The Critics’ Top 10
1. Vertigo (Hitchcock, 1958)
2. Citizen Kane (Welles, 1941)
3. Tokyo Story (Yasujiro Ozu, 1953)
4. The Rules of the Game (Jean Renoir, 1939)
5. Sunrise: A Song for Two Humans (F.W. Murnau, 1927)
6. 2001: A Space Odyssey (Stanley Kubrick, 1968)
7. The Searchers (John Ford, 1956)
8. Man with a Movie Camera (Dziga Vertov, 1929)
9. The Passion of Joan of Arc (Carl Th. Dreyer, 1927)
10. 8 ½ (Federico Fellini, 1963)
Critics' second 10:
11. Battleship Potemkin
12. L'Atalante
13. Breathless
14. Apocalypse Now
15. Late Spring
16. Au Hasard Balthasar
17. Seven Samurai
Persona (tie)
19. The Mirror
20. Singin' in the Rain
The Directors’ Top 10
1. Tokyo Story (Ozu, 1953)
2 2001: A Space Odyssey (Kubrick, 1968)
2 Citizen Kane (Welles, 1941)
4. 8 ½ (Fellini, 1963)
5. Taxi Driver (Scorsese, 1976)
6. Apocalypse Now (Coppola, 1979)
7. The Godfather (Coppola, 1972)
7. Vertigo (Hitchcock, 1958)
9. Mirror (Tarkovsky, 1974)
10. Bicycle Thieves (De Sica, 1948)
For the first time since 1962, the greatest movie ever made is not Citizen Kane, per the Sight & Sound international critics poll. Entertainment Weekly has a pretty good explanation why here:
I would push that a little further. The fact is, if you look at the early versions of these polls, they had one overarching objective— to establish something, anything other than studio system Hollywood as the art side of the art of cinema. Most of the list consisted of alternatives to studio filmmaking— Soviet montage, Italian neorealism, Japanese cinema— and when American filmmakers made the list at all, they were either martyrs to the system (Griffith, Stroheim, Welles), or independent spirits (Chaplin, Flaherty, the Vidor of Hallelujah!, the Ford of The Informer). What they were not was guys who played the system and managed to turn out art under the guise of successful popular entertainment.Kane topped the list for 50 years not just because it’s one of the most entertaining films ever made but because of what it represented in the annals of film history: the emergence of the concept, within Hollywood at least, that a writer-director can be a singular auteur (as much as Pauline Kael, not to mention earlier film artists like Charlie Chaplin, F.W. Murnau, and D.W. Griffith, would beg to differ); as one of the rare times that a writer-director has been given virtually a blank check from a Hollywood studio to put his vision on screen; for its pioneering use of wide-angle lenses to achieve deep-focus cinematography; for its circular, self-reflexive narrative that throws out all screenwriting-class notions of a three-act script. But Nick James, the editor of Sight & Sound, suggests that critics and filmmakers voted more for personal than objective, historical reasons this time.
“This result reflects changes in the culture of film criticism,” James tells the BBC. “The new cinephilia seems to be not so much about films that strive to be great art, such as Citizen Kane, and that use cinema’s entire arsenal of effects to make a grand statement, but more about works that have personal meaning to the critic. Vertigo is the ultimate critics’ film because it is a dreamlike film about people who are not sure who they are but who are busy reconstructing themselves and each other to fit a kind of cinema ideal of the ideal soul mate.”
That started to change in 1972 and especially in 1982, when big, glossy, color movies that made a lot of money started turning up on the list or at least the runners-up, like The Searchers, Vertigo, 2001, Lawrence of Arabia, The Godfather, and Singin' in the Rain. By now it's clear that both critics and directors no longer have the need to bash Mayer, Warner, Cohn, et al. for creating the system, but treasure what the likes of Hitchcock and Ford could do within it.
As far as NitrateVille's area of primary interest, it's a mixed bag— great that Sunrise is up there on both lists, Joan of Arc is a love it or hate it movie but I understand the acclaim, but the idea that The Man With a Movie Camera is anything resembling a great film has always baffled me. What's a bummer is that silent comedy is absent this time; that was always the gateway drug for old movies, but not any more, apparently. But then it's not exactly a pleasure list, as evidenced by the one film here I've never seen at all, Tarkovsky's The Mirror. While the 1930s have vanished from the list entirely, save for Renoir in France; I might have a hard time naming outright masterpieces from the decade (though my list would have It's a Gift, and possibly King Kong) because what we love about the decade is often more the liveliness of the quick and dirty, the films of James Cagney as a body of work over any specific film.
