A follow-up to this would be, will you stick to the included titles? Because I can tell you right now, I have to punish myself every once in a while and feel obliged to add something to my shortlist of most precious motion pictures, and therefore have to let one go. Are you familiar with the unbearable feeling that goes along with such a forced farewell, or is this the reason you don’t compile these kinds of lists?

Yeah, from time to time, I really do wish I’d fall into the latter category. But on my national film forum, I ultimately created such a list, just to honour these amazing stories and their creators. Sure, I’d edit the summary from time to time, but it wouldn’t ever alter that much, would it?

Dear reader, twenty years later, the contents of this breakdown tend to keep me up at night. Honestly!

Ever do I strive for it to be perfect. My goal is for the Top 10 to be truthful. It must also reflect who I am at any given time.

Still, every now and then, I have to relinquish one of these darlings to the chopping block.

Oh well. At least my life goes on.

An Introduction

Welcome to my first article!

For my debut on this personal, film-centred platform, I decided to introduce you all to my ultimate cinematic preferences. Perhaps these insights will help you reflect on your own favourites, or ignite a discussion! I can’t wait to read which features you put on a pedestal.

Recently, the upcoming directory underwent new alterations. A necessary sacrifice. But to honour the latest fallen, and to answer the question I posed in the title of this piece, I decided to cheat and extend my Top 10 to a Top 11.

And why not? On a forum website, I have to stick to its limits, a finite number of titles to display. Here, I may indulge in infinite freedom!

So, without further ado, let’s dive right in.

#11: Wisdom, Inexperience and a Perpetual Lack of Sleep

I feel terrible for dropping this beautiful little tale of longing by the wayside, but I cherish it all the same. You see, I really consider myself an incorrigible dreamer. And this film is a perfect tapestry of disconnection, meticulously woven together by a master storyteller who often chose atmosphere over words.

In director Sofia Coppola’s sophomore project, Lost in Translation (2003), two people from different generations are hopelessly stuck. Plus, these two American citizens find themselves in the unfamiliar and ever-lit city jungle of Tokyo. Hollywood veteran Bob Harris (Bill Murray) has travelled to Japan’s capital for work purposes, while the reserved young Charlotte (Scarlett Johansson) feels lonely and bored, as her workaholic husband John’s (Giovanni Ribisi) attention is constantly elsewhere.

Jetlag, disassociation with their new environment, and/or personal troubles lead to sleepless nights and a budding friendship that starts at the bar of the luxurious Park Hyatt Hotel. The younger of the two feels a complete lack of direction in her life, while her impromptu mentor figure feels like he’s being lived. They are truly polar opposites, yet neither finds more understanding anywhere else.

At nineteen years old, I wasn’t yet at the point in either character’s life when I was initially pulled in by this enchanting and engrossing film. Its themes of isolation, alienation, and a lapse in objective went straight over my head on first viewing; the presented visual splendour and hypnotising soundtrack kept my gaze from straying. I needed no prior convincing that 1985’s “Just Like Honey” by Scottish noise-pop moguls The Jesus and Mary Chain—my favourite band at the time!—is a beautiful song, but the film’s conclusion finally gave it proper momentum.

Need a flick that feels like a soft bed or smooth bath? Get your ticket punched at the gates of Lost in Translation!

#10: These Stains Won’t Wash Off

Happiness, dear reader, is often a fleeting thing. Even when you consider yourself content, you should prepare for the worst and hope for the best. Lose your footing, and there is no way to fathom the depths of your plunge.

The small glimmer of light that perches on the edge of Lucas’ (Mads Mikkelsen) vision begins to fade at a relentless pace as a child’s innocent lie forces him to grapple with drastic consequences, when his entire community turns against him. The premise is as simple as the lapse of truth that kickstarts Danish director Thomas Vinterberg’s dramatic masterpiece Jagten (2012)—known in English-speaking territories as The Hunt—but grabs you by the throat and won’t ease up. Not even for a single second.

I love stories that insert the audience into both sides of an interesting equation, but this one takes the cake. The tension builds and builds as you try to imagine what our protagonist is going through, what you would have done in his stead and whether you can blame those around him for their responses. Of course, I can only speak for myself, but I was completely immersed in the sense of dread and desperation in the face of his grave injustice.

On a lighter note, I saw this picture on one of my first dates with my current girlfriend, who I've been with for 13 years now. She had plenty of movies to choose from, but opted for a Scandinavian one. This suited me perfectly, as I am a great admirer of the productions hailing from that specific corner of the world!

Always after seeing Jagten again, I am instilled by the closing verse of Coleridge’s balladic 1798 poem The Rime of the Ancient Mariner:

He went like one that hath been stunned,
And is of sense forlorn:
A sadder and a wiser man,
He rose the morrow morn.

#9: The Stuff Dreams Are Made Of

Believe it or not, for many years, this one proudly sat at the top of my list! How the mighty have fallen, I hear even myself think. But that isn’t necessarily how I see things, because even though my tastes evolve, this mesmerising little fable has stuck with me for going on two decades now.

Shoutout to my Aunty, who introduced me to this experimental and captivating fairy tale about love, responsibility, and dreams of far horizons! In Veit Helmer’s remarkable feature debut effort, Tuvalu (1999), meet our main character Anton (Denis Lavant), the young proprietor of his blind father’s (Philippe Clay) dilapidated bathhouse. In his fight to save the shoddy structure, the son spins his elder the illusion that the place is still in tremendous shape, while he vies for the attention of the lovely Eva (Chulpan Khamatova), who, like him, longs to sail the world.

Sporting a monochromatic palette and being sparse in dialogue, this film is a fantastical ode to silent cinema. Envision a mix of Sylvain Chomet’s animated comedy Les Triplettes de Belleville (2003) for its charm and economic use of words, the post-apocalyptic setting of Delicatessen (1991) by Jeunet & Caro, and, sure, throw in the trademark aesthetics of Andrei Tarkovsky’s haunting sci-fi landmark Stalker (1979). With the right balance, amounts, and preparation of these ingredients, Tuvalu might pop out of the oven.

It supports a clear narrative structure despite its basic, repetitive language. Not everyone will be engrossed by it, but that’s okay. Every once in a while, I pull this DVD from my collection and insert it into my player in order to feel justified in yearning and dreaming.

Despite its lowered spot in this ranking, I’ll always cherish this little gem.

#8: We’ll Always Have Cinema

I’ll turn forty later this year (2026). Half my current lifetime ago, I was introduced to a motion picture that is definitely considered among the greats. However, my initial verdict never went beyond: Yeah, nice for a change.

I can kick myself for that now, let me tell you that. In fact, I do, from time to time. You should see the bruises!

Anyway.

The classic that, at first glance, I completely failed to appreciate is Michael Curtiz’s sweeping romantic war epic Casablanca (1942). There are other productions from the same decade that I labelled as severely outdated upon original viewing, though I’d always appreciate the dialogue in them. Nowadays, the characters, the story, the setting, the stakes, and the beautiful black-and-white photography completely blow me away!

Filmmaking has evolved over the years, in all of its aspects. But the power of this absolutely memorable post-Pearl Harbor Hays Code narrative lies in its momentum, as Rick Blaine (Humphrey Bogart), like the United States he hails from, starts the early-Forties story as an exile bartender unwilling to stick his neck out for anybody. He sees his principles challenged when Ilsa Lund (Ingrid Bergman), the lover who deserted him in Paris, resurfaces in the Moroccan port city where he runs his Café Americain, desperate for his help…

Our lead, holding all the cards to his chest and relishing his bitterness, makes for the most solid emotional investment. Upon my most recent rendezvous, I was completely taken in by Claude Rains’ role—a visible one for once!—as the opportunistic scoundrel/the Vichy chief of police, Captain Louis Renault. His stark contrast with Rick's foggy-but-present notions of idealism might actually make him one of my favourite movie characters of all time!

We’ll always have Casablanca. Here’s looking at you, kids!

#7: I’ve Definitely Seen Things

Admittedly, another landmark that crashlanded with me, though not beyond salvage. Sometimes, you’re presented with a film that you can make neither head nor tail of, despite knowing that there’s a lot more to what you just witnessed. Luckily, time provides one with wisdom.

After seeing Sir Ridley Scott’s long-underappreciated sci-fi neo-noir slow burner Blade Runner (1982) for a third time, I thought I finally understood it—perhaps I reckoned so because I had read its source material, Philip K. Dick’s 1968 dystopian novel Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep? just before. During my first proper encounter with the screen adaptation of this futuristic detective tale about a bounty hunter chasing artificial off-planet slaves illegally residing on Earth, its production design and art direction pulled me in; I just didn’t fully understand the story, let alone its thematic foundations. Only around the release of the next chapter of the franchise, Blade Runner 2049 (2017), did I finally grasp the central question completely: What does it mean to be human?

I love how the sequel approaches the same issue from a different angle, though to me, the original makes it hit home more. Rick Deckard (Harrison Ford) is the titular blade runner, a special agent in 2019 Los Angeles tasked with hunting down artificial humans known as replicants that are used for forced labour on colonised planets; they are not permitted on Earth itself. Led by the enigmatic Roy Batty (the late, great Rutger Hauer), these fugitives seek to extend their severely limited lifespan, while Deckard, in complete contrast, seemingly has nothing to live for.

Nowadays, we live through our devices; chances are, you’re reading this on your phone. The themes in Blade Runner really speak to me, despite it not being as action-packed as one might expect. I admit this confused me at first, and it was also a complaint uttered by a close friend of mine as I played him the film; he thought the title promised a more high-octane experience.

No matter; all those moments will be lost in time, anyway.

#6: Don’t That Picture Look Dusty?

No, seriously, it does; you can see the specks dance around on the screen as you witness a lavishly paced but beautifully visualised Western. My brother lent me the DVD some fifteen years ago, when I thought I had outgrown the genre entirely, with their supposedly intense conclusions, while you already know who’ll draw first. I made a sole exception for Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid (1969), a dramatic adventure peppered with humour; you never met a pair like ‘em!

Again, I have a penchant for being wrong, because Andrew Dominik’s melancholic biopic The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford (2007) is of such a remarkable beauty that I simply cannot turn away from it. But then, what do you expect with visual virtuoso Roger Deakins literally calling the shots? His innovative techniques and atmospheric lighting turn this dramatic tale into a picture book that you simply do not want to close.

I’m merely speaking for myself, of course; there are accounts I’ve read from many viewers and critics that the film drags on because of its nearly three-hour runtime. Me? I’m a sucker for melancholy in all its wondrous facets. And there’s a ton of it in this tale of admiration, ambition, betrayal and consequence as the young Robert Ford (Casey Affleck) yearns to be recognised by his hero, the outlaw Jesse James (Brad Pitt), who is tired of living a life on the run; in the end, the latter becomes the target of Bob’s aspirations, while his assassin in turn is subjected to scorn by the public for his treachery.

As I type all of this, the gloomy yet dreamlike film’s score by Nick Cave and Warren Ellis plays in the background, conjuring those photo-album-esque images of this severely underrated motion picture. The latter of which is one you simply cannot play as a backdrop filler on your screen, but deserves your undivided attention. Yes, this historical fiction is definitely bleak, but skillfully told.

But hey, in the words of Dorothy Evans: Do you want me to change the subject?

#5: Three Men In Search of a Fortune

If you think I’m talking about this Italian film in the same genre as the discussed title immediately previously, starring a trio in search of Confederate gold, then you’re wrong for a change! No, this one is about as long, but a lot more philosophical. Still, together they could make for a great Double Feature!

Next one on the list is another reflective piece of science fiction, this one hailing from the Soviet Union. The treasure that the titular guide (Aleksandr Kaydanovskiy), the writer (Anatoliy Solonitsyn), and the professor (Nikolay Grinko) are trying to find in the cordoned-off Zone—a dangerous former landing spot of extraterrestrials that have since left—isn’t monetary, but what they most deeply desire. Welcome to Stalker (1979), which one might consider to be Andrei Tarkovsky’s desolate monument to visual storytelling.

Yes, you’re correct if you recall that this hypnotic trip was mentioned before, because Tuvalu’s run-down world is very much equivalent to what you see here. It also feels absolutely dream-like, but definitely not as cheerful. Together with the three leads, and accompanied by Eduard Artemyev’s haunting score, prepare to get lost in a deserted landscape where anything could happen.

I can settle for pure entertainment, no question about that, but I do like to witness something thought-provoking. How far would I go in the pursuit of desire, what would I give up, and would I trust the word of a stranger to obtain it? In other words, do I have what it takes to reach the mythical Room?

Perhaps the answers are within this blog; after all, a man writes because he is tormented… because he doubts.

#4: Rejoice, You Snarling Visigoths!

I’m not familiar with the reasons, but here in the Netherlands, holiday features are usually postponed to early next year. Which sucks, but my dear friend was overseas around my birthday in the Fall of 2023, so she treated me to a trip to the cinema. And we saw a beautiful coming-of-age story which we couldn’t have caught in December, anyway.

This transports us back to Christmas of 1970 in The Holdovers (2023), an extremely moving entry in Alexander Payne’s filmography. It was either that or a sneak preview, and my friend had no interest in being surprised. Lucky me, because I wouldn’t have wanted to miss this for the world, I tell you!

I’m so glad I set a paragraph limit for each chapter in this list, for I can’t shut up about how captivating this story is, which tells of Paul Hunham (Paul Giamatti), an unpopular professor of Ancient Civilisations at a Massachusetts boarding school, where he has to tend to the few students—chief amongst them the intelligent but rebellious Angus Tully (Dominic Sessa)—who can’t go home on Christmas Break. They, in turn, are looked after by the grounds’ cook, Mary Lamb (Da’Vine Joy Randolph), who has just lost her son to the Vietnam War.

I have to give credit to the perfect tandem of cinematographer Egil Bryld, editor Kevin Tent, and composer Mark Orton, guided by Payne, to help the cast bring David Hemingson’s story to life in such a profound way. Each character is such a well-rounded individual, a world unto themselves. Just as in the case of Lost in Translation, as soon as the credits roll, I want to go back.

But right now, I lack the time; daylight in the swamp!

#3: My Hands Are a Little Dirty

The way my brother described this next one, which he also still had to see for himself, made me think I was going to see the umpteenth The Fast and the Furious (2001) sequel, which is a franchise I really did not care for—I still don’t. But as he played it to me, and I had stuffed my mouth full of cookies that were being passed around, preparing myself to be bored out of my skull, a name popped up on the screen: Nicolas Winding Refn. Dude, I desperately attempted to pronounce.

Dude, what? came the reply. Swallowing the last crumbs, I explained: Dude, that’s the dude who directed Bronson (2008)! Eyes widened, since both of us had become a lot more intrigued by this point, as he and I regard the brilliant Tom Hardy-led biopic about England’s most violent prisoner extremely highly. And we were not disappointed when the opening scene of Drive (2011) and its nameless Driver (Ryan Gosling) swallowed us whole.

Good Heavens, people, does this perpetually neon-lit, eighties synth-fuelled crime drama make a lasting impact! Our silent protagonist follows a strict set of rules, just like Jason Statham in The Transporter (2002) and Ryan O’Neal in The Driver (1978)—and the similarities don’t end here!—which, however, doesn’t prevent him from trouble with the mob and emotional turmoil on a personal level. And I just love how someone, without speaking, says everything!

I have this personal rule that prevents recently released titles from entering my Top 10 anytime soon. But for this one, as well as for #4, I made one of those ultra-rare exceptions. Sometimes, these instant hits are just there, y’know; they pop up, and grab you by the throat as a way of informing you they’ll stick with you.

So yeah, my transgression was breaking my own guidelines; thus, for the rest of my life, I’m gonna be looking over my shoulder.

#2: A Golden-haired Angel Watches Over Us

Sometimes there are these classics that you acknowledge for what they are, without letting them get to you unless you open yourself up to them. At a certain point in your life, they may start to resonate with you on whatever level, and you start to feel what makes them so great. The #2 on my list went from a silent, distant respect to an all-encompassing obsession for me!

I simply melt when I see Technicolor, and this pigment process really comes into its own during Sergio Leone’s massive-scaled Western chronicle The Good, the Bad and the Ugly (1966)—or Il Buono, Il Bruto, Il Cattivo in its native Italian. On the surface, it’s nothing more than an adventure book come to life, but it goes way deeper. Indeed, our main character, Blondie (Clint Eastwood), may not develop much over time, and neither do Angel Eyes (Lee Van Cleef) and Tuco (Eli Wallach); but that doesn’t mean the choices they make aren’t interesting.

Amongst the three of them, there’s a bitter rivalry going on, which is dwarfed by the Civil War that’s tearing the country apart. And all they seem to care about is this cache of gold that’s buried in a distant cemetery. No matter how cold-blooded we—or even they—think they are, the drama around them still definitely makes an impact on this tantalising trio; neither will the viewer remain untouched.

Yep, this is the picture I referenced in the first paragraph discussing #5, which, in the end, does make the list thanks to its simple yet effective story, its unforgettable three leads, Tonino Delli Colli’s impeccable images, and Maestro Ennio Morricone’s unrivalled soundtrack! I recently came upon this video centred around “The Ecstasy of Gold”, which, to me, is one of the best pieces of film music ever composed; this edit perfectly highlights the beauty of the film and the power of its score.

I’ve heard it said there are two kinds of people in this world: those who consider The Good, the Bad and the Ugly a masterpiece and those who lack a pulse.

#1B: Let Them Not Watch It, Then

Yep, I’m cheating again, because the #1 spot is a two-seater and I cannot pick a supreme favourite; the above quote came from this title’s co-writer, responding to its director, who expressed concern that their work would be too unbearable to witness. Both had a point, because, well… it is! Before receiving a fantastic restoration that truly does the picture justice, it was available only in murky VHS-quality, which, strangely, also matches the atmosphere perfectly.

I’m talking about Elem Klimov’s completely devastating final project, Come and See (1985)—or Idi i smotri in Russian. Long before the credits stopped rolling, I knew this was, singlehandedly, the most impressive thing I had ever seen. Don’t consider me a stranger to the atrocities human beings can inflict upon one another, but I seriously felt numb for days afterwards.

Despite Ales Adamovich’s reply, which marks the current chapter’s header, this film is a must-see. It tells how, in 1943, the young, impressionable Flyora (Aleksey Kravchenko) desires nothing more than to join the Soviet partisans in their campaign against the Nazi invaders. As he’s faced with the cruelty unleashed on his people, he’s forced to grow up and adapt at a mind-wracking pace.

Believe me, with the above description, I’ve merely begun to scratch the surface. If you believe you saw a powerful anti-war pamphlet in Saving Private Ryan (1998), think again. Or wait, actually, you did, but trust me, this is something else: where Spielberg’s ode to the sacrifice of our liberators paints a picture of gallantry and bravery, Klimov uses a raw, confrontational and cruel brush, showing us what’s beyond the edge of our humanity.

The title says Come and See, and that’s what you should do: don’t you dare look away.

#1A: Third Time’s a Charm

Yes, literally this time, as once again, this film completely failed to land upon first exhibition. Then, when a factory defect on a Trainspotting (1996) Blu-ray prompted its distributor to kindly allow me to pick a replacement, the current movie was amongst my options; my girlfriend and I were fully engrossed by what we saw. Years later, an anniversary re-release brought my best friend and me to the theatre to see it; I completely fell in love!

Ironically, we’re speaking of the British noir standard The Third Man (1949) by scribe Graham Greene and director Carol Reed. In it, penniless pulp author Holly Martins (Joseph Cotten) was invited to come work for his best friend Harry Lyme (Orson Welles) in post-war Vienna. The writer’s discovery that his comrade was killed in a traffic accident sets the former out on an investigation into the mysterious circumstances of this tragedy…

Younger me must have been plagued by the irrational notion that old films are obsolete. Now I count some gems from the forties—including a few outside this list!—amongst my absolute favourites. Even knowing how the intrigue plays out, I’m nevertheless propelled to the edge of my seat thanks to the compelling questions, shady characters, foreboding aura, and Martins’ tenacity—which I, as a viewer, adopt myself.

The passage of time showed me two things: first, that I am still capable of learning and correcting myself, and secondly, that The Third Man only improves with age. Remastering it for future generations has definitely helped, but the core value has always been there. It’s dramatic, captivating, even funny at times, which makes me all the more shocked that it took me so long to acknowledge its quality!

But I cannot truly be altered, as the femme fatale Anna Schmidt (Alida Valli) said: A person doesn’t change just because you find out more.

Well, folks, that concludes this list, showing you exactly what your author is so passionate about and why. Which films do you hold the most dear? I’d love to read about your most cherished motion pictures in the comments!

I’m signing off for now.

All the best,

Your film nerd, Flip Dynko

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