20. Big
Nowadays, Big has become a punchline of sorts. The plot hinges around the idea that adult businesswoman Susan Lawrence would choose to have a sexual relationship with her suspiciously childlike, innocent colleague. She’s not aware of the fact that he’s actually a twelve-year-old boy who was magically granted the ability to inhabit the body of an adult man. The dodgy plot mechanics do cause occasional discomfort, but the film provides a fresh take on a story that could have been played for easy laughs. The script is surprisingly sharp and has a lot to say about sexual politics in the yuppie environment.
It wouldn’t work without the electrifying chemistry generated by Tom Hanks and Elizabeth Perkins. They play a couple with a believable romantic connection, but also manage to develop multi-faceted, sympathetic characters who capture our interest as individuals, even before they get together. This is the rare 1980s children’s film that still holds up today. It remains just as entertaining as it was in 1988, and serves as a timely reminder of director Penny Marshall’s ability to make us laugh and cry in equal measure. – – – Zita Short
19. The Thin Blue Line
When a Philip Glass score connects with the film it’s accompanying, few things are as mesmerizing to experience. His minimalist motifs for Errol Morris’s third feature film are haunting as the director dissects the shooting of a Dallas police officer with on-camera interviews of the person sentenced to death row for the crime, a man (16 at the time of the shooting) he happened to meet that day, and police, witnesses and lawyers involved with the case, as well as re-enactments of the crime, and other moments.
For Morris, the re-enactments are not just about achieving a dramatic effect, but in showing us different perspectives on the crime, and the unreliability of memory; the result is comparable to his clear inspiration, Kurosawa’s Rashomon. Of course, the film is most famous for how it changed the lives of Randall Adams, the man found guilty of the crime, and David Harris, the man Adams met when he needed help, because of revelations in this film’s remarkable final half an hour, and Harris’s words to Morris in his final phone conversation with him in 1986. After defining his interests of stories on the outskirts of society with Gates of Heaven and Vernon, Florida, The Thin Blue Line shows him a master of exploring bigger ideas. – – – Brian Skutle
18. Mississippi Burning
In Alan Parker’s Mississippi Burning, Gene Hackman and Willem Dafoe star as mismatched FBI agents investigating the disappearance of three civil rights activists in small-town Mississippi. As they investigate, they run afoul of the corrupt local law enforcement and each other while trying to find the truth.
Parker plays fast and loose with the historical facts and uses the narrative to let his performers take big swings. Hackman’s repressed fury matches the film’s chaotic tone, while Dafoe and Frances McDormand play the straight-laced and moral centers of the film. Other character actors like Brad Dourif, Michael Rooker, Pruitt Taylor Vince and Stephen Tobolowsky add flavor to the festivities.
The real problem is the point-of-view. Despite taking place in the segregated Deep South, all the characters are white and the issue of civil rights is never viewed through an African American lens. The good guys are white, the bad guys are white. Any conflict is due to moral ambiguity and not about the actual civil rights issues. In a historical light, the film becomes problematic. As a pure exercise in entertainment, the actors turn Mississippi Burning into a success. – – – Benjamin Miller
17. Spoorloos / The Vanishing
How far will you go for your answers? That is the question at the black heart of George Sluizer’s The Vanishing. This ominous thriller follows Rex, a heartbroken and desperate man who after the disappearance of his beloved partner Saskia, is consumed by obsession in his quest to discover exactly what happened to her. Although Gene Bervoets excels as the understandably heartbroken and desperately panicked Rex, it is the performance of Bernard-Pierre Donnadieu as the mysteriously chilling Raymond, a disturbing man who claims to have knowledge of the Saskia’s fate, that lingers. He entices us down the rabbit hole with the promise of terrible enlightenment and so we follow Rex into darkness.
Unlike the toothless American remake to follow, The Vanishing’s denouement provides Rex his answers in a way that has haunted audiences for decades. Based on the story The Golden Egg by author Tim Krabbe (who also wrote the screenplay), the world presented here is one in which answers and obsessions come with a cost, one that is not fair but must be paid nonetheless. Many filmmakers since have attempted to capture the sweaty nerve-shredding dread and horror of The Vanishing (the rather good Kurt Russell vehicle Breakdown springs to mind), but few have packed the same incredible punch. Those in search of happy endings would do best to look elsewhere. – – – Gareth Green
16. Midnight Run
After reducing us to nervous puddles of sweat in Raging Bull and The Untouchables, Robert De Niro set his sights on comedy for this buddy comedy par excellence, proving that he could be every bit as charismatic and funny as he could be intimidating and scary. He’s matched perfectly by Charles Grodin, whose hangdog sardonic-ness constantly/ hilariously pushes De Niro’s coiled exterior to the brink.
Yet they’re both at the mercy of a screenplay (by George Gallo) that’s a marvel of economy, doling out the characters’ backstories one layer at a time until they they feel like fleshed-out human beings, while also making grander statements about the mistakes we’re destined to repeat until we break free of our nastier habits. A late scene set a fractured family home is startling for the way it voices this theme and makes it all matter. Martin Brest’s direction is astoundingly self-assured, and Danny Elfman’s jazzy-snazzy score is so atypical of his signature style that it’s a shame he’d never try anything so eclectic again. – – – D.W. Lundberg
15. Rain Man
Rain Man is a film that oozes with a mid to late 80s feeling and aesthetic. The audience is first resented with all-American pretty boy Charlie Babbitt, a struggling and frustrated entrepreneurial type who agonises over his collectibles business and nothing else. Emotionally stunted and perpetually angry, he collides with what seems to be his polar opposite, Raymond Babbitt, a quiet and expressive who also happens to be his long-lost brother. The two meet after Charlie seeks to hunt down his half of their late father’s will, and after finding out he’s family takes him inadvertently on a chaotic road trip across the Midwest, learning of his brother’s autistics ticks, traits and charms as he goes.
The character development of Charlie is the real striking point of the film, from unfeeling yuppie with a disdain for his brother and those like him, to a conscientious yet flawed individual who is just desperate to get to know his brother, Tom Cruise’s performance shines through. While panged by conservative and outdated attitudes to disability and learning difficulties, it can’t help but be charming and engrossing, as we watch two men re-connect after so many lost years. – – – George Walker
14. Τοπίο στην ομίχλη / Landscape in the Mist
Young Voula (Tania Palaiologou) and her little brother Alexandros (Michalis Zeke) appear to be on an important quest for family unity. Seeking out their supposed father far off in Germany, the two children head off on their clandestine trip where other adults they meet may mislead them or have them not knowing what to believe.
Greek filmmaker Theo Angelopoulos has a distinct, overwhelming habit of channeling Greek history and its modern culture through his films. This is no different, again utilising music and architecture to frame these kinfolk amidst the turmoils and the unknown of Greek civilisation. Eleni Karaindrou’s seering, romantic oboe enhances the traditional values of the picture while both bewitching and comforting its audience. – – – Robin Write
13. Dangerous Liaisons
It was a sensation in London’s West End with Alan Rickman and Lindsay Duncan as the leads, but in the move to a Hollywood production the bigger stars got their chance. John Malkovich, a bitterly intelligent actor, is somewhat miscast as Valmont, a viscount who treats women like toys to be broken and discarded. His diabolical counterpart is Glenn Close, astonishing as the Marquise de Merteuil, happily widowed and out for revenge on a society uninterested in her intelligence because she’s a woman. They bet on whether Valmont will be able to seduce the religious Madame de Tourvel (Michelle Pfeiffer, at the peak of her beauty). If he can prove in writing he has done so, the Marquise will sleep with him at last.
A wicked web of cruelty, betrayal, innocence destroyed, and love poisoned in the cradle is war as fought by women, most often against other women, but most coldly against men. Director Stephen Frears paints a beautiful canvas on location in northern France – Stuart Craig’s production design and James Acheson’s costumes rightfully won Oscars – and then sensibly stands back, allowing the actors to chew the scenery whole. Writer Christopher Hampton, who adapted his play and then this screenplay based on the 1782 French novel, and who also won the Oscar for Best Adapted screenplay, knows how to strike the cutting blow with words. Powered by the Marquise’s keen delight in causing harm to others and Close’s quicksilver manipulations of others, the story moves like a runaway train, smashing everything in its path.
We are not so far away from this time when the only power women had was in their ability to manipulate the men in their families. The original novel was one of the first to be written as an exchange of letters, and it was ripe for adaptation, because its most crucial action remains in its words. Watching people in gorgeous clothes and ridiculous wigs, sitting on expensive furniture in beautiful rooms, and casually devastating each other through brutal insults delivered with a cool smile is absolutely mesmerising. Very few movies are this knowing about emotional brutality, the entanglements of desire and power, and the endless interest of private indiscretions becoming public gossip. The Marquise’s complete collapse at the end, as she shatters a mirror while screaming at her maids, could have been camp if the emotional price had not been so openly and thoroughly paid. – – – Sarah Manvel
12. Krótki film o zabijaniu / A Short Film About Killing
If this were not a film by the magnificent Krzysztof Kieślowski, A Short Film About Killing may well be a mere film about that fatal act itself. The adaptation of his own Dekalog: Five allows us to witness the Polish filmmaker in full chance-meeting form. As the three main characters, taxi driver Waldemar (Jan Tesarz), seemingly aimless Jacek (Mirosław Baka) and a young lawyer Piotr (Krzysztof Globisz) all are theoretically exposed to killing.
Killing is anything but an actual murderous rampage, but like A Short Film About Love (and other of Kieślowski’s work), it serves as a learning venture of those compelled by law and a rather bleak Poland, not to mention the impact of grief. The gritty lens filters used by cinematographer Slawomir Idziak enhance the weary world around those somewhat sombre souls. The film won the Jury Prize and FIPRESCI Prize at the 1988 Cannes Film Festival. – – – Robin Write
11. A Fish Called Wanda
British comedy can be an acquired taste. For some, the humor is too dry. Others don’t get it. When such an attempt is made to make the humor more accessible, it is hit or miss. Yet, when it works, it really works, as is the case with A Fish Called Wanda. Wanda and Otto are part of a heist team to steal diamonds from a bank, posing as siblings. After the heist, George the ringleader, hides the diamonds and his partner, Ken, hide the key. Wanda and Otto rat out George but are unable to steal the loot without the key.
Wanda has a plan to seduce George’s lawyer, Archie Leach, thinking that he has knowledge of the loot. Leach is stuck in a loveless marriage and deals with a spoiled daughter. The more Leach sees Wanda, the more he falls in love with her. Otto’s jealousy mucks up Wanda’s attempts to get the vital information. Some of the film’s funniest sequences involve Ken trying to kill the prosecution’s witness.
John Cleese, Jamie Lee Curtis, and Kevin Kline work together with sharp precision. Cleese plays the upper-class Brit with restraint, contrasting Kline as Otto, the ugly American. Curtis is charming as the love interest for Leach. Michael Palin manages to juggle the delicate nature some may have to Ken’s stutter. If you’re familiar with the comedy offerings of Britain, chances are you’ve seen A Fish Called Wanda. If not, then this film is a solid place to start. – – – Mackenzie Lambert
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