Top 100 - for the list so far, please see the archive at the foot of the page

50. One Foot in Heaven (Irving Rapper, 1941) is a simple, stunningly effective movie about the life of a Methodist minister (Fredric March) and his family at the turn of the last century. Based on the memoirs of the real life clergyman's son and told in an episodic style, this quiet, wise, sometimes very funny film sees March confront the hypocrisy of self-congratulatory sections of his parish, as well as leaky roofs, whispering campaigns and perhaps the most severe of all early-20th century ills – the coming of motion pictures. It's an uplifting film, but also a wistful, nostalgic one, marvellously acted and possessing the certain magic that exists only in '40s and '50s Americana, an almost intangible, nigh-on indescribable rose-tinted evocation of a vanishing world. March, a freelancing lead at a time when there were virtually none in Hollywood, had his pick of the most interesting vehicles, and makes the most of this multi-faceted one. Martha Scott is warm and wonderful as his wife, Peter Caldwell and Frankie Thomas do great work as son Hartzell (aged 10 and 18 respectively) and the supporting cast is filled with familiar faces, including Harry Davenport as a kind loner and Gene Lockhart doing his usual villainous bit. The climax, in which a joyous March thumps out 'The Church's One Foundation' on a carillon as the parishioners march through the streets, is immensely satisfying.

Favourite bit: March attends his first film, a William S. Hart silent, promising to offer a prototype audio commentary for his son, pointing out the sinfulness of the pursuit. Then he finds that he rather enjoys it.

See also: The Smallest Show on Earth, a fine British comedy from 1957, in which the aged custodians of a crumbling fleapit – Peter Sellers, Margaret Rutherford and Bernard Miles – stage their own tribute to the silent days. It's a moment of sheer wonder.

Trivia note: The real life Hartzell coined the phrase "pin up", whilst editing Yank magazine.



49. Breaking the Waves (Lars von Trier, 1996) - Emily Watson is probably the closest thing modern screen acting has to a genius. That is, a performer of "extraordinary creative power". And I'd say she's on a par with Lillian Gish as the flat-out best actress that we've seen. As with another genius of the cinema, Orson Welles, Watson's reputation rests largely on a remarkable, bravura debut. Her turn in Breaking the Waves, as a repressed, religious Scotswoman seeking a miracle through sexual degradation, is the most audacious, original, unspeakably sad characterisation put on screen since the movies learned to talk. It really is that good.

Favourite bit: Watson's telephone call with her husband, with whom she's utterly besotted. Woken from her slumber in the phone box, she tells him: "Everyone says I love you too much…"

See also: Director von Trier's Dancer in the Dark, my favourite musical about a Czech factory worker who's robbed of her savings and later accused of murder. Bjork is our protagonist, retreating into the fantasy of song-and-dance as her world begins to unravel. Lawyers hoof, machines become the rhythm section and Bjork goes blind, in this singular mixture of soap and musical, filmed on handheld camera. The film's most effective number, ironically, is 'The Next to Last Song', presented stripped-down and a capella. The film's a heartbreaker. Dogville, von Trier's odd, three-hour stage-bound melodrama, is great too.


48. Ride the High Country (Sam Peckinpah, 1962) - Sam Peckinpah's career seemed to happen in reverse. Most directors begin with unpolished, but energetic, inventive works, before graduating to stately, reflective fare. Ever the rebel, Bloody Sam's career was kickstarted by an elegiac, nostalgic paean to a lost era - Ride the High Country - before he graduated (through bracingly violent variations on a theme) to shapeless, difficult, sometimes barely coherent conspiracy thrillers. The only time he got final cut on a film, he handed in Bring Me the Head of Alfredo Garcia. "Thanks Sam - a road movie about a border town bartender trying to land a $1 million bounty by decapitating a dead gigolo? That should be an easy sell to middle America." Ride the High Country is his greatest work, a tender, noble western that sees two old friends (and rivals), Joel McCrea and Randolph Scott, hired to transport a gold shipment through perilous territory and picking up a young buck and an abused girl along the way. As with John Ford's The Searchers (more of which higher up the list), the cinematography and music are both breathtaking. Indeed, the film recalls Ford at his peak, perfectly fusing Western drama, romance and knockabout comedy. Sweeping and surefooted, it's a genre classic, and in Joel McCrea it has one of cinema's most underrated actors at the top of his game.

Favourite bit: The climactic shoot-out, in which Peckinpah shows what distinguishes him from the old breed of director with a bit of slo-mo and an abundance of ammo.

See also: The Wild Bunch, Peckinpah's most famous film, is just great, with William Holden's dying breed of bank robbers, well, dying. All the director's hallmarks are here, from alpha males with crippling psychological defects to blistering action sequences. The lengthy shoot-out finale is in a league of its own. Ernest Borgnine, Robert Ryan, Edmond O'Brien, Ben Johnson, Warren Oates and Bo Hopkins shine in a super supporting cast. The director's Pat Garrett & Billy the Kid, scored by Bob Dylan, is also exceptional, particularly the re-edited 2005 version.

 
47. Charlie Chan at the Olympics (H. Bruce Humberstone, 1937) is the pick of the delightful mystery series from 20th Century Fox. Following the odd, bowdlerised Behind That Curtain, which isn't a part of the official series, the studio put out 27 mysteries (21 of which still remain) from 1931 to 1944, featuring first Warner Oland and later Sidney Toler as the Chino-Hawaiian sleuth. Olympics was made when the series was its zenith, with top actors, screenwriters and directors attached. The story sees Chan trying to track down some murderous spies who've made off with a new aircraft radar invention. As in all the best entries, he's ably assisted by son Lee (the marvellous Keye Luke), the pair's easy banter and mutual affection providing both humour and heart. Also along for the ride this time is Charlie Chan, Jr., played by the charming child actor Layne Tom, Jr., one of my favourites, who appeared as three different Chan sons in three different films. This one is fast-moving and funny, as well as possessing a head-scratching mystery, and the skilful, good-looking production belies the B-movie budget. Olympics is also historically fascinating, utilising footage of both zeppelins, which were briefly the zeitgeist, and the 1936 Berlin Olympics – including Jesse Owens racing in the 4x100m relay.

Favourite bit: Layne Tom, Jr.'s efforts to solve the mystery, centring on a woman in a white fox fur.

See also: Any of the others, since all the movies in the Fox series are great in their own way. My particular favourites are Opera, Paris, Shanghai, Honolulu, Broadway, The Black Camel, Treasure Island and Castle in the Desert. Horror fans should seek out Wax Museum, history students will want to catch City in Darkness and fans of white headgear won't want to miss Panama.

 
46. Hannah and Her Sisters (Woody Allen, 1986) - "We enjoy your films," a bunch of aliens tell Woody Allen's moviemaker in 1980's Stardust Memories. "Particularly the early, funny ones." Well I'm sorry to have to argue with our friends from outer space, but I disagree. Not with the first part of course - Allen is arguably the best writer-director of his generation - but with the second. While those knock-about, scattershot gagfests like Love and Death and Take the Money and Run remain good fun, Allen is at his best when he's not just being funny. From the scrappy but important Annie Hall in 1977 to 1992's Husbands and Wives, he created a series of coruscating comedy-dramas (along with three straight dramatic pieces) the like of which we have never seen. Pertinent, intelligent and frequently poignant - whilst possessing a laughs-to-minutes ratio to rival the best of Preston Sturges (or Kevin Smith's Clerks) - these films, among them Manhattan, The Purple Rose of Cairo (our #80) and Crimes and Misdemeanours are unfailingly fantastic. Hannah and Her Sisters is the best of the lot - and I don't hesitate to call it Allen's masterpiece. His '80s muse Mia Farrow is the film's - and her family's - flawless centre. But her life is far from perfect. Her husband (Michael Caine) is cheating with her sister (Barbara Hershey), while her other sibling (Dianne Wiest) is a self-deluding druggie. She's also saddled with a hypochondriac ex-husband (Allen) who finds solace only in the Marx Bros. Allen is aided by a superb ensemble that recruits stars from three different decades for its key supporting roles: Maureen O'Sullivan (the '30s), Lloyd Nolan ('40s) and Max von Sydow ('50s). Wiest, a phenomenally talented, oft-overlooked performer, also deserves a special mention. Hannah and Her Sisters is a heartfelt, wonderfully scripted offering that feels utterly true. I feel a bit queasy about adultery apologias, but this one is as riddled with guilt as anything Allen's put on screen.

Favourite bit: Nolan and O'Sullivan duetting on Rodgers and Hart's 'Bewitched, Bothered and Bewildered' – the sort of quietly affecting thing Allen did so effortlessly during his peak years.

See also: Lloyd Nolan in the classic Michael Shayne mystery-comedy series, Maureen O'Sullivan (and none-too-convincing nude double) in Tarzan and His Mate - and the Booker-longlisted Me, Cheeta, and Max von Sydow in The Seventh Seal.



Top 100 Movies

The list so far:

#s 100 to 91: featuring His Girl Friday, Stand by Me and The Red Balloon
#s 90 to 86, including Five Easy Pieces, Ghost World and Confessions of Boston Blackie
#s 85 to 81, where you'll find The Edge of the World, Judge Priest and A Thousand Clowns
#s 80 to 76: including The Purple Rose of Cairo, Singin' in the Rain and Lawrence of Arabia
#s 75 to 71: boasting Le Samourai, Kiss Me Kate and Swing Time
#s 70 to 66: in which you can read about Naked, Casablanca and Chinatown
#s 65 to 61: including The Night of the Hunter, Hail the Conquering Hero and Peeping Tom
#s 60 to 56: saluting the merits of The Royal Tenenbaums, Pixote and A Star Is Born
#s 55 to 51, with Distant Voices, Still Lives, The Killer and The Railway Children


Thanks for reading. I'll try to put the next five up as a stand-alone article during the week, time permitting, so please check back.