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The 100 Greatest Films of The 21st Century
The 100 Greatest Films of The 21st Century
Critics from around the world explain why they picked the top films on our list.
23 August 2016
25. Memento
23. Cach
All of Michael Hanekes films are bound to haunt you. With Cach he cuts to the
chase and makes the idea of haunting the theme of the story itself. Daniel Auteuil
and Juliette Binoche star as a bourgeois Parisian couple that start to receive
disturbing video tapes showing their home. Who is watching them? And what is
actually revealed on those tapes? As soon as you realise that the true revelation
lies in the couples reaction to the tapes, things start to dissolve. Interior and
exterior conflict, individual and collective guilt become one as Haneke makes you
face somebody who is made to face his and his countrys historical crimes. The
act of not looking away is the moral imperative at the heart of Cach, which
makes it a supreme political and cinematic movie at the same time. Hannah
Pilarczyk, Der Spiegel, Germany (Credit: Alamy)
Please stop trying to figure out what Bill Murray says to Scarlett Johansson at the
end of Sofia Coppolas beautiful and ineffably bittersweet second film; the words
dont matter, and the moment is only so powerful because you can't hear them.
The 21st Centurys reigning empress of cinematic ennui, Coppola has always
used celebrity as a shortcut to the loneliness that exists between private lives
and public images. But it's this brief encounter on the streets of Shinjuku this
last goodbye between a dislocated young philosophy grad and a disenchanted
old movie star that solidifies Lost in Translation as her most perfect film, the
one that best articulates how it can be to find yourself in a world that seldom lets
you forget where you are. David Ehrlich, Indiewire, US (Credit: Alamy)
Synecdoche, New York was initially conceived when Charlie Kaufman was
approached about doing a horror film. Instead of masked killers and
extraterrestrial monsters, though, Kaufman set out to make a movie about the
stuff that really keeps us up at night. Synecdoche, New York is every deep-seated
fear you've ever had, writ large: you've disappointed your spouse and failed your
children, you've let your loved ones die lonely, excruciating deaths, and you'll
never complete the work you were put here to do because you, too, will reach the
end before you know it. And that, paradoxically, is what makes it so affirming.
Kaufman's masterpiece isn't joyful, but it's bursting at the seams with wild
ambition and brimming with empathy. It's a reminder that even at our lowest and
darkest, we are not alone. Angie Han, Slashfilm, US (Credit: Alamy)
With Mad Max: Fury Road, George Miller dialed up the modern blockbuster to full
blast. A cohesive vision with a structured journey built around themes of survival
and endurance, the fourth entry in the dystopian franchise showcased what is
otherwise the narrative and thematic drought within the Hollywood blockbuster
machine. Cast in silver and gold, the film redefines the place of auteurism within
mainstream cinema, as it portrays an idiosyncratic and singular perspective that
refutes committee-driven film-making. Without resorting to cheap cynicism and
faux-grittiness, Miller zeroes in on the sensuality of the environments, the
carefully crafted machines and scorched landscapes. His future may be bleak, but
it is filled with wonder and a hope derived from human ingenuity. Justine A
Smith, Freelance, Canada (Credit: Alamy)
18. The White Ribbon (Credit: Credit: Alamy)
Was there a more auspicious year for Mexican directors than 2006? Alejandro
Gonzlez Irritu, Alfonso Cuarn and Guillermo Del Toro offered intriguing and
substantive examples of their vision in Babel, Children of Men and Pans
Labyrinth. The last of these, the solitary Spanish-language title in this triad, is a
counterpoint to the other two: its Del Toro going back to his roots, to his alchemy
of pop and auteur cinema, to give us a look into the horrors of war in this case
the Spanish Civil War. A twin of Del Toros other beautiful Civil War picture, The
Devils Backbone, Pans Labyrinth gives us tragedy through the filter of fantasy,
going deep into a well of suffering and magic. Its power lies in its purity: nothing
we can imagine is as terrible as what we can do to each other. Ana Maria
Bahiana, Freelance, Brazil (Credit: Alamy)
One scene, one cut, zero music. Cristian Mungiu's 2007 Palme d'Or winner is a
touchstone of the Romanian New Wave, a stark wonder of a film exemplified by
visual precision, a bracingly clear-eyed script and glacial detachment. Imbuing a
backstreet abortion with the brutal tension of a crime thriller and abortion was a
crime in 1980s Romania Mungiu evokes the callous and repressive atmosphere
of Ceausescu's foundering dictatorship. Yet despite much harrowing imagery,
depicted in unblinking detail within a fraught 24-hour timeframe, the film's
underlying humanism is glimpsed through the unbeatable spirit of protagonist
Otila, a college student who takes unthinkable risks and goes through grueling
lengths to help her friend Gabita fix her unwanted pregnancy. Maggie Lee,
Variety, Hong Kong (Credit: Alamy)
Harrowing, confrontational and surreal, The Act of Killing ends with Anwar Congo,
the gangster who murdered nearly 1,000 people in 1965-66 following the military
coup in Indonesia, coming to terms with his heinous crimes. Possibly. He sobs,
vomits and laments the lives he had willfully taken away, and yet we're never
sure if he's genuinely repentant or if it's all a high-wire act on his part. But we
want to believe that he is; we want to believe that justice is possible; that the
killers may one day live through the agony they inflicted on the one million
people they butchered. That's the hidden drive behind Joshua Oppenheimer's
formally innovative debut feature. Few films have dared to capture the full
spectrum of human evil so candidly, so perceptively, as Oppenheimer does in his
unclassifiable non-fiction epic in which the Texas-born Danish film-maker
convinces members of the death squads to reenact their murders in the style of
their favourite Hollywood films. The Act of Killing is a piercing, multilayered study
about national amnesia, about the power of self-deceit and the questionable
morality of truth-seeking. Its status as the 21st Century's most celebrated
documentary will likely be preserved for a long time to come. Joseph Fahim,
Freelance, Egypt (Credit: Alamy)
13. Children of Men (Credit: Credit: Alamy)
Heres a bold statement about a bold movie: Children of Men, like no other film
this century, and perhaps no other movie ever, solves the meaning of life. (The
answer? More life, of course.) Alfonso Cuarns staggering 2006 adaptation of PD
James novel is that rare picture that astounds with technical marvels long,
exquisite unbroken shots; a beguiling, but subtle, development in camera
technology that allows for one of the most stunning scenes ever shot inside a car.
But it is also rich and vital in its emotional and philosophical depth: its sadness,
its anger, its reverence and worry for humanity. Cruelly overlooked in its initial
release, Children of Men has endured to become a cult favourite that should be
required viewing for anyone grappling with feelings of dread about modern
civilisation. Which is to say, probably everyone. In the end there is transcendent
hope, found amongst Cuarns beautiful, bracing rubble. Richard Lawson, Vanity
Fair, US (Credit: Alamy)
12. Zodiac
David Fincher, famed for doing dozens of takes, might know something about
obsession. Zodiac, his meticulous, gorgeous and haunting true crime movie, is a
deep dive into obsession, following a newspaper cartoonist who becomes
consumed by the 1970s Zodiac murders. Featuring astonishing performances
from a pre-resurgence Robert Downey Jr and a pre-Nightcrawler Jake Gyllenhaal,
Zodiac pulses with jittery energy while luxuriating in its own peculiar slow burn to
nowhere. Gloriously detail-driven, Zodiac drags viewers into a compulsive world
where the smallest hint can be the biggest clue, and it presents the obsessives
worst nightmare: that, in the end, answers are utterly unattainable. Devin
Faraci, BirthMoviesDeath, US (Credit: Alamy)
He's a messy haired loner strumming an acoustic guitar, struggling to show the
world he's got talent. No one cares, and no one wants to listen. Set in the
Greenwich Village folk scene of the 1960s, the Coen brothers' Inside Llewyn Davis
is an achingly melodic tribute to an unloved underdog. Davis (Oscar Isaac) is
striking out on his own after his musical partner goes solo. Along his dour
journey, he'll find others vying for similar success and others just trying to
survive, in a very Coen-esque manner. Inside Llewyn Davis is a solemn song for
anybody trying to become somebody. Monica Castillo, The New York Times
Watching, US (Credit: Alamy)
Readers of Cormac McCarthys No Country for Old Men put down the novel
possessing a distinct image of its villain. The Anton Chigurh on the page became
vividly seared into our consciousness. That image, though, is not Javier Bardem in
the Coen Brothers Oscar-winner for best picture. Yet Bardems film
characterisation is so powerful, so splendidly overwhelming in his random
application of violence, that he manages to extinguish whatever preceded it in
the mind of the audience. Set in West Texas in 1980, No Country for Old Mens
sense of time and place are unparalleled a testament to cinematographer Roger
Deakins. Theres a hypnotic quality to the movies pace, watching characters you
cant help but like played by Josh Brolin, Woody Harrelson and Kelly Macdonald
make a series of catastrophic decisions that bring each into Chigurhs universe, a
world soaked in blood with a predetermined outcome. Ben Mankiewicz, Turner
Classic Movies, US (Credit: Alamy)
9. A Separation
If there is a film that makes you take a deep look at yourself in the mirror again
and again, this is it. Asghar Farhadis searing relationship drama does not make a
judgement about its characters. Rather, it pitches the situations so realistically
that the viewer ends up sympathising with both protagonists even though they
are pitted against each other. It isnt surprising if most viewers find some
reflection of their own lives in the events that occur during the course of the film.
The gripping pace, the perfectly-pitched acting, the way the situations unfold all
made to look as if one is watching ones neighbours, or maybe someone in ones
own home create an unparalleled cinematic morality play. Utpal Borpujari,
Freelance, India (Credit: Alamy)
Like a great poem, The Tree of Life opens itself to a thousand interpretations, as
director Terrence Malick takes a spiritual and lyrical journey through time, from a
dusty 1950s childhood in Texas back to the beginnings of the cosmos itself. This
strange new pillar in the cathedral of US cinema stars Brad Pitt as an
authoritarian father and Jessica Chastain as a tender and deeply religious mother
of three sons. Emmanuel Lubezkis cinematography is sun-dappled, or oozes
images of boiling lava, dinosaurs and exploding planets, all to a soundtrack of
Preisners Requiem in this case a requiem to a dead son. The joys and aching
losses of parenting become transcendent, even Biblical, in Malicks hands. Kate
Muir, The Times, UK (Credit: Alamy)
The story of a breakup gone wrong, Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind could
easily have gone wrong itself. But this wasn't your average whimsical tale of
romantic yearning. After delivering some of the best music videos and
commercials of the 90s, director Michel Gondry finally found his groove with
Charlie Kaufman's layered, head-spinning screenplay, injecting its jagged
structure with warmth. Jim Carrey, meanwhile, boldly pushed against type to
portray a perennially sad man literally trapped by his grievances and eager to let
them unravel. But the movie belongs just as much to Kate Winslet, whose
character's decision to erase her own memories of the ex-couple's time together
sets the drama in motion. Eerie and surreal, charming and tragic, the movie
wrestles with the fundamental instability of all human relationships, achieving a
wise and powerful vision that is ironically for a tale about fading memories
unforgettable. Eric Kohn, Indiewire, US (Credit: Alamy)
5. Boyhood
This 21st Century masterpiece took most of the 21st Century to make. For more
than a decade, Richard Linklater spent a few weeks each year chronicling the life
of Mason (Ellar Coltrane). He begins the movie in first grade; about three hours
later, he graduates from high school. In between, Linklater crams in an
astonishing survey of modern life. His bold logistical gamble What if an actor
had died? Or lost interest? was way more than simple technical gimmick.
Letting the story and characters evolve organically over the years gave them an
authenticity that a young Linklater could never have faked, and watching the
cast, which also includes Ethan Hawke and a remarkable Patricia Arquette, age
before our eyes, adds an extra layer of poignancy to every single scene. In an era
when every aspect of society was accelerating, Linklater slowed down to tell the
one of the definitive stories of our time. Matt Singer, ScreenCrush, US (Credit:
Alamy)
4. Spirited Away
Its hard to place any one of Studio Ghiblis sweet, passionate animated films
above the others, but Hayao Miyazakis Spirited Away does particularly stand out
for its visual sophistication and elaborate themes of determination, courage and
good cheer. Miyazakis story of a young girl trapped in the spirit world, trying to
rescue her parents, feels like a throwback to an earlier age of hand-drawn
animation. Made at a point where CGI was taking over animated features in the
US, Spirited Away has a lovingly handmade feel. But it also has an ambitious
sweep to its elaborate visuals of Japanese spirit-monsters and a sense of soaring
adventure. Its a traditional fairy tale turned into an exciting narrative of
transformation and discovery. Tasha Robinson, The Verge, US (Credit: Alamy)
1. Mulholland Drive
WH Auden called Los Angeles the great wrong place. James Ellroy called it the
great right place. The idea that two, or more, seemingly conflicting ideas can
simultaneously be true is so often forgotten in the zero-sum culture of today, but
its at the heart of David Lynchs empathetic masterpiece. Mulholland Drive came
to us haunted. It was a rejected TV pilot, reportedly turned down because of its
confusing narrative, actresses ludicrously deemed too old, disturbing images and
Old Hollywood star Ann Miller sucking on a cigarette. By design, Lynch was
already echoing the Hollywood dream machine and the idea that movies reflect
our own dreams perhaps knowing all along this fever dream could only flower
on the big screen. Mulholland Drive is a reverie of sex, suicide and silencio. Its
also America, the beautiful and the bizarre, its romanticism, dysfunction, cruelty
and absurdity. We love movies. The world loves movies. But Americas often
freakish, surreal desperation towards glamour when upturned can be as ugly
and as horrifying as a nightmare and the nightmare set at Winkies Diner in
Mulholland Drive is one of the most terrifying moments put on film. Lynchs film is
so gorgeous and so painful, so mysterious and, in many ways, so recognisable
drive on the actual road, Mulholland, at night, and then walk from Western to
Vermont, and youll see that, whatever theory you ascribe to it, the picture does
indeed reflect a reality that moves beyond southern California and parks itself in
our brains, tapping into our dreams, deepest fears, inscrutable natures, erotic
desires, and pool boys. Kim Morgan, Sunset Gun, US (Credit: Alamy)