John's Top 10 Movies of 2022 (that aren't from 2022)

As you might imagine, in my house the movies of 2022 are only part of the equation.  Last year, I saw a grand total of 312 movies, most of them first-time releases outside of 2022, stretching all the way back to films from the 1920's.  So in addition to our Top 10 of 2022 that I released this morning, I am also releasing a Top 10 of films that I saw for the first time in 2022...that weren't released in 2022.  A few of these might look familiar from our past marathons-I've included full reviews to the films if want to see my expanded thoughts on each of these.  Enjoy! 

The American Friend (1977)

dir. Wim Wenders

Wim Wenders plays with color in a way that's hard to grasp-I literally found myself pausing at key scenes of this movie because I was so struck by the beauty of what was happening onscreen.  Hopper & Ganz get into a tough duet, as both of them find that they're drawn to one another...even if they're also trying to ensure the other's doom.

Badlands (1973)

dir. Terrence Malick

For the 10th anniversary of this blog, we made a point of doing a month-long tribute to one of my all-time favorite directors Terrence Malick (hence him appearing three times on this list).  This was his first film, and narratively feels like a hipper, younger sibling to the sexiness of Bonnie & Clyde just a few years earlier.

The Blair Witch Project (1999)

dir. Daniel Myrick & Eduardo Sanchez

I genuinely remember being the only person in my high school that didn't see this in theaters, even to the point where I remember the "fake" websites associated with it.  23 years after the fact, it is beyond the hype, a fascinating look at both human nature and our ability to ensure our own doom as we wander, ever deeper into the dark.

Days of Heaven (1978)

dir. Terrence Malick

Is this the most beautiful movie ever made?  I defy you to find me a prettier one, as Malick takes an epic romance, under the guise of an increasingly loveless marriage, but more so he shows the wide expanses of an untamed America.  Flawless, and Ennio Morricone's score definitely adds to the equation.

Kiss Me Deadly (1955)

dir. Robert Aldrich

There's nothing I love more than a "march into hell" narrative in a classic detective narrative, but from the opening moments where Ralph Meeker meets a frightened Cloris Leachman (sensational in her film debut), you understand that there is no going back for anyone here-everything about this story is going to end up fighting for its life, and the unknown of "what's in the box."

Memento (2001)

dir. Christopher Nolan

Between Blair Witch, Memento, and a 1996 slasher I'm listing below, you might say that 2022 was the year I made up for a lot of what I missed by not watching R-rated zeitgeist hits in middle/high school.  Told backward, you still learn more as you go, and understand the haunting nastiness that Guy Pearce's lead has found himself in (even though he has no idea that's where he is).

Night Moves (1975)

dir. Arthur Penn

Gene Hackman, long gone from movies while the Pacino's and De Niro's continue working, was the perfect everyman in this spooky lusty neo-noir, a movie that only could have been made in the wake of Watergate...when no one trusts anyone.

Scream (1996)

dir. Wes Craven

Yes, I saw Scream for the first time this year and somehow had had very little of it spoiled.  In reality, I became obsessed with Scream this year, plowing through the series in a way that I had never thought I could with a horror franchise.  The way it first breaks horror tropes and then messes with you knowing you can't change your expectations...it's a wild, impossible-to-resist ride.

The Thin Red Line (1998)

dir. Terrence Malick

Malick's third film is perhaps the greatest anti-war film ever made, and he barely has to utter a word to make it happen.  These young men, just barely into their adulthoods, shot down before they understand who they are.  John Toll's cinematography is so telling, lingering first on the dead men, and then on the bullets that will actually be found by generations to come.

What's Up, Doc? (1972)

dir. Peter Bogdonavich

I caught this in a retro screening (the only one of these ten I caught on the big screen) by accident, and my audience...they ate it up.  Streisand has NEVER been funnier (I honestly didn't know she could be tis funny), and paired with a sexy, nerdy Ryan O'Neal, every inch of this movie (clearly borrowing from Bringing Up Baby) is a riot.

Voyage of Time (2016)

Film: Voyage of Time (2016)

Stars: Cate Blanchett

Director: Terrence Malick

Oscar History: No nominations

Snap Judgment Ranking: 4/5 stars

As part of our month-long celebration of the 10th Anniversary of The Many Rantings of John, I am completing all of the remaining gaps in my Terrence Malick filmography (one of my favorite film directors) with what we're calling "Terry Tuesdays" throughout June.

While it is not on a Tuesday (I almost put it tomorrow, but figured I'd stick to the long weekend promise), we are finishing up the "Terry Tuesdays" lineup with Voyage of Time, the final film I needed to see to have completed the entire filmography of one of my favorite directors.  Malick's documentary is a unique film in a variety of ways.  First, there are technically two versions of this movie.  The longer version, which we'll discuss today, played at film festivals, specifically in Venice & Toronto, but if you saw this in theaters in the United States, it was likely a shorter, IMAX version that was narrated by Brad Pitt.  I live in Minnesota, and when this was initially released it only played in one theater in my state, and it was at the Minnesota State Zoo of all places, which meant that my budget-conscious heart at the time couldn't afford the price of both the movie AND the zoo ticket (2016 was a time of saving in my world as I was shoveling away for a new house).  I assumed I'd be able to catch it on home release, but the movie is next to impossible to find in the United States, and I had to get an international copy of the DVD to finally be able to watch it (Criterion, if you're listening, a Malick box set would be most appreciated, and adding this movie into that collection would be a wise move).

(Spoilers Ahead) The movie is the culmination of a project that Malick has been attempting since the early 1980's.  Essentially, though it's a documentary really it's more of a visual art project, showing us initially shots of human beings playing and enjoying life, and then moving all the way back to the Big Bang.  We then see the entire history of our solar system, including evolution, dinosaurs, mass extinction, the evolution of man, and the eventual demise of the sun.  Malick intersperses the movie with heavy-handed narration from Cate Blanchett (in full Galadriel mode) talking about "mothers" and speaking almost in poetry, rarely adding a lot to the actual happenings onscreen.

Voyage of Time is stunning, and I definitely liked it.  I think the dinosaur sequence and the later hunting sequences, despite being scenes that were not gorgeous cinematography (which abounds) might be the most successful because they provide the most narrative structure.  I will admit that I wished Pitt was the narrator not because I don't like Blanchett (I do), but because I feel like Blanchett's already so well-known for narrating the Lord of the Rings any movie that welcomes comparison does so while also inviting inferiority (no one can compete with The Lord of the Rings).  Watching this movie, I was struck by how much of it also borrows from The Tree of Life, which is a better Malick property.  You almost get the sense that while this is the movie Malick always wanted to make, he got tired of waiting for it to happen and made a version of this tale with The Tree of Life instead.  If you don't like Malick or have a low tolerance for him, this movie is not for you, but as I am a superfan, I left happy.

And with that, we not only finish up "Terry Tuesdays" but also our monthlong 10th Anniversary celebration.  I hope you enjoyed this extravaganza of posts & our multiple series & retrospectives.  We will continue into July with a new Oscar Viewing Project starting tomorrow as well as more reviews, politics, & whatever else comes to mind, but I am so thankful you joined me, and that I have this little corner of the internet to share my thoughts & passions with you.

OVP: The Thin Red Line (1998)

Film: The Thin Red Line (1998)

Stars: Sean Penn, Adrien Brody, Jim Caviezel, Ben Chaplin, George Clooney, John Cusack, Woody Harrelson, Elias Koteas, Nick Nolte, John C. Reilly, John Travolta

Director: Terrence Malick

Oscar History: 7 nominations (Best Picture, Director, Adapted Screenplay, Film Editing, Score, Sound, Cinematography)

Snap Judgment Ranking: 5/5 stars

As part of our month-long celebration of the 10th Anniversary of The Many Rantings of John, I am completing all of the remaining gaps in my Terrence Malick filmography (one of my favorite film directors) with what we're calling "Terry Tuesdays" throughout June.

Terrence Malick took 20 years between Days of Heaven and his next picture.  During that time, he wrote a number of screenplays that were never produced, including one called Q that would later serve as the basis for two of his films, The Tree of Life and Voyage of Time.  He finally returned, after two decades of time off to film an adaptation of James Jones' classic novel about World War II, The Thin Red Line.  Malick at this point had not entirely abandoned the concept of a truly linear plot, but it was obvious that was where he was headed.  You could make a legitimate argument that this is the last movie with characters that really seem to run together, with actual spoken dialogue that grounds together a story (though The New World and The Tree of Life have this to some degree, even though they become more-and-more abstract).  The film, though, would become legendary given it would establish Malick's strange reputation as someone who could assemble a gargantuan movie star lineup...and then become distracted by a parrot in the cutting room floor.

(Spoilers Ahead) The movie starts with Private Witt (Caviezel) stuck on an island in the South Pacific after going AWOL.  After being captured, he's allowed to return to the military rather than face certain imprisonment, but he must do so as a member of the 25th Infantry Division as a stretcher bearer, as they are invading the island of the Guadalcanal.  The days that follow are a series of attacks on the island against the Japanese, as they come face-to-face with death, intimately seeing the perils & pitfalls of war.  One soldier (played by Woody Harrelson) dies not from enemy fire but from accidentally pulling the pin out of his grenade and blowing himself in half.  Throughout this time, we see personifications of the glory of war in Nick Nolte, the glory of peace through Caviezel's Witt, the glory of humanity in Elias Koteas loving Captain Staros, and the reality of survival through Sgt. Welsh (Penn).

The movie has about a 50/50 split between spoken dialogue and narration, and there are moments when this is confusing.  The movie hires a number of well-known actors, some of whom are easily identifiable as narrators (Sean Penn & Nick Nolte are difficult to mistake), but because there's so little traditional character-buildling outside of Nolte, Penn, Koteas, & Caviezel, when they aren't the narrators (which is often) it's sometimes hard to distinguish who is who.  Similar to The Tree of Life, which was overwhelming the first time I viewed it, I suspect I'll find that it's easier to decipher upon repeat viewings.

Because there will be repeat viewings of this.  We are 3/3 in masterpieces out of Malick, as I see the last "important" film of his career (we have one more late stage Malick next week that I haven't seen that will cap this collection).  The movie is probably the most-lauded of Malick's epics, getting seven Oscar nominations, and while part of that is the subject matter (war films tend to do well with AMPAS), it's also deserved.  The film's alternating perspectives on different characters gives it a sense of balance while sticking to its central thesis that war is tragic, no matter one's views on the merits of the conflict.  We see young men, barely into the prime of life, torn apart.  There's a terrific bit of dialogue late in the picture where a young man says something along the lines of "I've had a long life even if I'm young" and while in another movie that would've read as "proud & brave...imagine what these men have been through" here it reads as pablum.  This man is ready to give up his life, but he hasn't even lived it yet & has no concept of what he's saying, sacrificing his youth for ivory tower figures like those played by John Travolta who has no concept of the early days of war anymore it is such a distant memory they only believe the pablum.

The cinematography, by Oscar winner John Toll, is stupendous.  Malick & Toll underline their script not just with grand looks at the ocean & tall grass providing these men minimal cover for their lives, but also with throwaway shots like a panning look across a rocky cliff, the only sign of these men's sacrifice a littered pile of bullet casings that may sit on this island in the middle of the Pacific for the next 50 years without movement, the entire lifetime of the men who shot them...had they not died.  Combined with an iconic Hans Zimmer score (some of his best work) and realistic movie makeup (the dying-and-blood feels very real, particularly by the standards of 1998 with only traditional visual effects on display), and you have one of Malick's most proficient technical films.

The editing, apparently cut down from a five-hour runtime, is the stuff of Hollywood legend at this point.  George Clooney has laughed about this in interviews, saying how much he was basically trimmed out of the story to only appear onscreen for about 90 seconds.  Adrien Brody found it less funny.  In the book, his character is central to the story, and so for Brody, who was a young actor who  hadn't struck it big yet (unlike Clooney, then in his ER heyday), it was a big deal.  But at the premiere of the film, Brody supposedly found out that he was not only not the lead, but had been trimmed down so much that he was barely in the movie.  Indeed, if there was an actual line spoken by Brody directly onscreen as opposed to just talking in a group shot, I missed it...his wide eyes more a prop to help him standout in a crowd shot than the lead part, which is delegated to Caviezel in particular.  This would become something of a refrain for Malick, who would increasingly see major stars trimmed from his movies, some deeply upset about it even when they're still in a large chunk of the movie like Christopher Plummer (whom, it's worth noting, I would've cited for the Oscar for his work in The New World).  Next week we will conclude our look at the films of Terrence Malick as I watch my final gap in his filmography.

OVP: Days of Heaven (1978)

Film: Days of Heaven (1978)

Stars: Richard Gere, Brooke Adams, Sam Shepard, Linda Manz

Director: Terrence Malick

Oscar History: 4 nominations/1 win (Best Sound, Cinematography*, Costume Design, Score)

Snap Judgment Ranking: 5/5 stars

As part of our month-long celebration of the 10th Anniversary of The Many Rantings of John, I am completing all of the remaining gaps in my Terrence Malick filmography (one of my favorite film directors) with what we're calling "Terry Tuesdays" throughout June.

One of the fascinating aspects of Terrence Malick's filmography, especially for me looking backward right now (I have seen virtually all of his recent work but until this month had never seen his first three pictures) is that by the time The New World and especially The Tree of Life had come around, there was very little plot in the films in a traditional sense.  Many actors have complained about this (perhaps the most vocal being Christopher Plummer), but it's one of the things I love about his movies.  They're gorgeous, but they're also very much mood portraits, about trying to capture a feeling or a belief or a meaning beyond what you'd normally get with a film.  Days of Heaven, Malick's second feature film, was not well-received by audiences in 1978 when it came out (it was not particularly successful, despite some critical praise and getting four Oscar nominations), but by Malick's standards the plot of this one is pretty structured, and provides a meaningful story in addition to breathtaking photography.

(Spoilers Ahead) Taking place in the 1910's, Bill (Gere), his girlfriend Abby (Adams), and his kid sister Linda (Manz) are on the run after Bill accidentally kills the steel mill foreman at his job.  They ride across the country on trains (with Abby pretending to be Bill's sister to prevent the gossip of them being unmarried but clearly having sex), and come across a man that is simply known as the Farmer (Shepard) in the movie, who is a wealthy man who runs a gigantic estate.  Initially they are just day laborers on his farm, but Bill soon learns that the Farmer is dying, and will only have about a year to live.  Eyeing an easier life for he & his makeshift family, Bill hatches a plot-he'll remain Abby's brother and convince her to marry the Farmer.  Then, when the Farmer dies, Abby will inherit the entire estate.  This works for a while-the Farmer loves & marries Abby, but the plan begins to work too well-Abby begins to fall for the Farmer, and he doesn't seem to be getting any sicker.  When the Farmer finds out about Bill & Abby's plan, he flies into a rage (during a locust swarm), and sets fire to his wheat fields.  This leads to a standoff between Bill & the Farmer which results in Bill killing him with a screwdriver.  Bill runs away with Abby & Linda, but is quickly caught and killed, with Abby inheriting the farm, though her boundless spirit continues, with both she and Linda eventually running off in opposite directions, continuing their lives as drifters.

Though the film has more plot than your average Malick film, as I said, it does feel like it's operating on a different plane.  The fact that the Farmer doesn't have a name should tell you something about it being a bit dreamy, but it works really well.  We get to see a disarming treatise about love & betrayal, with each person in the love triangle distinct enough in their imperfections without ever feeling like they're caricatures or behaving badly to advance the plot.  I thought the acting was uniformly good, particularly Shepard as the Farmer.  The lovers don't care to define him, and I think that works really well as we begin to test his limits & what he's capable of as the film shifts toward him bitterly resenting these people taking advantage of him in his "final" days.

The movie won four Oscar nominations, all of them warranted.  Ennio Morricone famously disliked working with Malick, but you can't argue with the results.  A recurrent theme that feels like it's capturing the beauty of the American spirit before it is forever altered by World War I is felt throughout the movie.  The sound work, period costumes, & Jack Fisk's daring outdoor design are also worthy (though Fisk sadly wasn't nominated), but with Days of Heaven, you think first-and-foremost about the cinematography.  I say this knowing it's a recent film viewing, but I cannot help but indulge in some hyperbole...Days of Heaven might be the most beautiful film ever made.  Malick famously uses natural light, which feels awash on the house in the middle of a giant field, giving us just scene-after-scene of oil paintings (it doesn't hurt that he cast Richard Gere at his most ravishing, looking every bit the Raphael-inpsired young god).  The scene with the locusts, which had to be filmed backward to get a realistic effect (this was before CGI was widely-used), has to be seen to be believed.  In an era where you seemingly cannot win Best Cinematography without a Best Picture nomination, I'm glad Oscar realized what they had on their hands and gave Nestor Almendros his richly-deserved statue.

Badlands (1973)

Film: Badlands (1973)

Stars: Martin Sheen, Sissy Spacek, Warren Oates

Director: Terrence Malick

Oscar History: The film was actually eligible in 1974, for the record (it is famously a "1973" movie but it was only at film festivals that year), but got no nominations despite a generally enthusiastic reception when it first came out.

Snap Judgment Ranking: 5/5 stars

As part of our month-long celebration of the 10th Anniversary of The Many Rantings of John, I am completing all of the remaining gaps in my Terrence Malick filmography (one of my favorite film directors) with what we're calling "Terry Tuesdays" throughout June.

One of the weirder aspects about doing "Terry Tuesdays" (which we'll do chronologically the next four weeks) is that most of the Malick films I haven't seen are the "classics."  While Malick doesn't have a particularly long filmography, by-and-large I've seen the deep cuts.  As a result, you aren't going to get short-changed here with a lot of Knight of Cups, but instead we're going to dive into one of the most important films of the 1970's, Badlands.  While Malick had worked in the film industry before this making short films and as a script revisor (he reportedly was an uncredited contributor to Dirty Harry), Badlands was his first film, and luckily for Malick, he came of age in the 1970's, when major studios were taking a chance on a director as unorthodox as Malick, which is why Warner Brothers was willing to back such an iconic film with actors who were still up-and-coming (though Malick, true-to-form, was able to pick out the legends that would be Martin Sheen & Sissy Spacek).

(Spoilers Ahead) For those who have been raised on modern Malick, it might surprise you that Badlands has a relatively conventional approach to story, one where the script is actually pertinent and it's not just about the natural surroundings & feeling of the film (which would become his trademark in the decades to come in movies like The New World and The Tree of Life).  The film involves Kit Carruthers (Sheen), a troubled young 25-year-old who falls in love with a teenage Holly Sargis (Spacek), whose mother has recently died and is now living with her father (Oates).  Holly falls for Kit because he looks like James Dean (the film is set in the 1950's), and when they decide to run away together, Holly's father stops them, and in a moment of surprise, Kit kills him.  The two run away, burning down their house, and become fugitives on the lam, with Kit increasingly exhibiting bloodlust (killing police officers, and at one point, a friend of his for no reason), until they are caught by the authorities, with Holly getting off (and eventually marrying her attorney's son), while Kit is executed for his crimes, though he's experienced a semblance of fame as a result of his crime spree.

Badlands was not nominated for a lot of Oscars when it first came out, but it was recognized pretty quickly as a remarkable achievement, and it's hard not to see why critics became obsessed with it.  The movie is gorgeous, though because it's 1974 the cinematography might seem underwhelming compared to the ceaseless beauty of The New World.  However, compared to pretty much any other outdoors scenes being shot in 1974, you'd be hard-pressed to find a film that could compare.  The Montana and South Dakota Badlands are a wonder to behold, and there are moments where the camera has taken over, totally telling the story despite the film's relatively conventional (at least for Malick) approach to the screen.  It's a crime that the film wasn't nominated at least for Cinematography.

But Malick's style isn't just about pretty pictures-it's about capturing a mood, about capturing a longing, and that's what he does here.  Badlands finds something really rough but beautiful in the promise of these two young people, who are given the one thing in American culture you can commodify but you can never truly sell: youth...and shows how it comes with an aching to understand that is only possible with age.  The way that the two slowly realize that they are in love not with each other, but with the idea of being young-and-in-love, crossing the plains only for a short time, is glorious.  The film is also not shy about violence, but unlike Bonnie & Clyde (one of my favorite movies, so don't take this as a slight), this isn't glamorized, but instead it's lackadaisically vicious.  It's not entirely clear if romantic, dreamer Kit is just misguided or a full-on sociopath, but it feels like Malick is hinting at the latter, which makes his handsomeness & disarming charisma all the scarier amidst these soft meadows. Badlands understand that the American dream isn't real, and if you admit that, none of the myths about the American experience can hold much water...but that doesn't mean that they aren't important weights that enforce our experience here.

John's Best of 2019

I've made you wait long enough!  While Oscar has only unveiled his list, I will be joining him in that regard this week by also giving over my Top 10 of the year.  2019 has been one of my favorite cinematic years in a while.  This isn't just because, through this blog, I was able to see dozens of obscure new films, but also because the films that came out in this annum were genuinely great.  We talked about the Worst of the Year yesterday, and I don't want to keep that taste in your mouth for long (we'll be looking at the best-of-the-decade lists in mid-February, as I want to savor awards season for a bit longer).  Without further adieu, here are my Top 10 films of 2019 (alphabetically-you'll get the ranked list in the decade recap):

1917 (dir. Sam Mendes)

A harrowing look into the eyes of World War I, from the viewpoint of Roger Deakins, giving us a master class in cinematography.  The two epic chase scenes count among the best I've seen not just this year, but this decade, in an action movie.

Ad Astra (dir. James Grey)

A thought-provoking meditation on what it is to dream of something larger.  Space epics have been all the rage in recent years, but this one somehow finds a way to make space seem truly infinite, and shows through Brad Pitt's thoughtful performance an ability to make our human experience seem equally as expansive.

End of the Century (dir. Lucio Castro)

Sexy (very sexy) at times, but as it unpacks it's also a look at regret.  End of the Century is in the same vein as Before Sunset and Weekend, but it's also a movie that's about how the decisions we make stick with us, even if we never stop asking "what if?"

A Hidden Life (dir. Terrence Malick)

Malick is always on-form in my book, but he hasn't made a masterpiece like this since The Tree of Life.  A seismic film, brimming with some of the year's best visuals, and a look at one man's questioning of his morality, and what it means to find his place in this world (and the next).

The Irishman (dir. Martin Scorsese)

Put aside the occasionally squint-worthy de-aging, and you have a movie that will stand the test of time.  De Niro, Pacino, and Pesci all show that they can still bring landmark performances, and that final hour is amongst the best things that Scorsese has ever put to celluloid.

The Last Black Man in San Francisco (dir. Joe Talbot)

It's hard to make a topic like gentrification sexy and interesting, but from the opening moments of Last Black Man, you know you're witnessing a movie that is truly special.  A great acting duet between leads Jimmie Fails & Jonathan Majors, you almost feel they've been truly friends their whole lives.

Marriage Story (dir. Noah Baumbach)

Speaking of great acting duets, you'd be hard-pressed to find a team better-suited for each other than Adam Driver & Scarlett Johansson, finding the tricky intricacies of divorce, and what happens when the person you most counted on in the world is suddenly your adversary.  Breathtaking & insightful.

Parasite (dir. Bong Joon-Ho)

There's a reason a foreign film was able to dominate the usually English language-preferring Academy: Parasite is too good to ignore.  At times a caper film, other times a horror, the movie is confident, aware, and an ensemble with no weak links.  You'll be thinking about this movie for years.

Transit (dir. Christian Petzold)

David Ehrlich called it "Casablanca as imagined by Kafka" and I couldn't have put it better.  Transit takes what we know about World War II films and turns it on its head, giving us a strange love story, and a mysterious man in the center of a tale you're never going to predict.  Franz Rogowski is a sensation.

Us (dir. Jordan Peele)

Lupita Nyong'o finally gets to follow up her Oscar win with something worthy of her, and Jordan Peele provides no sophomore slump with this (in my opinion, better than Get Out) horror film, giving us an acting showcase to go along with a genuinely creepy premise & satisfying finish.

A Hidden Life (2019)

Film: A Hidden Life (2019)
Stars: August Diehl, Valerie Pachner, Karin Neuhauser, Matthias Schoenaerts, Bruno Ganz, Franz Rogowski
Director: Terrence Malick
Oscar History: No nominations
Snap Judgment Ranking: 5/5 stars

I am a Terrence Malick fanboy.  A big one.  If you look on this blog, I even gave Song to Song a good review, and no one gave Song to Song a good review.  But after three films (To the Wonder, Knight of Cups, and Song to Song) that borrowed from the more abstract notions of Malick's greatest picture (that I've seen) The Tree of Life, and discarded the latter film's connection to plot, I was curious to see what Malick would do when he was, to quote the director, working with a "script that was very well ordered."  A Hidden Life is indeed his most structured film in a long time, though it would be considered a departure or more "avant garde" for pretty much any other auteur.  The movie, though, finds a power that Malick hasn't had since The Tree of Life, and grounds itself in spellbinding imagery and philosophy.

(Spoilers Ahead, though it's based on a true story and it's Terrence Malick, so "spoilers" is the wrong term here) The movie is, also in a bit of a departure for Malick, based on a true story.  Franz Jagerstatter (Diehl) was in fact an Austrian man who was a conscientious objector, refusing to fight for the Nazis during World War II.  Though it's not stated in the film, after his death (he was executed for refusing to fight) he would eventually be beatified by Pope Benedict XVI and declared a martyr.  Here we focus on his early life as a peasant farmer with his wife Fani (Pachner), and what happened after he refused to sign an oath declaring his loyalty to Adolf Hitler.  He is arrested, and we see his imprisonment and ultimate execution for refusing to bend his personal beliefs, and we also watch what this does to his wife at home, where the townspeople hate her for letting her husband be a "traitor."

This is all laid out relatively evenly-unlike the last three Malick films, this isn't something you have to sort of assume you know the plot because of the lack of dialogue.  While the script isn't brimming with conversation, there's passages here in a way that you wouldn't normally see from a modern Malick picture.  That being said, you of course see a lot of gorgeous shots of the natural world of Austria (Malick's usual cinematographer Emmanuel Lubezki isn't on hand here-Lubezki weirdly hasn't lensed a movie since Song to Song in 2017) with mountains and rivers a plenty to complement the consistent narration.

This is Malick's motif, and he finds a way to approach a story pretty much any director would cherish (it's a good story, and one that surprisingly hasn't been told onscreen before) in a method that feels more in line with faith rather than simply a standard "defying the Nazis" narration.  Malick's movies are about questioning the world around us, and trying to ask the big questions about the meaning of life and what God's existence might mean for our own.  The film is too long (it clocks in at nearly three hours), with perhaps too much time focused in the first hour on the labors of the Jagerstatter family, but its final 90 minutes is staggering, breathtaking visuals as well as a meaningful meditation on what two people can mean to each other, and what it means to stand on principles even when no one is watching.  Diehl's work is excellent here, as are small performances by Franz Rogowski (having a boffo year between this and Transit) and the late Bruno Ganz; he finds a sense of unrest in a sainted man, someone who must stand by his convictions not because of what his neighbors might think, but because of his need to stand clean before God.  Few films about faith are as powerful and connected to actual belief (rather than just leaning into something schmaltzy) as A Hidden Life.  In a lot of ways its not a throwback to Malick's other work, but instead Martin Scorsese's Silence.  As a fan of Malick's, I can hardly call this a "return to form" for a director I have liked every outing, but instead simply state that this is his best film since The Tree of Life, and a powerful installment from one of the most singular directors currently working.

Song to Song (2017)

Film: Song to Song
Stars: Michael Fassbender, Ryan Gosling, Rooney Mara, Natalie Portman, Cate Blanchett, Holly Hunter, Patti Smith
Director: Terrence Malick
Oscar History: No nominations
Snap Judgment Ranking: 3/5 stars

Few once-lauded directors have become easier punching bags in modern pop culture than Terrence Malick.  The deeply-private (he doesn't care for being called a recluse, though it might not be far from the truth), director has a style unlike pretty much any other filmmaker's working today, creating complicated, occasionally frustrating but always fascinating visual poems for the screen.  I am an ardent admirer of his work, and am currently in the process of trying to see everything he's ever done (anyone who can point me in the direction of a way to see Voyage of Time is about to become my new best friend), and have not given into the fashion of slamming his three most recent films, considering To the Wonder to be a masterpiece and Knight of Cups to be a fascinating if occasionally (too) boundless movie.  His most recent film Song to Song seems to have been the final in a trilogy of this experimental style (Malick has stated his next picture, which is somewhere in its production, will have a tighter narrative structure, though considering this is Terry we're talking about that could mean anything...it could also mean the movie won't be out for another twenty years, though it's rumored for a Spring 2019 release).  Either way, we do have Song to Song thankfully, and as I finally just caught it, I figured it was due a review on the blog.

(Spoilers Ahead) Like so many of his pictures, trying to define this in terms of actual plot is impossible.  The movie, though it has names for its characters, doesn't really use them-I think the only time anyone uses their name is Rooney Mara's Faye, and it's simply mouthed softly rather than something you can hear.  The movie takes a look at a romance between Faye and BV (Gosling), too aspiring musical artists, the latter of whom is enjoying more success than the former.  They enter the world of a record producer Cook (Fassbender), who promises to make all of their dreams come true and shows them in lavish, impossibly-gorgeous mansions and situations, but instead their relationship starts to drag apart.  In between that time, we see all three explore relationships with other people, with BV entering into an ultimately tragic romance with a waitress named Rhonda (Portman), and Gosling romancing Amanda (Blanchett, who I believe was uncredited despite a pretty substantial role in the film by Malick's standards, certainly more so than Holly Hunter's blink-and-you-missi-it performance as Portman's mother), but ultimately he returns to both his simple life on a drilling rig and Faye returns to him, their love sustaining them in a way their musical careers could not.

Song to Song has considerably more structure than Knight of Cups, so critics being divided on this film while seeming to prefer the former on such grounds feels a bit absurd.  The dialogue here isn't as crisp or as meaningful as his previous pictures, and in many ways Song to Song proves that it was To the Wonder that started a trilogy rather than The Tree of Life, the 2011 movie that restarted Malick's career but has considerably more narrative force than any of his three later (fictional) pictures.  The movie has a heavy use of cameos, including Val Kilmer as a mentally-ill rocker and a number of real-life musicians, including a terrific bit by Patti Smith as herself, inspiring the young guitarist Faye.

The movie's best moments are when Malick is using extended visuals to tell the stories rather than his heavy reliance on narration and shorter film cuts, as it's clear the lack of a traditional screenplay forces Mara, Fassbender, and Gosling to all say things in voice-over that feel like something you'd find on a coffee mug you buy from Hallmark.  Still, there's a lot to offer here.  I think the acting is improved from both of its companion pieces, particularly Mara & Blanchett (until I wrote that sentence it didn't occur to me that this was a Carol reunion...sadly they don't share the screen at all here).  Fassbender's story gets lost, but Gosling & Mara make their relationship work.  This isn't the masterwork that Malick is capable of, but it's not the obvious, easily derided work that so many people thought it was, and Malick is distinctive enough for a proper cinephile to find certain sequences brilliant, particularly when they seem to borrow a visual style from To the Wonder and Knight of Cups to make all three feel like Warhol-esque versions of the same picture.  I do hope that his next film finds something new to say within his distinctive style, but Song to Song, like all of Malick's works, is gorgeous and worth the investment.

My Dozen Favorite Directors

Eons ago, I started two-thirds of a project about my dozen personal favorite actors and actresses.  I had intended at the time to do my dozen favorite directors, but life got in the way, as did my ability to rank directors.  The reality is that movie stars, and actors, quite frequently you see the best and leave the rest behind, but with directors it's different.  After all, with fine "auteur"-style directors, you get some of their most interesting pictures on the lists of films that aren't as prevalent.  Additionally, I find that comparing director to director in terms of overall careers is extremely challenging.  Do I pick a director like Federico Fellini with a distinctive style, or do I go with someone consistent with less of a visible imprint like William Wyler?  Elia Kazan made two of my all-time favorite movies, but the rest of his filmography I'm just ambivalent toward.  John Huston is one of the most consistent major directors of his era, but I never really loved one of his pictures even if I admire all of them.

So this is even more subjective to my whims today than the other two lists were, and on another day Fellini, Wyler, Kazan, Huston, along with Kurosawa, Cameron, Truffaut, Reed, Preminger, Frankenheimer, Miyazaki, Lee (Spike or Ang), Bertolucci, Polanski, Almodovar, Coppola (Francis or Sofia), Campion, Lumet, Haneke, Capra, Stevens, or Woody Allen may well have made the list (in fact, listed all together I feel like a crazy person discarding them all, particularly in Woody's case as he was 13th).  But anyway, here are my dozen favorites, in alphabetical order, as of this exact moment in time..  Fight away in the comments.

Ingmar Bergman (1918-2007)

Oscar History: 9 nominations/0 wins (Bergman received three citations as a director (the rest as a writer), and won the Thalberg, but somehow never won a competitive Oscar.
First Impressions: I will always remember the first time I saw an Ingmar Bergman movie.  I was 20, and out with a guy named Eric whom I had a crush on (he was a senior, I was a sophomore-it was very chic), and he wanted to go out for ice cream and an old movie house which was playing Wild Strawberries.  I spent the entire night wondering if it was a date (I kind of suspect in hindsight that it was, in which case it was my first with a guy), but was mesmerized by both what was happening off-screen as well as on, as I'd never seen a movie quite like this.
Why the Love: I'm not ranking these directors, but if I'm being honest-Bergman's my favorite, with potentially Kubrick sneaking around the corner.  His movies are wonderfully-specific poems, beautiful odes to cinema and the human experience, in particular our complicated relationship with death as a human species.  Gorgeously shot and felt, I treasure every new Bergman experience I encounter, as it's like experiencing the ocean for the first time.
My Favorite Film: I think I'd have to go with The Seventh Seal.  I genuinely love every Bergman movie I've seen so far, so going with the cliche may seem a bit of a cop-out, but it's so raw and fascinating-the visuals, particularly the knight playing chess with death-it's haunting and still effortlessly fresh.
Missing Piece: There's a few (Bergman made a lot of pictures), though perhaps most egregious is Persona, which I hear is spectacular but somehow has never crossed my path.

Alfonso Cuaron (1961-Present)

Oscar History: 6 nods/2 wins (his two trophies were both for Gravity, for editing and directing, which is to date the only time he's been cited as a director)
First Impressions: This is actually pretty unusual, but the first time I saw one of Cuaron's films, I actually didn't care for it very much.  I was thrilled by the prospect of finally seeing Y Tu Mama Tambien, as it had been celebrated by a film critic I enjoy, and it looked "naughty" and at that point in my life I hadn't really experienced a lot of saucy pictures.  But I wasn't blown away by it, even if I feel like I should revisit as I wonder if I'd like it better on revisit.  It was, indeed, "naughty" (that penultimate scene between Bernal and Luna being a sensational payoff to what the film was building toward), but I was meh until then.  Thankfully, I didn't give up on Cuaron at that point, though, as he eventually paid off in a major way.
Why the Love: Cuaron is a strange beast as he's one of the least prolific directors on this list, and as a result it feels weird to put him here when, say, Wyler or Allen have a much more quantitative filmography (unless you die tragically young, this isn't the case with actors, which is perhaps why it's easier to compare them side-by-side as they work so consistently).  Still, Cuaron can find so much magic in how a film is built (it helps that he's an editor), and the end product is so rich and rewarding, it's impossible not to list him as one of my favorites, even if I desperately wish he'd work more.
My Favorite Film: This is easy-Children of Men is a triumph, one of the finest films ever made, and a wonderful essay on the greatest headlines of the human experience: birth, life, love, and death.  That it wasn't heralded as the monument that it was is still baffling to me in an otherwise lackluster cinematic year.
Missing Piece: A Little Princess, which I can't actually remember if I saw (or if I saw the PBS miniseries, which part of me believes is accurate).  Either way, this is the only major Cuaron film I've never caught.

John Ford (1894-1973)

Oscar History: 6 nods/4 wins (Ford picked up a quartet of Best Director trophies for The Informer, The Grapes of Wrath, How Green Was My Valley, and The Quiet Man)
First Impressions: Ford has made so many movies I honestly have no idea which one I saw first.  I'm going to guess it was The Grapes of Wrath, a picture I've seen several times and which never loses its potency.  I distinctly remember being in awe of the way that Henry Fonda was filmed (so beautiful in the moonlight), and that marvelous set of final monologues from Fonda (who deserved the Oscar-let's be real here) and Jane Darwell at the end of the picture.  It isn't my type of film, exactly, but every time I see it I'm reminded that genre is only a framing device, and good movies can be made in any such circumstance.
Why the Love: When Ingmar Bergman AND Orson Welles are calling you the greatest director of all-time, you're doing something right.  Ford's films, easily dismissable as westerns or as hokum, have a lot more going on below the surface than meets the eye.  Whether it's the technical virtuosity of The Quiet Man or the lonely indictment on wealth in The Informer or the nasty pessimism of The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance, Ford's take on the movies are passionate to his vision, artistic, and eminently watchable.  No director before or since has put so much richness and thought into an almost completely commercial set of movies.
My Favorite Film: Oh, The Searchers, surely.  While Ford has made many superb pictures, this stands apart as the greatest.  John Wayne has never been better, and Ford frames this tale of hatred, bigotry, and revenge in such a way that you feel Ethan Edwards for weeks afterwards, realizing truths that both actor and director packed into the film.  That neither was even nominated for an Oscar for such a film is insanity.
Missing Piece: I mean, I've actually seen pretty much every major picture in Ford's career, but he made so many movies there's obviously a number of missing pieces.  Perhaps The Long Voyage Home, the rare Ford Best Picture nominee that I've never caught.

Alfred Hitchcock (1899-1980)

Oscar History: 5 nominations/0 wins (though he won the Thalberg, Hitch never actually got a competitive trophy despite five nominations for Best Director)
First Impressions: I'm sure my first impression of Hitchcock was Psycho, initially seeing the famous shower scene repeatedly in clip shows, and then actually catching the movie, and realizing A) that shower scene is ridiculously effective in the movie, and B) it's got a lot of other nearly as perfect scenes.
Why the Love: It's impossible to like the cinema and not like Hitchcock, in my opinion.  The way he moves the camera, the way he indulges the senses (the chills, the women, the music-it's all sensationalistic in the best way).  When he's at his best you forget you're watching a movie and just sort of are transported into what is happening onscreen.  Few directors consistently made such superb pictures and adapted to the times so well as Hitch did-his films of the 1954-1963 era are arguably the most popular, but he made interesting work his entire career.
My Favorite Film: I'd have to say Vertigo, which feels like a cliche (because everyone says Vertigo in a way of avoiding the cliche of everyone saying Psycho), but it's incredible.  Stewart has never been better, truly, and the movie's descent of one man is spellbinding.
Missing Piece: My brother has assured me on multiple occasions that I'm a fool for not having seen Strangers on a Train yet, and I know it's coming up on my Netflix queue so perhaps quite soon I'll correct this?

Richard Linklater (1960-Present)

Oscar History: 5 nominations/0 wins (Linklater has yet to take a trophy, and actually has only one Best Director nomination, for Boyhood)
First Impressions: I didn't grow up quoting Dazed and Confused, and quite frankly my impression of Richard Linklater was hardly impressive until I actually caught one of his movies, Before Sunrise, and was in awe of how masterfully it was filmed and how beautiful the picture before me was.
Why the Love: Linklater's an odd director to adore, and the newest addition to this list in terms of my viewing him, but I always seem to find something new to admire about his work, and how naturalistic the writing is.  Though he lacks the stylistic visual cues that made Bergman famous, the way he focuses the camera on a group of actors and waits until something magical happens is remarkable.  I am still getting to know his filmography, but have genuinely loved every single picture of his that I've seen.
My Favorite Film: Before Sunset will probably remain here forever, though I mean it when I said I loved every single picture so far (including the wildly underrated Everybody Wants Some!!!).  But Before Sunset is that rare romantic drama film with a ticking clock where you can't tell if the chief protagonists will realize that they're soulmates in time.  It spoke to me in a big way when I first saw it, and I'm just in awe even still.
Missing Piece: I still haven't actually watched Dazed and Confused, which feels bizarre as it's such a big reason why people recognize his pictures.  It's on the Netflix list, however, so someday it'll happen.

Stanley Kubrick (1928-1999)

Oscar History: 13 nominations/1 win (two shocking things here: one, I never knew that Kubrick won an Oscar for Visual Effects, assuming that he was Oscar-less, but instead that was just for Best Director where he went 0/4, and secondly-the 2001 VFX Oscar wasn't shared with Douglas Trumbull-how'd that happen?)
First Impressions: I was debating quite loudly with myself, and then realized that it was The Shining (if not, I'd have to share a very odd experience about being in the closet and watching Eyes Wide Shut with a very straight man in tenth grade).  I remember being scared and fascinated, and particularly wondering what the hell "here's Johnny" was from (Carson was before my time).
Why the Love: Kubrick films are at once decidedly and completely Kubrick films, and then somehow very different stylistically.  It's hard to imagine that the guy who made Dr. Strangelove also made 2001 and Barry Lyndon and A Clockwork Orange.  His movies are always thought-provoking and interesting-it's impossible not to have a visceral reaction to his pictures, and for me, that usually was a positive thing as his reputation grows personally with me over time (case in point-I hated 2001 the first time I saw it...and now it's on my 100 Favorite Movies list).
My Favorite Film: 2001 may someday get there, but right now it's still A Clockwork Orange, a difficult sit but a shockingly effective, violent picture that feels so bundled with raw energy I spent the entire first time through it sitting on the literal edge of my seat.
Missing Piece: Weirdly I've never seen Full Metal Jacket.  I say weirdly because my first college roommate actually liked this movie, and it was perhaps the only one of his films that I legitimately wanted to see, and somehow I never did.

David Lean (1908-1991)

Oscar History: 11 nominations/2 wins (Lean weirdly enough won both of his trophies for directing, which hasn't been the case so far here for writer-directors, taking trophies for Bridge on the River Kwai and Lawrence of Arabia)
First Impressions: Hmm, probably The Bridge on the River Kwai.  My grandfather after his stroke would watch this movie incessantly, so I got to see bits of it all the time.  I remember liking parts, but not really getting it properly until I was much older and could appreciate the "madness" angle of Alec Guiness' haunting work.
Why the Love: Lean's films are that rare combination of big, huge, gargantuan cinema combined with delicate treasures of performances.  It's hard to fathom, after all, the subtle shifts in Peter O'Toole's performance as he drifts into madness amidst the backdrop of the gargantuan Lawrence of Arabia or how beautiful Julie Chrisie's romance is amidst the ice castle wonder of Doctor Zhivago.  I frequently say my favorite films are well-done romantic epics.  When I say that, I'm thinking of Lean.
My Favorite Film: Part of me wants to say Brief Encounter, one of those underrated classics that just gets better with each passing year, but I spent a year of my life in college devoted to Lawrence of Arabia, and so I have to pick that, one of my all-time favorite pictures.
Missing Piece: Here's where we actually get pretty odd, as I've seen virtually everything David Lean has ever directed (even obscure titles like Hobson's Choice or This Happy Breed), so I'll go with In Which We Serve which I hear is wonderful but haven't caught yet.

Terrence Malick (1943-Present)

Oscar History: 3 nominations/0 wins (two nods for directing The Thin Red Line and The Tree of Life)
First Impressions: I will never forget my first experience with a Terrence Malick movie.  It was The New World, and to be honest I'd never seen one of his films, or wasn't even familiar with them, and my parents wanted to go because it was about John Smith and Pocahontas, and that sounded fun.  About a third into the film, and we had seen this intense, lush green cinematography but nothing much more than that, my mom reached over and said, "I don't know what's going on," and I said "it's supposed to be artsy," to which she replied "okay" and went back to playing with her Indiglo watch for the remainder of the picture.  Suffice it to say, I haven't taken them to a Malick film since.
Why the Love: Because Malick tackles his films in a way no one else does.  I get sick of all films looking exactly the same or needing the same structure.  When he's at his best, Malick can create something haunting and riveting on the screen.  Yes, he can be indulgent (the sparseness of language in something like Knight of Cups occasionally borders on the frustrating), but when he's on there's literally no director I'd rather sit in a theater and let his movie wash over me in the same way.
My Favorite Film: His Tree of Life is one of my all-time favorite pictures, period, so most assuredly it would be that.  I never don't like a Malick film though, even when other people hate them.
Missing Piece: Somehow I've never caught Badlands through the years, which is so strange considering both my penchant for Malick and what a towering achievement this film is considered (one of those rare classics I've never caught).

Martin Scorsese (1942-Present)

Oscar History: 12 nominations/1 win (I remember standing and applauding when Marty finally took that Oscar for The Departed)
First Impressions: My first impression of Marty was probably GoodFellas.  As he didn't really make children's films prior to 2011 (Hugo being an obvious entry point for younger cinephiles now), it was an edited down version of the film, but I was enthralled initially, particularly by the famous walk through the club and how cute a young Ray Liotta was.
Why the Love: Scorsese's films are an ode to movie-making, and how much he loves to self-reflect and share his love of the cinema onscreen.  You see in his movies a deliberation, someone working through his world artistically and narratively, trying to make sense of his life and religion itself.  Scorsese is a deeply personal filmmakers, but makes universal pictures that anyone can relate toward-that's a pretty impressive achievement.  Plus, who doesn't like Marty?  He's one of my absolute favorite celebrities to hear interviewed.
My Favorite Film: The strange thing about Scorsese is that he's the only director on this list to not have a film on my 100 Favorite Movies list, so I actually had to think on this one.  I suspect it would be Taxi Driver, though.  The film has one of the best performances de Niro ever turned in, and it's shockingly vibrant forty years after it was made.
Missing Piece: This won't be a missing piece for long as literally the disc is on my counter right now, but Mean Streets has somehow eluded me all of these years.  Can't wait to catch what some consider to be his finest work (it might even be tonight).

Steven Spielberg (1946-Present)

Oscar History: 16 nominations/3 wins (two of those trophies for directing Schindler's List and Saving Private Ryan...he also won the Thalberg quite early in his career)
First Impressions: Unlike most of these directors, Spielberg makes films that are appropriate for children (and he made them when I was, indeed, a kid).  That being said, I wonder if my first introduction to Spielberg might have been Hook, not one of his finer moments, even though I was enchanted at the time.  I tend to love the Neverland stories, though (PJ Hogan's Peter Pan being the best by a country mile), and particularly Spielberg's ability to world-build (which even in his least pictures, he can succeed in accomplishing).
Why the Love: To grow up when I did and to love cinema is to love Spielberg.  No, he's not always as artistic or challenging as some of the other men on this list, but he is surely the most cinematic, and when he's on is creating an adventure that transcends the movies.  Jaws, ET, Schindler, AI, Minority Report, Raiders of the Lost Ark-the man has more genuine classics than pretty much any other director.
My Favorite Film: While those are all classics, the one that makes me tremble with joy the most is still Jurassic Park.  It's not his most ambitious work (AI) or his tightest (Jaws) or his most moving (Schindler) or even the most inventive world-building (Minority Report), but it is the one where I genuinely have the most fun.  And sometimes the movies should be about the most fun (plus, let's be honest-it's peak popcorn fare).
Missing Piece: Like David Lean, I've seen pretty much everything (I've caught 77% of Spielberg's filmography, missing only 7 pictures).  Of the seven, I'd say that Amistad is the one that's the highest on my "to view"list.

Orson Welles (1915-1985)

Oscar History: 3 nominations/1 win (Welles' only competitive win was for writing Citizen Kane, the film that won him his only directing nomination, though he did win an Honorary Oscar quite late in his career)
First Impressions: It's a weird film to see first of a director (usually there's a more juvenile entry point), but Citizen Kane has to have been my first Welles film, and the first one I think I even saw him act in (give or take an appearance with the Muppets).  I left doubly-impressed (the ending hadn't been ruined for me at that point), and clamoring for more.
Why the Love: It's worth noting that Welles appeared not only on this list, but my actors list as well, the only person to do so despite so many men who have tried their hand successfully at both.  Perhaps this is because Welles the director was so driven and matter-of-fact in the way that he brought his universe to life.  His films are rife with wonderful acting, dialogue, and terrific lighting-Welles never stopped being that young man who took on William Randolph Hearst, at least as a director, continually challenging himself while occasionally selling out his name as a performer.  As a result, we got some of the most original movies of the era from Hollywood's bad boy.
My Favorite Film: Again, cliches be damned-Citizen Kane is, truly, one of the best movies ever made and in an era of Trump, perhaps more appropriate than ever (oh how the mighty fall in trying to recapture something that will never be).  Still, Touch of Evil comes close behind, and is in its own way a masterwork.
Missing Piece: The Other Side of Wind?  Hee hee, but seriously, I'd probably say that if it counts...otherwise maybe Chimes at Midnight?

Billy Wilder (1906-2002)

Oscar History: 21 nominations/6 wins (Wilder pulled off two directing trophies for The Lost Weekend and The Apartment...like several of these men he'd also go on to win the Thalberg Award)
First Impressions: I'm not sure, once again, but my gut says it was The Lost Weekend, which I saw at a relatively young age, and quite frankly, wasn't impressed by it.  Considering the lavish praise for the film at the time (it's a Best Picture winner, after all), I will surely revisit at some point in the future but it's not what you'd consider "in my wheelhouse."
Why the Love: First off, who doesn't love at least one Billy Wilder movie?  I don't think you can call yourself a fan of the cinema and not profess to being head-over-heels for one of his pictures.  They're so damn good.  Wilder isn't really an auteur in the vein of many of these men (I like those guys with a consistent vision), but he consistently wrote and directed some of the cinema's best movies.  That in-itself should warrant a spot on this list, even if he's a less traditional way to end this than, say, Woody Allen or Akira Kurosawa.
My Favorite Film: I love so many of his pictures, but it'd likely be Sunset Boulevard.  Buoyed by a greatest-of-all-time level performance from Gloria Swanson, the movie is a shattering look at how Hollywood worships and then destroys its stars, and the way that we as a larger society treat our elders.  It's a nasty bit of work with some truly biting wordplay.  Absolutely sensational.
Missing Piece: Perhaps The Seven Year Itch?  I've seen all of the A-Pictures in Wilder's filmography, but Monroe at her height would be something I'd like to see, particularly considering he got her best performance out of her in Some Like It Hot.

And there you have it-the long-awaited Directors list!  Weigh in below on whether you agree or disagree, who should be added/deleted, and your favorite films/missing pieces from these twelve men!