepy/icky mid-19th century drama stars Holly Hunter as Ada McGrath, a mute Scotswoman who expresses herself through her expert piano playing and sign language interpreted by her young daughter, Flora (Anna Paquin). Ada is sold into marriage by her father to a New Zealand frontiersman (Sam Neill) but soon embarks on a bizarre (and, yeah, a bit creepy/icky) affair with George Baines (Harvey Keitel), a forester and retired sailor who has since adopted the customs of the Maori, the country’s indigenous Polynesian people. The Piano is, honestly, more of a curiosity piece than a “great movie,” though Campion definitely scores points for originality (and a sense of wild, creative abandon) — even though, as with most of her films, her aggressive feminist agenda sometimes gets in the way of things like, well, relatable characters and motivations. Winner of three Oscars: Best Actress (Hunter), Best Supporting Actress (Paquin) and Best Original Screenplay; at age 11, Paquin was the second-youngest actress to receive the award after Tatum O’Neal, who was 10 when she won for Paper Moon. The film’s real “winner,” though, is Michael Nyman, whose exquisite piano score went on to be a bestselling soundtrack album.
“Hud — The Man with the Barbed Wire Soul!” Director Martin Ritt’s scrappy modern-day western chronicles the ongoing feud between Homer Bannon (Melvyn Douglas), a strict and unyielding rancher, and his son Hud (Paul Newman), a rowdy, seemingly amoral and potentially dangerous free spirit, with Homer’s teenage grandson and Hud’s nephew Lonnie (Brandon De Wilde) caught in the middle as he’s preparing to Become a Man. This adaptation (and modern-day updating) of Larry McMurtry’s novel is a hoot and a holler, with both Newman and Douglas delivering passionate and combative performances as they constantly try to one-up each other (Douglas’ Oscar-winning work here definitely has an air of “Lemme show ya how it’s done, kid”); Newman’s desire to play this rambunctious “bourbon cowboy” apparently came out of frustration over the censors messing with two of his previous releases, Cat on a Hot Tin Roof and Sweet Bird of Youth. Nominated for seven Oscars and won three: Best Actress (Patricia Neal, though many have argued that the brevity of her role as Bannon housekeeper Alma Brown made it more suitable for Supporting Actress), Best Supporting Actor (Melvyn Douglas) and Best Cinematography (Black & White).
“Oh forgive me Paul for prattling away and making everything all oogy.” Director Rob Reiner‘s yang to Stand by Me‘s yin, Misery stars James Caan as Paul Sheldon, a successful author of romance novels who gets into a car accident after finishing what will be the final book in his bestselling series about a woman named Misery; he’s nursed back to health (sort of) by Annie Wilkes (Kathy Bates), his “number one fan” — and a completely psychotic lunatic who proceeds to verbally, emotionally and physically abuse him (to say the least) for months as he’s held prisoner in her isolated house in the snowy Colorado mountains. Based on the novel by Stephen King, Misery is a B-movie chamber drama that’s upgraded to the level of crowd-pleasing pop art thanks to a terrific performance by Caan, who does wonders with what’s little more than just a reactionary role — and a low-legendary one by Bates, who takes a completely ridiculous character and turns her into one of cinema’s most notorious (and quotable) villains. Bates won the Oscar for Best Actress; the role was offered to both Anjelica Huston (who turned it down due to conflicts with The Grifters) and Bette Midler (notch) before it went to her.
Marlee Matlin is nothing short of incredible in this adaptation of Mark Medoff’s acclaimed Broadway play, playing a deaf custodian at a New England school for the Deaf and Hard of Hearing who embarks on a passionate and tumultuous relationship with a fellow employee, an unorthodox speech teacher (William Hurt) who encourages her to speak after a near-lifetime of silence. Don’t let the ultra-pretentious title put you off; Children of a Lesser God is actually a very humble and intimate drama, rarely straying from the fascinating relationship at the heart of the story — Hurt is excellent, but Matlin is phenomenal, delivering a completely un-self-conscious and fearless performance as a troubled young woman who learns to overcome her fear of verbally expressing herself. Oscar-nominated for Best Picture, Best Adapted Screenplay, Best Actor, Best Actress and Best Supporting Actress (Piper Laurie); Matlin’s win at 21 made her the youngest actress to ever receive the award. Children is also the first film since 1926’s You’d Be Surprised to feature a deaf actor in a major role.
The spiritual older brother to Clint Eastwood’s Unforgiven, High Noon stars Gary Cooper as Will Kane, the longtime marshal of Hadleyville, New Mexico who turns in his badge after marrying a pacifist Quaker girl (Grace Cooper). When word comes in that Kane’s longtime nemesis, Frank Miller (Ian MacDonald), has dodged a jail sentence due to a legal technicality and is now en route with three of his cohorts looking for payback, Kane reinstates himself as marshal to take them on — alone, as no one in town is willing to help him. Perhaps the first true “anti-Western” with its themes of moral ambiguity and realistic approach to violence (both as an act and as part of human nature), High Noon was met with some criticism when it was first released from audiences who were expecting a more standard kind of shoot-’em-up, though no one could argue that Cooper was truly excellent as an aging lawman who’s not going to get out of this one without a few scrapes, both physical and emotional. There was initially some controversy over Cooper’s casting as, at age 50, he was almost 30 years older than his on-screen bride, Grace Kelly, but none of that mattered when it came time for the Oscars — he won Best Actor for his performance, with the film also awarded Best Film Editing, Best Original Score and Best Song (for “High Noon (Do Not Forsake Me, Oh My Darlin'”).
Director Hector Babenco’s dark and dreamy adaptation of Manuel Puig’s novel might be the oddest “odd couple” movie ever made as it tells the story of two completely different men who share the same Argentinian prison cell: Valentin Arregui (Raul Julia), a member of a leftist revolutionary group, and Luis Molina (William Hurt), a homosexual who’s been incarcerated for having sex with an underage boy. Despite their radically different political views (and basic lifestyles), the two strike up a strange friendship as Molina passes the time by describing scenes from his favorite movie, a Nazi propaganda film called “Her Real Glory” and which stars the “Spider Woman” of the title (played by Sonia Braga). It’s soon clear that Molina is more than he appears to be — and, for that matter, so is his political prisoner cellmate. While Kiss of the Spider Woman is rarely more than a photographed stage play (even with the “movie within a movie” framework), it’s definitely an exquisitely acted stage play, with Hurt turning in a fearless and fascinating performance that earned him the Oscar for Best Actor; Julia, who’s just as good, was robbed of a nomination for his ultimately much less flashy role. Kiss was also nominated for Best Picture, Best Director and Best Adapted Screenplay; the novel was later adapted as a stage musical in 1993.
When Frank Ross (John Pickard) is killed by his hired hand, Tom Chaney (Jeff Corey), his 14-year-old tomboy daughter Mattie (Kim Darby) is determined not to rest until Chaney is “barking in hell.” She hires the services of U.S. Marshal Reuben J. ‘Rooster’ Cogburn (John Wayne), a man whose hard drinking (and lack of a left eye) doesn’t keep him from having “true grit,” to track down Chaney, who’s now aligned with notorious criminal ‘Lucky’ Ned Pepper (Robert Duvall), a man whom Cogburn once wounded in a gunfight; accompanied by a Texas Ranger named La Boeuf (Glenn Campbell), they head into Indian Territory (Oklahoma, actually) on their mission of justice/vengeance. And so goes the first film adaptation of Charles Portis’ novel and one of the most beloved westerns of the ’60s, a movie that does its title justice with a truly, well, gritty tone and atmosphere; everything (and everyone) seems dirty and dangerous in this world where if a bullet doesn’t take you out, a rattlesnake bite just might. Wayne is gruff, surly and charismatic as Cogburn, a performance that earned him the Oscar for Best Actor; upon accepting the award, he exclaimed, “”Wow! If I’d known that, I’d have put that patch on 35 years earlier.” He actually would six years later when he reprised the role in Rooster Cogburn ( and the Lady), which would end up being his penultimate film.
A sometimes charming but ultimately devastating portrait of a mom and dad splitting up and the impact it has on their young son, Kramer vs. Kramer remains the most popular title mentioned when people are asked what film truly captures what it’s like to be a child of divorced parents (with Wes Anderson’s more whimsical but just as emotional The Royal Tenenbaums being a close second). The divorce of Ted and Joanna Kramer (Dustin Hoffman and Meryl Streep) is really just the Act One set-up; it’s the relationship between Ted and his son Billy (Justin Henry) as they begin a life without a wife/mom that’s the real heart and soul of the movie, with both Kramer men giving moving performances. Kramer vs. Kramer challenged Hollywood’s more traditional portrayals of fatherhood vs. motherhood and is considered by many to be a prime example of ’70s second-wave feminism, in cinema or otherwise; however you want to look at it, it definitely features some of Hoffman’s most vulnerable and humanistic work. Nominated for nine Oscars and won five: Best Picture, Best Director (Robert Benton, who would later go on to direct Hoffman in Billy Bathgate), Best Adapted Screenplay, Best Actor (Hoffman) and Best Actress (Streep).
Director Jim Sheridan‘s My Left Foot tells the true-life story of Christy Brown (Daniel Day-Lewis), an Irishman who went on to become a celebrated author, painter and poet — despite having severe cerebral palsy that left him with no physical control over any part of his body except for his left foot. Day-Lewis is quite incredible as Christy, bringing an intense physicality and raw emotion to a performance that must’ve been at least ten times more exhausting for him to pull off than it is for the audience to watch (he apparently broke two ribs by being in the hunched-over position for so long and, in true Daniel Day-Lewis style, often refused to come out of character); Sheridan and Day-Lewis also deserve credit for not portraying Brown as simply a victimized angel, often showing him to be a selfish and emotionally manipulative man. Brenda Fricker is also excellent as Christy’s strict and fiercely proud mother, Bridget, who insisted on raising Christy at home with her other children. Based on Brown’s own autobiography of the same name, My Left Foot vividly recreates working-class Dublin pre-, during and post-World War II, bringing a sense of gritty realism to what in many ways is a rather oddly whimsical tale. Nominated for five Academy Awards, including Best Picture, and winner of two: Best Actor (Day-Lewis) and Best Supporting Actress (Fricker)..
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“Now I want you to remember that no bastard ever won a war by dying for his country. He won it by making the other poor dumb bastard die for his country.” Patton isn’t so much a movie as it is a vessel for the force of nature that was General George S. Patton, here channeled through a truly astonishing and intimidating performance by a force of nature in his own right, George C. Scott. Director Franklin J. Schaffner’s film follows the WWII tank commander’s career from his stationing in North Africa through the invasion of Germany and into the fall of the Third Reich; even when a battle wasn’t being fought, Patton was always at war — indeed, it was his seething temper and his habit of not always following orders that led to him being relieved as the post-war Occupation Commander of Germany. Scott won the Oscar for Best Actor, but he refused to accept it, proclaiming — in true Patton style — a dislike for the voting process and the idea of acting competitions in general; additional Oscar wins include Best Picture, Best Director, Best Original Screenplay, Best Film Editing, Best Sound and Best Art Direction.
After all, you’ve got to pick a pocket or two! Director Carol Reed’s rousing, mischievous adaptation of the British stage musical (based, of course, on Charles Dickens’ novel, Oliver Twist) tells the story of a crafty orphan (Mark Lester) who runs away from an orphanage and joins a group of street-smart youngsters trained to be pickpockets by a vagabond mentor named Fagin (Ron Moody). Oliver! is a blast from start to finish, with songs including “Food, Glorious Food,” “As Long As He Needs Me,” “Consider Yourself” “Oom Pah Pah” and the show-stopping “I’d Do Anything”; Lester is terrific in the title role, as is Moody as the wily Fagin, a role that was turned down by Peter Sellers, Peter O’Toole and Dick Van Dyke. It’s odd to see Oliver Reed (who plays Fagin’s mean-spirited associate, Bill Sikes) in such a “family-friendly” film before becoming gonzo filmmaker Ken Russell’s go-to male muse, though we suppose him being the director’s nephew has something to do with his casting. Nominated for eleven Academy Awards and won six: Best Picture, Best Director, Best Original Score, Best Art Direction, Best Sound and the Special Academy Award for Choreography; Oliver! is also the first G-rated film to win the Oscar for Best Picture, with the winner the following year, Midnight Cowboy, being the first X-rated film to receive the award.
Director Bruce Beresford’s seemingly quaint redemption tale transcends to the realm of American myth thanks to Horton Foote’s emotionally complex screenplay and a first-rate performance by Robert Duvall as Mac Sledge, a country western singer looking to bury the sins of the past and find hope for the future. Mac’s drunken wanderings lead him to a Texas roadside motel run by Rosa Lee (Tess Harper), a beautiful young widow raising her son, Sonny (Allan Hubbard), all on her own; Mac’s promise for a new life as a surrogate husband and father is soon threatened when he’s reunited with his ex-wife, fellow country singer Dixie Scott (Betty Buckley), and his estranged 18-year-old daughter, Sue Ann (Ellen Barkin), which opens a closet that’s chock full of skeletons. Tender Mercies rated poorly in test screenings, which caused Universal to release it to a limited number of theaters with little publicity; the subsequent word of mouth must’ve been something strong, as the film went on to receive five Oscar nominations a good ten months after its release, including Best Picture, and won two: Best Actor (Duvall) and Best Original Screenplay (Foote). This remains Duvall’s only Oscar win to date, but if you had to pick just one, it’s definitely a good ‘un.
This dark and witty showbiz drama stars Bette Davis as Margo Channing, a Broadway star suffering an existential crisis at just turning forty; her emotional vulnerability (and bruised ego that could use some stroking) leaves her susceptible to the charms of Eve Harrington (Anne Baxter), a young and seemingly humble up-and-comer whom she takes under her wing but who’s actually scheming to take her place. All About Eve could be seen as something of a 60-years-earlier companion piece to Black Swan, another film about the trials and tribulations of “theatre people” that scored a Best Actress win for Natalie Portman; even though Davis was nominated but didn’t win for her performance, Roger Ebert considers Margo Channing to be her all-time greatest role — we can’t think of any reason to disagree. All About Eve was nominated for 14 Academy Awards and won six, including Best Picture, Best Director (Joseph L. Mankiewicz) and Best Supporting Actor (George Sanders); it’s also the only film in Oscar history to receive four female acting nominations (Bette Davis and Anne Baxter for Best Actress; Celeste Holm and Thelma Ritter for Best Supporting Actress).
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