Aguirre, Wrath of God (Herzog)
Apocalypse Now (Coppola)
Citizen Kane (Welles)
Dekalog (Kieslowski)
La Dolce Vita (Fellini)
The General (Keaton)
Raging Bull (Scorsese)
2001: A Space Odyssey (Kubrick)
Tokyo Story (Ozu)
Vertigo (Hitchcock)
To add a title, I must remove one. Which film can I do without? Not a
single one. One of my shifts last time was to replace Hitchcock's
"Notorious" with "Vertigo," because after going through both a shot at a
time during various campus sessions, I decided that "Vertigo" was,
after all, the better of two nearly perfect films.
The other titles I consider the best work by their directors. I
expect Coppola's "The Godfather" to be on this year's list again, and it
may even more higher. It is a great film. But "Apocalypse Now" is a
film which still causes real, not figurative, chills to run along by
spine, and it is certainly the bravest and most ambitious fruit of
Coppola's genius.
I've written before how its critical reputation was harmed after he
made an unwise statement at the Cannes premiere about being dissatisfied
with the ending. I was there the night he said it, on a yacht while
speaking with six or seven film critics. It was clear the film was a
triumph. This was a friendly informal offshore cruise. It was clear he
was referring to the fact that the film's 70mm version was intended to
play without end titles, which would be supplied by a brochure. The 35mm
ending was as we see it now. That's all he meant. An urban legend has
somehow perpetuated itself that he was referring to the entire Kurtz
segment.
More critics would say "8 1/2" was Fellini's greatest work, and
there is support for "Amarcord" and "La Strada." Sometimes the way you
consider a film depends on when and why you saw it, and what it meant to
you at that time. "La Dolce Vita" has become a touchstone in my life: A
film about a kind of life I dreamed of living, then a film about the
life I was living, the about my escape from my life. Now, half a century
after its release, it is about the arc of my life, and its closing
scene is an eerie reflection of my wordlessness and difficulty in
communicating. I still yearn and dream, but it is so hard to communicate
that--not literally, but figuratively. So the Fellini stays.
So does the Keaton. There must be a silent film, and I consider "The
General" to be his best. "Aguirre" is the most evocative expression of
Herzog's genius, and I admire it even more after watching him go through
it a shot at a time with Ramin Bahrani a few years ago at Boulder.
(Having agreed to do one of his films, it was the one he chose.)
"Citizen Kane" speaks for itself. "2001: A Space Odyssey" is
likewise a stand-along monument, a great visionary leap, unsurpassed in
its vision of man and the universe. It was a statement that came at a
time which now looks something like the peak of humanity's technological
optimism. Many would choose "Taxi Driver" as Scorsese's greatest film,
but I believe "Raging Bull" is his best and most personal, a film he
says in some ways saved his life. It is the greatest cinematic
expression of the torture of jealousy--his "Othello."
There must be an Ozu. It could be one of several. All of his films
are universal. The older I grow and the more I observe how age affects
or relationships, the more I think "Tokyo Story" has to teach us.
Kurosawa's "Ikiru" has as much to say, but in the rigid economy of the
Sight and Sound limitations, impossible choices are forced.
That leaves only one title to be replaced: "Dekalog," by Kieslowski.
This is an easy decision, because the magazine's new rules insist that
if you vote for, say, a pair of films ("The Godfather" and "The
Godfather Two"), or a trilogy (Ray's "Apu" trilogy or Kieslowski's
"Blue, White and Red trilogy), each film counts as a separate title.
Therefore, since "Dekalog" consists of ten films, averaging an hour
long, it would take all ten places on my list.
At one point in pondering this list, here's what I thought I would
do: I would simply start all over with ten new films. Once any film has
ever appeared on my S&S list, I consider it canonized. "Notorious"
or "The Gates of Heaven," for example, are still two of the ten best
films of all time, no matter what a subsequent list says.
I decided not to do that--trash the 2002 list and start again. It
was too much like a stunt. Lists are ridiculous, but if you're going to
vote, you have to play the game. Besides, the thought of starting with a
blank page and a list of all the films ever made fills me with despair.
So there must be one new film.
The two candidates, for me, are Charlie Kaufman's "Synecdoche, New
York" (2008) and Terrene Malick's "The Tree of Life" (2011). Like the
Herzog, the Kubrick and the Coppola, they films of almost foolhardy
ambition. Like many of the films on my list, they were directed by the
artist who wrote then. Like several of them, it attempts no less than to
tell the story of an entire life,
In "Synecdoche," Kaufman does this with one of the most audacious
sets ever constructed: An ever-expanding series of boxes or compartments
with which the protagonist attempts to deal with the categories of his
life. The film has the insight that we all deal with life in separate
segments, defined by choice or compulsion, desire or fear, past or
present. It is no less than a film about life.
In "The Tree of Life," Malick boldly begins with the Big Bang and
ends in an unspecified state of attenuated consciousness after death.
The central section is the story of birth and raising a family.
I could choose either film. I will choose "The Tree of Life" because
it is more affirmative and hopeful. I realize that isn't a defensible
reasons for choosing one film over the other, but it is my reason, and
making this list is essentially impossible, anyway.
Apart from any other motive for putting a movie title on a list like
this, there is always the motive of propaganda: Critics add a title
hoping to draw attention to it, and encourage others to see it. For
2012, I suppose this is my propaganda title. I believe it's an important
film, and will only increase in stature over the years.
