The Greatest Films I’ve Seen

I’ve been obsessed with rating movies ever since I was 10 years old. It started with Bollywood movies; every time I watched one, I would scurry to a running Excel spreadsheet on my laptop and create a new entry, rating the movie on four categories: Acting, Cinematography, Music, and Story. I would average out the 10-point scale ratings for each category to create a final overall score, ranking the movies best to worst.

The spreadsheet would gradually grow in ambition––adding category after category, tinkering with the numerical scale, creating a separate sheet for Bengali films, then Hollywood ones, until finally we arrive at the latest iteration: a grand spreadsheet of every “great movie” I have seen––English, Bengali, Hindi, Japanese, and more––rated, averaged, and ranked on a 5-point-scale using 9 categories (Direction, Cinematography, Editing, Pacing, Story, Screenplay, Acting, Effects, Music, and Production Design). Below lies that final ranked list. Disclaimer: this is not a definitive list of every great movie (I still have many to see) nor is it a ranking of every movie I have seen, just the really good ones (sorry Marvel Studios, I still love you).

Literature provides the freedom to imagine––cinema provides the freedom to perceive. Good films move the camera in interesting ways, experiment with narrative and visual perspective, and are held up by strong character performances. But, above all, a good movie makes you feel something. Here are the top 75 best films I’ve seen, ranging from the artistic to the blockbuster.

75) À bout de souffle (1960)

What is considered Jean-Luc Godard’s finest film in the French New Wave movement is really just a collection of experimental cinematic techniques, some of it intentional and much of it accidental. But its fourth-wall breaking protagonist, frequent jump-cuts, and eyeline-countering camera track shots eventually become more of a distraction than an impressive achievement in filmmaking. The focus is so heavy on trying to impress fans of the avant-garde that the film completely neglects to impress the vast majority of viewers that simply want the basics: compelling characters, well-written dialogue, an interesting story. It’s so detached, so strangely uninterested in actual storytelling; we feel nothing for the characters, learn nothing about their minds and motivations and nuances. So much of the dialogue in this movie was more or less improvised, and it really shows—not in a good way. Bold technique should service the story; a truly successful film should not only be for the critics who crave originality in production, but for the audience that wants the story to evoke actual emotions. The lack of intentionality in the use of many techniques that are now hailed as revolutionary—like the jump cut—is also apparent to a lay watcher; the innovative cuts were really an accidental result of editing that attempted to shorten several long-shots that bored viewers at test screenings. Don’t get me wrong, it’s still an interesting watch for its unique editing and cinematography––if you care less about strange pacing choices and light character work. À bout de souffle (trans. Breathless) ranks on this list for its pioneering place in film history, but that’s about it.

74) Rain Man (1988)

Sometimes held back by its cliches and prolix dialogue, Rain Man is saved by the touching performances of both Tom Cruise as a self-seeking car dealer and Dustin Hoffman as his older brother, an autistic savant. The somewhat kitschy script is masterfully dealt with by their nuanced portrayals in this road trip drama.

73) Doctor Zhivago (1965)

David Lean’s adaptation of Boris Pasternak’s political novel about life in the Soviet Union is thin in meaning and character development despite its length. The romance and acting is never convincing, and Lean forgoes the political nuances of the novel in favor of syrupy dialogue. But what the movie lacks in story is surely made up for by the fact that every shot is a painting, the beautiful Spanish snows and landscapes serving as a worthy substitute for real Russian locations. Hollowness aside, it’s a real feat of cinematography. And “Lara’s Theme” will remain an iconic score.

72) Gattaca (1997)

The movie’s central concept and ethical conundrum is so striking––the use of genetics to create a rigid social hierarchy––that you might mistake it as an adaptation of a story by Gore Vidal (who, as it happens, features in an acting role). Ethan Hawke is understated as the genetic “invalid” hero of the film with dreams beyond the status afforded to him. The actual plot is never quite as engaging as the brilliant snippets of thought offered by the screenplay, but convincing performances––particularly from Jude Law, who plays a wheelchair-bound genetic superior who sells his identity to Ethan Hawke’s character.

71) Dead Poets Society (1989)

One of the best films about finding inspiration in art through the guidance of a quirky mentor (English teacher John Keating is played to perfection by Robin Williams). It’s tender, it’s uplifting, it’s sometimes heart-rending too. A must-watch for anyone with a love of poetry or literature in general.

70) The Sixth Sense (1999)

Such a clever film by M. Night Shyamalan. More of a psychological thriller than straight-up-horror, Haley Joel Osment really sells the terror of being a little boy with the ability to “see dead people.” This is probably Bruce Willis’ only good performance ever as child psychologist Malcolm Crowe. And the final twist is sublime.

69) To Kill a Mockingbird (1962)

Gregory Peck is Atticus Finch, lifted right off the pages of the original classic novel––and Harper Lee concurred. His delivery of the closing argument in the trial of Tom Robinson still gives me goosebumps and is one of the most heroic fictional speeches delivered on screen. You might call it white saviorism, you could criticize its stereotypes and flimsy black characters, but both the novel and the film still endure as landmark depictions of white America’s reckoning with its own perpetuation of systemic racism pre-Civil Rights.

68) Philadelphia (1993)

As the first major Hollywood depiction of the HIV/AIDS crisis and its impact on the gay community in America, Philadelphia is a distinctly compassionate film that helped destigmatize the condition amongst the general public. The chemistry between Tom Hanks, a lawyer who is wrongfully dismissed from his job due to his AIDS diagnosis, and Denzel Washington, his somewhat bigoted, initially misinformed injury attorney, is enough to keep anyone watching (the amazing Bruce Springsteen original song for the film doesn’t hurt). Fashioned as a legal drama, the courtroom technicalities never take away from the deeply emotional heart of this film.

67) E.T.––The Extra Terrestrial (1982)

It’s one of those movies that’s quite a bit overrated in my book, but the story and the direction has enough of a tender heart to make this a classic. The special effects really don’t hold up and—especially considering that this was made post-Star Wars and Steven Spielberg was already the biggest blockbuster filmmaker of the time—there isn’t much excuse for it. Some people find the E.T. puppet endearing and cute, but I find it somewhat fake-looking grotesque; the puppeteering for Yoda in The Empire Strikes Back is definitely superior. But what it lacks in technique is surely compensated for by the deeply personal, creative nature of Spielberg’s storytelling. In growing up almost anyone can relate to feelings of alienation and a need for tolerance and understanding. Who wouldn’t want a magical alien friend sent by the heavens when we’re feeling lonely and abandoned? When E.T. tugs at the heartstrings, it tugs hard.

66) The Truman Show (1998)

I love Jim Carrey; he’s probably my favorite actor. And this thoughtful, unique movie contains his best performance. It has none of his signature improv, none of the uninhibited zaniness he is famous for bringing out on the big screen. Instead it’s a subtle, often heartbreaking performance as a man named Truman, someone who is unaware that he has been bred for the sole purpose of broadcasting every second of his life to the whole world on reality TV, “The Truman Show.” In an age of social media and consumers becoming the product for big media and tech companies, this 1998 screenplay asks prescient questions of the audience: to what extent are any of our superficial obsessions—celebrity culture, political gossip, anything that the media feeds us—“real”? Who is constructing our reality, and do we have a choice in taking the bait? The Truman Show succeeds in asking these questions in a completely non-pretentious manner all thanks to a really gentle, winning acting job by Carrey.

65) Mary Poppins (1964)

This movie is supercallafragalisticexpialadocious. Spelled it right first try. Sorry for the cliche review.

64) The Seventh Seal (1957)

The Seventh Seal is something like reading a cryptic, philosophical essay, particularly for those of us who don’t understand the Swedish dialogue without the assistance of subtitles. Ingmar Bergman’s direction is mysterious and ruminative as ever, with the famous iconography of this film—a cynical knight suffering a crisis of faith while playing a game of chess with a personified version of Death—does inspire thought while also seeming a little gimmicky at times. The screenplay is fashioned as a series of questions and challenges by a man who is both literally and figuratively reckoning with his own mortality while observing the deadly Plague that has captured his country. Really the famous director is grappling with the question of theodicy: why does an all-powerful God silently permit an evil world? What capacity for faith remains when the specter of unjust death surrounds you? The film can even be read as an anti-religious allegory: the significance of the Death character posing as a priest in a confessional box, and the cynicism of the Knight upon returning from the Crusades, are just a few details that might indicate a solid argument from the movie. Otherwise the filmmaking is mostly austere––long takes, still camera, shadowed lighting all convey a Dark Ages world that has lost all hope.

63) Little Women (2019)

Greta Gerwig’s adaptation of the much beloved novel about the four March sisters is full of life and love, with strong performances from each of the four female leads—almost can’t choose who the standout actress is, as any cast that includes Emma Watson, Saiorse Ronan, and Florence Pugh is simply stellar. It’s a film directed by a woman and proudly about four (very different) strong women, and it’s not at all oppressively messaged—in fact it’s very smartly written, and that adds to the appeal of a story that otherwise largely lacks an event/based plot. Perhaps the only downside of this film is Timothee Chalamet as Laurie, whom I find to be snivelly and irritating in just about any role he plays—though that might be more of a personal preference (I truly don’t understand where this guy’s star-power came from). But overall Little Women is an authentically told, subtly directed story by Greta Gerwig with beautiful production design to put the icing on a well-baked cake. Honestly surprised this didn’t win more awards, because it’s one of the best films of the last decade. 

62) All the President’s Men (1976)

Watching this political thriller about The Washington Post reporters who broke the Watergate scandal seems a little bit quaint in the age of far bigger political crimes that we find out about in broad daylight rather than from a husky-voiced anonymous source code-named “Deep Throat” in a darkened parking garage. It’s exciting viewing, and it’s true. Robert Redford and Dustin Hoffman are compelling in the lead roles.

61) Roman Holiday (1953)

Audrey Hepburn and Gregory Peck gallivanting around Rome in a charming 50’s rom-com. What’s not to love?

60) Catch Me If You Can (2002)

Pure Spielberg fun, with Leonardo DiCaprio doing a spectacular job in a very youthful role as mind-blowingly skilled conman wunderkind Frank Abagnale. It’s touching when it needs to be, but the cat-and-mouse plot line between Abagnale and a hard-nosed detective played by Tom Hanks is a real joy to experience.

59) Minority Report (2002)

Steven Spielberg has more films on this list than any other director, though that’s mostly a testament to the sheer quantity of his output (I’ve seen 17 of his films, more than any other director) rather than his ability (of which he has an endless amount, clearly). This film is his best outing into the sci-fi genre, building a heartfelt story from a scintillating high-level premise: what if a police force could predict crimes and arrest criminals before they broke the law? Tom Cruise’s character is one of these “pre-crime” detectives until he finds himself on the run from his own department, whose androids have predicted that he is the next murderer they will need to stop. With breakneck pacing that services the suspenseful, twisty plot, this is a film that gives a huge dose of action entertainment while still containing a thoughtful premise.

58) Whiplash (2014)

The editing in Whiplash is really something else—sound, scenes, everything. Miles Teller’s physical movements on his character’s drum kit are perfectly synchronized with the pre-recorded drumming (much of it performed by Teller himself), intercut by striking shots of the protagonist’s blood, tears, and sweat that he pours in with his dangerously obsessive attempts at impressing his ruthless instructor. And what a shift J.K. Simmons puts in while playing that instructor, Terence Fletcher: I got goosebumps every time he was on screen. The scenes of his silent judgement are just as brimming with tension and insanity as his expletive-laden rants; it’s one of those performances where a supremely talented actor is just given free reign and delivers something exquisite. This is Damien Chazelle’s masterpiece (La La Land is shockingly overrated don’t @ me). 

57) The Revenant (2015)

Grisly (also *grizzly*), imposing, and as much a test of endurance for the audience as it is for its characters, A.G. Iñárittu’s survival tale of a tenacious frontiersman (played with astonishing commitment by Leo DiCaprio) portrays the rugged violence between white trappers and indigenous tribes in a stark, no-nonsense manner.

56) Ben Hur (1959)

Watch it just for that one incredible 9-minute chariot race scene, which is merely one example of the elaborate sets, wide aspect ratio shots, and heart-thumping action that make this epic drama such an impressive accomplishment by acclaimed director William Wyler. Charlton Heston (a definite scumbag in real life) is quite magnetic in the titular role of a noble-turned-slave. Its religious portions with Jesus of Nazareth are perhaps slightly hammy but the luxuriant Roman scenery and action more than make up for it.

55) Back to the Future (1985)

The best proof that the plot doesn’t have to make sense if it’s fun enough. Back to the Future is lighthearted, charming, and exciting, and the iconic performances by Michael J. Fox and Christopher Lloyd hold up even 37 years later. Probably the most fun cinematic creation from the 80’s, along with Indiana Jones.

54) Empire of the Sun (1987)

One of the most underrated entries in Steven Spielberg’s filmography, this historical drama about a young boy who gets separated from his well-off family of British expats in Shanghai and becomes a prisoner of war during WW2 sports a wonderfully subtle performance from a 13-year-old Christian Bale in his debut role. Any event of such historical significance as the experience of POWs in Japanese internment camps or the bombing of Hiroshima comes with an even more acute sense of pathos when portrayed from the eyes of a child, which is the approach this story takes. It makes no outright moral statements and instead portrays events from a purely observational stance, which serves to evoke more organic emotion from the audience. Schindler’s List is often cited as the film in which Spielberg proved his ability to direct serious subject matter, but the overlooked accomplishment that is Empire of the Sun proved his mettle much before the release of Schindler, in my view.

53) The Prestige (2006)

52) 2001: A Space Odyssey (1968)

There is no dialogue in 2001: A Space Odyssey until the 25 minute mark. It starts with monkeys—sorry, hominids—representing “the dawn of man.” For about 20 minutes we have to watch these humans (and some chimpanzees) dressed as prehistoric primates scream at each other, bash animal skeletons, and stare in wonder at a mysterious monolith. I thought I was watching Planet of the Apes, not one of the most well-regarded movies of all time. We do eventually get to the space part though. In theory, I should have thoroughly enjoyed Stanley Kubrick’s sci-fi classic. It was an undeniable leap forward for cinema, representing the silent expanse of zero-gravity space and plausible futuristic technology with innovative cinematography, stunning practical effects, and an iconic score that all hold up today. What doesn’t hold up so well is the actual story. In my view, it’s probably generous to call 2001 a “story.” I should have loved it—the screenplay (or what there is of a screenplay, since so much of the movie is just space shot after space shot) is penned by Arthur C. Clarke, one of my all-time favorite science fiction authors. His short stories, however, do not translate well to the big screen. Kubrick seizes on the fact that Clarke’s writing lacks any traditional character focus or narrative structure to instead convey what is, truly, an “odyssey” of man—an odyssey, to me, that seems to cynically argue that humanity’s destiny is to peak at a certain level of technological and intellectual advancement before returning to our inherently primitive, base nature (Kubrick seemed to occasionally argue against this interpretation, but a film’s message should be determined by the audience, not the post-production interviews of the director). It’s certainly experimental, it’s definitely gutsy, and everyone should respect Kubrick for it. There are also some incredibly compelling parts to the film, particularly the confrontational interactions between the artificial intelligence HAL (the only interesting “character” in the film) and astronaut David Bowman. The philosophical points about survivalism, what it means to be “human,” and the prescient questions raised about ethical AI are so appealingly conveyed in HAL’s story. But that’s only one episodic portion of the movie and, despite the forward-thinking nature of such a sci-fi plot in 1968, the parts with HAL are arguably the more conventional aspects of the film. They’re also, to me, the only really exciting parts; as mind-blowing as the long shots of ships floating in outer space are, with the iconic classical music blessing our ears, after a while those dialogue-absent scenes are a real slog to get through in 2022. The last 23 minutes are also silent and we end with a giant glowing space fetus floating towards Earth. Kubrick’s 2001 is trippy, cerebral, visionary, bold—things I love in a movie. It’s also wooden, cold, and terribly paced, which makes it hard to honestly rank it any higher than this. I apologize to the many more refined critics out there who think this is a top five movie of all time. I also apologize to the readers for this gigantic text block explaining this ranking.

51) Goopy Gyne Bagha Byne (1969)

Children’s films that have more to them are wonderful to experience on repeated watches, and they’re quite hard to pull off. Famed director Satyajit Ray was one of the few auteurs that actually attempted this, and passed with flying colors. Goopy Gyne Bagha Byne is about an iconic duo who love to sing and drum, respectively, but are not at all musically inclined. They are cast out of their respective villages due to their lack of musical talent, but their cacophonous performance pleases a ghost king that grants them three boons. Before they know it, one of them has a voice of silk and the other is a skilled drummer, with other magical powers. But the movie is layered beyond this endearing presence: the story is an effective allegory for the politics of war. The Bengali songs, penned and composed by Ray himself (ever the overachiever), are just as beautiful as the story. Truly a film for all audiences.

50) Raiders of the Lost Ark (1981)

Raiders is just a series of incredibly cool ideas packaged up with badass direction by Steven Spielberg. Cool protagonist? Yep, an archaeologist that finds himself caught up in wild worldwide adventures. Cool plot? Beating up Nazis and protecting a Biblical relic, almost anyone can get behind that. Cool real-life sets? Check, the life-sized constructed Peruvian temples are just amazing. Cool score? One of John Williams’ best (in a discography that includes the scores for other iconic blockbusters like Harry Potter, Star Wars, Jaws and Superman). Cool acting? It’s Harrison Ford, come on—how can it not be? Unless you’re the Grinch, a dinosaur, or a Nazi, there’s really no way not to enjoy this film. The first installation of the Indiana Jones franchise is stylish, exciting, and also surprisingly hilarious. The most fun film Spielberg has ever made. And having fun at the movies—isn’t that why we have them in the first place?

49) The Big Short (2015)

Adam McKay burst onto the directorial scene with this absolute blast of a film that should be far, far more grim—after all, it’s about the most consequential domestic event of the 2000s, the subprime mortgage crisis. And the genius of it is that it follows this outlandish, over-the-top directorial style (one example is an aside that cuts into the story with a cameo from Margot Robbie in a bubble bath explaining risky mortgage securities––so damn smart) but it also doesn’t stray from honestly showing the shocking negligence, stupidity, and, yes, the decent amount of greed that caused this economic disaster with consequences for the entire world. It has perhaps the smartest script of any recent movie, explaining clunky financial jargon in a manner that is clear, funny and sarcastic––never boring exposition. And the actors? Christian Bale, Steve Carrell, Brad Pitt, and a wonderfully obnoxious Ryan Gosling who for once I despise because of his character and not for the man himself (sorry Gosling lovers, I’m not normally a fan). What more can you ask for? You’ll laugh, you’ll learn, you’ll love it.

48) BlacKkKlansman (2018)

This was a solid return to form for Spike Lee and earned him––shockingly––his first ever Oscar (the fact he’d never won before proves the Academy Awards are mostly a joke anyway). This true story is a particularly mind-blowing one: the infiltration of the Ku Klux Klan by a Black detective in the 70’s. John David Washington, son of the more famous Denzel, is so impressively subtle as Detective Ron Stallworth, and Adam Driver is chameleon-like in his role as Stallworth’s Jewish co-detetictive who easily poses as a white nationalist to investigate the Klan. Lee is never afraid to ridicule the Klan as strongly as he condemns them, and Topher Grace as Grand Wizard David Duke brings that element of real cuckoo-ness to the bone-deep racism of the character. The film asks other questions too, pertaining to the role of the police in enforcing systemic racism versus fighting it, and the dilemma of a Black cop when confronted by his activist girlfriend. Lee’s final editing maneuver, intercutting the flaming Christian crosses of the 20th Century KKK with real-life scenes from the 2018 Unite the Right white supremacist rally, is nothing short of chilling.

47) Kagemusha (1980)

Bathed in the beautiful backdrop of red-orange hues, Kagemusha (trans. The Shadow Warrior) is an epically directed jidaigeki by Akira Kurosawa. Dealing with themes of illusion, control, and politics, the film hits all of the notes that Kurosawa does best: it uses a simple premise––a criminal forced to impersonate a dead feudal lord in order to protect a vulnerable clan––along with gorgeous cinematography to convey more poignant ideas. It’s a gripping period piece, cleverly edited and intelligently displayed.

46) Malcolm X (1992)

Spike Lee’s lengthy but richly directed biopic boasts a deeply impressive performance from Denzel Washington and some really innovative filmmaking––particularly Lee’s trademark “double dolly” shot that gives the effect of a floating, rather than walking, character. Its storytelling is nuanced, displaying the gentler shades of a public figure known for the uncompromising boldness of his rhetoric. As visually striking as anything in Lee’s repertoire, the detail is well worth the runtime.

45) The Batman (2022)

Probably far too high for a list like this, but I couldn’t resist. A thrilling, fascinating spin on the superhero genre. The camera is always placed in interesting angles, the film embraces a slow-burn mystery pacing at the service of real character development, and all of the performances––particularly Robert Pattinson’s obsessive, Hamlet-esque Batman––are stunning. It surely belongs in the category of one of the best directed superhero films ever.

44) Stalker (1979)

Andrei Tarkovsky takes art film to a new level in this quasi-sci-fi masterpiece of Russian cinema. Everything about the movie is no doubt slow––the dialogue is delivered slowly, the camera zooms and dollys in slowly, time itself seems to slow down with Tarkovsky’s signature long shots. But the pacing is never slow in an unattractively rambling manner; everything about the renowned Soviet director’s work is very deliberate and meditative, penetrating the minds of our characters and the eyes of the audience. The framing of every shot is characterized by a really beautiful sense of geometry and aesthetics. The dialogue is intentionally philosophical but never in a cringey way, combining marvelously with the stunning visuals of the film to tell the viewer something about the paradoxes of human desire and consciousness. Can humans still be characterized as selfish if they are unaware of their subconscious self-serving desires? It’s a question that comes front and center in this film’s intriguing soft sci-fi plot about a man who illegally transports a writer and a professor to a mysterious “Zone” that will supposedly make their inner wishes come true. Contrary to what propagandists in the West might tell you, subtle and individualistic art did come out of the Soviet Union, especially from Tarkovsky. This one’s a slow watch, but will still capture your attention and make you think.

43) The Social Network (2010)

David Fincher is known for directing gripping, twisty thrillers, so a biographical drama about Mark Zuckerberg and the creation of Facebook must have been a new challenge for him. But he brings the same intensity and sensationalism to this biopic, aided heavily by Aaron Sorkin’s biting, dramatic screenplay. It’s also a remarkably prescient piece, warning us about the dangers posed by resentful young men hiding behind keyboards. It’s criminal that Andrew Garfield wasn’t even nominated for Best Supporting Actor at the Oscars for his enrapturing performance as Eduardo Saverin; his laptop-smashing, nerd-cursing outburst is the highlight of this film.

42) Skyfall (2012)

Slickly directed and also thoughtful, Sam Mendes takes the James Bond franchise to new heights with this installation. In a series dominated by fancy cars, outlandish gizmos, and over-the-top villains, Skyfall keeps the style without the cringe. Daniel Craig is a measured, charismatic Bond as always, and Javier Bardem steals the show as the eery, five-steps-ahead Silva. The final act is very stripped down for a 007 flick but arguably far more creative than anything in the franchise. And Adele’s theme song slaps.

41) Throne of Blood (1957)

Making a movie that is both theatrical and cinematic is a challenge that requires a lot of artistic balance. Film adaptations of stories intended for the stage sometimes present dramatic acting performances that appear hammy to a cinema audience or struggle with pacing due to long shots that aim to emulate the style of theater. Akira Kurosawa’s version of Macbeth, which repurposes Shakespeare’s tale of regicide and tragic ambition to feudal Japan, remains a very, very solid adaption of the play while adding his typical directorial flourish of creatively cinematic proportions. He employs acting styles from classic Japanese dance dramas and combines them with scenery details that can only be accomplished in film––like the beautiful shots in the Japanese fog that literally blurs this tale of unmitigated ambition with an appropriate sense of cloudy mystery. Kurosawa was a filmmaker that never shied away from bold choices, like the decision to shoot real arrows in the famous final scene toward the film’s star, Toshiro Mifune, and such choices really pay off to make this one of the best Shakespeare adaptations ever.

40) Monsoon Wedding (2001)

Monsoon Wedding proved Mira Nair’s directing chops in a semi-comedic drama, which was something of a departure from the more grim subject matter of her earlier filmography. But her subtle direction really shines through in a film that is able to layer an uplifting, zesty storyline celebrating family love and radiant aspects of Indian culture with more serious themes, such as the navigation of stratified class structures in modern India and the marginalization of sexual abuse victims. To be able to treat those topics with the sensitivity they deserve while not overwhelming the ultimately joyous plot is really an achievement of direction. Vijay Raaz delivers the most eye-catching performance as Dubey, the wedding planner who stars in his own romantic subplot with the bride’s family’s maid. This isn’t your stereotypical, over-the-top Bollywood wedding flick; any audience can take something away from this film.

39) Toy Story (1999)

A film known for changing animated movies forever, it’s also just such a warm-fuzzy flick. The characters are eternally likable, the story is engaging, and some of the scenes are so inventive. I can still remember my five-year-old self shaking in my seat from seeing Sid’s grotesque mutant toys terrorize Woody and Buzz.

38) Wall-E (2008)

Who knew that a story about love across the stars between two beeping robots would work so damn well? It has environmentalist themes, warning us about the dangers posed to our home planet consumerism and waste. Ultimately, it’s carried by a touching story between its two non-human, but undoubtedly emotional, lead characters.

37) PK (2014)

A biting satire of organized religion’s cultishness with a highly endearing turn from Aamir Khan as PK, the extra terrestrial protagonist who finds himself stranded on Earth and feels confused by the oddities of religious communities in India. It’s a movie whose message isn’t pointed at a single culture or set of ideas, challenging the very premise upon which religions stand: that a blind “faith” in unseen idols, and their fraudulent representatives on Earth (holymen of the televangelist ilk, for instance) should be valued instead of a blind love for our felllow human beings and the planet that we inhabit. This movie can be enjoyed as a lighthearted comedy or as a social statement, with great Hindi songs and impressive production design. The scenes depicting India’s diversity of occasionally wasteful religious traditions, from pouring huge quantities of milk on gigantic Shiva idols to the bloody mass self-flagellation in the festival of Ashura, are particularly striking. (Note: I do not at all mean to denigrate Indian culture, which has endless aspects—secular and religious—that I dearly love as an Indian. I am merely critical of the mass waste of resources and rise in communalism that has resulted from religious fanaticism all over the world, but especially in India. See Swades above for a thoughtful Bollywood film that depicts a more positive side of India that all viewers, Western and Indian, should see). 

36) Roger & Me (1989)

Michael Moore’s first and most personal documentary about the closing of several General Motors automobile plants in his hometown of Flint, Michigan, and the decision’s impact on the entire Rust Belt city ecosystem. In his quest to speak directly to GM’s CEO, Roger Smith, and force him to come face-to-face with the consequences of his actions on thousands of families, Michael Moore does not merely become canonized as the persistent working class hero he is often depicted as; he also revolutionizes documentary filmmaking, particularly for the political documentary. His personal connection with the city of Flint, and his interviews with local families dealing with the mass layoffs, weave in perfectly with a wider narrative about corporate greed and the quick rise of economic destitution in the Midwest. Over 30 years on the relevancy of Roger & Me endures, contextualizing the plight of Middle America in a way that is sensitive, wryly humorous, not condescending, and often a scathing indictment of the American economic elites.

35) The Lion King (1994)

So many people have seen this that I don’t really need to pitch it. Whoever at Disney came up with the idea, “what if we did Hamlet, but with lions and songs by Elton John,” is a certified genius, because this is one of the most brilliant, epic animated movies ever made. That opening scene on Pride Rock is the best opening scene ever, bar none.

34) 3 Idiots (2009)

It’s satire without the viciousness, tackling serious issues with a good dose of levity but also soberness at the appropriate moments. The Indian pressure-cooker education system gets the criticism it deserves in 3 Idiots, with Aamir Khan playing the charismatic lead role of a young man that teaches his friends to broaden their minds beyond the memorization and exam-based nature of their university studies that have driven peers to suicide. But the real acting standout is Boman Irani as the antagonistic Professor Viru Sahastrabuddhe, chilling the bones and spurring the laughs with his signature lisps and withering facial expressions. There are songs, there are laughs, there’s joy and there’s sadness, but not in a syrupy way at all. This Bollywood production performed well with international performances and with good reason: it’s enjoyable, unpretentious, and often meaningful too. Well worth a watch.

33) The Incredibles (2004)

I love Edna. “No Capes!” But really, Marvel should seriously call Brad Bird to direct a Fantastic Four movie, because this is the best piece of on-screen entertainment about a family of superheroes ever made.

32) Dangal (2016)

I saw Dangal three times in theaters, and it was worth it every time. With catchy, bold title song sung powerfully by Daler Mehndi, this equally strongly-delivered film is a true story about a Haryanvi father, Mahavir Singh Phogat, that puts everything into making his two daughters the greatest female wrestlers in India. As with any Aamir Khan production, every aspect of the filmmaking—the production design, the music, the acting, the locations—are so detailed and a spectacle. This one’s not just any sports drama: as common as the themes of fatherly love, hard work, and persistence are, they’re very slickly delivered in this film. 

31) Swades (2004)

Swades (pronounced swa-desh, trans. Homeland) is one of my favorite films ever and I have enjoyed it more and more with each repeated viewing. This is a true story about Mohan Bhargava, a NASA scientist who returns to India to find a childhood nanny living in the rural village of Charanpur. As he takes a break from work back in the U.S. and stays in the village, his overly critical, elitist views of Indian society are challenged by others in the community, and he starts to pay attention to the village’s issues with a more problem-solving approach rather than a negative one. What follows is a depiction of his efforts to improve electricity in the village by working with other residents to build hydropower generators––bringing some literalism to the refrain “it takes a village.” But this isn’t your typical “inspirational true story.” Director Ashutosh Gowariker explores the “Non-Resident Indian” dilemma of succeeding abroad while ignoring the issues at home, the meaning of patriotism, and the problems of modern India without ever being patronizing in the way that the West and NRIs so often view India. It is realistic but there is no poverty porn, honest about Indian society’s shortcomings in terms of under-resourced rural communities and social discrimination, but never in a manner that ignores the beautiful side of the nation or puts it down in any way. All of the characters are always human, never objectified, and Shah Rukh Khan––usually known for his more exaggerated superstar roles in romantic Bollywood flicks––delivers an incredibly subtle portrayal of Bhargava. Both Indians and non-Indians alike should watch this, if anything, to counter the disgustingly shallow representation of India in Western society by media like Slumdog Millionaire (please, please don’t watch Slumdog Millionaire) as well as the negativity proliferated by some Indians abroad. It’s also just so entertaining; the songs and music are some of the best I’ve heard in any Bollywood movie. I don’t think any Hindi film will top this one for me.

30) Interstellar (2014)

My personal favorite of Christopher Nolan’s filmography, even though the methodology disagrees. As grand in emotion as it is in cinematic scope, Interstellar is a rare sci-fi film that balances its wonders––scientific accuracies depicted due to the professional advise of theoretical physicist Kip Thorne––with a sharp focus on characters and relationships. Centered on a father-daughter relationship stretched thin by the need to venture out into space to save a blighted Earth, the lead female character, Murph, (played with determination by Jessica Chastain and even more captivatingly in young age by Mackenzie Foy) is treated with a dimensionality and richness that is not typical of Nolan’s women characters. The practical effects are brilliant, the CGI is actually based on equations from theoretical physics to present black holes and wormholes that are as close to scientifically accurate as cinematically possible, and the real-life locations used to display the landscapes of different planets are stunning (the cornfields on Earth are just as beautifully shot as the snows of Mann’s planet). But more important than the visual brilliance of this film is its message about our enduring love for each other being the key to saving the world, not mathematical equations.

29) Spider-Man 2 (2004)

Undeserving of being on this list, let alone this high, you say? Think again. Sam Raimi invented the “superhero character study” that follows the greatest everyman hero of all time, Peter Parker, as he wrestles with the question: why do bad things happen to good people? And Alfred Molina as Doctor Octopus, more than being a superb villain, also rivals Uncle Ben and Obi-Wan Kenobi as one of the greatest movie mentors of all time. The screenplay is moving and despite being a superhero movie, the film is never afraid of being mature: “Sometimes, to do what’s right, we have to be steady, and give up the thing we want the most. Even our dreams.” Unparalleled honesty and earnestness from a superhero movie.

28) Ladri di biciclette (1948)

Famous in its English title as Bicycle Thieves, this film has a really compelling honesty to it. Yes, it’s depicting the desperation caused by unemployment and poverty in post-WW2 Rome, yes, it’s got a very a simple premise: a man’s quest to find the stolen bicycle that he needs in order to remain employed. But never does Vittorio De Sica’s Italian neorealist classic feel like it’s trying to peddle the viewer some syrupy message about persistence in the face of hardship or the inherent goodness in humanity. It simply presents life as it is, and De Sica makes very smart choices in direction to accomplish this. For one thing, the film only utilizes non-professional actors—to great effect. Lamberto Maggiorani, a factory worker in real life, gives a tender performance in the lead role, never resorting to any really explicit shows of emotion until the very end (making the story that much more devastating). Enzo Staiola, the son of a flower seller who was cast after the director noticed him watching the film shoots, is very sweet and natural as the protagonist’s 8-year-old son, Bruno. The cinematography doesn’t employ too many unique angles or movements but the framing is so attractive and gives a brilliant sense of depth. I especially love the shot of the protagonist and his son peering out of a car windshield, as well as any shot of the two characters crossing the road or entering a doorway. My favorite scene is when the father takes a break from his impossible search for the stolen bike to treat his son to a hard-earned meal at an eatery. Bruno turns to watch a wealthier family eating slowly with forks and knives, chatting and laughing casually without a care in the world, while his clenched teeth desperately wrestle with a long strand of mozzarella from his sandwich, stretched thin just like his father’s financial condition. The film was an influence on numerous other filmmakers, including Satyajit Ray, and remains as poignant as it was in 1948.

27) Raging Bull (1980)

“I’m not an animal…I’m not that bad. I’m not that bad! I’m not that guy…I’m not that guy…” This despaired meltdown comes at the pivotal scene in “Raging Bull” where retired boxer Jake LaMotta, arrested for illicit activities at his nightclub, realizes after pummeling his hands and head against the cell wall that he can’t punch his way out of this one. His anguished blubbering doesn’t (or shouldn’t) evoke much sympathy from the audience though; really, it’s pathetic. Because for nearly two hours, Scorsese has shown us that the Bronx Bull is, in fact, “that guy.” Every manic, rapidly edited boxing scene is preceded and followed by a calmer, quieter insight into LaMotta’s private life, every one of these long shots layered with an underlying tension that builds and builds until the line between LaMotta’s violence in the boxing ring and the aggression in his domestic life are completely blurred. Robert DeNiro’s commitment to the role for which he won an Oscar shines through in the 60 pounds that he put on for some scenes (the result of a four-month European eating binge), but more so in his scenes of unmitigated insecurity that translate into unmitigated rage. Scorsese’s deep disdain for society’s glorification of violence through sport, for insecure male egos, for toxic masculinity in its entirety, really, has never been clearer. And the brilliant editing—the thoughtful use of slow-mo, flashbulbs, the different sound of each punch—makes an otherwise largely plotless narrative a truly captivating, cinematic affair.

26) The Kid (1921)

This was the first Charlie Chaplin film I watched––my parents showed it to me when I was six years old. It was also the first full-length feature film made by Chaplin (he produced, directed, starred, edited, and composed music for the film––a level of creative investment that would become a pattern for Chaplin’s projects). The love between characters and Chaplin’s love for the craft shines through in every frame, from the scene of the Kid breaking windows with stones so that his adoptive father figure, the Tramp, can earn by repairing them, to the more emotional moment when the authorities attempt to separate the two comrades. This film really set the standard for powerful adult-child relationships in subsequent films (Bicycle Thieves, There Will Be Blood, and even a more gruesome superhero flick like Logan seem to take inspiration).

25) Star Wars: A New Hope (1977)

What hasn’t been written about Star Wars? This was where it all started: a true triumph of high-concept creativity, coupled with simple, yet compelling, storytelling techniques that launched a global phenomenon. The narrative simplicity conveyed by the film editing of Star Wars (courtesy of Marcia Lucas, George’s wife) is actually a stroke of genius: every piece of action leads directly to another. We start on the rebel ship, which introduces us to Darth Vader and Princess Leia, who in turn introduce us to C-3PO and R2-D2, who escape the ship and land on Tatooine, proceeding to introduce us to Luke Skywalker, and the plot mostly continues in this linear, straightforward fashion. There is minimal jumping around in space and time, which serves to familiarize the audience with a setting that shouldn’t feel familiar at all (certainly not for an audience in the 70s!)—Wookies, beeping droids, Jawas, and all. The narrative structure, plus the iconic sound editing, groundbreaking special effects, and the endearing performances by Alec Guinness, Carrie Fisher, and Harrison Ford, make this an undeniable cinematic achievement from one of the greatest minds of Hollywood, George Lucas. It’s my favorite piece of sci-fi art of all time and, chances are, a plurality of nerds will agree.

24) Do The Right Thing (1989)

Definitely one of the most important films about America ever made, Do The Right Thing is Spike Lee’s masterpiece and proves his genius. The screenplay is so punchy and clever, the gaudy colors and Dutch angles convey the simmering tension of the plot through cinematography, and the acting is always top-notch—both playful and testy until the plot crescendos to its tragic final act. It’s a story told with realistic nuance: the Black residents of Bed-Stuy are not presented as a perfect monolith. But despite the apparent flaws of individual characters like Buggin’ Out (Giancarlo Esposito is phenomenal in the role), Lee never deviates from his anti-racist message. In a way, he even trolls the audience with his brilliant final act, where viewers might harp on the immorality of property destruction and riots rather than focus on the stolen Black life instead. If you watch only one Spike Lee Joint, it has to be this one.

23) The Jungle Book (1967)

This was the first movie I saw—or the first one I remember seeing, anyway—and it was pure magic. It was the last film produced by Walt Disney, and, in my view, his best. It’s one of the most underrated Disney animated flicks, and yet when you watch it the drawn animated images just never fail to uplift. It did have more influence on filmmaking than it gets credit for: the advent of anthropomorphism would become a staple in animated movies; just think how many animated animals you see talking and dancing onscreen these days. The tunes are catchy, Mowgli’s relationships with Baloo the bear and Bagheera the panther are so sweetly portrayed, and the animated choreography is a delight. Truly the ultimate children’s movie.

22) Forrest Gump (1994)

Tom Hanks pulls off a role that, in anyone else’s hands, likely would have been an insulting, cringeworthy caricature. Instead this is a hopeful film about ordinary Americans living in extraordinary times, moving through landmark points in history with that same unbreakable live-in-the-moment spirit. The famous titular character, for whatever he lacks in IQ score, is far more notable for his universalist representation of the American everyman—the hard-working, forever loyal, bright-eyed individualist never weighed down by the obstacles of life. People with conservative politics claim this movie, though they seem to miss much of the irony in its portrayal of the tumultuous 50s, 60s, and 70s. Yes, it’s about the glories of the American spirit, but it’s also about the aimlessness of Americans in the face of excess. And those groundbreaking visual effects of blue-screened Tom Hanks shaking hands with JFK and LBJ are a hilarious bonus. Anyone, from traditionalist establishmentarians to sardonic populists, can appreciate this story made human by Tom Hanks’ best acting performance to date.

21) The Dark Knight (2008)

So much has been written about this film that anything I might comment regarding its “gritty tone,” or the way it “redefined the superhero genre,” will probably be taken as cliche. So I won’t say much. The Dark Knight has such a razor-sharp screenplay, eye-widening practical effects, grounded creativity, and a show-stealing performance from Heath Ledger as the Joker. I don’t even see it as much of a Batman film, really. Oh, and it’s directed by Christopher Nolan. Watch it.

20) The Matrix (1999)

The Matrix contributed so much to modern visual effects with its signature “bullet time” shot that so effectively portrays the simulation sci-fi setting. It has also has a screenplay that blends philosophical questions with sci-fi concepts. Everyone claims this film as their own––edgy (and quite cringey) online libertarians obsessed with “redpilling,” people who see it as an allegory for transgender identity, religious critics who see shades of Jesus in Neo’s character, and left-sympathizing watchers who see the Matrix as a symbol of capitalist alienation and control. Really, it’s a movie telling anyone to “free your mind,” as Morpheus (another top 10 movie mentor) tells Neo. Philosophy aside––and there really is a lot of it––this movie is just so damn cool. People in black trench coats and pince-nez sunglasses, doing kung-fu, dodging bullets in slo-mo, and leaping across buildings in a computer simulation? And that final scene with the epic electric guitar riff––just perfection. The Wachowskis, like Stanley Kubrick and George Lucas before them, changed the sci-fi genre forever.

19) Mahanagar (1963)

An underrated gem in Satyajit Ray’s oeuvre, Mahanagar (trans. The Big City) is a brilliant character study, providing insight into subtle patriarchy and the dilemma of working middle-class women. The creative use of mirror shots, Madhabi Mukherjee’s captivating performance, and Ray’s always delicate direction make this a really essential watch for film lovers.

18) The Godfather: Part II (1974)

One of the greatest sequels (and prequels!) ever made, the second installment in Francis Ford Coppola’s classic trilogy definitely asks more important questions of its characters and story than its predecessor. With his tale of class permanence, immigrant struggles with assimilation, and the corrupting influence of the American economy, Coppola masterfully chooses to direct the movie with alternating scenes from two stories: the rise of Vito Corleone as The Godfather (Robert De Niro gives his best, though he can’t quite reach the heights of Marlon Brando’s iconic performance), and the fall of Michael Corleone as his successor. The contrasting stories perfectly illustrate Coppola’s point and pack a harder emotional punch when Michael finally sells his soul and crosses the one line even the bloodthirstiest Mafia boss shouldn’t cross: targeting his own family. Al Pacino deserved an Oscar for this one.

17) Dunkirk (2017)

Dunkirk is such a special war film. The audience doesn’t see the German enemy until the very end of the movie, yet we feel the intense fear of the Allied units stranded on the beaches of France. The ear-shattering, realistic sound editing of relentless shelling is paired with a score that lets us hear the literal ticking of the clock as the soldiers await rescue. I had the privilege of seeing this film in IMAX, as Christopher Nolan intended for his movie to be seen—and in that format, you really feel like you’re in line with the battalions left trapped at Dunkirk. The very small number of scenes that sink down into 70 mm projection only add more weight to the expansive, frightening war scenes shot in IMAX: the narrower 70 mm scenes are often of soldiers trapped in an overcrowded boat or flooded ship, and the viewer thus really feels the suffocation of the characters through the camera shot itself. But even seeing this film at a regular movie theatre or on a smaller screen allows the viewer to appreciate the remarkable filmmaking. We don’t need any brutality, gore, weeping, or screaming to feel the horrors of war. We barely need dialogue at all. The cinematography, the scenery, the sound of the bombs themselves, all do it for us. And of course, because this is a Nolan film, his narrative structure has to tinker with time. The story is presented from three perspectives: the forces on land (whose events occur over a week), the boats at sea (for a single day), and dogfights in the air (for one hour). The diversity of perspective gives us a sense of the sheer scope of this emergency and the dire straits that the entire Allied forces found themselves in at this pivotal moment in World War II. Each of these scenes are intercut with each other to completely mess with the viewer’s sense of time—as, one can imagine, also occurs for a soldier in grave peril—while still keeping us acutely aware that the stranded forces at Dunkirk are quickly running out of time. And it’s just one of the most incredible stories from WW2. Every war film is about the heroism of the soldiers involved, but this one has a different message: it’s about the heroism of an entire nation, its everyday civilians who literally hopped on their private boats to help rescue their boys across the English Channel. There is a scene where it is communicated to an officer at Dunkirk that Prime Minister Churchill expected to evacuate 30,000 men with naval ships. Because of the efforts of thousands of private citizens, 300,000 men were rescued from Dunkirk. It’s not a film about taking life or the glory of war. It’s a film about saving lives, and the brave sacrifice of not just soldiers, but those everyday civilians, too. In time I can see this film possibly surpassing Saving Private Ryan in common opinion for the title of greatest war movie ever made.

16) There Will Be Blood (2007)

Some people point to this as a defining achievement in direction for Paul Thomas Anderson, and it is. But in my view There Will Be Blood is really Daniel Day-Lewis’ film. His initially subtle, then tension-brimmed, and finally maniacal portrayal of Daniel Plainview, an obsessively greedy oil tycoon in early 20th Century America, makes this one of the most meaningful films ever made about the U.S. and its myths. Paul Dano is no slouch either, and his double-role as a cultish priest and his twin brother adds the obsessively religious dimension that helps to convey both sides of the American story: an obsession with money, fraudulent religiosity, and superficial family bonds. Plainview’s descent into unhinged bloodlust as a result of unregulated capitalism’s corrupting influence is like watching a carefully conducted symphony: it builds up to an exhilarating crescendo. The real-life locations, epic cinematography, and the incredibly accurate sets that portray oil exploration during the Gilded Age are additional elements that make this such a mesmerizing watch.

15) Saving Private Ryan (1998)

No one can talk about this World War II movie without mentioning the opening scene on Omaha Beach. It just feels so real––shockingly gruesome, jarring in its expansive cinematography, a sound mix and visual editing that makes for a film of sheer terror. Spielberg set a new standard for war movies with this one, and a new standard for cinema in general. Saving Private Ryan will always define the genre.

14) Parasite (2019)

This is some searing black comedy, with very tight direction and a hooking, whip-smart window into modern South Korean feudalism and the dynamics of economic inequality in general. Bong Joon-ho deserved the universal acclaim for his direction here: a plot that could have come across as crass or artificial is instead thoughtful and insightful. The dramatic shift in tone doesn’t come out of anywhere; it’s displayed as simmering and bubbling under the surface in every interaction, every forced expression between the Kim and Park families. Any screenplay that makes you laugh and then makes you flinch is, in my view, a work of genius.

13) Citizen Kane (1941)

Yes, my methodology did the unthinkable. No film has been slapped with the title of “greatest movie of all time” as consistently as Citizen Kane. And yet here I am, ranking it a mere thirteenth place. I hope this won’t be taken as me labeling this grand cinematic achievement as woefully overrated: everything about Orson Welles’ classic is highly innovative, particularly for 1941. The nonlinear story structure, the unique camera angles and lighting, the deep-focus cinematography, and Robert Wise’s beautiful dissolves and montage editing all make the film an undeniable technical pioneer. If anything the film is too clinical; for all that it achieves in cinematic technique, it perhaps slightly lacks in making the audience truly care about its character. The real question of the story is not so much discovering the meaning of “Rosebud,” our protagonist’s famous last word before dying, but really the question of why Charles Foster Kane is the way he is: why is he this obsessive egomaniac who desperately wants to be loved? For as many times as we hear the characters in the movie speak his name and tell snippets of story about his “jigsaw puzzle” life, the film never gives us many good answers. Maybe I just don’t get it, and Kane’s enigmatic nature is the very point of the film—symbolized by the mystery of Rosebud. But, at least for me, the story doesn’t make for a super impactful watch, at least on an emotional level. The film always inspires admiration but not necessarily adoration.

12) Schindler’s List (1993)

The greatest movie that I would not be able to see a second time. Harrowing cannot even begin to describe the Holocaust, and Steven Spielberg does not attempt to convey its cruelty with any forced emotion: he places the viewer right into the horrors of Nazi ghettos and concentration camps with a handheld camera that follows the atrocities like a walking observer, to incredibly haunting effect. The film is not so much a testament to the heroism of Oskar Schindler as it is a depiction of the Jewish people’s resilience through humanity’s lowest point, and asks the question of why more could not be done and why others did not speak up. The crimes of the Nazi regime are obvious from the very beginning of the film––”as obvious as a little girl wearing a red coat,” Spielberg says of his film’s famous shot––and yet Schindler only makes the decision to save more than a thousand Jews after the fatal threat of Auschwitz looms over his Jewish workers. The film shows both of humanity’s extremes––its worst and its best––emphasized by the black-and-white cinematography. Ralph Fiennes and Ben Kingsley deliver just as impactful performances as Liam Neeson in the lead role.

11) Inception (2010)

How do you bring dreams to life? If any director can accomplish this, it’s Christopher Nolan, and he hits it out of the ballpark with Inception, a movie that changed the ballgame for sci-fi movies in terms of visuals, editing, and narrative. The incredibly compelling premise––a heist movie where the characters can enter dreams to steal and plant ideas––is brought to screen in a manner that always invests the audience in the story and lets the action do the explaining rather than endless exposition. It’s a gutsy move, one that could have been an absolute train wreck if it wasn’t for Nolan’s careful direction. The (literally) layered plot, rather than being confusing, always serves to inspire the audience and reminds us to savor reality, with all of its illusion and deception.

10) Taxi Driver (1976)

Martin Scorsese’s brilliance is that he’s never afraid to linger on his subjects, but he also never stuffs anything down the viewer’s throat. The masterful character study that is Taxi Driver accomplishes this with slow-mo shots and active camera movements that convey the hellish New York City environment through Travis Bickle’s disturbed––and disturbing––eyes. The plot is slow but absorbing, meditative but maniacal. The screenplay is one of the best ever written: crisp, biting, forever open to interpretation. Scorsese identifies Entitled Incel Syndrome before it was commonly discussed (today we see men of this condition in too many places––on sketchy online discussion forums, amongst Andrew Tate and Jordan Peterson fans, and, most tragically, in mass shootings). He makes us share Travis’s disgust at the city’s sick atmosphere while never fully sympathizing with the main character’s self-absorbed, hypocritical point of view. It’s a remarkable balancing act, one that culminates in a final act of irony––and a very intentional, but not at all glamorized, scene of unhinged violence––that stays with the viewer long after the film is over.

9) The Great Dictator (1940)

The greatest satirical film ever made. Charlie Chaplin displays an astounding prescience, and also courage, in strongly condemning the fascism of Hitler and Mussolini before America had even entered World War II. Scenes like Dictator Adenoid Hynkel’s dance with a globe balloon will surely make you laugh but also make you think, and the famous final speech in the film might even make you cry. Sharp in its satire but always humanistic, The Great Dictator remains an endlessly watchable and politically relevant film.

8) The Sound of Music (1965)

With gorgeous Austrian hills, wonderfully tuneful songs, and upbeat, warm characters, The Sound of Music is certain to be an uplifting watch, but its shades of seriousness and thoughtfulness with the Nazi backdrop adds a more deeply meaningful aspect to the film. Watching the Von Trapp family encourage an entire crowd of Austrians to sing along to “Edelweiss” always stirs up feelings of patriotism within me (even as a non-Austrian!) that I have not even felt from any war movie. As a film about finding beauty in music and human beings during dark times, its message never wilts. There’s a reason I’ve seen it seven times.

7) Gandhi (1982)

Capturing the scope of a grassroots movement in addition to a mind as sharp and persistent as Mahatma Gandhi’s is not easy, but Richard Attenborough pulls it off with a grand effort that is always authentic, powerful, and morally inspiring. Ben Kingsley as Gandhi is probably the greatest biopic performance ever brought to screen––he nails every small detail in this almost legendary figure’s gait, voice, and gestures, and the dialogue captures both Gandhi’s strengths as a political leader as well as his keen sense of humor. The other performances are uncanny, too (Roshan Seth as Jawaharlal Nehru and Alyque Padamsee as Mohammed Ali Jinnah are particularly striking). Sure, the movie is 3 hours and 11 minutes, but it’s 3 hours and 11 minutes of zero bloat. If you want to know exactly how it was possible for India to be liberated by a non-violent uprising, this is the film to watch.

6) The Empire Strikes Back (1980)

Something I like to imagine George Lucas asked himself while producing The Empire Strikes Back is the question: was Star Wars a fluke? Were audiences driven to the box office in droves for the electric first installation solely for the novelty of an operatic space epic with dramatic world building and groundbreaking visual effects? Was this a cinematic event that was going to be timeless? Or would it drift into obscurity when sci-fi fantasy filmmaking inevitably advanced? In a sense, the movie asks similar questions of its characters. Luke Skywalker, the ordinary farmboy-turned-hero of this galaxy far, far, away, has to prove to himself that he really is special, that he is fighting this rebellious war against the sinister Galactic Empire not out of a mere craving for adventure but for a bigger purpose within himself. And, as this movie progresses, it becomes a plausible idea in the audience’s mind that Luke’s triumph in the first movie against the Death Star was, in fact, a fluke. Instead of soaring across the beautiful snow-covered terrain of the planet Hoth and easily shooting down those Imperial combat walkers, Luke’s Airspeeder gets shot down instead. When he seeks out the funny-looking Jedi Master Yoda, he essentially fails at his training with his youthful impatience. And the film (SPOILER ALERT) doesn’t end in the traditionally uplifting sense––Luke finds his hand chopped off by Darth Vader, his comrade Han Solo frozen in carbon, and the Empire hot on his puny rebel ship’s heels. He’s completely broken in a cliffhanger ending that could not be more different from the heroic sequence at the end of the first film. And, to top it all off, it’s been revealed to him that Darth Vader––his mentor’s killer and the Big Bad of the franchise––is actually his father. Foreshadowed by an earlier, nightmarish scene where Luke sees his own face inside a severed helmet of Vader’s, Lucas forces Luke to grapple with self-doubt about the nature of his own character, his own power, and what he might become. And in this struggle, he finds his bigger purpose: to keep himself from becoming like his dad, and perhaps turn the Sith Lord back from the Dark Side. The greatest sci-fi film of all time, for all of its technical doohickeys, iconic sound editing, and first-of-their kind visual effects, is merely a compelling family drama. It’s not about this archetypical, altruistic heroism so common in films before: it’s about saving ourselves, and the people we love. The Empire Strikes Back, at its core, is a movie about destiny and legacy, and it gives us no solid answers. But two things are clear after watching this film: George Lucas had truly destined the Star Wars franchise for greatness, and the legacy of this movie is that of the greatest sequel ever made.

5) The Godfather (1972)

The first and last scenes of The Godfather might be the most perfectly directed, shot, and acted scenes in movie history. This might be a tall claim but I’ve never felt so fixated to an opener or closer quite like the ones in this movie. It’s one of those movies that I struggle to express my thoughts on because it’s just that good—these crime family characters that, in any other universe, we would have no reason to sympathize with or care about, are so humanized through Francis Ford Coppola’s genius co-writing and direction WHILE retaining the bloodthirsty, over-the-top antics of any on-screen Mafia family (anyone up for some severed horse heads in their bedsheets?). It’s the perfect example of cinema that doubles as wholehearted entertainment and a marvel in cinematic technique: the clever use of light and darkness in the cinematography, those gentle in-out dolly shots, and the highly effective real-life locations (the filth of New York’s crime ridden streets and the peaceful Mafia haven of Sicily are beautifully depicted) are all part of a filmmaking masterclass. The script is good—so, so good—but the real genius is in the way the camera can convey meaning without words. I would watch this movie over and over again just for the first and last scenes. The story of the Corleone family is a gangster drama, a family drama, in a sense even a stirring political drama about dual identity and the hypocritical corruption in American society. Above all, it’s a hooking accomplishment of cinema. 

4) Rashomon (1950)

Very few movies manage to challenge the viewer in a way that doesn’t serve to confuse but rather impress. The central narrative conceit in Akira Kurosawa’s most innovative film is to present a story about a bandit, a wife, and her samurai husband’s murder from three perspectives before a policeman––and the audience is literally placed in the position of the judge, with each character’s testimonial anticipating questions the audience might have about their account and staring right into the camera to answer those questions. The impossible task of determining objective truth is punted at the audience with a variety of camera angles, subtle differences in otherwise highly dramatic acting, and an impressive use of natural lighting in the small number of settings used in the film (the forest, the Rashomon gate, and the courtyard). You have to watch this film to understand just how clever and revolutionary it was. You don’t expect a film that depicts humans as unstoppable liars to convey an ultimately optimistic message, but Rashomon’s ending actually does––warning the viewer to take all stories with a grain of salt while never jumping to judge a stranger’s motives.

3) City Lights (1931)

A film without words can make you feel so many things. An elegant story, heartfelt performances, and clever stunts are all Charlie Chaplin needs to really tug at the heartstrings in this outing for his Little Tramp. His famous protagonist falls for a blind girl and attempts to woo her, but falls into a trap of mistaken identity with a millionaire that conveys themes about class and authentic love. It’s about the true meaning of sight, and those who are invisible to us in society––their lives and their loves and a final scene that will wreck you emotionally but tie together a beautiful message with a beautifully made film. Do you love romance? Do you love comedy? Do you love social commentary? City Lights is a winner in all fields.

2) Pather Panchali (1955)

Pather Panchali is one of those things that I love and admire so much that I have difficulty writing about it or describing why I love it. It’s hard to believe that this was Satyajit Ray’s debut film––it is definitely the best debut of all time because it was one of the most subtle, ingenious directing jobs of all time. Acclaimed internationally and within India as an authentic, observational depiction of village life in rural Bengal, it is an artistic accomplishment because of its optimistic messaging despite an honest portrayal of hardship. It is humanistic at its core, conveying to its audience that those who live in rural poverty have dreams, pleasures, and emotions of their own beyond the struggles they face in life. Sibling love, parental love, youthful wonder: they all endure in this accomplishment of Indian realism. I could go on and on about the filmmaking, which employs some of the purest techniques in the art––non-professional actors in the lead roles, real-life filming locations in rural Bengal, natural lighting, documentary-style cinematography. Ray used a host of directorial tricks to bring out the best in his performers; just one example was how he hid filming assistants behind trees in a field and got them to call out the name of the little boy who played the film’s famous lead, Apu, so that the boy would naturally turn his head in different directions and give a more realistic imitation of a child searching for his hidden sister. For a film with such a paltry budget to be such a giant accomplishment in cinema history is unbelievably impressive. There are so many more incredible stories about the production of this film. The entire Apu Trilogy is famous in the cinema world, but this first installment should be watched by everyone before they die in my view: it’s the defining film of India.

1) Modern Times (1936)

Charlie Chaplin is the greatest filmmaker of all time. He never needed dialogue, super elaborate camera movements, or complicated narrative structures to make the audience respond with both tears of joy and sadness. With just a few very inventive sets and practical effects, Modern Times combines laugh-out-loud physical comedy with fervent anti-capitalist, pro-worker messaging. Charlie Chaplin’s acting as the Little Tramp endures as an iconic, humorous, emotional portrayal. The score, co-composed by Chaplin himself, is simply grand. The scene on the assembly line where the Tramp malfunctions along with the machines, slipping inside the unit and getting stuck between the gears, is funny as heck but does make one think about how industrialization turned workers into merely another cog of the machine. I truly don’t believe it is possible for someone to watch this film and not enjoy it on some level, whether as pure comedy or political commentary. The genius is in the universalism.