Recent Screenings: 2008

I haven't done a Recent Screenings post since January 2008, which is too bad, because I've seen some excellent films this year.

Alas, few of them were actually released in 2008, so if you're looking for a Best of 2008 list, you'll have to go elsewhere. Here are some possibilities: Roger Ebert, Anthony Lane and John Waters.

Meanwhile, from films I saw for the first time in 2008, here are twenty I enjoyed the most. My Ten Favorite, in alphabetical order, followed by ten more worth watching.

Black Narcissus (1947) - There's no easy way to describe this haunting and mesmerizing film. I avoided it for several years, because the idea of Deborah Kerr playing an Anglican nun made me yawn just thinking about it. But I was very wrong. The great directing team of Michael Powell & Emeric Pressburger create a lush, fascinating world and then delve into some powerful questions. Kerr has been chosen to lead four other nuns in an effort to start a convent and infirmary high up on a mountain in the Himalayas within a strange former palace. Cultures, religions, and individual personalities come into conflict. Erotic tensions build up. The wind howls through the isolated and eerie palace. People lose their minds. British colonialism seems ridiculous and powerless in the face of spiritual and cultural forces thousands of years old. Who is observing who? What does spirituality really mean? Powell & Pressburger slowly increase the pressure until it explodes in a disturbing climax - something like beautiful horror.

Death at a Funeral (2007) - One of the funniest films I've seen in years. A classic in black comedy. Drugs, midgets, closet homosexuals, cranky old guys in wheelchairs, scatological humor, and lots of family dysfunction. All at a funeral. Viewers should know by the end of the first scene if this is going to be their cup of tea.

In Bruges (2008) - Brutal, violent, profane, politically incorrect, and darkly humorous. With surprisingly intelligent contours. Brendan Gleeson and Colin Farrell play hit men sent to the medieval city of Bruges to wait for their next assignment. Gleeson, a tired old pro, calmly takes in the beauty and history of the city. Farrell, who recently botched his first assignment, fumes and rages, a seemingly shallow young man incapable of appreciating the finer things in life. Over time, the men form an interesting bond, as Farrell slowly comes unglued by guilt. The acting is superb all around, with Farrell delivering his best performance ever. Ralph Fiennes almost steals the show, however, as their "complicated" Irish thug boss. I didn't see a lot of new films in 2008, but this may have been my favorite.

Iron Man (2008) - I'm tired of super-hero/comic book movies, but it's impossible not to enjoy Robet Downey Jr.'s performance in Iron Man. A smart, funny, well-paced film that doesn't take itself too seriously - what the Spider Man series had going for it before its abysmal third installment. This one held up well on a second viewing; I have serious reservations, however, about its inevitable sequal.

King Lear (1987) - Directed by Jean-Luc Godard. With Burgess Meredith as "Don Learo," Molly Ringwald as Cordelia, Woody Allen as Mr. Alien, Norman Mailer as "The Great Writer," and controversial theatre director Peter Sellars, who also worked on the "script," as William Shakespeare Junior the Fifth.

It would take a very long post to properly examine this film, not to mention telling the back story of its production, which is one of the most fascinating (and/or disastrous) in cinema history.

Vincent Canby at The New York Times called the movie "tired, familiar and out of date." Time Out says it's "Godard's dullest and least accomplished [movie] for some time." User Comments on IMDB are filled with hatred and rage.

Meanwhile, Kevin Thomas of The Los Angeles Times hails it as "a work of certified genius," and The National Film Archive of India places it on a list of the Greatest Films of All Time.

There are two important things to keep in mind about Godard and his King Lear project:

1) Godard lost interest in making traditional narrative films sometime in the early-to-mid 1960s. As a general rule, it's always better to approach one of his works as a cinematic poem or visual philosophical treatise rather than a "movie." Anyone who comes to this film expecting a story based on Shakespeare's King Lear will be greatly flummoxed, then furious. Kurosawa's Ran this is not.

2) Nobody seems to read or consider the sub-title of this work - King Lear: Fear and Loathing. A Study. An Approach. A Clearing. No Thing. Does that sound like you're about to enter Kenneth Branagh territory? Yet"a study, an approach, a clearing" is a fair explanation of Godard's project.

When you also take a look at the cast list and the names of some of the characters (Woody Allen as Mr. Alien?) one wonders why anyone thinks this is going to be a normal re-telling of Shakespeare's classic. Yet they do. And they get really, really angry when they encounter Jean-Luc Godard tearing apart the Bard and using him to investigate the very meaning of written and visual language.

Not an easy work, granted (though not that difficult either, if you just let it be what is.) But Godard's King Lear was the most thought-provoking and inspirational film I saw in 2008.

It's no wonder that many critics hate Godard, because he's basically challenging the very nature of narrative film, and making us think about our relationship to words and images. He's been trying since the early 1970s to create a new kind of cinema, and though he's failed in many ways, one gets the feeling that his attempts will be remembered and finally investigated more fully in the future. (The advent of YouTube, for example, seems to fall in line with ideas Godard was working on in the early 1970s.) And King Lear, in many ways, is his main treatise on the subject.

He also explores the historic relationship of the film industry to capitalism and mobsterism. Burgess Meredith is given the impossible task of playing a godfather version of Lear, and he does an amazing job. I scoffed beforehand at the idea of the Penguin playing Lear, but I was wrong.

In addition to being intellectually fascinating, King Lear is also quite funny in parts. And there are moments of stunning beauty, when Godard reminds us that he is a master at creating some of the most powerful images in cinema.

I certainly wouldn't recommend this film to everyone, but if you're willing to drop all expectations at the door and enter in, you may be pleasantly surprised.

Either that, or you're going to hate the movie, hate Godard and hate me.

Modern Times (1936) and City Lights (1931) - I don't know why it took me so long to see these two classics by Charlie Chaplin. My great loss. In Kabbalah, one is not supposed to enter the orchard until his or her fortieth year. Perhaps I had to wait about that long to fully enter into the orchard of Chaplin.

Modern Times was a great place to start. City Lights was both funny and beautiful.

So much cinema comes from these two Chaplin films.

No Country for Old Men (2007) - So much has been written about Joel and Ethan Coen's Oscar-winning film that I have little to add. Warning for the squeamish - this is a very violent film. If you can get through the disturbing opening scene, you can get through the rest of the movie. And you should, because it's a powerful film, the best work by the Coens in a long time. One piece of advice: Everything will make more sense, especially the ending, if you think of Javier Bardem's Anton Chigurh as Death.

Nosferatu: Phantom der Nacht (1979) - Werner Herzog does Dracula, with Klaus Kinski as the vampyre and Bruno Ganz and Isabelle Adjani as the young couple he haunts. Herzog creates a beautifully creepy atmosphere from the first moments of the film and never sways. Great for Halloween.

Sherlock Jr. (1924) One Week (1920) The General (1927) - Buster Keaton classics. I had actually seen The General, but it was great to re-watch it after so many years. What an amazing film. Yes, it's funny, but I had forgotten how much of an adventure it is, as Keaton winds up behind enemy lines during the American Civil War.

Sherlock Jr. is like an hour-long catalog of cinematic gags and amazing stunts that would later be used throughout film history. Delightful. One Week reminds one that the early days of film coincided with Surrealism in art, and the two were often much closer together at the time than we realize.

WALL·E (2008) - Ebert calls this "the best science-fiction movie in years." The first 45 minutes miraculously combine Chaplin and Keaton with an end-of-the world scenario out of The Omega Man. Though it's an animated film, the "camera work," editing and and directing feel reminiscent of live-action classics. It may be classified as a "family" film, but it offers up one of the best contemporary critiques of our consumer culture. And a bumbling but deeply curious trash-compacting robot reminds us what it means to be human.

Ten Other FIlms I Enjoyed.

Ballada o soldate [Ballad of a Soldier] (1959) - A simple, beautiful and powerful film from the Soviet Union.

Forever Female (1954) - William Holden, Paul Douglas and Ginger Rogers in a literary comedy about the theatre world. Alas, we never see these kinds of movies anymore.

In the Valley of Elah (2007) - Tommy Lee Jones kicked ass in 2007.

Juno (2007) - Funny and quirky enough not to slide into schmaltz.

The Limey (1999) - Intelligent Soderbergh thriller with old Brit Terence Stamp in L.A. trying to find out who killed his daughter.

Muerte de un ciclista [Death of a Cyclist] (1955) - The most famous work by Javier Bardem's uncle. Kind of a Spanish Hitchcock/Clouzot thing.

Nashville (1975) - I'm not a big Altman fan, but this was a masterpiece. Henry Gibson and Lily Tomlin - only a few years removed from TV's Laugh-In - deliver amazing performances.

Rendition (2007) - Excellent political thriller with Jake Gyllenhaal.

The River (1951) and Partie de campagne [A Day in the Country] (1936) - Two Jean Renoir classics. The River is based on a novel by Rumer Godden, who also wrote the novel Black Narcissus.

Sang d'un poète, Le [Blood of a Poet] (1930) - Cocteau's first film. A must-see.

The Greatest Films of All Time: The Directors

All of the men in this photograph either directed, wrote (Carriere) or produced (Silberman) films listed in the Greatest Films of All Time. From a 1972 lunch given by George Cukor for Luis Buñuel.

Back Row from left: Robert Mulligan, William Wyler, George Cukor, Robert Wise, Jean-Claude Carriere and Serge Silberman
Front Row from left: Billy Wilder, George Stevens, Luis Buñuel, Alfred Hitchcock and Rouben Mamoulian

Anybody can direct a picture once they know the fundamentals.
Directing is not a mystery, it's not an art.
The main thing about directing is: photograph the people's eyes.
John Ford

This is the final part of my exploration of the world's Greatest Films of All Time. The other posts were Introduction and Films 1-20, Films 21-50, Films 51-100, and Films 101-200.

Briefly, I researched and compiled 30 lists of Greatest Films from various sources around the globe, including critics such as Roger Ebert and Jonathan Rosenbaum; popular magazines like Time and Time Out (UK); films journals such as Sight & Sound, Cahiers du cinema, Kinovedcheskie Zapiski (Russia); and a range of Film Archives from countries like China, India, Ecuador, Israel, Greece, and Finland.

The 30 polls produced a total of 580 films. When films weren't ranked in the polls, I assigned a numeric value depending on the total number of films included (eg. 100 films = 20 points). So, the list I'm presenting is not a ranking of films I personally think are the greatest of all time. It's simply a reflection of results from across 30 polls voted on by hundreds of other people.

My quest was twofold: To see which works were considered the masterpieces of cinema from a variety of international sources, and to see if and how the perception of great films and great directors varied from one region of the world to another.

The Directors

The most eye-opening part of my exploration of the Greatest Films of All Time was digging through the results by Director. While the Top 200 Films on my list provided some surprises, the overall landscape wasn't that different from what I expected. Citizen Kane, The Godfather, Seven Samurai, Tokyo Story, À bout de souffle, Rules of the Game, 8 ½ . . . they were all there. Some of the exact rankings may have surprised me, and many of the cultural differences were new to me, but the list of titles didn't challenge my concept of world cinema.

Akira Kurosawa

As I started looking at directors, however, I was genuinely surprised by some of the results, and, as the process went on, my own thinking about cinema was actually transformed. It became clear, for example, that some directors whose names we have attached to one or two "important" films actually created numerous works of exceptional quality over the span of their careers. We may not discuss these other titles very much, if at all, but they were good enough to be selected by someone somewhere as being among the greatest motion pictures ever.

My own quest to compile a list of the greatest films of all time is, I think, part of the problem. I am guilty, along with other list-makers, of burying alive many fantastic films. So, yes, we know Fritz Lang's M or Metropolis from numerous polls and books on cinema. But what about his other work?

Luckily, some polls can also un-bury films. As it turns out, Fritz Lang had six other titles that were mentioned at least once. Did you have any idea that after 30 polls and 580 total movies that Fritz Lang would rank fifth (tied) in Total Films Mentioned, ahead of Bergman, Kurosawa and Fellini? How often do we drop his name in a conversation about cinema? Because Metropolis was made in 1927 and M in 1931, don't we exile Lang to that shadowy land of "silent movies" or "really old movies"? Yet his last film was made in 1960, and two of his later works - The Tiger of Eschnapur (1959) and Moonfleet (1955) - were listed among 100 Greatest Films by Jonathan Rosenbaum and Cahiers du cinema respectively.

I don't mean to imply that the number of films included on the list equals greatness. For one thing, some directors are simply more prolific than others. Andrei Tarkovsky (Andrei Roublev) has 11 films listed on IMDB; Michael Curtiz (Casablanca) has 172. Some directors may have many films of high quality but few that we consider truly great. For that reason, I'm listing both the total number of titles from all 580 films mentioned, and then the titles from the Top 200. There were several differences between the lists.

I also tracked the overall number of times that a director was mentioned. This may be an even better gauge of their current reputation. John Cassavetes and Francis Ford Coppola both had five films listed, for example. But Cassavetes was only mentioned six times in total, whereas Coppola was mentioned 30 times. I find it interesting that Cassavetes is respected enough to have five films mentioned, but that no one can really decide which film of his to call "the greatest." Only A Woman Under the Influence (1974) was chosen twice. Perhaps this signals that the director made an important contribution to cinema through his life and overall body of work, but not necessarily with a single film.

Howard Hawks had 11 films in the Greatest Films of All Time. Here he's with Angie Dickinson on the set of Rio Bravo (#62)

Ultimately, of course, one can't measure greatness with a lot of numbers on a spreadsheet. That's not the purpose of my exploration. What I hope is that by seeing some of these numbers, we can be challenged to re-think our ideas about cinema, to question perceptions we may have formed a long time ago, to see certain movies and directors in a fresh way. Most of all, I hope we can make little discoveries and be intrigued enough to explore some cinematic paths we hadn't previously considered.

Total Films Mentioned (out of 30 polls - 580 titles)

There were 31 directors who had at least five films mentioned. I've listed them in numerical order. When there was a tie, I listed them in alphabetical order.

1. Jean Luc Godard – 12
2. Howard Hawks – 11
3. Luis Buñuel – 10
4. Alfred Hitchcock - 9

5. (TIE)
Charlie Chaplin – 8
John Ford – 8
Stanley Kubrick – 8
Fritz Lang – 8

9. (TIE)
Yasujiro Ozu – 7
Jean Renoir – 7
Alain Resnais – 7
Luchino Visconti – 7
Orson Welles – 7

14. (TIE)
Ingmar Bergman – 6
Robert Bresson – 6
Federico Fellini – 6
Ernst Lubtisch – 6
Satyajit Ray - 6
Jacques Rivette – 6
Roberto Rossellini – 6

21. (TIE)
John Cassavetes – 5
Francis Ford Coppola – 5
George Cukor – 5
Rainer Werner Fassbinder – 5
Akira Kurosawa – 5
Kenji Mizoguchi – 5
F.W. Murnau – 5
Max Ophüls – 5
Michael Powell & Emeric Pressburger – 5
Josef von Sternberg – 5
Billy Wilder - 5

Quite frankly, I was astonished by the top three results. My guess probably would've been Hitchcock and Bergman at #1 and #2, and then, I don't know - maybe John Ford.

As it turns out, I had just started reading Richard Brody's new book on Jean Luc Godard when I analyzed the directors included in the 30 polls. Not only was I stunned by Godard having the most films, but I was also surprised by some of the titles mentioned. Many of his 1960s films showed up, but four of his later films appeared, including: Sauve qui peut (la vie) [Every Man for Himself] (1980), which Godard considered his "second" first film after years of experimenting in video; Passion (1982) ; King Lear (1987); and Nouvelle Vague (1990).

Godard is barely a blip on the radar in the U.S. right now. Yet, a combination of the results of these polls, and the elucidation of his later work in Brody's book, made me re-evaluate his career. I still believe his work in the 1960s remains vitally important in the history of cinema, serving as a kind of dividing line between an old and a new cinema. But I'm beginning to wonder if 50 years from now, his later career may also prove revolutionary, even though we can't see its implications at this point in time. Brody raises several fascinating and challenging questions about the very nature of cinema and its relationship to society that he claims Godard has been tackling in his post-1960s work, largely in isolation, and often with few people seeing the actual films. In some ways, I'm reminded of Coltrane's last years, producing music that people are still - 40 years later - barely catching up with. Could that be the case with Godard? I don't know. But instead of ignoring his later work, as I've done for the most part, I've decided to start watching some of the films.

I was also impressed that Godard did well across the world. He was one of only two directors, along with Buñuel, who had four or more films mentioned in all three major regional groupings: US/UK, Europe and Asia. The National Film Archive of India especially liked Godard, choosing five of his films in its Top 100, more even than native son Satyajit Ray, who only had four. He also showed up in Russia and Venezuela, and, in total, appeared in 24 out of the 30 polls.

Other directors didn't have the same global results. Howard Hawks, for example, had 11 films mentioned overall, but only one showed up in the Asian polls: Red River (1948). And, in total, he only appeared in 12 out of the 30 polls.

Several other directors were mentioned numerous times overall but didn't do very well in the Asian polls. Bergman, Kubrick, Powell & Pressburger, Visconti, and Wilder only had one film each that was mentioned. The directors mentioned most often in the Asian polls (out of 135 films):

1. Godard – 6
2. Satyajit Ray – 5
3. (TIE)
Buñuel – 4
Kurosawa – 4
Ozu – 4
4. (TIE)
Antonioni – 3
Chaplin – 3
Fellini – 3
Hitchcock – 3
Lang – 3
Mizoguchi – 3

Belgian director Chantal Ackerman, one of only three women with films in the Top 200. Her 1975 effort, Jeanne Dielman, 23 Quai du Commerce, 1080 Bruxelles, was the highest ranked film by a woman director, at #143, and maybe the movie with the longest title.

Total Films Mentioned in the Top 200

But what about the Top 200? Having a movie mentioned once by a film archive in a small country is one thing, but what about the titles mentioned most often? The results were different than the overall list of 580 films, but there were still some surprises. Here are the directors with four or more films listed in the Top 200 Films:

1. Buñuel – 7
2. (TIE)
Bergman – 5
Chaplin – 5
Fellini – 5
Godard – 5
Hitchcock – 5
Kubrick – 5
3. (TIE)
Bresson – 4
Dreyer – 4
Ford – 4
Kurosawa – 4
Powell & Pressburger – 4
Ray – 4
Visconti – 4
Wilder – 4

If you had told me when I started this exploration that Luis Buñuel would wind up with the most films in the Top 200, and with two more than the next closest director, I would've figured you were either Spanish or slightly insane, or both (Hugo, where are you?!) Again, I would have guessed Hitchcock. Maybe that's a cultural prejudice. Though, obviously, Hitch did just fine for himself in these polls. But the results for Buñuel have definitely challenged my own notions of cinema. I feel like re-watching some of his films now, and investigating ones I've never seen. And maybe I'll finally read his autobiography, My Last Sigh, which was given to me as a gift by a good friend (thank you!) and which La Reina recently read and loved.

Even the list of Buñuel's films that showed up in the Top 200 surprised me:

#63 - Âge d'or, L' (1930)
#69 - Viridiana (1961)
#97 - Un chien andalou (1929)
#107 - Olvidados, Los (1950)
#173 - Hurdes, Las [Land Without Bread] (1933)
#174 - Charme discret de la bourgeoisie, Le (1972)
#178 - Ángel exterminador, El (1962)

Portrait of Luis Buñuel. Salvador Dalí. 1924. Oil on canvas.

His two collaborations with Salvador Dalí, L'age d'or and Un chien Andalou, make a certain amount of sense because of their incredible innovation and historical significance, though I personally wouldn't place both of them that high. But Las Hurdes and Los Olvidados? I was expecting the likes of Belle du jour (1967), which eventually showed up at #284, and That Obscure Object of Desire (1977), which didn't show up at all. And I was disappointed to see that my personal favorite, The Exterminating Angel, way down at #178. It's among my own 100 Favorite Films.

There weren't many other surprises for me in the Top 200 Films. Perhaps seeing Visconti with four titles listed. Especially considering the fact that none of his films showed up in a single US/UK poll. Why the seemingly Anglo-American disregard for his work? I have to confess, I've never seen any of his films. (The Angel of Cinema suddenly appears in my darkened bedroom, whipping me with knotted strips of film for my cultural sins. "And I strike thee again for not seeing any Rossellini, Ozu or Murnau!" s/he cries. "How dare you write about the Greatest Films of All Time when you haven't even learned your basic Cinematic Catechism!" "Have mercy!" I cry, pleading that I've seen all 30 of Fred Astaire's musicals. "I love - just poorly and with bad aim!")

As for you Truffaut fans, I don't know what to tell you. Don't shoot me, I'm only the piano player messenger. Only three films were mentioned overall: Les Quatre cents coups [The 400 Blows] (1959) at #25, Jules et Jim (1962) at #73, and La Nuit américaine [Day for Night] (1973) at #482. For whatever reason, at this point in time, (Wait, did I just quote Elton John?) Truffaut's reputation seems to be in a bit of a down cycle.He showed up in 15 of 30 polls, but only on five outside of the non-regional and US/UK lists. Even the French seem to have mixed feelings about his work these days. While Cahiers du cinema included The 400 Blows in its list of 100 films (#57 tied), the Cinémathèque Française didn't choose any of his works in its list of 20 Greatest Films, despite Truffaut's strong history with the institution. He did, however, wind up with two films in the overall Top 100 compilation of 30 polls, an impressive achievement.

And Truffaut certainly did better than Louis Malle, who, shockingly, didn't have a single film listed. Man, Ascenseur pour l'échafaud [Elevator to the Gallows] (1958) should've been mentioned by someone for the Miles Davis soundtrack alone. A wonderful film noir utilizing jazz extremely well. Not to mention My Dinner with Andre (1981) and Au revoir les enfants (1987). I'm surprised that none of these films were included in lists by Roger Ebert (100 films), Time magazine (100), Time Out (100) or the IMDB Classic Film Board (200). Not one Malle film out of 500 titles! I guess Time had to make space somewhere for Finding Nemo (2003).

François Truffaut

[NOTE: For the Greatest Films of All Time project, I used Ebert's book Great Movies (2002), which includes 100 unranked films. I also read but did not include Great Movies II (2005), because 200 unranked films would have had little numeric value and, I thought, dilute Ebert's voice, which I think is an important one. I recommend both books. His website also includes 200 Great Movies, but the list has at least one change from the print version - Babel (2006). Ebert does list Malle's My Dinner with Andre and Au revoir les enfants on his web site - they must have been in the 101-200 list from Great Movies II.]

Total Votes Received (30 polls - 580 films)

Here are the Top 20 directors by total votes received (how many times overall their films were mentioned):

1. (TIE)
Alfred Hitchcock - 48
Orson Welles – 48

3. Federico Fellini – 46

4. (TIE)
Jean Luc Godard – 44
Jean Renoir – 44

6. Charlie Chaplin – 40

7. Akira Kurosawa – 38

8. Carl Dreyer – 37

9. Ingmar Bergman – 36

10. Stanley Kubrick –35

11. Sergei M. Eisenstein – 34

12. Fritz Lang – 33

13. Luis Buñuel – 31

14. Francis Ford Coppola – 30

15. (TIE)
John Ford -29
D.W. Griffith – 29
F.W. Murnau – 29

18. Billy Wilder – 28

19. Kenji Mizoguchi – 26

20. Satyajit Ray – 24

Finally, Hitchcock winds up on top, though he has to share the honor with Welles.

Orson Welles filming The Lady from Shanghai (1947) on Errol Flynn's yacht

Has any major American artist been as rejected and neglected by his own country as Orson Welles? When people talk about great 20th Century American artists - T.S. Eliot, Hemingway, Plath, Toni Morrison, Pollock, Gershwin, Astaire, Dylan, Billie Holiday, Coltrane, Ellington, etc. - does Welles ever get mentioned? Cinema has been called the 20th-century art form. Orson Welles not only created the Greatest Film of All Time (and on his first try), but his work receives more votes in polls from around the world than any other director with the exception of Alfred Hitchcock. Yet we was exiled by Hollywood and still exists on the periphery of American film for most people. His treatment in and by the United States remains a great mystery.

Interesting that Godard and Renoir, the two titans of French cinema, wind up with an equal number of votes.

One director I haven't mentioned yet is Charlie Chaplin. I often think of him as a performer, but he ranked 5th (tied) in Total Films Mentioned, 2nd (tied) in Films in the Top 200, and 6th in Total Votes Received. In the end, only Godard and Hitchcock really did better in their numbers. Chaplin also did well across all regions, and appeared in 24 out of 30 polls. I notice he had a big goose egg, however, in the 1995 Filmoteca Vaticana list of Ten Greatest Films. One wonders if his political sympathies didn't go down well in the John Paul II era.

Buñuel drops down in this list, but still winds up ahead of figures like Ford and Wilder. I'm still amazed a bit by his excellent results in these polls.

Sadly, however, he's the only Spanish filmmaker who did well. Victor Erice had two films mentioned, El sol del membrillo (1992) and El espíritu de la colmena [Spirit of the Beehive] (1973), but neither one broke the Top 200, which, in the case of Spirit of the Beehive, is a travesty. And one of the biggest surprises for me was how poorly Pedro Almodóvar did in the polls. Only Hable con ella (2002) appeared anywhere - Time magazine and Cahiers du cinema - but it also couldn't break into the Top 200. One theory on Almodóvar's results: Many of these polls were done in 1995, when his reputation may have been at a low point. I was in Spain at that time, and he didn't seem nearly as respected as he had been back in the 1980s. It wasn't until Todo sobre mi madre won the Oscar for Best Foreign Language Film in March 2000 that his reputation seemed to turn around. The Time magazine and Cahiers du cinema polls came out after that, for example.

Julio Medem (Los amantes del Círculo Polar), my favorite recent Spanish director, didn't have a single film chosen, nor did longtime director Carlos Saura (Cría cuervos), which was really a surprise. While Spanish cinema has never been on a par with that of France or Italy, I do think it was seriously under-represented in these polls. I don't know if that's a problem of film distribution, bad press, a weak industry, or what.

I hope you've enjoyed my mad exploration. Tell me some of your favorite directors and films!

Let the final credits roll. . .