Cinematic masterpieces [Bryan]

Awhile back, Professor Travis Anderson, who runs the International Cinema program at BYU, was asked about his favorite films. Below is the list he came up with. I've been trying to slowly work my way through his list, and it has really been a learning experience. There are films there that have left me thinking for months. My favorite so far has been "The Bicycle Thief." After naming his favorite film as "Cinema Paradiso," Anderson continues:

My second favorite would be a close call between Mikhalkov’s subtle and haunting “Slave of Love,” a Russian masterpiece with perhaps the second-best ending of any film (and no words do it justice—you just have to see it), and Tarkovsky’s “Nostalghia” (Which is the better film, but has only the third-best ending of all time). My favorite director is certainly Andrei Tarkovsky, with “Nostalghia” my favorite among his films. It’s a much more cerebral film than “Cinema Paradiso,” of course, but equally beautiful in its own way—with “Solaris” and “Stalker” not far behind. As I’ve noted in lectures here for 15 years, I’d watch “Solaris” just to see the pivotal scene where the lovers float weightlessly while the artistic relics of our culture float around them and initiate their transformation into real human beings.

Let’s see. Some other favorites. The list is a long one: De Sica’s “The Bicycle Thief” (which still moves me tremendously); Majidi’s “Children of Heaven” and “The Color of Paradise” (a breathtakingly profound film with another fantastic ending); Yimou’s “Not One Less” and “To Live”; Kiarostami’s “The Wind Will Carry Us”; Dreyer’s “Ordet” (perhaps the best religious film ever made, with a climax that will completely stun you); Wenders’ “Wings of Desire” (if only this world and the next were so lovingly intertwined); Scott’s “The Duelists” (gorgeous natural-light cinematography) and “Blade Runner” (a perennial guilty pleasure); Leoni’s “Once Upon a Time in the West” (with another Morriconi musical masterwork—the best moment of which is during the crane shot at the station, when both the camera and the music soar heavenwards to reveal a landscape that will always be mythical); Cimino’s “Heaven’s Gate,” which contains one of the most beautiful representations of community ever recorded on film (the roller-skating scene), and yet another fantastic soundtrack; Joffe’s “The Mission” (which is almost as beautiful as Morriconi’s score, and that’s saying something); Woody Allen’s “Crimes and Misdemeanors” (an astonishing, under-appreciated masterpiece); Antonioni’s “The Passenger” (with what, for years, was the longest single take on film—and certainly the most lyrical); Herzog’s “Aguirre: the Wrath of God,” “Nosferatu,” and “Lessons of Darkness” (all of which leave me speechless); Ray’s “Apu Trilogy” and “Devi”; Resnais’ “Hiroshima, mon amour”; “Roeg’s “Walkabout” and Antonioni’s “L’avventura” (both of which are virtual courses in the masterful use of mis-en-scene); Wier’s “Picnic at Hanging Rock,” “Fearless,” and ‘The Truman Show” (has this guy ever made a bad film?); Betancor’s “Valentina” (one of the best films about childhood ever made); Berri’s “Jean de Florette” and “Manon of the Spring”; Coppola’s “The Conversation” (which I personally think is his best film); Erici’s “The Spirit of the Beehive” (if you haven’t seen this film, you’ve missed perhaps the best about film ever made—with the exception of “Cinema Paradiso,” of course); Branagh’s “Henry V,” Olmi’s “The Tree of Wooden Clogs,” Gibson’s “Braveheart,” Ivory’s “Remains of the Day,” Spielberg’s “Empire of the Sun” and “Saving Private Ryan,” Malick’s “Days of Heaven” and “The Thin Red Line,” Zefirelli’s “La Traviata,” Madden’s “Shakespeare in Love,” Radford’s “Il Postino,” and Eastwood’s “The Unforgiven.” I love all these films. And I’m sure I’ve forgotten a few.

Among the best recent films I’ve seen are Samuell’s “Jeux d’enfants” (“Love Me if You Dare” is the English title, I think), which is tragic, but riveting; Juenet’s “Amelie”; De Laubier’s “Veloma,” perhaps the most insightful film about isolation and spiritual longing I’ve ever seen; Cantet’s “Time Out,” which will haunt you forever; and Belvaux’s incredible trilogy, “Cavale,” “Afterlife,” and “An Amazing Couple,” which must be seen together and which redefine what films can contribute to the discussion of ethical judgment. All of these are French, interestingly enough. In fact, in terms of numbers, most the best films I’ve seen in recent years have been French.

A few other recent films which I liked quite a lot—both by female directors—are Jill Sprecher’s “Thirteen Converations about One Thing” (perhaps the most philosophically interesting film I’ve seen in quite a while) and Penny Panayotopoulou’s “Hard Goodbyes: My Father” (this one will reduce you to a weeping wreck—but without a moment of disingenuity).

Kim Ki’duk’s “Spring, Summer, Winter, Fall . . . and Spring” is an absolute stunner. Perhaps the most beautiful cinematography of any film in recent memory. And a morality tale to die for—this is the film that “Why Has Bodhi-dharma Left for the East” ever-so-much wanted to be. And if you’ll let me include two TV mini-series, I’d have to add “Brideshead Revisited,” which is so good it almost surpasses the prose, and, of course, “Lonesome Dove.”

So, if you are looking for some movies to see, there you go.