Right now, actor Ryan Gosling is having one of the biggest successes of his acting career with his latest film, Project Hail Mary, which is also the first blockbuster of 2026. Gosling is also receiving some of the best reviews of his career for his performance as brainy middle-school science teacher, Ryland Grace, who wakes up alone on a spaceship light years away from Earth with no memory of how he got there.

It’s the latest achievement for the Canadian-born actor who has given great performances in films like Blue Valentine, Drive, Half Nelson, and even the comedy, Barbie. Born in 1980 to working-class parents in London, Ontario, Canada, Gosling’s first break came when he was chosen to appear on the rebooted television series, The All New Mickey Mouse Club in 1993. That eventually led to roles in the movies The Slaughter Rule, Murder By Numbers, and his breakout role as a Jewish Neo-Nazi in 2001’s The Believer.

Now, 49 films later, it’s time to ask: is Ryan Gosling the best actor of his generation working in Hollywood today?

Maybe.

But before I even consider it, I have to weigh him against another contender: Jake Gyllenhaal.

Like Gosling, Jake Gyllenhaal was also born in 1980. In fact, the two actors were born only 37 days apart. But Gyllenhaal had the advantage of being born into a show-business family. His father is a television and film director, and his mother is a producer and screenwriter.

Jake and his older sister Maggie began acting as children. For Jake, his first important early role was playing Billy Crystal’s son in the comedy, City Slickers at the age of eleven. Later, Gyllenhaal starred in the inspiring tale of rocket scientist, Homer Hickam, in October Sky and two years later attracted even more attention as the lead character in the cult movie, Donnie Darko. Since then, Gyllenhaal has appeared in over 50 films and currently has numerous projects in development.

So…which one do I think is the champ? The best film actor of his generation? Gosling or Gyllenhaal?

I’ve gone back and forth on this more than I’d like to admit. Ryan Gosling is one of my favorite actors working today, especially for his performances in the movies Drive and Blue Valentine. But, when I take an in-depth look at both his and Jake Gyllenhaal’s filmographies, there’s no question that the winner is Jake Gyllenhaal, and in the following four rounds, I’ll explain why.

Round 1: The Breakout Performances

A breakout performance is where an actor does more with a role than his early career suggested was possible.

For Ryan Gosling, it was his portrayal of Dan Dunne, the dedicated but also crack addicted junior high school teacher, in the Sundance hit, Half Nelson. Nothing Gosling had done up to that point prepared audiences for his performance as the flawed, miserable, and yet dedicated teacher who cares about his inner-city students but who also smokes crack in the school’s bathroom. It was an unglamorous role that allowed Gosling to build on his previous success portraying the complex Jewish neo-Nazi in The Believer.

Gosling’s commitment to the character of Dan Dunne was total, and it shows in his performance. He lost considerable weight, made himself look scruffy by being unshaven and disheveled throughout the film, and used his body language to convey to the audience that he was falling apart both mentally and physically due to his drug addiction. For the viewer, Gosling never lets you look away, no matter how painful it is to watch his character make so many mistakes and bad decisions throughout the film.

In addition, Gosling did a great job of carrying this small indie film almost all on his own. Even though there are other characters in the film, our eyes are always on him. To me, it’s the first performance by Gosling that showed he was a serious actor.

However, there’s just one problem: Gyllenhaal did the same thing one year earlier.

In 2005, Jake Gyllenhaal surprised both critics and audiences with his breakout performance in Brokeback Mountain. The heartbreaking story of two closeted gay cowboys in Wyoming, Brokeback Mountain gave Jake Gyllenhaal the chance to expand his range and play a complicated character who goes from having a hesitant passion for his co-worker, Ennis (the late Heath Ledger), to cautious optimism that he and Ennis could find a way to make their relationship work, to mounting frustration over Ennis’ inability to commit to a life together, and then finally despair and hopelessness, which is perfectly characterized in the scene where Gyllenhaal delivers the iconic line of the movie: “I wish I knew how to quit you.”

While Heath Ledger shines in the role of Ennis in this modern classic, it’s really Gyllenhaal who carries the emotional weight of the film. The fact that Gyllenhaal was able to transcend the words in the screenplay to take his character of Jack Twist to a higher level is quite an accomplishment.

So even though Ryan Gosling gives a fine performance as Dan Dunne, the crack-addicted middle school teacher in Half Nelson, it can’t compare to Jake Gyllenhaal’s emotionally complicated Jack Twist in Brokeback Mountain.

Round 2: The Iconic Roles

For an actor, an iconic movie role is one that is so memorable and instantly recognizable that even people who haven’t seen the movie recognize the character. It’s also a performance where the audience can’t imagine anyone else playing the part and a role that defines the actor’s career.

While it may be tempting to list Ryan Gosling’s performance in Half Nelson and Jake Gyllenhaal’s Jack Twist in Brokeback Mountain as definitive, I think it’s their performances in Drive and Nightcrawler that are the two actors’ most iconic roles.

First, there has never been a character quite like Lou Bloom in the psychological thriller, Nightcrawler. As portrayed by Jake Gyllenhaal, Bloom is a sociopath who lives on the fringe of society in modern-day Los Angeles. After witnessing a freelance news crew film a gruesome car accident in order to sell the footage to a local TV news station, Bloom discovers his mission in life. Soon, he acquires a video camera and police scanner and forms his own news crew. By throwing aside any ethical or legal boundaries that might stop him from succeeding in his new profession, Bloom quickly rises to the top, even if it means those around him must suffer and die.

Nightcrawler is a great movie because it’s about the dark side of the American dream. It’s a story of success taken to a twisted extreme.

To embody this crazy sociopath, Gyllenhaal lost 30 pounds for the role. He wanted to make his character scrawny, wiry, and thin his face so his eyes would bulge out. And, if you’ve watched the movie more than once like I have, you’ll eventually notice that Gyllenhaal never blinks in the film. I’m still not sure how he pulled that off.

In addition, Gyllenhaal has Lou constantly twitch and talk fast. And, by taking popular success jargon and making it sound like he’s memorized trendy buzzword phrases lifted straight from the latest self-help bestseller, Gyllenhaal twists them into something more detached and ominous:

My motto is, if you want to win the lottery, you have to make the money to buy the ticket.

In contrast, Ryan Gosling’s character in Drive, a Hollywood stuntman who moonlights as a get-away driver for criminals, rarely speaks at all throughout the film.

Modeling his character after such stoic movie icons such as Clint Eastwood’s Man With No Name in Sergio Leone’s famous spaghetti westerns, Gosling effectively uses small gestures like tilting his head or changing his expression from a blank stare to a half-smile in order to express his thoughts and feelings to the audience instead of using words.

In fact, by remaining silent for most of the movie, Gosling makes his limited dialogue have more impact on the viewer when he does actually talk to the other characters in the film.

Gosling also does an excellent job of flipping his emotions, from acting tranquil in his scenes with Irene and her son, whom he has vowed to protect, to becoming violent a short time later after he’s left their apartment. This keeps the audience on edge.

While both actors are excellent in their respective films, Gyllenhaal wins this round by creating one of the most unforgettable anti-heroes of our time, Lou Bloom, in Nightcrawler.

Round 3: Range and Risks

Here's what separates Gosling and Gyllenhaal when it comes to range: Gosling takes tonal risks, while Gyllenhaal takes character risks. And that difference matters more than you might think.

For Gosling, his strength comes from playing masculine men who have a hard time expressing what they feel in films like The Believer, Half Nelson, Drive, and Blue Valentine.

By using his facial expressions and body language, Gosling is able to make viewers feel what his character can’t say. So when Gosling began breaking out of his comfort zone and expanding his range, it marked a major shift in his career.

Take La La Land, for example. Nobody knew that Gosling could sing and play the piano, so this role was totally unexpected and a wonderful surprise. This also applies to Gosling’s bumbling private eye, Holland March, in The Nice Guys. Once again, Gosling won over viewers with his knack for physical comedy, pratfalls, and slapstick.

Also, in one of his least known films, Lars and The Real Girl, Gosling plays Lars Lindstrom, a very shy, socially isolated man. In order to combat his loneliness, Lars orders a life-size doll from the internet and introduces her to everyone in town as his girlfriend. Gosling avoids irony or easy laughs by playing Lars with the utmost sincerity, resulting in a memorable performance.

And in Barbie, Gosling wasn’t afraid to look ridiculous as Ken.

Now, in his latest film, Project Hail Mary, Gosling plays a middle school science teacher named Ryland Grace, who is not only a nerd, but is about as goofy and cheerfully uncool as possible. What makes Gosling’s performance stand out in this new film is how emotionally open and accessible Gosling has made his character while also being very warm and funny. It’s nice to see Gosling continue to expand his range.

What’s interesting about all of these departures is that Gosling is changing the mood, style, and often the vocal approach of his performances to suit different genres, especially comedy, rather than his overall approach to acting. He’s still recognizably Gosling in all of them. Gyllenhaal, on the other hand, doesn't just change the tone. He changes himself.

Let’s take a look at the wide variety of characters Gyllenhaal has portrayed through the years. First, there’s Homer Hickam, the small-town kid who dreams of rockets in October Sky. Then, two years later in Donnie Darko, Gyllenhaal morphed into a disturbed suburban teen living in a possible alternate reality. After that came gay cowboy Jack Twist in Brokeback Mountain; then, in one of Gyllenhaal’s most restrained performances, he played the nerdy obsessive Robert Graysmith seeking to unmask the serial killer’s identity in Zodiac. In addition, in Enemy, Gyllenhaal played both the main character, Adam, and his doppelganger, Anthony, in Denis Villeneuve’s complex thriller; and of course, no one can forget Lou Bloom in Nightcrawler.

Then there’s Billy Hope, the physical opposite of Lou Bloom. In order to play the light-heavyweight champion in Southpaw, Gyllenhaal gained twenty pounds of muscle and reportedly trained twice a day for five months as he prepared for the role. When filming began, Gyllenhaal even did his own fight scenes using proper boxing technique and didn’t rely on stunt doubles. The result is a performance that feels authentic and real, even though the script is riddled with sports movie clichés.

Taken all together, Gyllenhaal’s amazing range and willingness to take risks as an actor far exceed those undertaken by Ryan Gosling.

Round 4: Missed Hits

Every actor in Hollywood has made some turkeys they regret (and that they would like their fans to forget too). Jake Gyllenhaal and Ryan Gosling are no exceptions.

For Gosling, his single worst film is probably Gangster Squad. Not only is the movie’s wanna-be Untouchables like story hollow and full of stereotypes, Gosling’s performance doesn’t match his usual intensity. Here, he seems detached from the other characters around him. Of course, the fact that Gosling mumbles the almost laughable dialogue in a high-pitched voice doesn’t help his performance much either.

Another notable failure is Only God Forgives, Gosling’s second collaboration with Drive’s writer-director, Nicolas Winding Refn. In this film, Gosling’s character, Julian, is mostly silent throughout the film. Although that worked well in Drive, here it results in a performance that seems catatonic as Gosling just stares at the other characters with a blank expressionless face. This makes both his performance and the character lifeless and boring.

For Gosling, his weakest performances tend to happen when he leans in too heavily on his established stoic persona without a solid script to support it.

However, Jake Gyllenhaal’s misfires are actually worse because they tend to call more attention to themselves, especially since viewers know what Gyllenhaal is capable of doing on-screen.

A good example of this is the god-awful, Prince of Persia: The Sands Of Time. Why did Gyllenhaal, a white actor, choose to play an ancient Arabian Prince? This was his first mistake. But besides being miscast in this big-budget fiasco, there’s the fact that Gyllenhaal doesn’t play the part of the hero very well.

In fact, he often looks dazed and comes across as foolishly incompetent or even silly at times. This is especially true because of his English accent, which comes and goes throughout the film. This is the same issue that has plagued other actors, such as Robert Redford in Out of Africa and Kevin Costner in Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves. But here, it’s so noticeable, that viewers can’t ignore it. What I don’t understand is that with all of his experience on stage and screen, why couldn’t Gyllenhaal even get the accent right?

Even more bothersome is the fact that there’s virtually no chemistry between Gyllenhaal and his costar, Gemma Arterton, who plays the princess Tamina. Gyllenhaal beefed up for this role, adding an impressive amount of muscle to his physique. If he had spent as much effort on his performance, this turkey might have become almost watchable.

More recently, Gyllenhaal starred in Michael Bay’s Ambulance, which is another crappy movie. In this film, Gyllenhaal almost seems to be playing a parody of himself. Not only is he always “on,” his performance from the start is at such a high level of frantic energy there’s nowhere else for him to go as an actor. The result is an irritating one-note performance.

And finally, there's the remake of Patrick Swayze's classic, Road House. Released in 2024, neither Gyllenhaal nor the movie is very good. The filmmakers have ditched everything that made the original memorable, and Gyllenhaal's Dalton, who has been changed from a Tai Chi practicing former philosophy student into a cocky, angry former MMA fighter, has none of the quiet charm that made Swayze's version so iconic. Another misfire.

There's no winner in this round because both men have made their share of clunkers. Let's call it a draw.

Final Scorecard:

Round One: The Breakout Performance - Gyllenhaal

Round Two: The Iconic Role - Gyllenhaal

Round Three: Range and Risk - Gyllenhaal

Round Four: Missed Hits: Draw

The Decision: Gyllenhaal Wins

As I noted at the beginning of this post, Ryan Gosling and Jake Gyllenhaal are the two best actors of their generation. Born only 37 days apart in 1980, they’ve each had remarkable careers.

But after 4 rounds, 3 decisions, and a draw, it's clear that Jake Gyllenhaal is the better actor. He's more daring, more willing to disappear completely into a role and come back as someone you've never seen before. Ryan Gosling is no consolation prize; he's still one of the best actors of his generation. But Gyllenhaal is the champ, and four rounds of evidence say so.

Disagree? Tell me why in the comments.

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It’s no secret that A24 has become one of the hippest independent film studios working outside the traditional Hollywood system. Founded in 2012 (the name A24 refers to an Italian motorway), the company began distributing films the following year and quickly established itself as a major Hollywood player, financing and distributing a wide range of independent movies, including Oscar winners like Moonlight, Everything, Everywhere, All At Once, and The Zone of Interest.

But here’s the thing about success: it has a way of burying the films that don’t fit neatly into a studio’s emerging brand. And the bigger A24 has gotten, the more certain films have slipped through the cracks. I’m referring to the movies that are stranger, rougher, and in some ways more interesting than the titles that made the studio famous.

These are the films I want to talk about. Not the horror hits or the awards darlings, but the ones that didn’t find their audience the first time around and got buried by a bad marketing campaign, a limited release, or simply the bad luck of being too weird for mainstream tastes.

If you’re willing to dig a little deeper into the A24 catalog, here are my 10 favorite hidden gems…

1. A Prayer Before Dawn

The Story: Based on the memoir by British boxer, Billy Moore, actor Joe Cole gives an incredible performance as Moore that brings to mind Robert De Niro in Martin Scorsese’s Raging Bull. As an expatriate alone in Thailand during the mid-2000s, Billy Moore lives for two things: boxing and meth. However, when the local police raid his apartment full of illegal drugs, Moore is sentenced to 3 years in two of Thailand’s worst prisons. Surrounded by non-stop brutality and gang violence inside the prison, Billy eventually realizes the only way he can survive the agony of his conditions (both physically and mentally) is to join the prison’s Muay Thai boxing team.

Eventually, the discipline of the team’s training provides Moore with a path towards a spiritual and physical redemption of sorts that enables him to overcome both the extreme conditions of the prison and his on-going drug addiction. When the prison authorities allow Moore to compete in a Muay Thai boxing tournament, the film builds to a final gut-wrenching (literally) boxing match that’s only surpassed by the dramatic reunion afterwards between Moore and his father, played in the film by the real Billy Moore.

Why It’s a Hidden Gem: This film immerses the viewer into the extreme conditions of the prison that most viewers couldn’t tolerate. In addition, there are long stretches of Thai dialogue without subtitles, intentionally leaving the audience as lost and confused as Joe Cole’s Billy Moore is in the film. And, although it builds to a final fight, this movie is no Rocky with a happy ending. Yet, this is a great film, and for those willing to go along with it, the movie offers up an emotionally powerful experience that makes it worth enduring the film’s more harrowing sequences.

What Makes It Great: Although it may sound somewhat similar to Alan Parker’s 1978 film, Midnight Express, director Jean-Stéphane Sauvaire’s eye for detail, social comment, and strong visuals elevates this film beyond the conventions of the prison-drama genre. Filmed on location at an actual Thai prison using real inmates for most of the supporting cast, many parts of this film feel more like a documentary than a movie. In addition, Joe Cole gives an intense, raw performance as Billy Moore. Cole even trained for months ahead of filming in order to box on-screen himself, resulting in fight sequences that seem thoroughly authentic.

2. American Honey

The Story: Newcomer Sasha Lane plays Star, a teenage girl trapped in a cycle of poverty and abuse from her step-father in Oklahoma, who impulsively joins a magazine crew on the road to escape her down-trodden life. The crew, which is really just a van full of young misfits, travels across the Midwest in a white van selling magazine subscriptions to unsuspecting customers using questionable sales techniques. By posing as college students trying to earn scholarship funds or completing school assignments, the crew, all poor and nearly destitute in real life, often prey on their potential customers’ weaknesses until they agree to buy subscriptions out of pity, lust, guilt, or all of the above.

Each day, after their work is done, the crew turns over their earnings to their supervisor, Krystal (Riley Keough), who runs the crew with the help of her best salesman Jake (Shia LaBeouf). They spend their nights partying in cheap motels and wake up early the next morning to begin their sales routine once again. Eventually, we learn that Krystal isn’t really the boss, but a middle man for the real people in charge, who are never revealed.

For Krystal, Jake, and the crew, their lives are a road trip with no final destination. Yet, during the first part of the film, the group is too busy having a good time to face this reality. Jake was the lure that got Star to run away from home and join the crew, and she begins having a romance with him (breaking the rules of the crew).

As to be expected, none of this can last forever. At the end of the film, Jake gives Star a turtle, which she sets free in water. Then she submerges into the water herself in a symbolic baptism and emerges as a self-reliant woman, even if her future is still unclear.

Why It’s a Hidden Gem: Unfortunately, American Honey was a box-office failure. Audiences were turned off by the nearly 3 hour long running time, the unlikable characters, and the non-traditional aimless “slice of life” storyline. Also, except for Shia LaBeouf, the cast consisted of young unknown actors, which also limited its box-office appeal for mainstream audiences as well.

What Makes It Great: In her first film made in the United States (part of it was even filmed here in Nebraska where I live), Andrea Arnold captures the lost generation of modern America’s poor underclass as the film’s cast and crew roam across the midwest, just like the characters in the film. Arnold’s direction is raw, energetic, and deeply empathetic without judging her characters. The use of non-professional actors (including lead Sasha Lane, who was discovered on a beach) also adds a layer of authenticity to the film.

3. Climax

The Story: After an unusual prologue that includes brief interviews with each character and the end credits placed at the beginning of the film, the story begins as we see a troupe of young French dancers rehearsing in an abandoned school building in the middle of winter. The extended dance sequence is brilliant.

Afterwards, they celebrate with a party featuring a large bowl of Sangria.

Eventually, someone realizes the Sangria bowl has been spiked with a large amount of LSD.

As the drug takes effect, the celebration dissolves into a collective psychotic break as each character responds to the effects of the LSD in different ways. Relationships fracture, many of the dancers become paranoid, and the group begins to violently turn on itself.

What begins as a joyous, exciting musical dance evolves into a nightmare that only gets worse as the film goes on. No one is spared. It’s never made clear who put the LSD in the Sangria, but there are hints throughout the movie that astute viewers will pick up on.

Why It’s a Hidden Gem: As usual for a Gaspar Noé film, Climax is polarizing and intentionally provocative, which caused many audiences to be turned off by the disturbing content, lack of a traditional plot, and Noe’s experimental style of filmmaking. Consequently, audiences either stayed away or walked out of the movie before it was over.

What Makes It Great: Climax is a sensory experience that allows Gaspar Noé to showcase all of his brilliant filmmaking technique throughout the film. Even if the content disturbs you, (trust me, it will), the film is still worth seeing because it’s unlike anything else out there today.

Also, the unique structure of the film and the dazzling camera work (as the characters become disoriented from the effects of the LSD, the camera begins to drift, spin, and mirror their skewed perception of events) make this film a visual feast. Most of the cast are real dancers, not actors, and yet give great performances.

The film also features an almost non-stop propulsive soundtrack of electronic music that begins euphorically and grows more sinister as the film goes on.

4. End of the Tour

The Story: Set in 1996 and based on true events, the film dramatizes the five days when Rolling Stone reporter David Lipsky (Jesse Eisenberg) traveled with novelist David Foster Wallace (Jason Segel) on the final leg of his Infinite Jest book tour.

The film is based on Lipsky’s memoir which was drawn from the recorded interviews he made at the time.

As the two men travel throughout the midwest during the final leg of Wallace’s book tour, they engage in an almost non-stop conversation that might make viewers recall My Dinner With Andre (only here we see Lipsky and Wallace talk at a variety of mundane locations like gas stations, Denny’s, and bookstores).

After the book tour ends, Lipsky returns back to his home in New York. A title card before the end credits states that Wallace died by suicide in 2008.

Why It’s a Hidden Gem: Unfortunately, the film failed at the box-office because mainstream audiences weren’t interested in seeing a dialogue-heavy, intimate character study that moved at a slow pace. In addition, the film wasn’t authorized by the estate of David Foster Wallace so many fans felt the filmmakers were trying to exploit the late author, even though that wasn’t the case.

What Makes It Great: This is a small movie that focuses on two different characters based on real people. Because of that, the film wouldn’t work if the acting was subpar. Thankfully, Jason Segel’s performance as David Foster Wallace is amazing in the way Segel is able to capture Wallace’s quirky personality, along with his brilliance and anxiety. Jesse Eisenberg is the perfect foil for Segel, balancing admiration and envy of Wallace’s genius throughout the film. Finally, the combination of these two actors and their great performances make you feel like you’re in the car traveling with them.

Also, because the script is based on the memoir, which itself was based on audio tapes from the interviews the real Lipsky conducted on his trip, the movie feels authentic, and it gives us a look into the late David Foster Wallace’s personality and worldview.

5. Enemy

The Story: Jake Gyllenhaal portrays a glum history professor named Adam Bell, who lives a rather boring life in Toronto, Canada. Except for the sexual relationship with his girlfriend Mary (Melanie Laurent), Adam’s life is about as dull as it can be.

One evening, Adam rents a movie recommended by a friend called, Where There’s a Will, There’s a Way. While watching the film, Adam spots an actor who is his exact physical double in one of the minor supporting roles. The actor is named Anthony Claire (also played by Gyllenhaal). Soon, Adam becomes obsessed with this doppelgänger and begins stalking him. Adam even goes so far as to contact the actor’s pregnant wife, Helen (Sarah Gadon). When Helen tracks Adam down at his university, she’s shocked to see he’s an exact copy of her husband, including a specific scar on his torso. Eventually the two men meet in person.

Although they look exactly alike physically, Adam is dull and withdrawn, while Anthony is brash, confident, and aggressive. During their meeting, (in a seedy motel room), Anthony becomes obsessed with Adam’s girlfriend and demands that they swap lives for a night so he can sleep with Mary.

Anthony takes Adam’s clothes and car, picking up Mary for a quick getaway while Adam goes to Anthony’s apartment where Anthony’s wife seems to accept him. After that, things get weird as the film builds to an ending that’s reminiscent of David Lynch’s Lost Highway and Mulholland Drive.

Why It’s a Hidden Gem: Enemy failed at the box-office because initial audiences felt misled by the studio’s marketing campaign which made the film out to be a Jake Gyllenhaal conventional thriller instead of what it actually was: a cerebral surrealist art-house indie with a deliberately confusing storyline. Once negative word of mouth began to spread about the film, there was no way for the film to recover its losses.

What Makes It Great: Before he directed bigger budget films like Blade Runner 2049 and the Dune series, Denis Villeneuve created this small, puzzling atmospheric suspenseful drama. It’s a cinematic Rubik’s cube filled with spiders, both literally and metaphorically, that refuses to explain itself. The ending is so surreal that it alienated many viewers. However, I love the film, even if I don’t fully understand what it all means.

6. First Reformed

The Story: Reverend Ernst Toller (Ethan Hawke) presides over a historical, dwindling Dutch Reformed church in upstate New York. He’s in bad health, most likely caused by stomach cancer. Toller is also haunted by the death of his son in the Iraq War, especially since Toller was the one who encouraged his son to enlist. One day, Toller is approached by a young pregnant parishioner named Mary (Amanda Seyfried) who asks him to counsel her husband, Michael (Philip Ettinger). You see, Michael is a radical environmentalist. He’s also despondent over climate change and believes it is immoral to bring a child into a dying world. Naturally, this causes friction with Mary who is due to give birth soon.

After Michael commits suicide, Toller begins to be consumed by the same ecological despair. He begins to question whether God can forgive humanity for destroying the earth and begins to see the stewardship of the earth as a holy war. Soon, Toller clashes with his superior Pastor Jeffers, whose megachurch is funded by Edward Balq. It turns out that Balq’s company is one of the worst industrial polluters in the country.

As Toller’s physical and mental health deteriorate, he steals the deceased Michael’s vest with explosives in it from the couple’s garage. Toller then makes plans to blow himself up in a suicide bombing as he officiates the church’s 250th anniversary service, which will be attended by Balq himself.

However, after seeing Mary enter the church the day of the celebration, Toller can’t go through with it. He returns to his office, removes the explosive vest, and wraps himself in barbed wire under his robe. Next, Toller pours drain cleaner into a cup and is about to drink it when Mary enters the room. Toller and Mary embrace and experience a surreal moment as they transcend time together.

Why It’s a Hidden Gem: Although First Reformed received strong reviews and actually turned a small profit at the box-office, its slow, deliberate pace and heavy themes didn’t appeal to many mainstream American moviegoers. In addition, many audiences were turned off by the film’s abrupt ambiguous ending. Because of this, there was never a chance the film would break out and reach a broader audience. Even now, I’m constantly surprised at how few people have heard about this film.

What Makes It Great: First Reformed is the rare film that takes both religious faith and environmental collapse seriously by dealing with the topics of faith, climate change, and radicalization. To me, its near perfect script and direction make First Reformed one of the best films of writer/director Paul Schrader’s career. In this film, Schrader channels two of his favorite filmmakers’ masterpieces: Ingmar Bergman’s Winter Light and Robert Bresson’s Diary of a Country Priest while also adding his own point of view to the story. In addition, Ethan Hawke gives one of the best performances of his career as the quiet, agonized minister of the First Reformed church. Finally, the film’s cinematography, filmed in the 1:33 Academy ratio with muted colors, adds to the intensity of the film. The result is a thought-provoking film that raises a lot of interesting questions about religion, climate change, and grief.

7. It Comes At Night

The Story: After a highly contagious plague has broken out, Paul (Joel Edgerton), his wife, Sarah (Carmen Ejogo), and their teenage son, Travis (Kelvin Harrison Jr.), live in a fortified cabin in the woods.

They remain safe from the plague by following a strict set of rules, which includes keeping the front door locked at all times. The fact that it has been painted red shows how important this door is in keeping the family healthy and alive. In the beginning of the film, Sarah’s father, Bud (David Pendleton), becomes infected by the disease, the family kills him and burns the body.

That night, the family catches an intruder trying to break into the cabin. The would-be thief, Will (Christopher Abbott), explains that he was searching for fresh water for his wife and young toddler son. Paul takes Will out to the forest, ties him to a tree, and puts a hood over his head. He leaves Will there overnight to confirm that Will doesn’t have the disease. After Sarah suggests that they take Will and his family in, Paul drives Will back to his family so they can be brought to the cabin.

However, along the way, they are ambushed by two men. Paul kills them but accuses Will of setting him up. Will denies this and regains Paul’s confidence.

After Will’s family moves into the cabin, one day, Travis’s dog begins barking non-stop at an unseen presence and chases it into the woods. Then, that evening, Travis discovers Will’s toddler son, Andrew (Griffin Robert Faulkner), sleeping on the floor of Bud’s old room. The young boy is having a bad dream. But much to Travis’s shock, the red front door of the house has been left open. The two families also find Travis’s dog lying on the floor bleeding and terminally sick. Soon, distrust and paranoia begin to affect both families, leading to a bleak but fitting conclusion of the film.

Why It’s a Hidden Gem: The movie suffered from a marketing campaign that mis-represented the film and gave audiences the impression that the movie was a conventional horror film. When viewers saw the film and discovered it dealt in psychological horror instead of monsters, they felt ripped off. A large backlash quickly emerged on social media as viewers gave the film an “F” rating on websites like Rotten Tomatoes and Letterboxd.

What Makes It Great: In my opinion, It Comes at Night does an excellent job of creating a sense of dread from the very start. Almost all of the action takes place in the family’s cabin and the woods nearby. The cabin, with its dark, dimly lit rooms, is both claustrophobic and menacing. Outside, the woods seem menacing as well, even in the daytime. Interestingly, there is no monster in this film, just the psychological horror the characters experience. I think the film is very well directed with great performances from the small cast, especially Kelvin Harrison Jr. as Sarah’s son, Travis.

8. Lamb

The Story: On a remote farm in Iceland, Maria (Noomi Rapace) and Ingvar (Hilmir Snaer Guðnason), a childless couple, are shocked when one of their pregnant sheep gives birth to a half human-half sheep. The infant is mostly human but has a lamb’s head and right arm. The couple take the infant up to their house. They name her Ada after their deceased daughter and begin raising the infant as their own child, dressing her in sweaters and keeping her away from the barn.

However, one day Ada goes missing and is later found lying next to the ewe who gave her birth. Shortly afterwards, Maria kills the ewe and buries her body. But, what Maria doesn’t know is that Ingvar’s brother, Pétur (Björn Hlynur Haraldsson), who has arrived to visit the family, has witnessed the murder of the ewe.

Pétur is disgusted by Ada and the couple’s attachment to her. That night while everyone is asleep, Pétur takes Ada on an early morning walk with the intention of killing her. However, at the last moment he has a change of heart and soon becomes an uncle to her.

One evening, while Maria, Ingvar, and Pétur are having a party and getting drunk together, Ada sees an unknown entity near the barn. The entity kills the family’s dog and takes the family’s gun before disappearing.

Later that night, a drunk Ingvar goes to bed leaving Pétur and Maria alone. Pétur makes sexual advances towards Maria. When she rejects his advances Pétur reveals that he saw Maria kill Ada’s sheep mother and tries to blackmail Maria into having sex with him by threatening to tell Ada what really happened. Maria pretends to want to have sex with Pétur before luring him into a storage room in order to lock him up inside it.

The next morning Maria drives Pétur to a bus stop and sends him away. While she’s gone, Ingvar takes Ada with him out to a field to repair a broken tractor. On the way back home, they run into the entity, which is revealed to be half man and half ram. He has come to reclaim what was taken. The entity shoots Ingvar in the neck and takes Ada, who is crying, away with him.

Maria returns home to find Ingvar and Ada are missing. She searches for the two and finds Ingvar before he dies. Afterwards, Maria searches for Ada in vain.

Why It’s a Hidden Gem: Unfortunately, like It Comes at Night, Lamb was also mis-marketed as a traditional horror fantasy film. When audiences discovered it was actually a slow moving, bleak Icelandic folk tale with minimal dialogue that focused on grief, bad word of mouth quickly spread online. This doomed any chance the film had at the box-office.

What Makes It Great: To me, Lamb is a beautiful, haunting, meditation on grief and parenthood centered around an unusual story. In addition, the CGI and special effects used to make Ada seem human are incredibly well done. All of the performances by the cast in the film are strong, especially Noomi Rapace, who gives an emotionally satisfying performance as Maria. Finally, the barren, cold, Icelandic landscape with its dark clouds and rain adds an important visual element to the film.

9. Queer

The Story: Set in 1950s Mexico City, William Lee (Daniel Craig), is an aging American ex-pat who drifts through life by spending his days getting drunk, shooting up heroin, and pursuing unfulfilling sexual encounters with local men. Lee is witty, cynical, and very lonely.

One day, Lee sees a young man walking by on the street and becomes obsessed with him. The young man is an ex-GI named Eugene Allerton (Drew Starkey). Eugene is cool, aloof, and indifferent to Lee’s sexual advances. This indifference only makes Lee become even more obsessed with the younger man. The two begin an on-again-off-again relationship, both in and out of bed.

Eventually, Lee talks Eugene into accompanying him to South America, where he hopes to find a plant called Yage, which Lee believes can enable its users to have telepathy.

The two men end up in the jungles of South America where they eventually find the leading expert on Yage, an eccentric gun-toting older female scientist named Dr. Cotter (Lesley Manville) who lives in a cabin deep in an isolated part of the jungle. Lee convinces Dr. Cotter to let him and Eugene take some of her Yage. However, the telepathy Lee was seeking doesn’t result in a superpower. Instead, it gives Lee a devastating look into his own psyche.

Eventually, Lee returns to Mexico City alone. He resumes his old ways but never sees Eugene again.

Why It’s a Hidden Gem: Despite Daniel Craig’s critically praised performance in the lead role, Queer bombed at the box-office. This was probably due to the film’s unusual story and surreal elements, along with its casual portrayal of drug use and gay sex, which didn’t appeal to a large segment of the movie-going public. In fact, the film has been divisive with both audiences and critics. Some critics feel it’s a masterpiece, while others believe the film is hollow at its core.

What Makes It Great: Queer is a highly stylized and hallucinatory adaptation of William Burroughs’ novella of the same name. Director Luca Guadagnino (Call Me By Your Name), and his team create a lush, fever-dream atmosphere that was entirely filmed on the Cinecittà studios’ back lot. Daniel Craig gives a fearless, career-best performance as William Lee. Also notable is the musical score by Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross.

10. Under The Skin

The Story: In Glasgow, Scotland, an alien (Scarlett Johansson) takes the form of a beautiful woman. A motorcyclist retrieves her from the roadside and places her in the back of a van where she puts on clothes. Later, the woman buys more clothes and makeup. Soon, she begins driving the van throughout different towns, picking up lonely men with the promise of sex, only to lure them to a dilapidated house. As they undress and walk toward her, they sink into a black thick liquid floor. Once they’re submerged, their insides are sucked out, leaving behind only empty floating skins. (Although it’s not made clear, the men’s insides are actually food for the alien species back home).

Over time, the woman becomes curious about earth and humanity. When the woman picks up a man whose face is severely disfigured, she unexpectedly lets him go. However, the motorcyclist, who is the alien woman’s “handler,” recaptures the man a short time later. He then sets out to find the woman who has disappeared.

The woman drives the van to the Scottish Highlands and abandons it in the fog. She walks to a restaurant and attempts to eat cake, but she can’t digest it and spits it out. Afterwards, while riding a bus, the woman meets a man who offers to help her. At his house, they watch t.v. together and later visit a ruined castle.

Later, the woman leaves the man’s house and wanders around a forest. There, she meets a commercial logger and finds shelter in a nearby cabin. When she wakes up, the logger is molesting her. The woman escapes and runs into the wilderness but the logger catches her. As he begins to rape her, the logger tears her skin, revealing a featureless black alien form. As the woman sheds her human skin, the logger douses her in gasoline and burns her alive. From a distance, the motorcyclist watches the black smoke rise from the alien’s body and fill the Scottish sky.

Why It’s a Hidden Gem: Even though the film stars Scarlett Johansson, Under The Skin was too weird and abstract for most moviegoers. In fact, the movie was a box-office failure upon its release in 2013. Now, thankfully, the film’s reputation has grown as more people appreciate its visual style and theme of what it means to be human.

What Makes It Great: Under The Skin is unlike other movies. Most of it is told in images, with director Jonathan Glazer leaving it up to the viewer to figure out what’s going on. This is especially true in the beginning of the film, which is filled with abstract images as the alien is fitted with human skin. In addition, much of the film was shot using hidden cameras, with Scarlett Johansson interacting with real people who didn’t know they were in a movie. The score by Mica Levi is also quite effective.

Final Thoughts

I’ll be honest: none of the films on this list are easy watches. Some are slow. Many of them are disturbing in some way. Some end without giving you the satisfaction of knowing what it all means. But, to me, that’s also kind of the point. The best hidden gems in A24’s catalog aren’t hidden because they’re lesser films. They’re hidden because they demand something from viewers that most mainstream movies don’t bother to ask for.

That’s why I started this newsletter. Not just to recap what everyone’s already seen, but to point readers toward the films that are still out there waiting to be discovered.

So if any of these titles caught your eye, I’d love to know what you think after you’ve had a chance to watch them. And, if there’s an A24 hidden gem I missed (and I’m sure there are a few), please drop a note in the comments. I’m always looking for the next one.

Alan Parker’s best films have always used music as an integral part of his storytelling. Whether it’s the kids attending a high school for performing arts in late 1970s New York City in Fame or a poor girl who rose to become one of Argentina’s most powerful political figures in the musical Evita, Parker instinctively knows how to pair striking visuals to the melodies heard on the screen.

And while a movie like Pink Floyd: The Wall is quite dark and depressing as hell, Parker’s adaptation of Irish writer Roddy Doyle’s novel, The Commitments, is just the opposite: it’s a lovable comedy-drama about working-class white Irish kids who decide to form a band that only performs classic soul music.

As I rewatched the movie this past weekend, it suddenly dawned on me that The Commitments was first released in theaters 35 years ago. Even so, the film still feels fresh, vibrant, and alive with its love for classic soul music. It’s also still very funny.

The Hardest Working Band in Ireland

(Warning: Spoilers Ahead)

Set in the working-class community of Northside, Dublin, The Commitments begins with a monologue by would-be entrepreneur, Jimmy Rabbitte (Robert Arkins), as he imagines himself being interviewed by the BBC about the beginnings of his now-successful band. But in reality, Jimmy is just an obsessive music fan and small-time hustler who sells taped-off-TV videotapes of the band Hothouse Flowers, but he’s also fed up with the synth-pop and folk bands that dominate the music scene of Dublin and believes it’s time for a change.

You see, Jimmy has a vision. He wants to bring American soul music to the streets of Ireland. Why? In Jimmy’s view, “The Irish are the blacks of Europe” and soul music is the music of the working class, including the laborers of Ireland.

In order to achieve this goal, Jimmy decides to form an Irish white soul band and be its manager. He places an ad in the local paper that states: “Have you got soul? If so, the world’s hardest working band is looking for you.”

After a clever sequence involving a wide variety of Dublin wannabes standing on Jimmy’s doorstep and telling him their musical influences (which don’t match their hair and clothing styles) and a very funny montage of disastrous auditions in his parents’ living room that ranges from tone-deaf crooners to heavy metal pre-teens, Jimmy begins to put his band together one member at a time.

These discoveries include Dean, a talented saxophonist who Jimmy finds practicing in a cramped rehearsal space; his friends Outspan and Derek, who play awful synth pop in their band until Jimmy convinces the two that they’re wasting their lives performing “musical rubbish” and need to play soul music instead; Steven, the town’s church organist; and three local girls who are recruited to be the band’s backup singers.

While attending a wedding reception, Jimmy witnesses a drunken young man named Deco grab the microphone and begin singing. Deco resembles a young Van Morrison and has a powerful voice that vaguely sounds like Joe Cocker. Of course, Jimmy is impressed. Despite Deco displaying an unpleasant and boorish personality, Jimmy realizes that Deco is the voice the band needs to succeed.

And, in a twist, Jimmy doesn’t discover Joey “The Lips” Fagan. Instead, Joey arrives at Jimmy’s house after hearing about the band. Joey claims the Lord told him Jimmy needed a trumpet player. Older and more musically experienced than the others in the band, Joey claims he recently returned from America where he played with many famous black musicians including B.B. King and Wilson Pickett. Of course, Jimmy hires him on the spot.

Jimmy dubs this budding group of musicians The Commitments because, according to him, all of the best bands have “the” at the beginning of their name, such as The Beatles, The Doors, and The Rolling Stones.

And when some of the members of the new band begin to question whether they should be playing music that is actually black, Jimmy doesn’t hold back:

“D’you not get it lads? The Irish are the blacks of Europe. And Dubliners are the blacks of Ireland. And the Northside Dubliners are the blacks of Dublin. So say it once, say it loud - I’m black and I’m proud!”

We see the band rehearse and begin playing at local pubs. These live performances of classic soul hits like “Mustang Sally,” “Chain of Fools,” and “In The Midnight Hour,” performed by the talented cast made up of real musicians, are some of the many highlights of the film. Eventually, the band finds their groove and becomes even more polished and electrifying on-stage. Word begins to spread throughout Northern Dublin about The Commitments and soon they have a large following of fans.

But things are beginning to fray within the band. Deco, who is already abrasive to be around except when he sings, becomes increasingly unbearable, his ego growing bigger than ever. He begins treating the other members like they’re his backup band and they don’t like it.

And perhaps even more problematic, Joey “The Lips” begins sleeping with each one of the backup singers, sometimes romancing all three at the same time without any of them realizing it until afterwards. Naturally, this leads to infighting among the women and jealousy from the other guys in the band.

In fact, the only thing holding the band together is their upcoming show at The Palace and the hope that the band will be discovered and become famous.

Joey claims that while he was working as a touring musician in the States, he became close friends with Wilson Pickett. Now, Pickett is touring the UK and Ireland, so Joey sends Pickett a telegram inviting him to come jam with the band on-stage at The Palace.

Jimmy uses this information to create a lot of buzz for the band’s upcoming show. He even convinces local journalists to attend after informing them that Pickett himself will be performing with the band on-stage.

On the night of the show, the band gives their best performance yet to a wildly enthusiastic crowd. However, sadly, Wilson Pickett never shows up.

Backstage, after the show is over, a talent scout approaches Deco, and Deco makes it clear to the band that he’s looking for a record deal as a solo artist. This causes all the underlying tensions to explode out in the open as the entire band gets into a chaotic brawl. Punches are thrown, equipment is knocked over, and the band members all begin to quit. By the end of the night, The Commitments no longer exist.

Afterwards, Jimmy is standing outside the club, alone in the rain. As he begins to walk home, a limo pulls up and the driver rolls down the window. He asks Jimmy for directions to The Palace and explains that Wilson Pickett is in the backseat looking to jam with the band there. It turns out Joey wasn’t lying after all, but it’s too late. The show is over and the band has broken up.

The film ends the way it began, with Jimmy doing an imaginary monologue to himself about the band: "We could have been famous. We could have been legends. But we were something better. We were The Commitments."

Why The Commitments Still Matters Today

The movie was released in theaters back in 1991. What makes The Commitments a great film now, 35 years later?

First, there’s the script, which is not only very funny, but also contains moments of drama and a lot of heart. Roddy Doyle adapted his own novel and wrote the initial screenplay for the film. However, the producers felt it needed more work, so they brought in Dick Clement and Ian La Frenais. They restructured the story and added more humor to it, resulting in one of the best scripts about playing in a band ever written.

Clement and La Frenais also added the part near the end of the movie about Joey the Lips becoming friends with Wilson Pickett after touring with him in the U.S. and inviting Pickett to come jam with the band on-stage at the Palace. None of that was in the original novel, but I think it’s a nice addition to the story, and it helps provide the film with a bittersweet ending.

Another key element that helps make The Commitments a great film is the cast. By using actual musicians instead of actors who can sing, the film seems more authentic and more grounded in reality. Perhaps this is because all of these young musicians have struggled in their own lives to make a living practicing their art while trying to make a name for themselves.

The director, the late Alan Parker, knew from the start that he wanted a cast of unknowns, so he used a process similar to how he previously found actors for his hit movie, Fame, back in the late 1970s. Parker went all over Ireland hunting for the right young musicians to play the roles. According to Parker, “When I arrived in Dublin, we immediately auditioned 65 bands and spent the next few months on a lengthy pub crawl as we trawled upstairs performance spaces to make sure we’d seen everybody – not an onerous task.”

Parker and his casting assistants eventually saw over 3,000 young musicians by the time the casting process was finished. Among their discoveries was Andrew Strong, who plays Deco in the film. He was only 16 years old.

Alan Parker: “His voice was exactly as Roddy had described it in the book: ‘… a real deep growl that scraped against the tongue and throat on the way out’…He didn’t resemble the description in the book, Andrew not being conventionally handsome —closer in looks to Charles Laughton than Bryan Ferry, but boy, could he sing. I thought that as long as I had that voice, with a little patience and considerable rehearsal we could also turn him into an actor. That was the idea anyway.”

Another reason why The Commitments is a great film is the musical performances. As I mentioned above, the young cast of unknowns were all struggling musicians. Their craftsmanship and dedication to the film show in their electrifying and dazzling live renditions of the classic soul tunes used in the movie.

In an interview about the making of the movie, Parker said, “We used a new system of out-of-phase speakers which enabled us to play the pre-recorded constant backing tracks at maximum volume on set to give us a live performance atmosphere for the vocalists to sing to. Each vocal was then recorded live onto a twenty-four track recorder that was on set with us. Because of the out-of-phase speakers the vocals could be recorded cleanly, as they were filmed, for re-mixing later. This allowed us the technical precision needed for a complicated cut but gave us the truth, energy and spirit of a live performance.”

In addition, The Commitments wouldn’t have turned out as well as it did without the brilliant direction of the late Alan Parker. He oversaw every aspect of the film from script rewrites to location scouting, casting, filming, and post-production. Parker was also able to use his considerable talent to get excellent performances from his cast of unknown musicians who were acting onscreen for the first time.

Finally, Parker brought a deft, light touch to the film. Yet, he was also able to portray the gritty conditions of life in Northside, Dublin by avoiding sentimentality and clichéd depictions of Ireland and Irish culture. In my opinion, this makes The Commitments one of Alan Parker’s very best films.

Final Thoughts

Although it was first released in theaters over three decades ago, Alan Parker’s The Commitments is still just as entertaining and relevant today as it was back in 1991. As the late Alan Parker said about the movie, “I never met an Irish person who didn’t like it.”

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1975 was an amazing year for American movies. At the Oscars, the five nominees for Best Picture of 1975 (in alphabetical order) were: Barry Lyndon, Dog Day Afternoon, Jaws, Nashville, and One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest.

These were all great films. Each one was directed by an auteur of American cinema: Stanley Kubrick, Sidney Lumet, Steven Spielberg, Robert Altman, and Milos Forman.

I was in high school back then and already a huge film nerd. On the night of the Academy Awards, I sat glued to the television in breathless anticipation, waiting to see which movie would be crowned the best of the year.

As you might know, One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest swept the awards show, winning a total of 5 Oscars, including Best Picture, Best Director (Milos Forman), Best Actor (Jack Nicholson), Best Actress (Louise Fletcher), and Best Adapted Screenplay (Lawrence Hauben and Bo Goldman).

It was only the second time in film history that a single film won Oscars in every major category.

Did the Academy get it right? Or did One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest simply win because it was the easiest film to love, overshadowing four films that were arguably more daring, more original, and more lasting?

Let’s take another look.

Barry Lyndon: Kubrick’s Candlelight Dream

Stanley Kubrick’s adaptation of William Makepeace Thackeray’s 1844 novel focuses on the rise and fall of Redmond Barry (Ryan O’Neal), an Irish rogue from a poor family who schemes his way through eighteenth century Europe. Barry goes from being a runaway to becoming a soldier, a gambler, a fortune hunter, until he eventually seduces and marries a wealthy widow. This allows Barry to acquire both a title and the respected name of Lyndon.

However, Barry’s attempts to win over British high society fail and eventually everything falls apart, leaving Barry back to where he started at the lower rungs of the social class.

At 185 minutes, Barry Lyndon is Kubrick’s longest film, and his most elegant. It’s also Kubrick’s most alienating film. The famous cinematography by John Alcott, (with interiors mostly shot by candlelight using specially modified NASA lenses), makes every frame look like a classic painting.

Barry Lyndon is a film of extraordinary visual beauty that deliberately withholds the emotional warmth audiences usually expect in movies.

However, this coldness is deliberate because Barry Lyndon is a film about the emptiness at the center of social ambition, the way the pursuit of status requires the sacrifice of everything genuine in a human being. The characters are beautiful but hollow. The landscapes dwarf them. The narration is ironic and detached.

It’s a deliberately cold film and in 1975 audiences hated it, commonly referring to the movie as “Boring Lyndon.”

Why It Was Nominated:

The academy recognized the technical achievements Kubrick had accomplished in this film, even though the film alienated most moviegoers. The film ended up winning four Oscars: Cinematography, Costume Design, Art Direction, and Adapted Score.

No other film made in 1975 or years later looks as beautiful as Barry Lyndon.

Its nomination for Best Picture reflected the Academy’s acknowledgment that Kubrick’s work could not be ignored. However, the fact that the Academy didn’t bother to nominate Kubrick for best director for his work on Barry Lyndon is still rather shocking.

Why Some Thought It Should Win:

Although many people were turned off by the film, Barry Lyndon still had its supporters, including a small but influential group of film critics and cinephiles.

They argued that Barry Lyndon was the most formally accomplished film of 1975 because Kubrick had solved a set of filmmaking problems, such as shooting by candlelight, capturing the visual world of eighteenth-century paintings in motion, and maintaining an ironic distance from its main character. This is something no other filmmaker attempted to do that year.

Over time, Barry Lyndon’s reputation has grown. The film now regularly appears on the lists of the greatest films ever made, and critics who dismissed it at the time of its release have often changed their minds about the film.

Why It Really Should Have Won:

I think Barry Lyndon is the only one of the nominees for best picture that has fully transcended the time in which it was made. It’s not a film about what was happening in America in 1975 like Nashville, One Flew Over The Cuckoo’s Nest, and Dog Day Afternoon. And, it’s certainly not a film that defined America’s pop culture that year like Jaws.

Barry Lyndon is a film that exists outside of time; it’s a true work of art.

I first saw Barry Lyndon in the spring of 1975 at a theater located in a local shopping mall. While the rest of the family was out buying clothes and toys, I was mesmerized by Kubrick’s vision of the past. It’s still one of my all-time favorite films.

Dog Day Afternoon: Lumet’s Heist Gone Wrong

Based on true events from 1972, Dog Day Afternoon follows Sonny Wortzik (Al Pacino) and Sal Naturale (John Cazale), who are two amateurs attempting to rob a Brooklyn bank. Almost immediately, they botch the robbery and eventually find themselves in a standoff with the police that lasts all afternoon and into the evening.

Soon, television cameras arrive and the whole scene turns into a media circus.

As the hours stretch on with no resolution in sight, Sonny’s motivations are gradually revealed: he needed the money to pay for his partner Leon’s (Chris Sarandon) gender reassignment surgery. The film is simultaneously a thriller, a tragicomedy, a love story, and a testament of a specific moment in New York City’s decline as a major city.

Shooting the film on location in Brooklyn, Sidney Lumet directed the picture with a sense of urgency and with a deep respect for his actors. Like almost all of Lumet’s films, he was able to get great performances from the entire cast.

I believe that Al Pacino gives one of the best performances of his career as Sonny. He’s manic, funny, heartbreaking, and magnetic; often, all at the same time.

The film is a portrait of a man who becomes an accidental hero to a crowd of onlookers. It’s a character study of a man forced to live out his most desperate moments in public.

To me, the film is a masterpiece because it focuses on the way Sonny falls apart as he tries to manage the growing chaos in the bank that eventually expands to include the media, the police, and the crowd of onlookers.

And, as he tries to hold everything together, Sonny’s desperation becomes increasingly obvious and public, which makes his eventual downfall even more tragic.

Why It Was Nominated:

Dog Day Afternoon was hit both with critics and at the box-office. Its success was probably due to the fact that it’s about real people, real failure, and the way it didn’t hesitate to show what New York was really like at the time.

Its focus on the vulnerability of its characters, especially Al Pacino’s Sonny and John Cazale’s Sal, give the film a sense of immediacy and emotional truth.

In addition to the strong directing and performances, the film’s screenplay by Frank Pierson was highly praised and won the Academy Award for best original screenplay, which became the only award Dog Day Afternoon earned at the Oscars that year.

Why Some Thought It Should Win:

No other film among the group of nominees for best picture in 1975 focused on the humanity of its characters like Dog Day Afternoon. The film was one of the first major Hollywood movies to treat homosexuality and gender identity with genuine sympathy and complexity, building on the ground-breaking success of Midnight Cowboy, which won the Oscar for best picture six years earlier in 1969.

In addition, Dog Day Afternoon asks moviegoers to care about a man who is breaking the law, and it extends empathy to all of its characters: not just Sonny and Sal, but also to the hostages and the cops without being sentimental.

For people who believe in the power of cinema to bring about social change and expand empathy to others who may not always deserve it, Dog Day Afternoon was the best film of the year.

Why It Really Should Have Won:

Looking back at Dog Day Afternoon now, one can make a historical argument for why the film should’ve won the Oscar for best picture in 1975.

Back then it was a radical decision for Warner Brothers to finance and release a film with a gay protagonist and treat him with dignity and deserving of love. It also told their story to a mainstream audience without pulling any punches or making any apologies.

The film was made at a moment when gay Americans were beginning to build a visible political and social identity that began with the Stonewall riots.

In addition, it gave Al Pacino, fresh off the two Godfather movies, one of the best roles of his career. I still find it puzzling that the film didn’t win any awards for its acting and directing.

Jaws: The Summer Blockbuster Is Born

There are two types of movies in American cinema today: those made before Jaws and those made after it. You see, before Jaws, summer was just another season. There was no such thing as a summer blockbuster. Jaws changed all that.

Based on Peter Benchley’s bestselling novel, Jaws follows Police Chief Martin Brody (Roy Scheider) as he confronts a great white shark terrorizing the resort town of Amity Island. Eventually, Police Chief Brody teams up with marine biologist Matt Hooper (Richard Dreyfuss) and a grizzled shark hunter named Quint (Robert Shaw) to kill the deadly animal.

At its core, Jaws is a monster movie. But it’s also a film about masculinity, corporate cowardice, small-town politics, and the primal terror lurking beneath the surface of one of America’s favorite leisure activities.

As most people probably know, the production was very troubled. The mechanical shark malfunctioned so often that Spielberg was forced to keep it out of sight for most of the movie, a creative limitation that in hindsight helped make the film better.

By leaving the shark to the audience’s imagination for much of the film’s running time, Spielberg created something far more terrifying than any rubber prop could have achieved. The result was a film of extraordinary suspense and thrills.

The Indianapolis monologue delivered by Robert Shaw is one of the greatest scenes in American cinema. It’s a ghost story within a thriller, delivered by Shaw over a quiet drink below deck while Roy Scheider, Richard Dreyfuss, and everyone in the audience, hold their breath.

Of course, Jaws became a cultural phenomenon. It grossed over 470 million dollars worldwide against a budget of approximately 9 million dollars. It became the highest-grossing film of all time, which was a record it held until Star Wars came along two years later. In addition, it’s widely credited with creating the concept of the summer blockbuster.

And, although Jaws wasn’t the first movie to ever use television advertising, it is widely recognized as the first film to use extensive, nation-wide, prime-time TV commercials to create the first summer blockbuster.

Jaws revolutionized film marketing, because it relied less on print ads and word-of-mouth and instead flooded television with non-stop commercials.

I remember seeing those commercials, which began around Memorial Day and lasted up to the movie’s release in June. It got to the point where I would see an ad for Jaws every 15 minutes.

As a teenager back then, seeing ads for Jaws on television over and over in an endless loop made me obsessed with the movie before I actually saw it. And once I was finally able to see Jaws (after standing in line for hours), I couldn’t wait to see it again and again.

Why It Was Nominated:

The Academy couldn’t ignore Jaws for the simple reason that no film in recent memory had captured the American public’s imagination so completely. It was the first film in history to gross over 100 million domestically, a milestone that made it impossible to dismiss as mere entertainment.

But box office alone doesn’t earn a Best Picture nomination. By nominating Jaws for Best Picture, the Academy was also recognizing the high level of filmmaking craft on display. Spielberg had taken a troubled production with a malfunctioning mechanical shark, a ballooning budget, and a near-mutinous crew, and turned it into one of the most technically accomplished and viscerally exciting films Hollywood had ever produced.

In 1975, that combination of mass appeal and genuine filmmaking mastery was something the Academy felt compelled to honor, even if it wasn’t quite sure how to reward it.

Why Some Thought It Should Win:

Fans of Jaws have argued that great popular art is still great art. This is something I agree with too. I think that those who believe that Jaws should have won the Oscar for Best Picture make a simple but important point: Jaws does everything a great film is supposed to do, and it does it better than almost anyone had a right to expect.

Spielberg weaves together terror, humor, and genuine emotional warmth within a single film, shifting between all three registers without ever losing his footing.

The three central performances: Roy Scheider’s everyman police chief, Richard Dreyfuss’ eager young scientist, and Robert Shaw’s haunted fisherman, Quint, give the film an emotional core that most blockbusters rarely bother with. And then there is Robert Shaw’s Indianapolis monologue, which stops the film cold and turns it, briefly, into something closer to tragedy.

A film that can do all of that (and still have audiences gripping their armrests) is more than a crowd-pleaser.

For many of Jaws’ most fervent defenders, dismissing it as unworthy of the top prize simply because it was enormously popular is nothing more than cultural snobbery dressed up as critical judgment.

Why It Really Should Have Won:

Jaws is the one film on this list of nominees that changed cinema history the most. If you measure a Best Picture winner by its lasting influence on the art of film and the culture, Jaws has arguably the most substantial claim.

That said, looking back, it’s rather shocking to discover that Steven Spielberg (like Kubrick) wasn’t even nominated for Best Director for his work on Jaws, which is something I think every movie fan should find bewildering. (He wouldn’t win an Oscar for Best Director until Schindler’s List in 1993).

Even though it didn’t win the Academy Award for Best Picture, Jaws did win Oscars for best film editing (well deserved!), best sound, and for best score (composed by John Williams - also well deserved).

Nashville: The Fragmented American Dream

With Nashville, director Robert Altman invented his own genre: a tapestry of 24 interlocking characters whose lives intersect in Nashville, Tennessee, over five days leading up to a political rally for a presidential candidate.

By taking a documentary-like approach to the story and using his trademark over-lapping dialogue, Altman created the most original movie of 1975.

The film is a musical, a satire, a tragedy, a comedy, and a portrait of a fractured America in 1975, just one year after Watergate. Among the large cast are Lily Tomlin, Ronee Blakely, Henry Gibson, Keith Carradine, Ned Beatty, Shelley Duvall, Geraldine Chaplin, Barbara Harris, Karen Black, Jeff Goldblum, Allen Garfield, and many more actors in small but integral roles.

This large cast improvised many of their own lines and for those playing country music performers, even wrote their own songs. In fact, the song Keith Carradine wrote for his character in the film, “I’m Easy,” won the only Oscar the film would receive that year for best original song.

Nashville isn’t strong on plot; instead, it’s a character driven mosaic that focuses on the interpersonal connections of its characters as they confront fame, music, and politics. The film builds to a political rally that results in an act of violence, and perhaps even more shocking, is the reaction of those in attendance to that violence as they break into song.

Why It Was Nominated:

Critically acclaimed by almost every major film reviewer in the U.S. at that time, Nashville won the New York Film Critics Circle award for Best Film and Best Director. It was just the type of ambitious, sprawling, socially conscious movie that the Academy was inclined to honor during the 1970s.

Why Some Thought It Should Win:

No other American movie in 1975 (or for years after) attempted to do so much in a single film. Nashville is essentially about America itself: its myths, yearnings, self-deceptions, and especially its capacity for violence. It portrays politics and entertainment as the same business, a prescient observation that has only grown more true with time.

To me, Altman’s direction is astonishing because he maintains complete control over twenty-four characters across 160 minutes, never losing focus on a single person. At the same time, Altman is also able to keep both politics and music at the center of the film.

Why It Really Should Have Won:

In my opinion, Nashville, along with Barry Lyndon, are the only films on this list that have most fully survived the passage of time as a work of art rather than a dated cultural artifact. It’s portrayal of political life and the way celebrity, populism, and violence feed off of one another is just as timely today as it was over 50 years ago.

I didn’t get to see Nashville until I was in college in the late 70’s when my university had a summer retrospective of Altman’s films. For me, seeing Nashville for the first time was almost a life-changing experience because I had never seen anything like it before. Now, it’s a film that I revisit often.

Not only does Nashville seem more relevant today than when it was made, every time I re-watch the film I notice more things tucked inside of it that make it more fascinating than ever before.

Cuckoo’s Nest: Milos Forman’s Big Five Sweep

Adapted from Ken Kesey’s 1962 novel by Czech emigrant Milos Forman, One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest follows Randle Patrick McMurphy (Jack Nicholson) a convict who feigns mental illness in order to serve his sentence in a psychiatric hospital rather than in a prison. However, soon after his arrival at the mental facility, McMurphy finds himself in conflict with the hospital’s authoritarian head nurse, Nurse Ratched (Louise Fletcher).

The film is a parable about institutional power and individual freedom, about the way conformity is enforced and resistance is punished, and about who gets to define sanity and madness.

Why It Won:

A demanding but accessible drama based on an acclaimed novel, One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest combined critical acclaim and strong box office (it grossed over $108 million dollars in its initial release) to propel it to Oscar victory.

One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest was the type of film the Motion Picture Academy always loves: a prestige drama about important issues, perfectly executed, with great performances, that was also seen and appreciated by moviegoers across the country. As stated earlier, Cuckoo’s Nest was only the second film in Oscar history to win all five major awards: Best Picture, Best Director (Milos Forman), Best Actor (Jack Nicholson), Best Actress (Louise Fletcher), and Best Adapted Screenplay.

Why It Shouldn’t Have Won

Although it’s a well-made film, a case can be made against One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest as the best picture of 1975 because its ideas aren’t original.

As a story about powerful archetypes: the rebel vs. the institution, the free spirit broken by bureaucracy, the film is rather simple: McMurphy represents freedom; Nurse Ratched is oppression. Naturally, the audience cheers for the rebel and boos for the evil authoritarian nurse. But this lack of moral ambiguity works against the film, especially when compared to the other Best Picture Nominees that year.

For example, Dog Day Afternoon presents a protagonist who is both victim and perpetrator without resolving the issue. Barry Lyndon makes its protagonist irredeemable and asks us to mourn for him anyway. And finally, Nashville refuses to offer viewers any hero at all.

In addition, One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest romanticizes mental illness and reinforces the idea that psychiatric patients are simply free spirits crushed by the system, rather than people who suffer from mental illnesses and need treatment.

Because of this, One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest has dated itself more than any of the other nominated films: Jaws remains as thrilling and fun as it was back in ‘75; the subject matter of Dog Day Afternoon and Nashville have become more culturally important than ever; and Barry Lyndon has now been recognized as a masterpiece.

One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest, for all its craft and performances, feels rooted in a specific cultural moment that has passed. On Oscar night, the Academy chose the film that was the easiest to love. Whether they chose the best film is another question entirely.

I was in high school when One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest played in one of our local movie theaters right before the Oscars that year. My English teacher had us read the book and wanted to take us to see the movie together as a class. But first, we all had to get permission from our parents.

Unfortunately, my parents wouldn’t sign the slip because the movie was rated “R.”

Back then, my mom and dad refused to take me to see any movie that wasn’t “G” or “PG.” My parents and I got into some heated arguments over it. I made it clear that as the biggest movie fanatic at my high school, missing this field trip simply wasn't an option. Eventually, my parents gave in and I got to see my first R-rated film. The essay I had to write afterwards comparing the book to the film even got the highest grade in our class.

A few years later, after I had graduated from high school, I ran into my former English teacher at a local bookstore and he told me how my parents were so angry about the field trip that they tried to get him fired. Of course, I didn’t know that had happened. I was mortified. He was my favorite teacher in high school. Thankfully, he wasn’t fired, and he got a kick out of my reaction.

Final Thoughts

Which of the nominees would you vote for now?

My vote goes to Barry Lyndon, with Nashville running a close second. But honestly, any of these five films had a legitimate claim to the prize, and reasonable people will disagree. That’s precisely what makes 1975 so extraordinary.

What’s harder to argue with is this: the Academy chose the most accessible film of the five, the one with the clearest heroes and villains, and the one with the most straightforward emotional payoff.

That’s not a crime. But fifty years on, it’s worth remembering that the four films One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest beat that night were just as remarkable, and in some cases have proven even more enduring.

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Recently, when it looked like Netflix was going to succeed in its quest to buy Warner Brothers, a friend of mine was concerned it would mean the end of theatrical distribution for movies. To express his frustration, he wrote a facebook post about the disdain he had for the deal. He blamed the forthcoming sale on a specific group of people by using a term I had never heard of before:

Cocooners.

So what is a cocooner?

According to my friend, it’s someone who doesn’t go see new movies in theaters but prefers to wait and stream them at home. He specifically blames seniors (those of us over 65, like myself) for this practice, stating that our age group does it the most often.

But is that really true?

After doing some digging around, I discovered that statistics show that seventy-five percent of all adults over 21 have streamed a recently released movie in the past year instead of watching it in a theater (APNORC, August 2025).

In addition, 56% of Americans would rather pay to watch a newly released movie by streaming it at home, while only 44% prefer to go to a movie in a theater (Marist Poll, July 2025).

Interestingly, only 35% of those surveyed said they enjoyed both seeing new movies in theaters and streaming new movies at home equally (MX8 Labs, March 2025).

Using the surveys above, I broke down theater attendance by age groups. Here are the results:

• Gen Z ( ages 13–28) is puzzling because they’re the age group most likely to prefer streaming (48%), but they’re also the only age group whose theater attendance is actually growing. Their theatrical attendance is up to 20% per year and they watch movies in theaters slightly more than six times a year. They also tend to be choosey about which movies they see in theaters, but when they go, they go often and pay more in ticket prices to see films in IMAX.

• Millennials (ages 29–44), believe it or not, are becoming cocooners because 56% of this age group prefers streaming movies at home, and only 30% of this age group prefers to see movies in theaters. In addition, their theater visits have dropped to about three times per year.

• Gen X (ages 45–60) are actually the largest age group of cocooners (and not boomers like me) because 62% of this age group prefers to watch movies at home. According to the surveys cited above, only 20% of genxers prefer to see new movies at the theater. This means they only go to theaters once or twice a year.

• Boomers (ages 61–79), on average only go to one movie or less a year. In fact, only 17% of this age group prefers to see new movies in theaters, while 58% of them would rather stream new films at home.

• Silent Generation (80+). Given their age and perhaps other health issues, only 10% of this age group sees new movies in theaters while 42 percent of them prefer to watch movies at home. In addition, nearly half of this age group expresses no preference for watching movies in either format, which means they rarely watch movies at all.

In short, today, many people in every age group (including Gen Z) prefer streaming new movies at home instead of watching them in a theater.

Why?

According to the website, The Numbers, convenience was the top factor for streaming movies at home, cited by 78% of surveyed viewers of all ages, and rising to 90% among those aged 55–64.

With streaming, all people have to do is press play on their remote control.

Staying home and watching new movies in the comfort of their living room allows people to choose when they’ll watch a film instead of following the schedule at their local multiplex.

85% of college-educated viewers chose convenience as the main reason they avoid seeing movies in theaters. For people like myself who live in the midwest, that number rose to 86%. (Maybe that’s because of all the bad weather we have to deal with here in Nebraska). And, for people between the ages of 55-64 years old, that number rose to 90%.

Avoiding crowds and disruptive/noisy people was cited by 70% of total viewers who participated in a survey conducted by Variety. That number rose to 81% of people over 65 and 87% for those living in the Western U.S. Talking, phone use, coughing, crying babies and other types of disruptive behavior can all be avoided by staying home, although I wonder if those things also happen anyway when families watch movies together.

Cost savings ranked third, noted by 62% of all respondents in the survey conducted by The Numbers. In fact, from the responses in this survey, only 1 in 10 Americans earning under $50k a year still prefer to see new movies in theaters.

With tickets averaging $12.00-$15.00 or higher (not to mention the high cost of concessions), a family of four could easily spend more than $60.00 on tickets and concessions. Of course, that price increases if they live in larger, more expensive cities.

In comparison, it’s now possible to rent new films online for $15.00 or less, which is basically the cost of only one movie ticket. For new movies streaming on platforms like Netflix or HBOMAX, the cost per movie is even lower, depending on the subscription.

For many Americans, another reason to avoid going to see new movies in theaters is because they feel there is nothing worth seeing.

Over half of respondents to a poll by IndieWire cited a lack of interest in what’s being shown as their biggest reason for avoiding theaters. I guess Bruce Springsteen’s classic song, “57 Channels (and Nothin’ On),” doesn’t apply to streaming platforms?

And, according to TheWrap, even though the nation’s theater chains have spent a fortune installing new seats that are the equivalent of La-Z-Boy rocking recliners, 52% of Americans say movie theaters can’t compete with the comfort of their living room couch and 75” widescreen television.

Respondents to this survey also said the ability to pause a film to go to the bathroom or out to the kitchen to get snacks is extremely or very important to their movie-watching decision.

Another factor affecting whether movie fans see a movie at home or in the theater are the shortened theatrical windows.

Before the covid pandemic, movies would play in theaters for a minimum of 90 days. Now, it’s only 30-45 days at most. With films hitting streaming channels just a month after they’ve been in theaters, Deadline reports that 48% of the people they surveyed said there’s less reason to go see them at their local movie theater.

Also, 41% of movie watchers stay home so they have the flexibility to drink alcohol, smoke, vape, or multi-task during a film, according to TheWrap. For younger viewers, especially members of Gen Z, that number rises to 52% compared to just 29% of Boomers.

Finally, according to a survey by Octane Seating, 36% of Americans now feel their home theater set up offers a comparable, or even superior, visual and audio experience compared to their local multiplex, especially when compared to non-premium IMAX screens.

Octane Seating also notes that sales of high end home theater equipment have grown by 32% since 2023. 4K TVs, Dolby Atmos sound systems, and smart projectors have dramatically narrowed the quality gap that once made theaters feel special and unique.

So, where do I fit in?

Going back through my Letterboxd diary of films I watched in 2025, I only saw 7 films in movie theaters (I saw twice as many in theaters back in 2024). I also watched over 50 films on streaming or on blu-ray/4k, and although I didn’t log them, I also watched many of my favorite films over and over throughout the year (I usually watch 2001: A Space Odyssey, All That Jazz, and Singin’ In The Rain at least once a month).

Suddenly, I realize I’ve more-or-less become a cocooner.

How did this happen?

As a kid in the 60s and later a teenager in the 70s, going to the movies was always a special event. Theaters back then only had one screen, usually 50-60 feet wide and 30 feet tall. Some of these theaters were former movie palaces built in the 1930s and were falling apart, but many of the theaters I frequented back then were built in the early to mid-60s and had a wonderful mid-century look to them.

This is especially true for my favorite movie theater, The Indian Hills.

The Indian Hills was one of three round “hatbox” theaters designed and built by a company called Cooper for Cinerama. (The other two Cooper hatbox theaters were located in Denver and Minneapolis). It could seat slightly over 800 patrons and featured a large curved screen that was 105 feet wide and 35 feet tall. It also had a 6 track sound system and an acoustical ceiling, so the sound in this theater was amazing.

I saw my first film at The Indian Hills in 1967 when my parents took me to see Grand Prix. To see a movie there back then, you had to make reservations in advance, and you were expected to wear nice clothes. The movies they showed during this time were in the roadshow format, so every movie had an overture, intermission, and an Entr’acte before the second half of the film began. You could also buy a souvenir program for $1.00 too.

It was like going to a Broadway show.

I vividly remember the experience of seeing films like Krakatoa: East of Java, Ice Station Zebra, and later when they were re-released in the 70s, Lawrence Of Arabia, Dr. Zhivago, and 2001: A Space Odyssey, which quickly became my all-time favorite film. Experiencing Kubrick’s masterpiece on a 105 foot curved screen with state of the six track stereo was truly “the ultimate trip.”

In the late 70s, The Indian Hills and other large single screen theaters showed movies in 70mm and 6 track stereo, such as the original Star Wars, Close Encounters of The Third Kind, Apocalypse Now, and Ridley Scott’s Alien. Back then, it wasn’t uncommon for me to see 2-3 movies every week.

Sadly, by the late 70s and early 80s, single screen theaters throughout the country were eventually twined, turned into multiplexes with three or four screens, or demolished.

For the Cooper hatbox theaters, other auditoriums were added around the main theaters, which worked for a while, but when 15 to 24 screen megaplexes began being built, these theaters couldn’t compete, so they closed and were torn down for big box stores or turned into parking lots. (You can see my documentary about the effort to save The Indian Hills and other historic theaters here).

So, for those of us who grew up in the 60’s and 70s, (during what I think was the last golden age of movie theaters), going to the movies today can be a painful experience.

First, unless you live in a town that has preserved some of its historic theaters like The Heights in Minneapolis or The Music Box in Chicago, today’s multiplexes have been built with a cookie-cutter design that frequently reminds me of a fast food restaurant or shopping mall.

Usually, the lobbies are huge, but the auditoriums and screens are quite small, and again, unless it’s a historic theater, there are no curtains, which I think takes away the mystery of the experience.

Today, I live in Lincoln, Nebraska, which is a medium sized college town with four multiplexes that are all owned by the same company.

All of the city’s historic theaters are gone except for two; one was gutted and turned into a rock music club, and the other one is now only used for occasional music performances and stand-up comedy shows.

We don’t have any IMAX theaters or Alamo Drafthouses in my town. There aren’t any AMC or Regal theaters here either. However, there is a theater at the state university downtown, (which also doubles as a classroom), but by the time they get the top arthouse movies, I’ve usually seen them already on Mubi or The Criterion Channel.

Instead, all four of our city’s multiplexes are owned by Marcus Theatres, and they all show the same four or five mainstream movies (no indie or foreign films allowed!) at each location. So if you’re like me and want to see something other than Scream 7, Wuthering Heights, Hoppers, or Bride! you’re out of luck.

Unfortunately, going to a Marcus theater means you’re subjected to an endless amount of ads and public service announcements (often repeated more than once) until showtime.

Then, you have to endure even more ads and an overly long assortment of trailers (almost always for movies you don’t want to see). And then after 30 or 40 minutes of all this, you still have to watch the company’s owner, Greg Marcus, share a public service message and thank you for coming to his theater.

Sadly, these Marcus multiplexes, like most new theaters today, are now almost indistinguishable from our living rooms.

To me, the movie screens in these multiplexes are like giant televisions filled with flashy commercials trying to sell us things we don’t want or need. Since all movies are now digitally projected, once the movie actually begins, it’s really no different than pressing “play” on your remote control (only at a modern multiplex it’s automated on the theater’s hard drive).

In addition, we sit in thick leather recliners, and if you go to a theater like The Alamo Drafthouse, food and drink will be brought directly to your seat, which has a small table in front of it, just like the snack tray in front of your La-Z-Boy recliner at home.

I miss the allure of going to a movie theater where you’re required to wear nice clothes. I miss the sense of wonder as the lights dim, and the curtains open to reveal a hundred foot screen.

I miss the sound of film whirring through the projector from the back of the auditorium.

The famous movie theater mogul, Marcus Loew, once said, “people buy tickets to theaters, not movies.” I wonder what he would think of our theaters today.

Even so, I don’t want the theatrical experience to die, so now that spring is coming and the weather is about to get warm again (we have brutal winters here in Nebraska), I’m going to make more of an effort to go see movies in theaters, even if I have to drive back to my hometown of Omaha, an hour away, in order to catch the films I want to see.

But I’m still going to miss the sight of curtains opening and the sound of film whirring through the projector.

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On July 4th, 2017, my left eye started watering…a lot. At first, I didn’t think anything of this because I suffer from all sorts of allergies and have dealt with itchy and watery eyes practically my whole life.

But then I realized that I couldn’t blink my left eye either. It was weird. My right eye would blink fine, but my left eyelid wasn’t moving, so I tried to use my finger to close and open it.

I went into the bathroom to try to figure out why this was happening. I had a sudden shock when I looked in the mirror. The entire left side of my face had drooped down, and I realized it was also numb. Also, one side of my mouth was drooped lower than the other side, and my left eyebrow wouldn’t move up or down, but my right eyebrow could.

I called my best friend to ask him what I should do, but once he answered the phone there was another problem. Because the entire left side of my face was numb, including that side of my mouth, I couldn’t speak clearly. The words I formed in my mind sounded like slurred gibberish when I spoke.

I ended up driving myself to the emergency room of a local hospital. At first, the doctors thought I was having a stroke. Thankfully, that wasn’t the case. But the condition I did have was something I had never heard of before:

Bell’s palsy.

What Is Bell’s Palsy?

According to The National Organization for Rare Disorders, Bell’s palsy is a non-progressive neurological disorder of the 7th cranial nerve that affects one side of the face. The disorder gets its name from the 19th century Scottish anatomist, Sir Charles Bell, who discovered it.

Bell’s palsy is an unexplained episode of facial paralysis that begins suddenly and worsens over 48 hours. It can affect anyone of any age.

Strangely, the exact cause of this disorder isn’t known, although Johns Hopkins Medicine suspects that it may be due to inflammation that is directed by the body’s immune system against the nerve controlling movement of the face.

Sometimes, Bell’s palsy is associated with an infection with the herpes simplex virus, which is related to the cause of common cold sores in the mouth. Other possible causes of Bell’s palsy include diabetes, high blood pressure, lyme disease, or even multiple sclerosis.

For myself, I didn’t have any of those issues, which made my affliction with Bell’s palsy even more mysterious. However, I did have all of the symptoms.

The Symptoms of Bell’s Palsy

The most common symptoms of Bell’s palsy include a loss of feeling on one side of the face, including a lack of movement of the muscles that control facial expressions, such as smiling, blinking, or closing the eyelid, even during sleep. Early symptoms may consist of pain behind the affected ear; a slight fever; and weakness and/or stiffness on one side of the face.

Other symptoms include tearing; drooping on the lower part of the affected side of the face, especially in the corner of the mouth; drooling; slurred speech; a loss of taste; hypersensitivity to sound in the affected ear; eyebrow sagging on the affected side of the face; and significantly, the inability to close the eye on the affected side of the face.

According to The National Organization for Rare Disorders, Bell’s palsy is fairly prevalent today and affects both men and women in equal numbers.

They estimate that between 25–35 in 100,000 people have been affected by this illness. In addition, approximately 40,000 individuals are diagnosed with Bell’s palsy in the U.S. every year, including celebrities like George Clooney, Angelina Jolie, Pierce Bronson, Rosanne Barr, and composer Andrew Lloyd Webber.

Unfortunately, I had a severe case of this illness. It took almost 6 months to fully recover from it.

Treatment

After my diagnosis, I learned that steroids and antiviral medication need to be given within the first 72 hours after symptoms appear or they won’t have any effect. At the hospital, the doctor prescribed Prednisone, a steroid, which I had to take every day during the first week. He also prescribed Alacyclovir, an antiviral medicine, because the entire left side of my face, from the forehead to the chin, was numb.

In addition, the doctor stressed the importance of taking care of my affected left eye, since I had no control over it and couldn’t close it. If the cornea, the clear protective covering of the pupil, became dry, there was a risk of scarring and permanently damaging the eye. I certainly didn’t want that to happen.

To prevent this, I had to use artificial tears eye drops every hour of the day to keep the eye moist. I also had to wear an eye patch both day and night.

Later, I was allowed to tape the eye shut with surgical tape until I regained the ability to open and close the affected eye on my own. Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to do that for months. The doctor also told me some shocking news:

There is no cure for Bell’s palsy.

Just as doctors and scientists don’t know what causes Bell’s palsy, they also don’t know how to cure it.

Bell’s palsy must heal on its own.

Recovery

According to The National Institute of Neurological Disorders and Stroke, the prognosis for victims with Bell’s palsy is very good. Clinical evidence shows gradual improvement occurs within three weeks in 85 percent of the cases.

In addition, according to Facial Palsy.org.uk, 70 percent of individuals eventually fully recover all of their facial functions, including their ability to open and close the eye on the affected side of their face, within 3 months.

However, for the remaining 30 percent of cases, severe complications do occur, which can result in partial paralysis and other lingering effects.

In addition, 7 percent of patients have recurred Bell’s palsy, with the average interval between attacks being 10 years.

One notable celebrity who suffered from the complications of Bell’s palsy was the late actor-comedian Buddy Hackett. Hackett had Bell’s palsy as a child and the effects of it contributed to his distinctive slurred speech and tendency to speak of the right side of his mouth.

For myself, it took approximately 6 months to fully recover from this ailment because my facial paralysis was so severe. The left side of my face was totally numb. Trying to shave when you can’t feel half of your face isn’t much fun.

I also couldn’t open or close the affected eye on the left side of my face for months either. I don’t recommend trying to drive with only one good eye.

When I returned to work after the first few weeks of recovery, I still couldn’t speak clearly and drooling was a major problem. In addition, I had a lot of problems reading with my one good eye since the affected eye was covered by an eye patch. I was also very tired and fatigued most of the time too, which caused me to gain a lot of weight.

After months applying eye drops every hour, wearing an eye patch during the day, and taping my eye shut at night, the first time I realized I could close and open the affected eye on my own felt like a miracle.

Final Thoughts

Bell’s palsy is an illness you can’t prevent. No one knows what causes it. Also, there’s no cure for this condition except the time it takes for Bell’s palsy to fade away on its own. If you suddenly find yourself experiencing any of the symptoms I’ve described above, it’s important to get medical treatment right away.

Although it will take a few (or more) months for victims to recover from this mysterious illness, most people will not suffer any permanent damage from it.

It’s now been eight years since I was first diagnosed with Bell’s palsy. I’m very thankful that I was able to fully recover from it.

In 1970, when I was just 12 years old, my musical taste was pretty limited. I mostly listened to the Top 40 hits on the radio. So when a friend of mine from school invited me over to his house one day and played me a track on a new album he had bought, Bloodrock 2, it was a startling revelation.

The song was D.O.A. I had never heard anything like it before. Of course, neither had anyone else. D.O.A. would eventually cause an uproar and get banned from radio stations across the country by the FCC.

As years went by, I just assumed Bloodrock was a one hit wonder and never gave them any thought.

After all, my trusty Rolling Stone Record Guide gave all of Bloodrock’s albums 0 stars and called them, “The nadir of early Seventies metal and the absolute bottom of the barrel.”

Recently, I came across Bloodrock’s early albums at a used record store. On a whim, I decided to buy them and revisit the band’s music. I was shocked at what I heard:

Bloodrock had talent to burn and knew how to rock.

Intrigued, I decided to dig deeper and learn more about this band…

The Early Years

According to the website, ultimate-guitar.com, Bloodrock first formed in 1963 in Fort Worth, Texas, under the name The Naturals. The band put out one single on Rebel Records.

The line-up included Jim Rutledge on drums and vocals; Nick Taylor on guitar and vocals, Ed Grundy on bass and vocals, and a second guitarist, Dean Parks.

Later, the band changed their name to Crowd +1. They were still mostly a cover band at this point. In 1967, Dean Parks left and was replaced by Lee Pickens. The band also added Steve Hill as keyboardist too.

In 1969, Grand Funk Railroad producer, Terry Knight, heard the band perform at a local club in Fort Worth, Texas, while he was in town. Soon, the band began collaborating with Knight, who suggested they change their name to Bloodrock.

Under Terry Knight’s supervision, the band released their first album, the self-titled Bloodrock in March of 1970.

Listening to Bloodrock’s debut record today, I’m blown away by just how great it is — clearly, this is the band’s best album.

On this album, Rutledge’s soaring, gutsy vocals are ably supported by Lee Pickens’ incredible guitar work and Steve Hill’s amazing keyboard skills on the Hammond B-3 organ. Perkins’ guitar riffs really stand out and the interplay between the guitar and keyboards are amazing.

In short, this album rocks.

Interestingly, the opening track, Gotta Find a Way, contains a back-masked message. When you play the song backwards, there’s a part saying “anyone stupid enough to play this song backwards deserves what he is about to hear.” That is followed by Rutledge reciting the Lewis Carroll nonsense poem, Jabberwocky.

Bloodrock’s debut must have sold pretty well because that same year the band went back into the studio with Terry Knight to record their follow-up, which would include their most well-known song, D.O.A.

Bloodrock 2 and D.O.A.

Released just 7 months after their debut, Bloodrock 2 is a very good album but not as strong as their first album, in my opinion. I think Cheater is the best song on the album. I’m surprised it was never a hit.

However, nothing prepared listeners for the band’s eight and half minute epic, D.O.A, which also became the first (and only) single from the album (but cut down in half to make it more radio friendly).

Not only would D.O.A. become Bloodrock’s only hit (peaking at #36 on Billboard before it got pulled from radio stations by the FCC), it would also become one of the most controversial rock songs of the decade.

The song begins with the haunting guitar/organ riff imitating the sound of a siren (using a musical motif called “the devil’s triad,” which was later popularized by Foghat). Yet, it’s the first person point of view of the lyrics that I think really unsettled listeners and made this song so unique.

Until then, previous songs about plane crashes, such as J. Frank Wilson’s Last Kiss, or The Everly Brothers’ Ebony Eyes, were always sung from the viewpoint of someone who had lost their love in a plane crash.

However, in D.O.A., Bloodrock tells the story from the point of view of the dying victim, which makes it unique.

Surprisingly, the idea for D.O.A. came from an incident in Lee Pickens’ own life.

When he was 17, Pickens wanted to become an airline pilot. One day at flying lessons, Pickens was watching a friend of his pilot a small plane when it suddenly rolled and crashed, instantly killing Pickens’ friend. A while later, Pickens decided to use the incident as the inspiration for D.O.A.

According to keyboardist Steve Hill, even before the FCC banned the song from the airwaves, many radio stations had stopped playing the record.

The reason? People were pulling over in their cars because they thought there was an ambulance behind them.

Grand Funk’s Little Brother

Even though D.O.A. was removed from the airwaves, Bloodrock 2 sold well and the band toured with both Jim Hendrix and Grand Funk Railroad during 1971, playing 38 sell-out performances in 52 days. The band also released their next album, Bloodrock 3, later that same year too.

This would be the band’s last album produced by Terry Knight.

Listening to Bloodrock 3 today, I think the band attempted to go back to what made their first album so good and combine that with elements of Bloodrock 2. The sound is heavier. My favorite track on the album is Jessica, which has some lightning fast guitar/organ riffs.

Even so, around this time, Bloodrock became derisively labeled as Grand Funk’s little brother by some members of the music media.

Then, after the release of their next album, Bloodrock U.S.A, in October of 1971, both Jim Rutledge and Lee Pickens left the band.

Bloodrock Without Heavy Rock

In one of the dumbest decisions ever made in rock history, after Rutledge and Perkins’ departure, the remaining members of of Bloodrock decided to completely change direction and become a jazz-fusion band.

With their new sound in mind, Bloodrock hired Warren Ham to replace Jim Rutledge. Not only was Ham was a talented singer, he also could also play the flute and saxophone.

When Bloodrock released their next album, Passage, in 1972, the band sounded a lot like Kansas, who would form a year later in 1973.

In yet another bad decision, this new version of Bloodrock refused to play their best known song, D.O.A, live in concert.

As to be expected, fans were upset and wanted the old Bloodrock back.

Because of this, neither Passage or its follow up album, Whirlwind Tongues, achieved any commercial success.

Bloodrock broke up in 1975.

Closing Thoughts

For a brief period of time, from 1970 throughout 1971, Bloodrock was a force to be reckoned with in American rock.

Jim Rutledge was a great vocalist who could who could belt out songs with both emotion and attitude. In addition, both guitarist Lee Pickens and keyboardist Steve Hill deserve accolades for their incredible musicianship as well.

As I stated before, this band deserves much more respect than they’ve received through the years.

Finally, if you’ve never heard Bloodrock’s music before, or only know the band’s song, D.O.A., check out their first three albums.

This is a band that should still be heard today.

And, if you’ve never heard the song, D.O.A., you can listen to it here:

After the release of the movie, The Silence of the Lambs in 1991, the character of Dr. Hannibal Lecter immediately exploded into the moviegoing public’s imagination. This is largely due to Anthony Hopkins’ Oscar-winning performance in the role.

However, Hopkins wasn’t the first actor to bring the brilliant psychopath to life.

In 1986, film director Michael Mann made Manhunter, starring William Peterson. Featured in the film is the British actor, Brian Cox, who brought the first version of Dr. Hannibal Lecktor (I’m not sure why the spelling is different in this film) to the screen.

Manhunter is based on the novel Red Dragon by Thomas Harris (who also wrote the novel The Silence of the Lambs and created the character of Hannibal Lecter).

Yet, Michael Mann’s film is very different than Jonathan Demme’s The Silence of the Lambs, which was made five years later. In addition, Brian Cox’s portrayal of Dr. Hannibal Lecktor is also quite different from Anthony Hopkins’ Dr. Lecter.

So which Hannibal is better: Brian Cox’s Dr. Lecktor or Anthony Hopkins’ Oscar winning Dr. Lecter?

It’s a question moviegoers have been debating for years.

Released in 1986, Manhunter plunges us into the world of William Graham, a former FBI agent who is dragged back to the department to help catch a serial killer on the loose. You see, before his self-imposed retirement, Graham was a profiler for the department. He studied the minds of criminals to examine their thoughts while visiting crime scenes.

Graham has the uncanny ability to put himself into the mindset of the killer. However, every time he does this, it takes a psychological toll on his mental health. For example, after his near fatal encounter with Dr. Lecktor, Graham was almost driven to the point of insanity, which is why he went into a self-imposed retirement.

However, now that another serial killer nick-named “The Tooth Fairy” is randomly butchering families as they sleep, Graham must find a way to solve the case.

To help him get back into the mindset of a serial killer, Graham goes to visit Dr. Lecktor, now housed in a state of the art modern prison where everything is painted white.

In this scene, Brian Cox’s Dr. Lecktor emerges from the whiteness of his cell dressed in an all white prison uniform. In contrast, William Peterson’s Will Graham sits on the other side of the jail bars dressed in a black suit. It’s a nice inversion of the old western cliché of having the good guys wear white cowboy hats and the bad guys wear black hats.

Mann’s use of white here is also deliberate. In many Eastern cultures, white is a symbol for death or despair. In literature, white is also used for this purpose, most notably in Melville’s classic novel, Moby Dick. Having Dr. Lecktor emerge from the whiteness of his cell in this way immediately makes us wary of him from the moment he first appears onscreen.

Yet, with his British accent and mild manner, Brian Cox’s Dr. Lecktor is most notable for how understated, even thoughtful, he comes across to viewers.

When Lecktor asks, “Dream much, Will?” to Will Graham in this scene, it almost sounds like he’s sincerely interested in the health of the man who took him off the streets. Yet, there’s also something chilling about Lecktor’s demeanor that hints at the predator lurking under the surface.

To me, it’s the subtlety of Cox’s performance as Lecktor that makes it so memorable.

Unfortunately, Manhunter wasn’t a Hollywood hit at the time it was released (although it’s since become a cult favorite for many people), so it’s not surprising that Thomas Harris’ creation of Dr. Lecter didn’t become a cultural icon until Anthony Hopkins portrayed him five years later in The Silence of the Lambs.

Directed by the late Jonathan Demme, The Silence of the Lambs is also based on a novel by Thomas Harris.

In both the novel and film, Clarice Starling, (Jodie Foster), a young FBI trainee, is assigned to help catch a serial killer known as Buffalo Bill, who got his nickname from the way he murders women and skins their bodies.

Like William Graham in Manhunter, Clarice interviews Dr. Hannibal Lecter in order to gain insight into the killer's mind. Still imprisoned, Lecter agrees to help her, but only if Clarice will agree to exchange personal information about her past.

As Clarice follows the clues provided by Lecter, she uncovers Buffalo Bill's identity and ultimately tracks him down, rescuing the killer’s latest captive before the young girl is murdered.

At the end of the film, Lecter escapes custody and calls Clarice one last time. In their brief phone conversation, Lecter tells Clarice he has no plans to call on her but that he’ll be "having an old friend for dinner." Lecter hangs up and watches his old nemesis, Dr. Fredrick Chilton (Anthony Heald), get off a plane and walk through the streets of an unidentified Caribbean island. Lecter follows behind him waiting for the right moment to attack.

Unlike the earlier film, Manhunter, which was very stylized, director Jonathan Demme takes a more traditional approach to tell the story of The Silence of the Lambs. In this film, Demme weaves in many gothic elements, such as placing Dr. Lector’s cell in the basement of an old brick prison. In fact, as Clarice goes into the prison’s basement for her first encounter with Dr. Lecter, it’s almost as if she’s descending into hell herself.

This gothic approach also carries over to Anthony Hopkins’ Academy-award winning performance as Lecter too.

With his highly cultivated accent, overly precise diction, and intense unwavering eye contact, Hopkins’ Dr. Lecter has always struck me as being demonic, almost vampiric, rather than your typical serial killer. The fact that his jail cell is located in the musty basement made up of old bricks only reinforces this notion.

For his portrayal of Dr. Lecter, Hopkins often plays it to the hilt, which can make his performance seem like it was meant for the stage and not the screen.

In fact, a lot of critics accused Hopkins of being “too hammy” in the film. Yet, for many viewers, it’s what makes Hopkins’ performance so memorable. It’s both chilling and unforgettable because it’s unnerving to behold.

And, even though he’s only onscreen for approximately 16 minutes, it’s why Hopkins dominates The Silence of the Lambs. His presence is felt throughout the film, regardless of whether he’s onscreen or not. This is probably why he won the Oscar for such a small role.

Of course, this is totally opposite of Brian Cox’s realistic but cold Dr. Lecktor in Manhunter, which is often overshadowed by the creepiness of Tom Noonan’s brilliant performance as the serial killer, Francis Dollarhyde.

In fact, throughout Manhunter, Noonan hovers over the film in much the same way that Hopkins hovers over The Silence of the Lambs.

So, the question remains, which Hannibal do you prefer? Cox’s Dr. Lecktor or Hopkins’ Dr. Lecter?

Before we can answer that question, there are few things we need to consider.

First, Anthony Hopkins has an edge over Brian Cox for a few reasons. First, his Oscar winning performance is hard to ignore. It calls attention to itself throughout the film due to Hopkins’ flamboyance in the role. Plus, Hopkins has become so closely identified with the character, especially after appearing as Dr. Lecter in the sequel, Hannibal, and in the remake of Manhunter, Red Dragon, that it’s hard for many people to picture anyone else in the role.

Even so, there is a third more recent version of Dr. Lecter that we need to discuss: Mads Mikkelsen’s performance as Dr. Lecter in the television series, Hannibal.

Mikkelsen’s approach is fascinating because it combines Cox’s restraint with Hopkins’ demonic menace.

Like Cox in Manhunter, Mikkelsen doesn’t rely on grand gestures or over the top line delivery to make his version of Lecter menacing onscreen. Instead, Mikkelsen portrays Lecter as someone who is cold but refined; he’s soft-spoken, excessively polite, and quite intelligent.

For Mikkelsen, Lecter’s menace is similar to Brian Cox because it’s psychological: it isn’t what he does, it’s what he’s capable of doing that keeps viewers glued to the screen.

But Mikkelsen also adds something new to his version of Lecter that neither of his predecessors attempted: sensuality. His scenes with Will Graham pulsate with the same seductiveness and sexual ambiguity Ann Rice gave to Lestat in her classic novel, Interview With a Vampire.

So with three different versions of Dr. Hannibal Lecter (or Lecktor), the question remains: which one do you prefer?

Of course, there is no right or wrong answer, but I think which Lecter you choose also depends on which film/show you like the best: Manhunter, The Silence of the Lambs (and it’s sequels), or the Hannibal television series.

For myself, my favorite Lecter is Brian Cox’s performance in Manhunter. I also like Michael Mann’s approach to Thomas Harris’ novel, Red Dragon, very much for the cool stylized aesthetic Mann brings to the film, both visually and through his use of music. (I’ve never been able to listen to Iron Butterfly’s “In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida” in the same way after seeing the movie). And, I think William Peterson and the rest of the cast all give great performances in the movie too. It’s a film I frequently revisit.

However, you may prefer one of the other versions or maybe you even like all three.

Either way, it’s clear that today Dr. Hannibal Lecter has joined the canon of iconic pop culture villains, taking his place alongside Freddy Krueger, The Joker, and Norman Bates. I’m not sure this is something novelist Thomas Harris imagined happening when he first created his fictional psychiatrist.

Father’s Day is always a bittersweet holiday for guys like me who didn’t grow up with a good dad.

While we’re happy that fathers have a special day to be recognized for their contributions raising their children, we mourn the fact that our own fathers were pretty bad in a lot of ways.

My own Dad was a borderline sociopath. He was warm, outgoing, and friendly in public but verbally abusive and narcissistic at home. He eventually ran off to Texas with a woman he was seeing on the side but cleaned out our family’s bank accounts before he left. Because he was such an awful dad, I’ve often found myself imagining which movie father I would like to have had as a kid and now as an adult.

After giving this some thought, my first choice is Atticus Finch from To Kill a Mockingbird.

Based on the classic novel by Harper Lee, Gregory Peck does an outstanding job in this film of portraying Atticus’ integrity and strong moral principles. In addition, as a father, Atticus is loving, caring, but also stern. By taking on the case of Tom Robinson, a local Black man falsely accused of rape, Atticus shows his children, Jem and Scout, the importance of doing what’s morally right and following your conscience, even when the decision is unpopular and difficult.

My second choice for my ideal movie dad is from a more recent film: Mr. Perlman in Call Me By Your Name.

Michael Stuhlbarg gives an excellent performance as Elio’s father in the film. He portrays Mr. Perlman as an open-minded, accepting academic professor, full of warmth, tenderness and free of judgment.

These attitudes create a loving atmosphere that allows his son, Elio, to explore and discover his own feelings. In Mr. Perlman’s scene with Elio near the end of the film, Stuhlbarg elevates his monologue to something almost Shakespearean by saying to Elio:

When you least expect it, Nature has cunning ways of finding our weakest spot. Just remember: I am here. Right now you may not want to feel anything. Perhaps you never wished to feel anything. And perhaps it’s not to me that you’ll want to speak about these things. But feel something you obviously did.

You had a beautiful friendship. Maybe more than a friendship. And I envy you. In my place, most parents would hope the whole thing goes away, to pray that their sons land on their feet. But I am not such a parent. In your place, if there is pain, nurse it. And if there is a flame, don’t snuff it out. Don’t be brutal with it. We rip out so much of ourselves to be cured of things faster, that we go bankrupt by the age of thirty and have less to offer each time we start with someone new. But to make yourself feel nothing so as not to feel anything ― what a waste!

Who wouldn’t want a father like Mr. Perlman?

Another worthy example of a loving father is Will Smith’s character, Chris Gardner, in The Pursuit of Happyness.

In this film, Chris Gardner is a struggling salesman and single father who faces homelessness while trying to attain a better life for himself and his young son.

Despite overwhelming obstacles, Gardner eventually lands an unpaid internship at a prestigious brokerage firm, determined to earn a permanent position and achieve success as a stockbroker.

Based on a true story, Chris Gardner is a great father because of the way he always makes his son’s needs a priority, even as they both find themselves broke and homeless. In addition, Gardner also tries to protect his son from realizing the harsh reality of their situation as much as he can.

Will Smith portrays Chris Gardner as an optimist who never gives up hope, even when things are about as bad as they can get. In addition, Smith’s Chris Gardner models important life lessons for his son by showing him the importance of perseverance and hard work.

Although the movie fathers mentioned above are all great, by taking a broader look at the way Hollywood has portrayed fathers through the years, it’s possible to put other fictional movie fathers into different categories.

First, there are movies that portray flawed but redeemable fathers such as Robin Williams’ Daniel Hillard in Mrs. Doubtfire, Ethan Hawke’s Mason Sr. in Richard Linklater’s Boyhood, or even Darth Vader in the first three Star Wars movies.

But my favorite flawed movie father is the late Gene Hackman’s portrayal of the estranged family patriarch, Royal, in Wes Anderson’s The Royal Tenenbaums.

At the beginning of the film, Gene Hackman’s character, Royal, is a disbarred attorney, and a selfish, manipulative “born bastard” who has been estranged from both his ex-wife and children for over 20 years.

After suddenly re-entering their lives, Royal falsely claims to have a terminal case of stomach cancer so he’s allowed to move back into the family’s home. Soon, it’s obvious that Royal is crude and dishonest, yet he can also be funny and charming too.

However, as Royal begins to spend more time with his family, he begins to genuinely make an effort to reconnect with them. And although his methods aren’t always the best, Royal starts to show real affection towards his adult children and his grandkids. By the end of the film, Royal has become an integral part of the family once again.

Next, there are films that portray fathers as being tyrannical yet human.

Perhaps the most famous example of this type of father is Christopher Plummer’s Navy Captain Georg Von Trapp in The Sound of Music.

In this Hollywood classic, Plummer runs his family like a German military unit, dressing his seven children in uniforms and expecting them to respond to the various whistles he uses to summon them. Of course, that changes once Julie Andrews’ Maria becomes their governess. Eventually, Plummer’s Captain Von Trapp breaks through his emotional barriers and becomes a loving father to both his children and Maria.

But, my favorite movie father in this category is Robert Duvall’s portrayal of Lt. Colonel “Bull” Meechum in the film, The Great Santini.

Set in the early 1960s, the film is about the challenges facing military families, but focuses specifically on his strained relationship between Marine fighter pilot “Bull” Meechum, (who often refers to himself in the third person as “The Great Santini”) and his teenage son, Ben.

Through a series of powerful scenes, the film explores the tension between the military discipline Bull imposes on his family, especially Ben, and the family’s emotional vulnerability that results from Bull’s actions. As Ben becomes a teenager, he struggles to assert his independence which only makes his father, Bull, become even more rigid in the way he treats his son.

This is effectively illustrated in one of the film’s best scenes: Bull challenges Ben to a one-on-one game of basketball in their driveway. What begins as a casual father-son game quickly escalates as Bull becomes aggressive, mocking and bullying Ben throughout the first half of the game.

However, in the second half of the game Ben starts to play well, yet Bull refuses to let up. Bull continues to taunt his son, blocks his shots, and ultimately refuses to let his son win the game.

Watching this scene, we realize the game isn’t just about basketball but about power, control, and the way a father like Bull expresses or withholds affection. For those of us who grew up in the 1960s and 70s, we probably recognize aspects of Duvall’s domineering character in our own fathers.

Yet another category of films about fathers are the ones where the dad is just an asshole.

Characters who fit into this category include Robert DeNiro’s stepdad, Dwight Hansen, in This Boy’s Life and Daniel Day Lewis’ Daniel Plainview, also a stepdad, in P.T. Anderson’s There Will Be Blood. Both of these men are self-centered bullies who have little if any redeeming qualities.

But my favorite “asshole father” is Jeff Daniels’ performance as Bernard Berkman in The Squid and The Whale.

Written and directed by Noah Baumbach, The Squid and The Whale is a semi-autobiographical drama about a Brooklyn family's struggles in the 1980s. It follows the emotional fallout from a bitter divorce between Bernard, a once-prominent writer whose books no longer sell, and his wife, Joan, a budding novelist who is about to achieve success with the publication of her first book.

Their two sons, teenager Walt and his sensitive younger brother, Frank, are caught in the middle of a feud between their parents, which is only made worse by Daniels’ Bernard insisting they share joint custody. Soon, each boy is forced to choose allegiance to one parent or the other. Walt sides with his father, Bernard, who he idolizes, and Frank sides with his mother, Joan, much to Bernard’s disdain.

Arrogant and narcissistic, Bernard is a pretentious snob who lacks empathy and effectively manipulates his oldest son, Walt in order to shape the boy’s opinions about his mother, literature, and life so it aligns with Bernard’s skewed perspective.

Bernard is also controlling, petty, and cheap.

When Walt gets his first girlfriend, Sophie, Bernard insists on coming along on their movie date and makes them go see Blue Velvet instead of their first choice, Short Circuit. Then, at a restaurant afterwards, Bernard dominates the conversation, casually flirts with Sophie in front of his son, and incredibly, makes each of them pay for their share of the meal, including the tip.

In another sequence, Bernard exhibits even more inappropriate behavior by letting Lili, one of his female college creative writing students, move into their house. Naturally, Walt becomes smitten with Lili only to later realize his father is having sex with her in the bedroom down the hall.

Later, in one of the film’s pivotal scenes, Walt visits the American Museum of Natural History and stands in front of the exhibit of the squid and the whale. It’s something he remembers from his childhood as terrifying. However, Walt now looks at it in a new way. This moment of reflection marks a psychological breakthrough as Walt confronts his own fear and confusion about his parents’ divorce.

By the end of the film, Walt has begun to realize that his father is not a brilliant, misunderstood genius, but a bitter man who has failed his family in many ways.

The final category of film fathers are movies about dads who are truly evil.

Perhaps the most famous example of this type of character is Jack Nicholson’s portrayal of Jack Torrence in Stanley Kubrick’s film version of The Shining.

Early on, after the Torrence family has arrived at the Overlook Hotel to work as caretakers over the winter, there are hints that Nicholson’s Torrence has been an abusive father to he and Wendy’s son, Danny.

In a chilling scene early in the film, Wendy (Shelly Duvall) casually mentions to Danny’s doctor that five months earlier her husband, Jack, dislocated Danny’s shoulder in a drunken rage. She also tells the doctor that it was simply an accident and that Jack promised he would never drink again.

No wonder Danny starts chanting “Redrum.”

And if you’ve seen the film, you know what happens next.

In conclusion, for some of us, Father’s Day isn’t just about honoring the dad we had, it’s about imagining the dad we wish we could have had, both as a kid and now as an adult.

Whether it’s Atticus Finch teaching moral courage, Mr. Perlman offering quiet empathy, or Royal Tenenbaum stumbling toward redemption, these fictional movie dads remind us that fatherly love, when it shows up, can come in many forms.

And sometimes, films get it right by using these great movie dads to show us the kind of father we might become in the future, even if we never had a loving dad ourselves.

When asked what concept rock albums they like best, most casual music fans would probably say Pink Floyd’s The Wall or The Who’s rock opera, Tommy. Both of these classic albums are justifiably great and continue to be popular today.

However, most of these fans, especially younger listeners, probably aren’t familiar with The Who’s follow up to the story of the pinball wizard, Quadrophenia. They may have heard of it, but they haven’t actually listened to it.

This is a shame because Quadrophenia is not only The Who’s last great album, it’s also their masterpiece.

Here are three reasons why…

1. It Has a Great Story and Main Character

Told entirely through song, Quadrophenia is set in England during the mid-sixties, when two rival gangs of youths, the mods and the rockers, frequently brawled in different seaside towns throughout the country.

(Note: Some Spoilers Ahead):

The main character is a disaffected teenager named Jimmy. He’s a member of the mods who does drugs, gets into beach fights, and of course, is a fan of The Who.

However, Jimmy is also alienated from his parents and other friends. He can’t find a good job, doubts his own self-worth, and struggles to keep up with the other mods.

After destroying his prized scooter and contemplating suicide, Jimmy returns to Brighton, only to see the former leader of the mods, Aceface, now working as a bellboy at a hotel.

Totally disillusioned, Jimmy steals a boat and sails out to sea in the rain. Alone, Jimmy thinks about his life.

Of course, there’s a lot more to the story than this short summary. That’s one of the many reasons why I love this album.

Quadrophenia is like a musicalized novel. It’s equal to a rock version of Catcher in the Rye, with masterful lyrics that use symbolism and metaphor to describe character, emotions, and inner longings.

In case you’re wondering, the album is called Quadrophenia because Jimmy has four different personalities which reveal themselves through 4 musical themes on the album.

Each personality/theme corresponds to a member of The Who: Roger Daltrey (a tough guy; a helpless dancer); John Entwistle (a romantic); Keith Moon (a bloody lunatic) and Pete Townshend (a beggar and hypocrite).

Because there’s so much going on in the story and lyrics, Quadrophenia is that rare album that slowly reveals more of itself every time you listen to it, even if you’ve heard it a hundred times before.

2. Every Song Is a Winner

Clocking in at 81 minutes, with 17 different tracks spread over 2 vinyl albums, Quadrophenia is the only Who album where all of the songs were written and composed by guitarist Pete Townshend by himself.

This is important because every song is great and none of them are fillers or a disappointment. Not only is Townshend at his best here as a songwriter, he’s also able to transcend the restrictions of rock songs to repeat and expand on musical motifs and themes throughout this album while still telling Jimmy’s story.

The music ranges from ballads to hard rock and they fuse together in an organic way, which is much better than the songs in Tommy. Here, the 15 songs and 2 lengthy instrumentals are more cohesive.

In fact, Quadrophenia is more than a collection of songs. It’s almost like a rock symphony made up of different movements.

Lyrically, Townshend has never been better. He uses the lyrics to these songs to reveal character, emotions, longings, and irony. For example, early on in the song, Cut My Hair, Townsend captures Jimmy’s predicament:

“Why Should I care / If I have to cut my hair / I’ve got to move with the fashions Or be outcast / I know I should fight But my old man, he’s really alright / And I’m still living at home / Even though it won’t last”

Much later, when Jimmy sees Aceface, (who he idolized as the leader of the Mods), and discovers Aceface is now working as a bellboy at a seaside hotel, Townshend writes:

“Ain’t you the guy who used to set the paces / Riding up in front of a hundred faces / I don’t suppose you would remember me/ But I used to follow you back in sixty three”

Then, Aceface responds by singing…

“I got a good job and I’m newly born / You should see me dressed up in my uniform / I work in a hotel all gilt and flash / Remember the gaff where the doors we smashed? / Bell Boy! I gotta get running now / Bell Boy! Keep my lip buttoned down / Bell Boy! Carry the bloody baggage out”

And in the final, powerful song, Love Reign O’er Me, Townshend uses nature imagery of the sea and rain when Jimmy sings:

Only love can make it rain / The way the beach is kissed by the sea/ Only love can make it rain/ Like the sweat of lovers/ Laying in the fields/ Love, reign O’er me

These are just a few examples of the many great lyrics on this album.

3. The Production and Arrangements are Superb

This is the most elaborately produced and arranged Who album ever created by the band.

It combines the Who’s brand of rock with strings, horns, timpani, synthesizers, and a wide variety of field recordings, so that when they’re mixed together they create an aural head-spinning experience.

Unlike The Beatles’ Sgt. Pepper, which used sound effects to dazzle the listener, in Quadrophenia, all of the field recordings, such as waves washing on a beach, train whistles, and more, are carefully and purposely used.

Combined with the guitars, drums, horns, strings and more, these field recordings become another instrument in the rock orchestration. They don’t call attention to themselves; they’re just expertly integrated into the musical arrangements and sound design.

Townshend also uses the relatively new at the time Arp 2500 synthesizer to great effect on this album too. Overdubbing sounds from the Arp many times to create layers of sound, Townshend shows great restraint in the way he incorporates synthesizers into his audio production.

Final Thoughts

Released 52 years ago in 1973, Quadrophenia was originally distributed as a 2 vinyl record set that came with an elaborate booklet filled with photos, lyrics, and an essay that tried to explain the entire story and concept.

However, it still divided Who fans at the time. Many of them didn’t like it.

The band even had to stop performing Quadrophenia live back then because fans didn’t understand what the songs were about or they didn’t like the complicated music.

However, as the years went on, Quadrophenia’s stature improved with both Who fans and music listeners worldwide.

In 1979, a film adaptation of the concept album was released that featured Sting in the role of Aceface. While the film has its moments, I don’t feel it’s as good as the original album.

Years later, in 2012, The Who performed the album in its entirety on a world-wide tour called “Quadrophenia and More.”

Today, it’s obvious that Quadrophenia is one of the best concept albums of all time, if not the best concept album ever made.

If you haven’t heard Quadrophenia before, I encourage you to check it out but only when you have enough time to listen to all of it uninterrupted in one sitting. Like me, I’m sure you’ll enjoy this amazing album and want to hear it again and again.

Introduction

1995 was a great year for indie movies. Like a breath of fresh air, Noah Baumbach’s Kicking and Screaming, Hal Hartley’s Flirt, and Gregg Araki’s The Doom Generation were all released to theaters within months of each other.

Surprisingly, all of these films had one thing in common: they each featured a young actress named Parker Posey in a supporting role.

But there was another indie movie released in 1995 that helped Parker Posey become the star she is today: Party Girl.

As Party Girl celebrates its 30th anniversary this year, now is the perfect time to enjoy this wonderful indie film.

The Story

(Warning: spoilers ahead)

At the beginning of Party Girl, twenty-something Mary (Parker Posey) is throwing a fabulous party in order to come up with the money to pay her rent. As the party is in full swing, a house music version of Randy Newman’s classic, “Mama Told Me Not To Come” blares throughout the crowded rooms full of revelers.

When the police arrive and arrest Mary for holding an unauthorized event, she’s thrown in jail and must use her one phone call to contact her godmother, Judy Lindendorf (Sasha Von Scherler) to plead for help and make bail.

Judy is not only Mary's librarian godmother, she was also Mary's deceased mother's best friend, so Judy has an obligation to look after Mary as best she can. God help her.

You see, Mary lives to have fun. And even though she has little money, that doesn’t stop Mary from acting like she’s rich, especially when it comes to parties and clothes. And, like many young people post-college, Mary has no direction and no future career.

Judy reluctantly offers Mary a job as a clerk at the public library where Judy works. Of course, Mary initially scoffs at the idea. After all, who wants to work at a library? But, being broke, Mary finally accepts the offer.

The result is a hilarious screwball comedy that has a lot of fun showing the havoc free-spirted Mary causes as she shows up late for work at the library every morning (one can’t expect Mary to give up her nightlife just for a job, right?), ignores the library’s rules, behaves irresponsibly, and struggles to learn the Dewey Decimal System.

And yes, throughout the movie, Mary accidentally mis-shelves a lot of library books which only causes more chaos, confusion and laughter.

The film also has a lot of fun as it shows Mary’s obsession with fashion and her overly active social life. Every night, Mary bops in and out of New York City’s trendiest clubs, throws her own wild parties, and, of course, lives beyond her means.

Caught up in the whirl of Mary’s out of control party life are her eclectic group of friends, especially her roommate Leo (Guillermo Díaz), an aspiring DJ, and her fashion-obsessed gay friend, Derrick (Anthony DeSando).

Helping Mary come back to reality is the handsome, young Lebanese immigrant Mary meets named Mustafa (Omar Townsend).

Although he’s quite intelligent, Mustafa must operate a falafel street cart because he doesn’t have the English language skills or certification to work as a teacher. That was his profession back in Lebanon. Mustafa’s life is made all the more difficult when a new trendy falafel cart opens across the street from his usual spot.

Naturally, Mary becomes infatuated with Mustafa and he with her. Little does Mustafa know the chaos and turmoil Mary is about to bring into his life.

Mustafa’s struggles are in contrast to the care-free life Mary tries to lead. As a positive influence in her life, Mustafa helps Mary realize there’s more to life than being a modern reincarnation of Audrey Hepburn’s Holly Golightly from the classic movie, Breakfast at Tiffany’s.

Thanks to Mustafa’s influence, Mary eventually begins to realize the important role libraries play in our society. She begins to take her job seriously and finally masters The Dewey Decimal System.

Even so, after Mary makes one mistake too many, she gets fired by Judy.

Yet, it’s after losing her job that Mary realizes that library science is her true calling in life. By the end of the film, Mary has found a way to reconcile with Judy and she gets her job back. Of course, it’s only fitting that all of this happens at Mary’s birthday 25th party.

How The Film Was Made and Distributed

Daisy Von Scherler Mayer and Harry Birckmayer first met in the film program at Wesleyan University in the 1980s. After graduation, they both moved to New York City and became writing partners. Soon, Sheila Gaffney also joined the writing team. Their goal was to write a script that Daisy could direct for an indie movie.

Interestingly, Party Girl was originally called Party Boy.

The early drafts of the script were about a young club kid who was an alcoholic. Throughout the story, the club kid blacks out and wakes up in different parts of New York City, not knowing how he got there. But, after many revisions, Party Boy became Party Girl, and the script changed from a drama into a screwball-like comedy.

It took over five years to raise the film’s $150,000.00 budget. Potential funders didn’t think Mary and her godmother, Judy, were likeable characters. Some funders also thought the film was “too New York oriented” and should be set in Chicago instead.

But eventually the filmmakers raised enough money to cover the budget and the film got made.

However, since the movie was shot on 16mm film, it needed to be blown up to 35mm in order to qualify for the major independent film festivals like Sundance.

The filmmakers screened their 16mm print of the film for the heads of major studios but none of them were interested. Even a smaller studio like Miramax didn’t like it.

Thankfully, a small upstart company called First Look Pictures loved the film. They acquired all of the rights to Party Girl and paid to have the 16mm print blown up to 35mm.

Party Girl premiered at the 1995 Sundance Film festival and opened in theaters that spring. Unfortunately, the film didn’t get many good reviews.

The New York Times called it a silly urban comedy. Roger Ebert only gave it two stars and Gene Siskel said it was a bore. Worst yet, Variety’s Todd McCarthy said “Party Girl aspires to be cinematic champagne but comes out tasting like sparkling cider.”

Sadly, the film wasn’t a big hit at the box office either.

Even so, Party Girl became the first feature-length film to stream on the internet.

This happened on June 3rd, 1995. The web company Point of Presence hosted the film on their website. Parker Posey even appeared live online to welcome fans and introduce the movie.

Not long afterwards, Party Girl was released on dvd. Unfortunately, its distributor, First Look Pictures, went out of business around that time too.

Then, in an odd twist, Fox acquired the rights to create a Party Girl spin-off television series.

The show starred Christine Taylor as Mary; Swoosie Kurtz as Judy; and John Cameron Mitchell (who would later create the musical, Hedwig and The Angry Inch) as Derrick. However, not too many people watched the sitcom, so it was cancelled before the end of its first season.

And, after a while, the original Party Girl movie became more-or-less forgotten.

In the meantime, Parker Posey’s career continued to take off. The rising actress appeared in many 90’s indie films we now regard as classics: The Day Trippers; Waiting for Guffman; The House of Yes; Clockwatchers; Personal Velocity; and Best in Show. She was even in Scream 3.

More recently, Posey has appeared in the films Beau is Afraid and the indie hit, Thelma. And currently, she’s winning accolades for her performance as Victoria Ratcliff in season 3 of The White Lotus on Max.

While this was happening, teenagers discovered Party Girl on home video (which back then meant vhs tapes and dvd) and on cable t.v.

For many of these young fans, especially those who are lgbt, the film exposed them to a world outside of their life in small towns or in the suburbs. Word spread and Party Girl eventually became a cult movie that appealed to people of all ages.

Then, last year, the film was restored and brought back to theaters.

Surprisingly, many of the same critics who didn’t like Party Girl when it was first released now loved it.

In addition, Fun City Editions released Party Girl in a beautiful limited edition blu-ray stacked with bonus features. Suddenly, the little cult movie from 1995 was everywhere.

Re-evaluating The Film In 2025

So, what makes Party Girl worth watching today?

First, this movie is just plain fun. Party Girl combines humor, style, and music to create an entertaining screwball-like comedy set in a version of New York City that no longer exists today.

The film perfectly captures the unique club culture (especially the music and fashion) that permeated 1990’s New York at the time the film was made in the mid-1990s.

Next, Parker Posey is perfectly cast as Mary. She effortlessly embodies the free-spirited, fashion driven, twenty-something girl who spends her life in search of fun. Exuding charm and wit, Posey makes Mary into an iconic character.

Yet, Posey also isn’t afraid to show Mary’s dark side as well, whether it’s stealing expensive fashionable clothes from another woman’s closet at a party or never taking responsibility for her actions.

And even though Mary may do terrible things and doesn’t always treat people as best she could, Parker Posey never loses the viewer’s loyalty.

This is because of the way Posey uses deadpan humor to offset any misdeeds she may do or say. Posey is also able to use her acting ability to give Mary a sense of vulnerability that makes viewers love her too.

As the film progresses, Posey also reveals layers to Mary we didn’t know existed.

We see Mary change and begin to take her job at the library seriously, along with her relationships with the other people in her life. By the end of the film, we realize that Mary has actually evolved into a mature young woman.

The supporting cast also give great performances too, especially director Daisy von Scherler Mayer’s mother, Sasha, who plays Mary’s godmother, Judy.

Sasha von Scherler gives a larger than life comedic performance that’s perfect for the film.

With her booming voice and exasperated facial expressions, Sasha von Scherler makes Judy into an unforgettable character who only wants the best for her god-daughter but can’t understand the way Mary constantly misbehaves. Yet, as viewers, we never doubt the love Judy has for her god-daughter, even as Mary tests her patience throughout the film.

Also quite good in the film are Anthony DeSanto as Mary’s gay friend, Derrick; Guillermo Diez as Mary’s dj buddy, Leo; and Liev Schreiber as Nigel.

But it’s really Omar Townsend as the Lebanese immigrant, Mustafa, who steals the show.

Townsend was discovered by co-writer Harry Birckmayer who was teaching ESL classes at the time. A native of Lebanon, Townsend was actually one of Birckmayer’s students. He had never acted before making Party Girl and he has never acted again since the movie was completed. In fact, nobody seems to know what exactly happened to him or where he is now.

It’s hard to imagine anyone other than Omar Townsend playing Mustafa in the film.

As a few critics have noted, Townsend has a Horst Buchholz-like look and voice to him. He’s both charming and perplexed by both Mary and America in the film. He has great on-screen chemistry with Parker Posey too.

Another reason why Party Girl is such a great indie film is the combination of it’s sense of style with its heart-warming script.

The film is often cited for its look - particularly the colorful, stylish costumes worn by Parker Posey as Mary and the trendy members of New York’s club scene who populate the film.

In addition, by filming in real locations (including clubs) throughout New York City in 1994, the movie provides a unique opportunity for viewers to vicariously experience pre-9/11 New York City and its trendy club scene at the time.

At the same time, the Party Girl’s screenplay, while quite funny, also has a lot of heart to it.

We never doubt Judy’s love for her god-daughter, Mary, which is expressed in many different ways throughout the film. Even when Judy is totally exasperated with Mary, her love for her god-daughter still shines through the insults and put-downs.

Also, the screenwriters do a great job of showing that underneath Mary’s cool, hip exterior is someone who cares about others and who tries to help those around her, including Leo and Mustafa.

And, Mary’s journey from a care-free party girl to a dependable and serious librarian is a wonderful character arc that the screenwriters develop in interesting ways throughout the script, especially through the film’s off-beat sense of humor.

Finally, Party Girl is also worth seeing for the way music is used in the film.

The house/dance music score featured in Party Girl was composed by Bill Coleman and Tomandandy (Tom Hajdu and Andy Milburn). Tomandandy were known for their electronic and experimental scores, which added a stylish and modern edge to the film's sound design.

Bill Coleman was a key figure in the 1990’s New York’s club scene and had deep ties to dance and house music.

Coleman not only helped compose the instrumental score for Party Girl, he also chose the songs featured throughout the film. He wanted to make sure the soundtrack reflected the underground club culture of New York City at the time.

The soundtrack features tracks by an eclectic group of artists including Chanelle, Dawn Press, Dee-lite, Mr. Fingers, Nation of Abel, Run D.M.C., The Tom Tom Club, Ultra Naté, and The Wolfgang Press.

Coleman also made sure the house-dance music used in Party Girl not only set a mood but also became an essential part of the story’s energy, culture, and character development.

The result is a score full of diverse house-dance tracks that still sound as fresh today as they did when the film was made in 1995.

In Conclusion…

Party Girl is a great indie film that’s also a lot of fun. First released in 1995, the film features a star-making performance by Parker Posey. It also perfectly captures pre-9/11 New York City and its diverse club-culture scene in the mid 1990’s. Fans of Parker Posey and American indie films won’t be disappointed.

(Party Girl is currently streaming on Amazon Prime and Tubi. The remastered blu-ray is also available through Fun City Editions).

Ever since my Mom took me to see my first movie (Mary Poppins) when I was six years old, I’ve been hooked on films. And not just films but also the music created for films too. I have a vast collection of movie soundtracks on both cd and vinyl. I love to play them just as much for the music as I do for the memories they bring back of each film.

While many movies today use pop/rock songs for their scores, it’s the instrumental scores created for films that remain my favorite type of soundtrack.

Listed below in alphabetical order are what I believe are 25 great film scores (and trust me, I could’ve easily made the list a lot longer). I didn’t design this list to be definitive, but simply as a starting point to help readers discover what I think are some of the best instrumental film scores created for movies.

Whether your favorite format is vinyl, cd, or streaming, I hope you’ll give these film scores a listen…

1. A River Runs Through It

Mark Isham’s Oscar nominated score for Robert Redford’s film, A River Runs Through It, combines strings, woodwinds and occasionally brass, harps, piano, and bagpipes to create understated music motifs that evoke the reflective, natural beauty of the Montana landscape. At various points in the score, Isham incorporates a fiddle and flute to help suggest the time period of the early twentieth century, which is when the story takes place. Period jazz and pop songs from the time period are also incorporated into the score. The result is a lyrical, calming score that flows through the film like the river prominently featured in the movie. This is one of my favorite soundtracks to listen to after a hard day at the office.

Other great Mark Isham film scores: Blade, The Moderns, Never Cry Wolf

2. Blade Runner

Although it originally bombed in its theatrical release, today Ridley Scott’s Blade Runner is widely considered to be one of the best science fiction films of all time.

In my opinion, the film wouldn’t work without the brilliant score by Vangelis. The score’s layered sounds were created by an array of synthesizers (particularly the Yamaha CS-80) and the ambient textures create a haunting, futuristic atmosphere that blends the romantic melancholy of film noir with a feeling of decay. Vangelis also infuses some of his synthesized melodies with Middle Eastern influences too.

Vangelis didn’t read music, so the entire score was improvised while he watched the movie. In addition, Vangelis added subtle sounds and melodic riffs in scenes without music, interspersing them throughout the film. The result is a lot of great music that’s fully integrated with the visuals of the film. Other great Vangelis film scores: Antarctica, Chariots of Fire, Missing

3. Chinatown

One of the best film composers of all time, Jerry Goldsmith’s score for Chinatown, is an aural masterpiece. The main title music evokes classic Hollywood with its melancholic solo trumpet, which also is used in the film’s love theme. Goldsmith came up with an unusual mix of instruments to record his score: strings, 4 different pianos, 4 harps, a guiro, and only one trumpet. Often, the strings on the piano are brushed, creating an unusual effect; in other places, Goldsmith uses the lower keys of the piano to create tension and suspense.

The result is a score that sounds nostalgic yet also has a 70s musical sensibility too. Interestingly, Goldsmith only had 10 days to compose and record the score because he was hired after the original composer, Phillip Lambro, was fired. The audience at a sneak preview for the film all hated Lambro’s music, so producer Robert Evans took matters into his own hands. Interestingly, snippets of Lambro’s original score can still be heard on the soundtrack to the film’s coming attraction trailer.

Other great Jerry Goldsmith Scores: Alien, Islands in The Stream, and Patton

4. Contempt (Les Mepris)

Perhaps the best known film composer from France, Georges Delerue’s lush score for Jean-luc Godard’s masterpiece, Contempt (or Le Mépris in French) combines European romanticism juxtaposed against minor chord harmonies that evoke both sadness and alienation. With his background in classical music, Delerue was able to combine orchestral strings with sharp brass tones, and heavily charged pauses, along with a despairing melody to create a beautiful yet haunting score. You’ll probably recognize “Theme de Camille” since since it has been used in many later films, including Martin Scorsese’s Casino.

Other great Georges Delerue film scores: A Little Romance, Jules and Jim, Platoon

5. The Godfather/The Godfather Part Two

Although the Italian composer, Nino Rota, scored all of Fellini’s films until Rota’s death in 1979, the music Rota will always be remembered for are his haunting themes for The Godfather and The Godfather Part Two. With a trumpet playing the haunting minor-key main theme, Rota created music for one of the most recognizable main themes of any film, matched only by the beautiful minor-key Godfather waltz.

These two iconic themes, along with the other music created for both films, are memorable for their melancholic beauty. I also love the way Rota incorporates Italian folk songs into the score too, which gives the music an authentic flavor. To me, the two scores, just like the two films, are inseparable, which is why I’ve listed both of them together here.

Other great Nino Rota scores: 8 and 1/2, Rocco and His Brothers, Romeo and Juliet

6. The Good, The Bad, And The Ugly

In the mid-1960s, Ennio Morricone revolutionized traditional film scores by boldly incorporating an electric guitar with a full orchestra. And not just that, Morricone also added vocalizations (non lyric singing), whistles, the sound of a whip and more to create this legendary film score. In addition, the famous main theme is addictively hummable, which makes it instantly memorable. Combined with director Sergio Leone’s brilliant visuals, Morricone created an operatic score of tension and drama that would only be outdone two years later by their brilliant collaboration on Once Upon a Time in the West.

Other great Morricone film scores: The Mission, Once Upon a Time in America

7. In The Mood For Love

It’s not often that two composers collaborate together to create a film score, but for Wong Kar-Wai’s masterpiece, In The Mood For Love, Michael Galasso and Shigeru Umebayashi created deeply evocative music that captures the pent up feelings of both main characters in the film. The recurring, bittersweet melodies, especially the haunting main theme in 3/4 time, echo the film’s themes of longing and missed connections. Throughout the film, the two composers use minimalistic instrumentation to create music that’s romantic yet full of painful longing.

For the final scene set in the Angkor Wat temple complex in Siem Reap, Cambodia, they have a sad sounding cello play the melody and use a three note plucked string motif to support it. The result is one of the most romantic scores ever written for a film.

Other great Galasso and Umebayashi film scores: 2046, Chunking Express

8. Jaws

John Williams’ two note motif (played on cellos) scared me to death when I first saw Jaws in a dark movie theater back in 1975. In the film, we first hear the two notes; then the motif repeats and quickly builds to the main theme of the movie. Its simplicity is deceptive: the relentless, rhythmic build-up instills a visceral sense of impending danger, until it explodes during the final climax of the film. Jaws was the first John Williams’ score I ever heard, and it’s still one that makes me nervous every time I hear it today.

Other great John Williams film scores: E.T., Close Encounters, Superman

9. Koyaanisqatsi

There has never been a film quite like Koyaanisqatsi (which means life out of balance in the Native American Hopi language). A hard to classify movie, Godfrey Reggio’s film is about man’s disconnection from nature and the consequences of unchecked technological advancement. In short, it’s an indictment of today’s society. Philip Glass’s minimalist score is integral to the film’s meditation on modern life.

Beginning with the slow-paced chanting of the Hopi Native American word (and title of the film) “koyaanisqatsi,” the score, like the movie, slowly builds to loud, jarring, fast, repetitive rhythmic patterns using an array of synthesized sounds. The repetitive patterns and gradual evolutions in the music work in conjunction with the striking visuals, evoking a hypnotic reflection on nature’s disruption by technology and civilization. The result is an amazing and overwhelming sensory experience, especially if you see the film in a theater.

Other great Philip Glass film scores: The Hours, Kundun, Mishima

10. Lawrence of Arabia

Featuring one of the most famous main film themes ever created, Maurice Jarre’s Oscar-winning score for Lawrence of Arabia is epic in every way. Its sweeping themes and powerful orchestrations capture the vast, sun-drenched desert landscapes. In contrast, the softer parts of the film score probe the inner conflicts of its characters. Interestingly, Jarre incorporates traditional Middle-Eastern percussion instruments into the score, such as a cithera and Onde Martenot, to help give the music a Middle-Eastern flavor.

For the orchestral arrangements, Jarre relied on using tritone harmony, which makes the music sound expansive, especially for the music cues set to images in the desert. In my opinion, Jarre has created the perfect score for a cinematic epic.

Other great Maurice Jarre film scores: Dr. Zhivago, Grand Prix, Jacob’s Ladder

11. Local Hero

Only a few rock musicians have successfully made the transition from writing songs to writing great film scores. Thankfully, Mark Knopfler, the creative force behind the band Dire Straits, is one of them. Knopfler’s score for Local Hero draws upon his experience in the band, especially with the sound and style of their album, Love Over Gold. Yet, Knopfler also combines his electric guitar sound with folk and ambient sounds to create gentle melodies and understated textures that recall both the quaint charm of a small Scottish village and a sense of wistful nostalgia. Knopfler’s music for Local Hero not only provides Bill Forsyth’s charming film with a great score, it also works on its own as a great soundtrack album as well.

Other great Mark Knopfler film scores: Cal, Comfort and Joy, The Princess Bride.

12. The Lord of The Rings

When Howard Shore signed on to compose the scores for Peter Jackson’s three part trilogy of Lord of the Rings, did he know he would have to compose over 12 hours of music? The result is a monumental work of thematic material full of leitmotifs that are combined and expanded in different ways to represent the cultures, characters, and epic events, of each film. Shore does an excellent job of musically unifying J. R.R. Tolkien’s sprawling epic by giving each major character their own theme while enhancing the mythic, immersive quality of Middle-earth with multi-layered orchestration and choral elements. The result is some of the best film music of our modern era.

Other great Howard Shore film scores: Dead Ringers, The Fly, Seven, Videodrome.

13. Merry Christmas, Mr. Lawrence

I’m not sure, but I think Ryuichi Sakamoto may be the only composer in cinematic history to compose a film score and act in a co-starring role for the same movie. You see, in Merry Christmas, Mr. Lawrence, Sakamoto not only composed and performed the film’s score, he also portrayed Captain Yonio in the film.

Another rare example of a rock musician who made the transition to film composer, Sakamoto’s score for Merry Christmas, Mr. Lawrence blends Eastern musical sensibilities with the Western classical tradition. With its unusual harmonic patterns and haunting piano themes, especially the famous main title, Sakamoto has created one one of the most original and distinct film scores in film history.

Other great Sakamoto film scores: High Heels, The Last Emperor, Minamata

14. The Natural

A successful singer-songwriter, Randy Newman also made the transition from pop musician to film composer with his score for the movie, Ragtime. For his second film score, Randy Newman’s music for The Natural channels a nostalgic Americana by creating Aaron-Copland like orchestral themes to great effect. With this beautiful score, Newman successfully captures the romantic mythology of baseball. In addition, Newman’s warm melodies help give the film an enduring sense of hope and timeless grace.

Other great Randy Newman film scores: Avalon, Pleasantville, Seabiscuit.

15. Once Upon a Time In The West

Once again, the great film composer Ennio Morricone demonstrates his genius with this magnificent film score for Sergio Leone’s Once Upon a Time In The West. Here, Morricone builds on the techniques he used in his earlier score for The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly through his inventive use of vocalizations, a searing electric guitar, and by adding a haunting harmonica that directly ties into the story of the film. By crafting themes that are both cinematic and deeply emotional, Morricone elevates Leone’s film into a great operatic Spaghetti western.

Other great Morricone scores: Bugsy, Days of Heaven, The Untouchables.

16. Out of Africa

John Barry’s sweeping orchestral score for Out of Africa is known for its romantic and lush themes. The music’s lyrical melodies and rich orchestrations combine brass fanfares with slow, refined strings, woodwinds, and flutes to capture the emotional love story between Meryl Streep’s Karen Dinesen and Robert Redford’s Denys Finch Hatton at the core of this film. This is a score that can be heard and appreciated without ever seeing the film, but when combined with the images on the screen, John Barry’s music elevates Out of Africa to a higher level of cinema.

Other great Barry film scores: Body Heat, Dances With Wolves, King Kong (1976)

17. Paris, Texas

After he was blinded in one eye, Ry Cooder began spending time in seclusion learning how to play the guitar. Eventually, Cooder became a highly sought after session musician and later a solo artist. When approached by film director Wim Wenders to write the score for his film, Paris, Texas, Cooder accepted the challenge. The result is an atmospheric score that relies on a sparse, slide-guitar-driven sound that creates a haunting sense of loneliness which complements the film’s themes of isolation, redemption, and rediscovery.

Other great Cooder film scores: Alamo Bay, Southern Comfort, The Long Riders

18. Planet of the Apes

Jerry Goldsmith’s music for the original Planet of the Apes movie is quite different from his other film scores. For one thing, Goldsmith took his inspiration from modern classical composers such as Bartok and Stravinsky. Goldsmith also incorporated many unusual elements to make his original score both innovative and unsettling to listeners. First, he looped drums into an echoplex; then he had the horn section of the orchestra blow into their instruments without using mouthpieces. Next, Goldsmith also had percussionists create sounds on steel mixing bowls as the orchestra played.

If that’s not enough, Goldsmith instructed the woodwind players not to use air as they fingered the keys on their instruments too. He also created arrangements that made the orchestra mimic the sounds of apes. The result is unforgettable music that adds a new dimension to the film.

Other great Goldsmith film scores: Basic Instinct, Poltergeist, Under Fire

19. Psycho

Bernard Herrmann’s score for Alfred Hitchcock’s Psycho is considered a masterpiece. With its shrieking, shrill, staccato strings, which are used sparingly yet powerfully throughout the film (especially in the iconic shower scene), Herrmann was able to make movie audiences feel relentless tension and psychological terror. Interestingly, Hitchcock originally didn’t want any music in the shower scene, but he changed his mind after he heard the music cue Herrmann had composed for the scene. Using edgy, dissonant harmonies and recurring rhythms and motifs, Herrmann’s created a chilling, suspenseful score to match the film.

One of the reasons why Herrmann’s score is so effective is because he didn’t use a full orchestra. Instead, Herrmann only used the string section. That famous shrieking shrill motif sounds like someone stabbing another person every time I hear it used in the film. I think it may also be the most famous musical motif in cinema, along with the theme from Jaws.

Other great Herrmann film scores: Citizen Kane, Obsession, Taxi Driver

20. Rumble Fish

When director Francis Ford Coppola was searching for someone to write a percussion based score for his experimental take on S. E. Hinton’s teen novel, Rumble Fish, his sons recommended Stewart Copeland from the band, The Police. Copeland flew to Tulsa, Oklahoma, where Coppola was filming the movie (made back to back with his earlier Hinton adaptation of her novel, The Outsiders).

Coppola wanted to use percussion in the score for the film to show that time was running out for the characters in the story. Once he arrived in Tulsa, Copeland began recording music and drum solos at a local studio while the film was still in production. Later, Copeland added more elements to the score back in L.A.

Copeland combined percussion and syncopated drum solos full of reggae style rhythms with a slightly out of tune piano sound, oddly played strings, marimbas, a banjo, and even a kazoo for each of his music cues. Then he went a step further by adding looped sound effects which were integrated with the rhythm of the music.

These sound effects included things like car horns, pile drivers, clacking billiard balls, and barking dogs. If that’s not enough, to emphasize the idea that time is running out for the characters in the film, Copeland added the sound of different types of ticking clocks to the score too, synching them to the rhythm tracks he had previously recorded. The result is one of the most original scores ever heard in a film.

Other great Stewart Copeland film scores: Highlander II, Talk Radio, Wall Street

21. The Sheltering Sky

Ryuichi Sakamoto’s music for The Sheltering Sky is perhaps his most beautiful orchestral score. The main theme features a massive amount of strings that builds to a climax that is both haunting and emotionally powerful, especially in the context of the story. Sakamoto contrasts this theme, which is heard in different variations throughout the film, with softer piano based music cues that also contain elements of Arabic music traditions. Although most critics were disappointed by director Bernardo Bertolucci’s adaptation of Paul Bowles’ novel by the same name, they all loved Sakamoto’s score for the film.

Other great Sakamoto film scores: The Revenant, Snake Eyes, The Staggering Girl

22. Sorcerer

Sorcerer was the first film score composed and recorded by the pioneering German electronic collective known as Tangerine Dream. One of the first groups to use synthesizers and sequencers for a film score, Tangerine Dream spent two years writing and recording the music for William Friedkin’s remake of the classic French film, The Wages of Fear.

Interestingly, the band never saw any footage from Sorcerer during the entire time they were creating the score. Instead, they just used a synopsis of the story as a starting point and let their imagination go from there.

At that time, Tangerine Dream consisted of Edgar Froese (synthesizers, bass, electric guitar, mellotron, piano); Christopher Franke (synthesizers, mellotron, sequencers); and Peter Baumann (synthesizers, piano, Mellotron, Fender Rhodes, and sequencers). Baumann left the band one year after the score was completed.

Entirely performed on electronic instruments, Tangerine Dream’s score for Sorcerer is intense. Filled with pulsating, rhythmic patterns and eerie, layered, synthesized textures, the music cues fill the listener with an ever-present sense of dread and suspense. The score also perfectly complements the images on the screen, which once again is all the more remarkable since the band never saw any footage from Friedkin’s movie.

Other great Tangerine Dream film scores: The Keep, Miracle Mile, Thief,

23. Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan

For many people (myself included), Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan is their favorite film in the Star Trek franchise. The late James Horner’s score provides the film with able support, using sweeping, heroic themes for Captain Kirk and The Enterprise, and harsh, war like brass motifs that include powerful blasts of french horns and dissonant strings for Kahn’s theme. In contrast, Spock’s theme is more mystical and introspective, using a combination of tuned metal rods, pan pies and a recorder.

To be honest, this is old-fashioned movie music redesigned for the modern age, but I love listening to every minute of it. By combining orchestral and synthesized sounds together, Horner has created dynamic and exciting music that captures both the wonder of space exploration and the battle between good and evil.

Other great James Horner film scores: Aliens, Brainstorm, Glory

24. Star Wars/The Empire Strikes Back

There is no doubt that John Williams is our greatest living film composer. He’s created the scores for many of our favorite movies, such as Close Encounters of the Third Kind, E.T., Raiders of the Lost Ark, and Superman. But, for me, Williams’ best work, are the scores he composed for the first two Star Wars films.

I’ll never forget sitting in the theater to see the original Star Wars for the first time in May of 1977. After the 20th Century Fox fanfare and the title card, “A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far, away….” Williams’ glorious brass fanfare for the main title blasted through the theater’s dolby stereo sound system, giving me goosebumps and setting the mood for the adventure to come.

With his knack for creating strong melodies you remember (and can hum), Williams’ music for these films is superb. He’s created memorable themes for each character, along with themes for settings, and even ideas (such as “the force”). Each theme becomes instantly recognizable by the time the film ends. They range from the bombastic sounds of the opening titles to the softer, more nuanced music cues of the film’s more intimate moments like Luke staring out at the horizon. And, in a startling show of versatility, Williams also created the 1930s big band swing music for the alien Cantina band sequence too.

For The Empire Strikes Back, Williams went even further by creating one of the most iconic themes of any film, “The Imperial March” (now a staple at football games everywhere), that perfectly captures the essence of Darth Vader and the legions of storm troopers who support the evil emperor in the films.

To be clear, John Williams has the ability (unmatched by any other film composer) to create film music that not only resonates with listeners but also helps viewers form an emotional connection to the action on screen. These scores are iconic, and without Williams’ music, none of the Star Wars films would be the same.

Other great John Williams film scores: A.I., Empire of the Sun, Jurassic Park

25. Vertigo

Psycho may be film composer Bernard Herrmann’s most popular score, but I would argue that the film score he composed for Alfred Hitchcock’s Vertigo is his best work.

Herrmann composed five primary themes for Vertigo, which are used to heighten the suspense and also explore the film’s complex love story. In his orchestrations, Herrmann uses swirling harps and strings to emphasize the vertigo James Stewart’s character experiences at various times throughout the film. In addition, Herrmann also uses short, repetitive motifs and dissonant chords throughout this score to give the viewer a sense of foreboding and unease. Yet, there is often a dream-like quality to the music as well, especially in the film’s love theme.

From the powerful dramatic prologue to its shattering conclusion, Herrmann’s music for Vertigo is unforgettable. It’s also widely considered to be one of the best film scores of all time.

In Conclusion…

No matter what type of movie you enjoy watching, a great film score only heightens the experience. I hope you’ll listen to all the scores on this list, especially the ones you’re unfamiliar with. I’d also like to know which film scores you think are great too. Feel free to list them in the comments below.

In honor of St. Patrick’s Day, I thought it would be fun to share some of my favorite movies about Ireland. If you’re looking for a great film to watch this St. Patrick’s Day (or any other time of the year), here are my recommendations. I’ve listed my top five choices below in alphabetical order…

1. The Banshees of Inisherin

This is one of my favorite recent films. Set on a remote fictional Irish island in 1923, The Banshees of Inisherin is written and directed by Martin McDough, who also wrote and directed the acclaimed film, In Bruges. That film starred Colin Farrell and Brenden Gleeson, and here they’re reunited with McDough in this dark comedy-drama.

The story is about two friends: Pádraic and Colm. Colm (Brendan Gleeson) is a musician and serious person; in contrast, Pádraic (Colin Farrell) is a simple yet kind milkman whose entire life seems to revolve his donkey, Jenny. Every day at precisely 2 p.m. Pádraic goes to visit Colm and the two spend the rest of the afternoon (and evening) drinking at the local pub.

Then, one day Colm suddenly decides he no longer wants to be friends with Pádraic. Colm tells him that life is too short for the dull conversations Colm must endure from Pádraic every day.

Colm says from that point on he intends to use his time more wisely by composing music and “pondering deeper thoughts.”

Pádraic struggles to understand why Colm made this decision and keeps pestering Colm to remain friends. Colm refuses and eventually he’s forced to make an ultimatum: if Pádraic keeps pestering him, Colm will begin cutting off his fingers. Of course, Pádraic doesn’t believe Colm, especially since Colm is a musician who plays the fiddle. Consequently, because Pádraic won’t give up, Colm does follow through on his pledge and slices off a finger. And then another one. Soon, things escalate even further and spiral out of control.

What I like about the film is how it works as both a simple comedy but also as an examination of how we spend our time.

In addition, the story can be also be seen as a metaphor for the Irish Civil War which was happening during that time (in fact, in many scenes the sound of guns can be heard going off in the background).

Finally, the film has a great script and wonderful performances by both Farrell and Gleeson, along with Kerry Condon as Pádraic’s sister, Siobhán, and Barry Keoghan as a troubled kid named Dominic.

2. Brooklyn

I don’t know what it is about this movie, but every time I watch Brooklyn I find myself getting teary eyed. In fact, often I’ll even start bawling my eyes out during some of the film’s more emotional scenes (which is rather embarrassing for a 66 year old guy to admit).

Based on the 2009 novel by the Irish writer, Colm Toíbín, Brooklyn is about a young woman named Eilis Lacy. At the beginning of the story, Eilis (Saoirse Ronan) lives in a small Irish town with her mother (Jane Brennan), a widow, and her older sister, Rose (Fiona Glascott), sometime around 1950.

Although Eilis is smart and ambitious, there is little opportunity for her in both her small town and throughout Ireland. Therefore, Rose has decided that Eilis should emigrate to the United States so she can have the opportunity to live a better life. Reluctantly, her Mother has agreed with this plan.

When Father Flood (Jim Broadbent), an Irish priest from the United States, comes to visit the town, the family invites him over for dinner. Before long, everything is arranged: Eilis will leave Ireland and settle in an Irish community in Brooklyn, New York.

If all of this seems too easy, it’s not; the film does an excellent job of showing the loneliness, homesickness, and feelings of inner-conflict that occur once Eilis is suddenly plopped down in New York, which is much more modern and progressive than her hometown back in Ireland.

In her new life, Eilis lives in a boarding house with other young, single women and works as a sales clerk in a ritzy department store. Eventually, she begins to assimilate to her new surroundings and American culture.

She also meets a young Italian boy named Tony (Emory Cohen), and the two fall in love.

However, when a family tragedy forces Eilis to briefly return back home to Ireland, she soon finds herself going backwards, becoming less independent in the more traditional country, and pressured by her Mother not to return back to America.

Complicating things even further is the attention Eilis begins to receive from Jim Farrell (Domhnall Gleeson), the son of the richest family in town, who makes it clear he would like to get married and settle down.

But Eilis has a secret she hasn’t shared with her mother or friends back home. Once she gets the courage to reveal her true feelings, nothing can stop Eilis from making the most difficult (but necessary) decision of her life.

What I really like about this film is how it works on a variety of levels. It’s also romantic and beautifully crafted. The scenes set in Ireland take you back to a time when life was simpler and in both good and bad ways, more traditional. In contrast, once Eilis moves to Brooklyn, the attention to period detail, especially in the modern style clothes of the time, is outstanding; you feel transported back to the glory days of 1950s New York.

In addition, as a viewer, you sense the optimism all of the characters (and the country) had at that time.

One great example of this is the scene where Tony takes Eilis to Long Island to show her a large piece of empty land he intends to buy. His plan is to build homes for his future wife and family. This powerful, moving scene makes me long for the belief in the future people had back then.

With an excellent script adaptation of by Nick Hornby and Colm Toíbín, and the assured direction by John Crowley, Brooklyn is even better than you’d expect it to be thanks to Saoirse Ronan’s incredible performance as Eilis.

Thanks to Ronan’s performance, you feel Eilis’ vulnerability in every scene. Later on in the film, Ronan perfectly captures Eilis’ inner strength as she finally becomes her own person. The rest of the cast including Fiona Glascott as Eilis’ sister Rose and Jim Broadbent as Father Flood, and Domhnall Gleeson as Jim Farrell are also excellent.

3. The Commitments

Another movie about Ireland I always enjoy rewatching is The Commitments. Set in Dublin during the late 1980s when unemployment was rampant, Alan Parker’s film tells the unlikely story of a group of working class Irish youth who come together to form a rock band that plays soul music.

If the thought of Irish lads (and lasses) singing vintage soul music has you scratching your head, you’re not alone. Even the group of impoverished young musicians Jimmy Rabbitte (Robert Arkins) corrals into this scheme are dubious about the idea at first too. But, Jimmy says he came up with the idea because to him, “The Irish are the blacks of Europe. Dubliners are the blacks of Ireland. North Dubliners are the blacks of Dublin.”

Based on the novel by Irish writer Roddy Doyle, The Commitments tells the story of how a group of poor youth in Ireland learned to play soul music and created something wonderful, even if it only lasted for a short time.

In the beginning of the film, Parker sets the scene by showing how music - specifically American pop music - is the tonic for everyone in Dublin as they struggle through hard times.

You see, everyone in the film is relatively poor, but they’re also obsessed with music in one way or another. For example, Rabbit’s father (Colm Meaney) has a framed photo of Elvis hanging on the living room wall - right over the framed photo of The Pope. The local priest kindly corrects the young organist who is mistakingly says “When A Man Loves a Woman” was recorded by Marvin Gaye.“No,” the priest says, “that record was by Percy Sledge.”

So after Jimmy announces his plan and gets the word out that he’s looking for the finest musicians in Dublin to form “the world’s hardest working band,” everyone and their grandmother shows up to audition.

Eventually, Jimmy chooses 10 musicians to form The Commitments.

The most experienced (and oldest) player is known as Jimmy The Lips. (Johnny Murphy) He’s a horn player originally from Dublin who was touring with bands in the United States until he returned to Dublin to visit his mother. He’s joined by much younger musicians on sax, bass, guitar, and keyboards (the previously mentioned church organist).

The lead singer is a 16 year old teenager named Deco Cliff, (Andrew Strong) who was discovered singing at a wedding. He seems modeled after a young Van Morrison, both in appearance and in his difficult behavior.

Jimmy has also recruited a trio of young women as back up singers. Unfortunately, they become part of the reason the band eventually breaks up.

The film follows the band’s rise (and eventual fall) from it’s first awkward rehearsals to its triumphant debut gigs. The result is a frequently funny character driven comedy-drama.

It’s also about the joy of making music in a band (at least until things go wrong).

Juxtaposed between many brilliant musical performances (filmed live on location since almost everyone in the talented young cast are musicians turned first-time actors) are scenes that show the hopes and dreams of each character.

We see the band come together as a unit and eventually make their stage debut, the women dressed in evening dresses and men in black suits. Why black suits? According to Jimmy The lips it’s because “you play better in your suit. All the Motown brothers wore suits.”

But, after stunning audiences with their musicianship and ability to pull off authentic versions of soul classics like “Mustang Sally” and “In The Midnight Hour,” in-fighting and jealousies result in the band’s implosion.

Sadly, the band breaks up before they really have the chance to succeed. Even so, by the end of the film, each of the characters has benefitted from the experience.

In my opinion, The Commitments is one of director Alan Parker’s best films and still holds up today, 34 years after it’s theatrical release. Filled with humor and unforgettable music performances by the talented cast, The Commitments is a movie I enjoy watching again quite often.

4. Kneecap

If the young working class men and women in The Commitments were teenagers today in 2025, they wouldn’t be playing classic soul music, they would be playing rap and hip-hop like the band, Kneecap.

You see, Kneecap is a rising rap-hip-hop trio from Ireland who write and perform songs in their native Irish language.

This film is their origin story and follows in the tradition of musicians self-mythologizing their beginnings that we’ve seen in movies like 8 Mile and Purple Rain.

However, Kneecap offers something that isn’t in these other films: a political issue that has affected both the musicians’ personal lives and their music.

The fact that this political controversy between the authorities and the residents of Northern Ireland revolves the right to speak the Irish language makes this film even more intriguing.

During the conflict between The British and the Irish known as The Troubles, the traditional Irish language almost became extinct and speaking it became a political act.

I first heard about this film after it made its American debut at last year’s Sundance film festival and received rave reviews. I’m not a fan of hip-hop or rap (although I don’t mind hearing it), and yet I was intrigued. When I was finally able to see the film, it became one of my favorites of last year.

In 2019, as Kneecap begins (the title of the movie and the band refers to the British policemen’s fondness for striking their opponent’s kneecaps with their batons), Ireland has been at peace with the British for two decades. However, the country is still sharply divided and speaking the Irish language instead of the Queen’s English is considered a rebellious act.

Near the beginning of Kneecap, Liam (Mo Chara) gets arrested by the English authorities in a drug bust. Placed in a holding cell, Liam claims he can only speak traditional Irish, which none of the police detectives know. The British authorities, led by Detective Ellis (Josie Walker), search to find someone who can speak Irish.

Eventually, high school music teacher JJ Ó Dochartaigh (playing himself) is brought in. JJ knows the language because some of the traditional songs his students sing are written in their native tongue.

When JJ converses with Liam in Irish and reads the writings in the notebook Liam had on him at the time of his arrest, JJ has an idea.

After securing Liam’s eventual release and learning more about Liam and his best friend, Naoise (Móglaí Bap), JJ invites the boys over to his makeshift music studio in an old garage. Soon, the two boys are rapping their words to the beats JJ creates on his old 80’s drum machine and a rap hip-hop band is born.

Donning a balaclavas with the colors of the Irish flag on it in order to hide his identity (from both his wife and his superiors at the school where he teaches), JJ begins going by the name DJ Próvai. Liam and Naoise also adopt stage names as well. Naoise becomes Móglaí Bap and Liam is now Mo Chara.

After playing their first gig at a traditional Irish pub to a group of puzzled old men, the newly formed band isn’t sure what to do next, but the sole young girl present in the back of the bar has filmed their performance on her cell phone and shares it on social media. The result is a packed house full of Irish youth at the band’s next gig.

However, trouble continues for all of the members of the band: JJ/DJ Próvai loses his teaching job and Detective Ellis is closing in on arresting both Liam/Mo Chara (who, it turns out has been shagging her daughter) and Naoise/Móglaí Bap. And there’s a para-military group that wants to get them too. But eventually, Kneecap triumphs and by the end of the film the band is on their way to fame and success.

And, best of all, a title card at the end of the movie states that in 2022 Irish was finally recognized as an official language in Northern Ireland.

So what makes Kneecap worth watching, especially for those of us who aren’t fans of rap or hip-hop music?

First, this is an extremely well made film that’s highly entertaining and emotionally satisfying on many levels. And, you don’t even need to like Kneecap’s rap/hip hop music to enjoy this movie. (As I said above, I’m not much of a fan of hip-hop or rap, but I love this film). The story is so engaging that the music becomes secondary to the action on the screen.

Stylistically, Kneecap takes inspiration from Trainspotting, Danny Boyle’s classic film of Scottish drug addicted youth. With inventive camera angles and animation that highlights the lyrics and adds flourishes to scenes, Kneecap is a riveting visual experience. It also features great performances by the band and supporting cast.

If you’re looking for a new, hip Irish film to share with your friends this St. Patrick’s Day, Kneecap is the perfect choice.

5. The Quiet Man

What St. Patrick’s day movie-fest would be complete without a viewing of John Ford’s classic film, The Quiet Man?

Much like the way we watch It’s a Wonderful Life during the Christmas holiday season, for me (and I’m sure many others), it’s a tradition to watch this great John Ford film on or around March 17th every year.

In The Quiet Man, Sean Thornton (John Wayne), an Irish-American ex-boxer, returns to his ancestral homeland of Innisfree, Ireland, to reclaim his family's farm. Having left behind a violent past in America, Sean hopes to find peace in the Irish countryside. Once he arrives, Sean purchases the Thornton family cottage from the Widow Tillane (Mildred Natwick), despite resistance from the boorish and hot-tempered Squire Will Danaher (Victor McLaglen), who had also hoped to buy the cottage and land.

Soon, Sean becomes enamored with Will’s strong-willed sister, Mary Kate Danaher (Maureen O’Hara).

However, Irish customs dictate that Sean must obtain her brother's permission to court her. The townspeople, led by the mischievous matchmaker Michaleen Oge Flynn (Barry Fitzgerald), all take part in a scheme to make Will believe that if he allows Mary Kate to marry Sean, Widow Tillane will agree to marry him in return.

When Will realizes he has been tricked, he refuses to give Mary Kate her dowry. And, even worse, Sean refuses to fight Will for the dowry, having sworn never to raise his fists again after a tragic incident in his boxing past.

This refusal causes a rift in his marriage, as Mary Kate sees it as an affront to her honor. Frustrated and heartbroken, she leaves Sean, prompting him to take action.

In one of the film’s most famous scenes, Sean forcefully retrieves Mary Kate from the train station and drags her across the countryside, publicly demanding the dowry from Will. The spectacle ultimately forces Will to surrender the money, which Sean then throws into a furnace, proving that it was never about the money but about respect and tradition.

With their honor restored, Sean and Mary Kate's marriage finds solid ground.

However, the film concludes with an epic fistfight between Sean and Will, an exuberant, lengthy brawl that winds through the village and eventually ends in mutual admiration and brotherhood. Afterwards, Sean and Mary Kate returning home together as the villagers celebrate.

One of the best, if not the best, pairings of Wayne and O’Hara, (They made five movies together), The Quiet Man does a great job of mixing romance, comedy, and drama together that results in a delightful, and often, very funny, film.

It’s also John Ford’s love letter to his Irish roots, which makes this the perfect movie for St. Patrick’s Day.

Dr. Sam Umland is the former Chair of the English Department at the University of Nebraska at Kearney, where he taught film and literature for thirty-four years. He is the author of Philip K. Dick: Contemporary Critical Interpretations (Greenwood, 1995), and with his wife, Dr. Rebecca Umland, he co-authored The Use of Arthurian Legend in Hollywood Film (Greenwood, 1996), and Donald Cammell: A Life on the Wild Side (Fab Press, 2006). In addition, Dr. Umland has authored The Tim Burton Encyclopedia (Rowman and Littlefield, 2015), as well as dozens of book chapters, articles, and reviews. His monograph on The Man Who Fell to Earth was published by Arrow Books in 2018.

Dr. Umland was kind enough to let me interview him about Donald Cammell, Performance, and the films Cammell made after Performance was released. This is the second half of a two-part interview. If you missed part one of my interview with Dr. Sam Umland, you can read it by clicking here.

JF: Unless they have read your and Rebecca’s biography of Donald Cammell, I doubt people know anything about Donald Cammell’s fascinating life. According to your book, Donald’s father, Charles, was born into great wealth and became a man of letters. How did this affect Donald’s childhood and upbringing?

SU: Donald Cammell’s father, Charles Richard Cammell, inherited an enormous fortune due to his grandfather co-founding a steel foundry in Sheffield in 1837, which, within three decades, had become a world leader in the field. In the early twentieth century the firm became Cammell Laird & Co., famous as shipbuilders.

Unfortunately, Donald’s father lost his inheritance.

Briefly, he squandered a fortune in a quixotic attempt to restore a seventeenth-century château near Amiens in France which, as historic circumstances would have it, was commandeered by the French military during World War I. His fortune was largely gone by 1930, several years before Donald was born, and his first marriage had ended in divorce.

Returning to Scotland, he re-married, to Iona Katherine Lamont McDonald, in Edinburgh in 1932. Donald Cammell was born in Edinburgh in January 1934. Charles Richard Cammell was a poet and, as they used to say, a man of letters, quite well-educated.

Most certainly his son inherited his love of art and learning. Incidentally, David Cammell told us the last time he drove past the château his father had spent such vast sums to restore decades earlier, it had become “a school for naughty boys.”

JF: When did Donald Cammell first get interested in art? How did he develop into a well-regarded painter?

SU: Donald demonstrated precocious artistic talent at an early age. His parents encouraged his artistic talents, especially his father, who was enormously proud of his son’s talent. John Duncan, a noted Scottish painter, was a good friend of the family, and he, too, encouraged Donald’s talent. Donald Cammell would later study at the prestigious Royal Academy of Art in London beginning at age 20 in 1954. He later opened an art studio in Chelsea, where he became a portrait painter.

JF: At what point did Donald Cammell decide to give up painting? Why did he make that choice?

SU: I would not say that he gave it up, but he abandoned the idea of a career as a painter. Essentially, he ended his career in 1961, after a failed exhibition at the Bertha Schaefer Gallery in New York, where he had moved late in 1959.

In spite of his hopes, the exhibition had failed to establish him in the New York art world and was one of the reasons he began to be disenchanted with painting as a career.

Consequently, during the summer of 1961, Cammell and his then girlfriend Deborah Dixon, a fashion model, moved to London for a brief time before moving permanently to Paris, where they settled in an apartment on the Rue Delambre in the Montparnasse district.

Occasionally, he would paint portraits when money was scarce, but he never resumed painting as a career. I should also mention the fact that Donald felt the cinema had devalued, if not rendered superfluous, painting, feeling the career he had trained years for was, in effect, no longer relevant.

JF: What were the circumstances that allowed Donald Cammell to write his early two scripts, Avec Avec, which was later released under the title Duffy (1968), and The Touchables (1968), released the same year? Was Donald Cammell mostly interested in screenwriting at this point, or did he already want to direct films?

SU: By 1961, the year Cammell moved to Paris, the French nouvelle vague had transformed world cinema. For someone like Donald Cammell, who had always loved the movies, Paris was the place to be.

While I can’t pinpoint the precise year, he most certainly began writing screenplays soon after his move to Paris in 1961. Cammell had met Roman Polanski in Paris late in 1962 or early 1963 and approached Polanski to direct a picture from a script he, Donald, had written, titled Just a Jackknife Has Macheath, Dear, an offer which Polanski declined. The title of the script, of course, is taken from “Mack the Knife,” a song about a nasty knife-wielding chap in the Brecht/Weill musical, The Threepenny Opera.

Whether Cammell had written Avec Avec by this time is uncertain, but they roughly date from the same period. Avec Avec, which became the heist caper Duffy, was written with “Coco” Brown, the son of Hollywood producer Harry Joe Brown. Donald’s involvement in The Touchables came about because Donald’s brother, David Cammell, knew Robert Freeman, who from early on was The Beatles’ still photographer. Freeman had served as the title designer on both A Hard Day’s Night (1964) and Help!, and was very keen to get into film.

By the time these two movies appeared in theaters, though, they had undergone many changes, scarcely recognizable from the scripts Cammell had written.

By then, Cammell had already begun writing Performance and that film was in the pre-production stage. Incidentally, it was during the making of Duffy that Cammell met and became friends with James Fox, who would later star in Performance.

JF: In your book, you discuss the fact that Donald Cammell was frequently depressed and often had suicidal thoughts. What do you think were the causes for this? How did these emotional issues affect his work on Performance?

SU: We discuss our theory for the reasons behind Cammell’s suicidal ideation—thinking about suicide—at length in our book. The short answer is that we believe he suffered from Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD) and many of those who knew him have found our theory convincing. We devote an entire Appendix in our book to this issue, so it is rather difficult to summarize our theory in a few sentences.

Suffice it to say that these depressions were to determine, to a great extent, and sometimes undermine, his artistic career. They may have been responsible for his decision to abandon his career as a painter, viewing his career in art as “worthless,” as I mentioned a moment ago.

JF: After Performance was released, Donald Cammell developed many projects which were never made or completed, including The Argument. Why do you think this happened? Why did Cammell’s frequent collaborator and editor, Frank Mazzola lose his house because of The Argument?

SU: According to Frank Mazzola, The Argument went into production in part to test an optical effects process. The existing 14-page script of the film is laden with no less than 22 optical effects, referred to as “video effects.” Mazzola, who had worked with cinematographer Vilmos Zsigmond on The Hired Hand (1971), hired Vilmos and the other members of the crew. He was paying for most of the production costs along with his brother Anthony.

There was another partner involved, as I recall Michael Butler, who never provided the expected financial support. By the time the production wrapped, and he paid the crew and the considerable lab fees, he was out of money.

Frank was forced to sell his home and property in Laurel Canyon in order to cover his debts. He had horses, stables, and several acres of land. He sold it all.

Even though The Argument was abandoned in July 1972, remarkably, Mazzola found the boxes of negatives for The Argument in his mother’s garage in 1996, 25 years later.

It is rather ironic that while The Argument was made in order to test some video optical effects, it was the film Donald Cammell made four years later, Demon Seed, that actually employed some video optical effects, making it one of the first Hollywood films to use them.

JF: Why do you think MGM offered Donald Cammell the chance to direct Demon Seed?

SU: Cammell was a bit surprised that MGM offered him Demon Seed. It may have come about because the writer on the project, Robert Jaffe, knew his work. In addition, two other directors had already turned it down. He had also changed representation as well, leaving CMA and moving to the William Morris Agency. That may have had something to do with the opportunity to direct the film.

JF: Originally, Marlon Brando was set to co-star with Julie Christie in Demon Seed. Why didn’t that happen?

SU: Marlon Brando, of course. I think it is important to understand that Brando strongly disapproved of Cammell’s relationship with Patty Kong, who Donald christened “China.” There is no reason why Brando could not have appeared in Demon Seed, and his schedule certainly would have allowed him to appear in the film. There were other opportunities for Cammell and Brando to work together, but they never happened, either.

JF: In your opinion, why was Demon Seed such a troubled production?

Demon Seed was a Hollywood production involving a major studio, MGM, an environment in which Cammell had never worked. Remember that Performance hadn’t been filmed at a huge soundstage such as Pinewood Studios.

The producer of Demon Seed, Herb Jaffe, was a conservative guy, and he strongly disapproved of Cammell’s relationship with Patty Kong, who was still a teenager when she and Donald began their relationship. I can’t tell you her exact age when they began their relationship, but she was still in high school.

Donald would bring her to the set with him, and in the words of one anonymous crew member, “she craved attention like a spoiled nasty child.” Apparently, she was disruptive on the set, and many crew members perceived the relationship as odd and even unsettling given that Cammell was in his 40s, and she was a high school teenager. She was very thin and petite, which only seemed to emphasize their age difference.

JF: After it was released, how did Demon Seed do at the box office? Do you think the film helped or hurt Donald Cammell’s film directing career?

SU: Demon Seed did not do extremely well at the box office, domestically between $2 and $3 million as I recall. I believe it may have done slightly better in Europe. The movie received its share of negative reviews but also earned some complimentary reviews as well. The movie didn’t hurt his career to my knowledge, but of course everyone wanted the film to do better financially, especially given its impressive cast, Fritz Weaver and Julie Christie.

Unfortunately, Demon Seed had the misfortune of opening in April 1977, six weeks before the tsunami called Star Wars. However, while not a huge success at the time of its release, Demon Seed has been consistently available on home video for decades and is currently available on Blu-ray. No surprise, as it is a great science fiction film.

JF: Why did Donald Cammell have so many problems getting projects financed after Demon’s Seed?

SU: A combination of factors. His temperament, an unwillingness to compromise, bad luck, and the kinds of films he wanted to make and those with whom he wanted to make the films. Several projects very nearly came to fruition during this time, however. It’s not that he wasn’t trying very hard to get films made and often came very close.

JF: In the mid-1980s, Donald Cammell directed two music videos. One was U2’s breakout hit, “Pride (In the Name of Love),” and the other The Hooters’ “All You Zombies.” How did those directing jobs come about? Do you think Donald Cammell was pleased with the results? If so, why didn’t he direct more music videos after that?

SU: In the early 80s, Chris Blackwell, the founder of Island Records, had begun producing and directing motion pictures. As fate would have it, Cammell was developing a movie for Blackwell’s Island Pictures, to be set in Jamaica and titled The Last Video. U2 recorded for Island Records and had completed the recording for The Unforgettable Fire which, as you say, became the band’s breakthrough album.

Cammell had directorial experience and was under the employ of Chris Blackwell, so he was a logical choice to direct the U2 video. The chance to direct The Hooters’ “All You Zombies” came about on the strength of the U2 video. Jack Rovner, The Hooters’ long-term representative at Columbia Records, knew Performance, and was also aware of Cammell’s connection to the Rolling Stones.

“All You Zombies” was filmed in London, so he had his brother David’s assistance on the production as well. Don’t forget that David Cammell was a very enterprising producer.

I think Cammell was pleased with the videos, especially so with “All You Zombies,” which garnered considerable airplay and became a fan favorite on MTV. Of course, he wanted to direct movies, not music videos.

JF: How did Donald Cammell get involved with White of the Eye? Were there any problems making the film?

SU: By chance, Donald Cammell had met Cassian Elwes in London soon after the completion of the U2 video, and Elwes was very interested in making a film with him.

Serendipitously, Cammell had known Cassian Elwes' father who was also an artist, Dominick Elwes, who also would become a noted portrait painter before his suicide in 1975. Cassian’s mother, Tessa Kennedy, had divorced Dominick Elwes in 1969, and in 1971 married Hollywood producer Elliot Kastner. Hence, Elliot Kastner became Cassian's stepfather.

Kastner had recently optioned what Cammell would later refer to as “strange little book,” titled Mrs. White, published in 1983. After many years of struggling to get pictures made, White of the Eye came together rather quickly, and began filming early in 1986. However, once the film was completed, Kastner sold it to Cannon, who sat on it for several months before releasing it in 1987.

JF: What is your opinion of White of the Eye? How did it do at the box-office? Do you think more people have discovered the film now that it has become available on DVD and Blu-ray?

SU: White of the Eye is an excellent, if at times violent, thriller, about a woman who discovers she is married to a psychopath.

The film did poorly at the box office primarily because Cannon gave it only a perfunctory release in 1987 before rushing it to home video.

For instance, it only played a few major cities in North America, and that was the extent of it. Happily, White of the Eye is now widely available on DVD and Blu-ray, which has led to its rediscovery. It is an excellent film and deserves to be seen by a wider audience.

JF: After White of the Eye, Donald Cammell eventually made his final film, Wild Side, which stars Christopher Walken, Joan Chen, and the late Anne Heche. It sounds like the filming went well but problems began during post-production. What happened?

SU: Given its rather meager budget, Wild Side was filmed very quickly and efficiently. Cammell had written a sort of bawdy dark comedy, but the producers had in mind something else, a sort of cheap exploitation picture.

Soon after Cammell presented his cut, the film was taken away from him by the producers and re-cut and released straight to video. Because the movie was re-cut against his wishes, he demanded his name removed from the credits. This is the reason why the director’s credit on Wild Side is credited to “Franklin Brauner.” I should mention that he was very truly embarrassed by what the producers had done to the film. Frank Mazzola, who was the film’s editor, called it a “massacre.”

JF: What is your opinion of Wild Side as a film? How does it compare to White of the Eye and Performance?

SU: If you are referring to the cut version widely available on DVD, I think it’s a rather unfocused movie, although Christopher Walken is really quite good in it.

Remember that the director’s cut of Wild Side—titled Donald Cammell’s Wild Side—was released by Tartan Video in the UK on a PAL Region 2 DVD in 2000—25 years ago. That’s the only version available of the film as Cammell intended, and it has now gone out of print.

The director’s cut is by far the better film, the “edgy” black comedy Cammell wanted it to be.

I like Wild Side because it represents Cammell’s only attempt to direct a comedy, although an unusual one. Unless an interested viewer can manage to track down the Tartan Video DVD which contains the director’s cut, then he must settle for the cut version, which is edited differently and is missing 18 minutes of material.

JF: What happened to Donald Cammell after the Wild Side debacle and after his wife, China, left him? Why do you think he eventually committed suicide?

SU: I would strongly recommend against simple cause-effect scenarios as explanations for why individuals commit suicide. Individuals with every bright promise in the world commit suicide, so a reductive, simple cause-effect scenario is woefully inadequate. Suicide does not represent the culmination of a difficult life.

Donald Cammell had engaged in suicidal ideation for much of his life, long before he’d ever met Patricia Kong. It is true that after China had left him near the end of August 1995, he called his brother David in London and asked him to fly to Los Angeles to stay with him. Fearing the worst, David immediately put his affairs on hold and flew to his brother. He stayed with Donald for the next six weeks.

We interviewed several individuals who had seen Donald with women after his separation from China, and his friend Vartkes Cholakian ran into Donald at the Museum of Contemporary Art in downtown Los Angeles just a few days before Donald committed suicide. According to Vartkes, Donald had a beautiful girl in each arm. He and Donald spoke for a few minutes, and, in Vartkes’s words, “he was the same old Donald.” Perhaps that is so.

But if you happen to believe in what might be called “rational suicide,” then in my view on the day he committed suicide Donald Cammell felt the amount of joy remaining in his life could not offset the almost certain scenario of sorrow and pain. Most certainly there is a certain degree of impulsiveness in the suicidal act, but you get my point. He had had many disappointments in his life but had never committed suicide as a consequence.

JF: Could you address the rumor that Donald Cammell lived for 45 minutes after he shot himself in the head?

SU: The notion that Donald Cammell lived for 45 minutes after he shot himself in the head is a fallacious myth introduced in Kevin Macdonald and Chris Rodley’s 1998 documentary, Donald Cammell: The Ultimate Performance, which premiered two years after his death.

I should point out that the filmmakers did not make the claim that he lingered for 45 minutes, but certain individuals they interviewed for the documentary made it.

I think it needs to be clearly understood that on the day Donald Cammell chose to commit suicide, he wanted to die. There should be no misunderstanding about that, no idea that he “hesitated” or wanted to “hang around.” That’s why he used a gun, and why he chose the “execution-style” method of self-murder. When he shot himself in the head, he died instantly, which is what he wanted.

The coroner’s report indicates the bullet penetrated his brain but found no exit wound, the bullet having lodged in the back of his throat. The coroner probably could see the bullet simply by opening his mouth and looking in. The report says the entrance wound was a contact wound, meaning the gun barrel was pressed directly against the skin, in this instance, his forehead. He used a .38 Special +P semi-jacketed cartridge in the gun, which when fired has a muzzle velocity of one thousand feet per second. Unlike a full metal jacket, used primarily by the military, a semi-jacketed round is designed to flatten out, typically in a sort of mushroom shape. In other words, it is designed to maximize the damage done to the target. The gun blast peeled back the skin in a stellate shaped (star) pattern 4” in diameter, leaving powder burns on his skull. When the police arrived, they reported there was a visible amount of brain effusion oozing from the hole in his skull. Blood was leaking from the corner of his mouth.

The notion that he “lingered” after such a catastrophic injury is complete nonsense.

JF: Reflecting back now on Donald Cammell’s life and career, why do you think he self-sabotaged so many of his projects and opportunities? Could any of these instances of self-sabotage have been prevented?

SU: In my view none could have been prevented. You might say Donald Cammell was his own worst enemy. As I mentioned earlier, Rebecca and I discuss the complex reasons for his behavior in our book.

I should say that many of his close friends and associates said that in his final years he had changed so much they found it difficult to recognize the old Donald they loved, even if the old Donald reappeared briefly occasionally.

He had become a psychologically unsettled egocentric, arrogant and perpetually unsatisfied. His wonderful sense of humor had become sour and sarcastic, and to his close friends who knew him well he seemed to have developed the profile of the traitor who relishes the moment of betrayal. Toward the end of his life, he must have felt very lonely indeed.

JF: Finally, why is Donald Cammell important today? Why should audiences watch his movies?

SU: In an era in which movies are promoted and reviewed as if they are nothing more than another of Aesop’s fables, that is, didactic tales or lessons in the proper way to think, Donald Cammell’s films stubbornly resist this reductive approach.

I think of the poet John Keats, who once said, “we hate poetry that has a palpable design upon us.” I think Donald Cammell would have said the same thing, except about movies. Keats also famously used the phrase “negative capability” to assert the need for an artist to accept “uncertainties, mysteries, doubts, without any irritable reaching after fact and reason.”

Most certainly Performance is an illustration of what Keats meant, but so, too, are Donald Cammell’s other films. You go along for the excitement of the ride, not for the dry moral lesson at the movie’s end.

A good analogy is to the films of David Lynch. Having seen a film by David Lynch, do you immediately reduce it to a homily or moral lesson? The form is inseparable from the narrative. The same is true of the films made by Donald Cammell.

Like everyone, I was saddened by the recent passing of Gene Hackman. There’s no question that he was one of the best film actors of our time.

Although he’s best known for his leading roles in movies like The French Connection and The Conversation, I believe that many of Gene Hackman’s best performances were in the offbeat movies he made in the 1970s and early 1980s.

Listed below are five lesser-known films that I think gave Hackman the opportunity to really showcase his acting ability.

Cisco Pike (1971)

In Cisco Pike, Gene Hackman plays a corrupt narcotics officer, Leo Holland, who blackmails Kris Kristofferson’s washed-up musician, Cisco Pike, into selling drugs so Hackman can quickly make a lot of money. It’s not clear why Hackman’s character needs the money until the end of the film.

As the story begins, Cisco has given up dealing drugs because of the pleas of his live-in girl friend, Sue, (Karen Black) and the knowledge that another bust would land him in prison for at least five years. Instead, Cisco tries to rekindle his music career by sending out demo tapes to music producers and record labels.

Not long afterwards, the cop who busted Cisco, Sgt. Leo Holland (Gene Hackman), re-enters Cisco’s life. A by the book policeman suddenly gone corrupt, Holland coerces Cisco to take part in a scheme; if Cisco sells all of Holland’s illegally seized bricks of pot in one weekend and gets Holland $10,000.00 in cash, Cisco can keep any additional money he makes and Holland will get Cisco’s conviction thrown out.

Of course, Cisco wants no part of this scheme, but after Holland threatens him with another arrest (which would send Cisco to prison), Cisco has no choice but to do Holland’s bidding and sell the dope.

Later, after Cisco informs Hackman’s Sgt. Holland that he’s sold all the drugs, Holland suddenly shows up unannounced at Cisco’s house wanting his money. Sweating profusely and acting jittery, Holland tries to justify his turn to corruption by alluding to a terminal heart condition that will get him relieved of duty from the police force with no pension.

However, when Holland hears the sirens of an ambulance and spots a police helicopter in the sky, his paranoia gets the best of him. Holland accuses Cisco of setting him up for arrest and begins firing his gun at both the ambulance and the helicopter. Soon, Sgt. Holland is shot dead by his fellow policemen on the force.

In the film, Gene Hackman brilliantly plays Holland as a sweaty, nervous man about to fall apart. By balancing menace and desperation, Hackman avoids making Holland into a caricature of a bad cop. Instead, Hackman’s portrayal of Holland reveals a man worn down by the long hours and stress of his police job that has resulted in an incurable health issue. Although Hackman’s police sergeant has morphed into a corrupt “dirty cop,” viewers can’t help but feeling sorry for him by the end of the film. Hackman’s scenes have an unpredictable energy, and his quiet intensity makes him feel genuinely dangerous.

Prime Cut (1972)

Released one year after Cisco Pike and in the same year he played Reverend Scott in the hit movie, The Poseidon Adventure, Gene Hackman still found time to film his first role as an outright villain named Mary Ann in Michael Ritchie’s Prime Cut.

From his performance in the film, it’s clear Hackman relished the opportunity to play an evil guy who enjoys hurting others.

As the film begins, Mary Ann is a human trafficker who uses a meatpacking facility as a cover for his pimping activities, aided by a group of goons including his top lieutenant, Weenie. After he owes 500k to the Chicago mob, Hackman’s Mary Ann ignores threats from the midwest hoodlums and at one point even grinds up one of their enforcers and turns the remains into hot dog links that he sends back to the gangsters in Chicago.

Fed up, the Chicago mob boss sends Nick (Lee Marvin) to Kansas to retrieve the money. Once he arrives in Kansas, Nick discovers Mary Ann holding a large cattle-auction in a barn; only in this case, the cattle laying in the hay-filled pens aren’t animals but young women up for sale to the highest bidder.

In one of the film’s most memorable scenes, Nick first confronts Mary-Ann as he and his men are eating disgusting looking plates full of meat guts. The fact that Hackman’s Mary Ann is eagerly wolfing down the innards of god knows what tells you all you need to know about this villain.

Soon, we learn that Mary Ann is a pillar of the community and loved by all the locals, but it’s still clear that Mary Ann is a very dangerous man.

It’s obvious that Hackman is having fun with this role, oozing pure sleaze out of every pore of his body, yet he’s careful to never overplay it.

Instead, Gene Hackman makes Mary Ann feel like a guy who truly believes he’s untouchable, which makes the moments when he gets rattled even more satisfying. Hackman’s relaxed delivery, even when doing horrific things, makes his character even more chilling.

Scarecrow (1973)

For his role in Jerry Schatzberg’s cult film, Scarecrow, Gene Hackman plays Max, an ex-con drifter with a habit of getting into brawls because of his short temper.

At the beginning of the film, Max is hitch-hiking on a country highway in Northern California, suspiciously eyeing another hitch-hiker across the road who is a homeless ex-navy sailor named Francis, played by Al Pacino. Max has just recently been released from prison. He dreams of opening up his own car wash, which Max thinks will set him up for life, using the the prison wages he regularly deposited in a savings account in Pittsburgh.

Likewise, Francis (who Max calls Lionel because of his bad associations with the word “Francis,”) has recently ended his military service at sea. Lionel is headed to Detroit to see the girlfriend he abandoned when she got pregnant. Although he has been regularly sending her money, Lion has remained out of contact with her and doesn’t know if the child he had with her is a boy or a girl.

Eventually, the two team up and become friends and Max decides to make Lionel his business partner. The film follows their adventurous picaresque journey as they make their way across the country to Pittsburgh and Detroit.

Because Max is suspicious of people, quick to anger, and has a habit of getting into physical altercations, the two frequently end up in less than ideal situations, including a stint at a prison farm.

The two men don’t belong together, of course, but they form a bond based on mutual need (neither of them has anyone else) and their shared dream of striking it rich with a car wash helps keep them together through thick and thin.

In one of his most underrated (and best) performances, Gene Hackman plays Max as tough on the outside but deeply wounded on the inside, masking his vulnerability with anger.

In addition, Hackman’s multi-layered performance shows us many sides of Max, from his sense of humor to Max’s paranoia and quick temper. Most notably, Hackman’s performance as Max brings real depth to what could have been a one-note character.

Night Moves (1975)

Two years after Scarecrow was released, Gene Hackman starred in Night Moves (1975), a neo-noir thriller directed by Arthur Penn. In the film, Hackman plays Harry Moseby, a Los Angeles private investigator and former pro football player whose career never quite lived up to expectations. Moseby is the kind of guy who plays chess in his car as he bides his time on a stakeout.

Soon, Moseby is hired by fading Hollywood actress Arlene Iverson (Janet Ward) to find her missing teenage daughter, Delly Grastner (Melanie Griffith, in her film debut). Delly is a wild and rebellious girl with a history of getting involved with older men.

Moseby starts by tracking down Delly’s acquaintances, including her on-again, off-again boyfriend Quentin (James Woods), a film stuntman. Quentin hints that Delly has a complicated past involving men in the movie business. Moseby eventually follows a lead to Florida, where Delly has been staying with her stepfather, Tom Iverson (John Crawford), and his girlfriend Paula (Jennifer Warren). Tom runs a small boatyard and seems oddly indifferent to Delly’s whereabouts.

Meanwhile, Delly is found safe and seems to enjoy her life in Florida, hanging out with Tom and a shady pilot named Marv Ellman (Anthony Costello). Acting as a surrogate father figure, Moseby convinces Delly to return to Los Angeles, but something about the situation doesn’t sit right with him. Back in L.A., Delly takes a film job as a stuntwoman, but tragedy strikes when she is killed in an on-set accident involving a mishap with a stunt car. Eventually, Moseby begins to suspect that Delly’s death wasn’t an accident and that it ties back to what she saw or knew in Florida.

Returning to Florida, Moseby starts digging deeper into Tom Iverson’s operation and learns that Tom, Paula, and Marv Ellman were smuggling valuable artifacts from a sunken wreck offshore. Delly may have accidentally witnessed something she shouldn’t have, making her a liability. Moseby confronts Paula and begins unravelling the mystery of what’s really going on.

As Moseby begins to piece things together, Ellman attempts to flee in a seaplane but is shot by Tom Iverson, causing the plane to crash into the water. Moseby is also wounded by Iverson and is unable to steer the boat he’s been using to follow the other two men. Moseby lies bleeding as the boat goes round and around in circles. He watches helplessly as the wreckage of the smuggling operation sinks into the sea.

In one of the best performances of his career, Hackman turns Harry Moseby into a complicated everyman who ultimately is naive enough to believe he alone can solve the case and make a difference.

Eureka (1983)

After appearing as Lex Luther in Superman I and II in 1978 and 1980 and playing a small supporting role in Warren Beatty’s Reds in 1981, Gene Hackman made one of the most unusual movies of his career, Eureka.

In this film, Hackman plays the part of Jack McCann, an obsessed gold prospector during the 1920s who has gone to the Yukon to find his fortune.

At one point, Hackman’s McCann screams into the wind that he will “never make a nickel off another man’s sweat.” He wanders out into a blizzard searching in vain for gold, and almost freezes to death.

Then, through the supernatural intervention of a fortune teller, McCann strikes the mother lode and becomes the richest man in the world.

Twenty years later, in the 1940s, Jack McCann is still the richest man on earth and lives on his own private Caribbean island.

Despite his immense wealth, McCann is deeply disillusioned and paranoid, feeling that he has reached the peak of existence and that nothing in life excites him anymore: “Once I had it all,” he says ruefully at one point, “and now I have everything.”

McCann has also become a recluse. He distrusts everyone around him, and he’s prone to violent outbursts. His wife Helen (Jane Lapotaire) suffers from his emotional distance, and his daughter Tracy (Theresa Russell) struggles with his overbearing nature.

Tracy is romantically involved with a European playboy named Claude Maillot Van Horn (Rutger Hauer). Naturally, McCann mistrusts Claude’s intentions. McCann believes that Claude is using Tracy in order to eventually get access to McCann’s gold.

Soon, McCann realizes that Claude doesn’t just want to take Tracy and his gold from him, Claude also wants to take his soul as well.

Meanwhile, McCann’s wealth attracts the attention of two gangsters, Mayakofsky (Joe Pesci) and Aurelio D'Amato (Mickey Rourke), who work for a powerful Miami businessman. They’re trying to convince McCann to sell them the island so they can turn it into a casino resort. Of course, McCann refuses the offer.

Because of this, McCann is eventually murdered in one of the most disturbing scenes ever put on film.

In gruesome detail, Hackman’s McCann is bludgeoned to death in his bedroom; then his body set on fire with a blowtorch. If that’s not enough, the killers also tar and feather McCann’s body and behead him too.

Of course, Claude Maillot Van Horn is accused of the crime, and with Tracy’s help, he must defend himself in court during the last part of the movie.

The film is loosely based on the true story of Harry Oakes, who really did discover a motherlode of gold in the Yukon during the 1920s and briefly became the richest man on earth. And, just as it’s portrayed in the film, Oakes eventually was bludgeoned to death in his own bed, his body burned, tarred and feathered, and then beheaded.

Eureka gives Hackman the opportunity to express a wide range of emotions ranging from determination and ambition in the first part of the film to outbursts of anger, distrust, and regret later on when McCann lives on his own island.

It’s an amazing performance in a strange and unusual movie.

In Conclusion…

I think what makes the late Gene Hackman’s performances in these films so memorable is his ability to fully-inhabit the flawed characters he often portrayed by making them seem natural and authentic.

Hackman was able to achieve this by frequently delivering his lines in a calm but intense manner. He also was able to effectively use his uncanny ability to say more with a simple look, gesture, or subtle shift in body language than most other actors.

While the late Gene Hackman will always be known for his roles in films like The French Connection and The Conversation, I believe it’s his performances in these lesser-known films that allows fans to experience Hackman’s wide-ranging talent as an actor in new ways.

Dr. Sam Umland is the former Chair of the English Department at the University of Nebraska at Kearney, where he taught film and literature for thirty-four years. He is the author of Philip K. Dick: Contemporary Critical Interpretations (Greenwood, 1995), and with his wife, Dr. Rebecca Umland, he co-authored The Use of Arthurian Legend in Hollywood Film (Greenwood, 1996), and Donald Cammell: A Life on the Wild Side (Fab Press, 2006). In addition, Dr. Umland has authored The Tim Burton Encyclopedia (Rowman and Littlefield, 2015), as well as dozens of book chapters, articles, and reviews. His monograph on The Man Who Fell to Earth was published by Arrow Books in 2018.

Dr. Umland was kind enough to let me interview him about Donald Cammell, Performance, and the films Cammell made after Performance was released. This is the first half of a two-part interview.

JF: Now that Performance has been given a 4K Blu-ray release by Criterion, what do you hope viewers take away from seeing the film in 2025?

SU: Admirers of the film will welcome Criterion’s release 4K UHD release, which also has the original UK version soundtrack. If some viewers haven’t yet seen the film, this certainly will be the way to see it.

I should mention that previously, in 2017, Warner Brothers issued in the UK a Blu-ray/DVD release of Performance as an hmv.com exclusive as part of its “Premium Collection” series. The Blu-ray transfer on that package is beautiful, I mean fabulous, and it, too, has the original UK soundtrack. It also contains the “Influence and Controversy” documentary from 2007 included on the Criterion release, the original trailer, and the “Memo From Turner” promotional short as well, emphasizing (perhaps over emphasizing) Mick Jagger’s participation in the film.

Happily, the Criterion release includes Kevin Macdonald and Chris Rodley’s 1998 documentary, Donald Cammell: The Ultimate Performance. This documentary had previously been available only on Arrow Films’ Blu-ray release of Donald Cammell’s White of the Eye, a release on which I was heavily involved, and for which I provided the audio commentary. Those interested in Performance will find the documentary on Donald Cammell quite interesting, despite the fact that it perpetuates fallacious myths (for instance, the “he lingered for 45 minutes after shooting himself in the head” nonsense).

There is one thing to be aware of, though, the cut we now have of Performance, the version as it currently exists on the Warner Brothers Blu-rays and appearing on the Criterion 4K release, is not Donald Cammell’s final cut, the version he and Frank Mazzola re-edited for production head John Calley at Warner Brothers in 1970.

Frank told me many times that the existing cut has pieces missing, and David Cammell told me the same thing.

As Rebecca and I indicate in our book, 2 minutes and 45 seconds are missing from the cut John Calley approved. Apparently, these additional cuts were demanded by then Warner Brothers president Ted Ashley.

Frank Mazzola told me before he passed away that this cut footage still exists in the Warner vaults, and he knew how and where to track it down.

I thought perhaps a Criterion release of Performance might enable a long overdue restoration of these cuts, but that didn’t happen; apparently it was not something Criterion was interested in pursuing. Alas, Frank Mazzola is no longer with us to help with any such restoration, so that opportunity now seems permanently lost.

JF: How did you first get interested in director Donald Cammell and Performance?

SU: I had the Performance soundtrack before I ever saw the movie. When I was in high school, Warner Brothers Records started issuing LPs at bargain prices that were promotional “samplers,” consisting of various tracks from current or forthcoming Warner Brothers rock/pop releases. The idea was that if a listener liked a particular song, he would be compelled to buy the album from which the song came. One of the many samplers I bought contained a track from Performance called the Harry Flowers theme. The track was an instrumental, not rock music at all, closer to “muzak,” but I thought it was an unusual track to include on the sampler. That’s how I first discovered Performance, through the music.

I didn’t actually see the film until I was a college student a few years later. It goes without saying that I’d never seen anything remotely like it before. A cliché, but true.

For me, Performance was like a revelation, a “Satori” or sudden awakening, a demonstration of what the cinema could do, what it could be, its potential. It stayed in my head long after I’d seen it.

My interest in Donald Cammell himself came later, after I saw Demon Seed in 1977. I think Demon Seed is a great film, too, with lots of wonderful moments and fleeting images, and I suspect more popular with audiences now than Performance.

I didn’t know anything about Donald Cammell, of course. At that point, he was a sort of elusive figure, which only contributed to his mysterious “aura.”

JF: One part of Performance that’s seldom discussed is the soundtrack, which is really great. How did that all come together? Didn’t Cammell originally want The Rolling Stones to write and perform all the music?

SU: Yes, it is a great soundtrack, the first genuine rock ‘n’ roll score, because it is not a compilation of songs or singles from the movie but is comprised of music written specifically for the film. Well, with the exception of The Last Poets, which Cammell insisted on using.

In addition, there are some interesting, uncommon instruments used in the music, not what you would have heard on a soundtrack at the time. I’m not simply referring to the use of the Moog synthesizer, either.

To my knowledge, Donald Cammell never wanted the Rolling Stones to write and perform the music for Performance. Mick Jagger was friends with Jack Nitzsche and he recommended Nitzsche to Cammell. Nitzsche had worked with Jagger on some early Sixties Rolling Stones records, and had arranged “You Can’t Always Get Want You Want.”

Donald loved Nitzsche’s method of working which favored innovation and experimentation.

The music for Performance was recorded in Los Angeles, where Nitzsche was assisted by Russ Titelman, who along with Ry Cooder and Randy Newman had previously worked on Nitzsche’s rejected score for Candy (1968). Additional musicians included Merry Clayton, Buffy Sainte-Marie, Gene Parsons, and Bernie Krause. Paul Beaver and Bernie Krause were the masters of the Moog synthesizer at the time.

Incidentally, Performance is the first movie to feature the Moog synthesizer as a prop.

JF: Why do you think so many people today, especially young people, are unfamiliar with Performance and haven’t seen the film?

SU: I was a film studies student in college in the early to mid-Seventies when that field of study was just beginning to take hold in U.S. colleges and universities. Films like Performance were shown as part of the required course viewing, mine anyway. Not so anymore, at least, I strongly suspect not.

I’m not certain, but young people in the UK may know something about Performance because it’s a British film featuring a largely British cast.

Of course, Mick Jagger is now an elderly grandfather—actually, a great grandfather—no longer a youthful image of rebellion or a demonic version of the outlaw hero. Mick Jagger never had much of an acting career and was never a genuine movie star, so I suspect his star billing in a movie from half a century ago doesn’t carry much clout with young people now, no more than, say, Elvis Presley.

JF: Performance was Donald Cammell’s first film as a director (or co-director in this case). How did he come up with the idea?

SU: It was Donald Cammell and producer Sandy Lieberson’s joint idea, really. The idea was to pair two famous rebel heroes, Marlon Brando and Mick Jagger. Of course, a film starring Brando was never going to happen, but that was how it started.

JF: How did Cammell’s friendship with Anita Pallenberg and The Rolling Stones affect the way he developed the film?

SU: Donald Cammell said that he was never really a part of the Sixties “Swinging London” scene, and that’s true, he wasn’t. After a short period of living in New York City in the early Sixties and a couple of failed gallery exhibitions of his paintings—he trained at the British Royal Academy of Art, he moved to Paris with his then girlfriend, Deborah Dixon, who was a fashion model.

It was in Paris that he met Anita Pallenberg, who at the time was also working as a model. While he spent much of his life in the United States, he liked to consider himself a citizen of France.

In any case, he didn’t meet the Rolling Stones until a show at the Paris Olympia in April 1965. He was intrigued by the Stones due to their “pop star” status, and he and Brian Jones “hit it off” as the saying goes. But certainly, no movie deal was ever discussed or even imagined at the time.

Only later, long after the Performance years, did Cammell acknowledge Anita Pallenberg’s contribution to Performance.

She told me during my interview with her that she, Donald, and Deborah worked on Performance while sitting on the Saint-Tropez beach, remembering one day when a sudden gust of wind blew the completed pages into the water, and they had to retrieve them and quickly dry them off with an iron.

Even if you suspect her memories have been distorted by time, Donald Cammell himself said she helped him immensely with conceptualizing Performance.

I accept this as true, because on several occasions Cammell admitted he was only distantly connected to the Sixties British rock music scene.

For instance, it was his brother David Cammell, an enterprising producer, who arranged for Performance to use the Beatles’ Moog synthesizer, and it was David who arranged for the use of John Lennon’s white Rolls Royce at the film’s conclusion. Well, to be strictly accurate, while John Lennon and Yoko Ono were often seen in that white Roller, it actually belonged to Apple Corps.

Anyway, the Chelsea of 1950s London, where Donald Cammell the painter had his studio, was much different by the late Sixties when he returned to London to make Performance.

JF: How would you summarize the film for those who haven’t seen it?

SU: A London gangster seeking to escape his certain execution takes refuge in a house where a reclusive pop idol, his star having begun to fall, is living in a ménage à trois with two women. That is the broad plot outline, and it admittedly tells us nothing about the movie.

JF: What do you think makes Performance so unique?

SU: Performance is a paradox, at once very realistic and very stylized. A gangster on the lam was hardly a new plot idea when Performance was made, but as we watch it, it is as if we are seeing the story for the first time. Chas is hardly a stereotypical jack the lad (as Harry Flowers would say), but moody and irascible. Like Chas, the movie shifts moods unpredictably, keeping the viewer off-kilter.

JF: Why did Donald Cammell co-direct the film with Nicolas Roeg?

SU: Donald had known Nic Roeg for many years. In the 1950s, when Donald still had his studio in Chelsea, he had painted the portrait of Nic Roeg’s first wife, actress Susan Stephen. Donald’s brother David had known Nic Roeg since the Fifties, too. When the opportunity to make Performance presented itself, Donald had to solve two problems, how to sell himself as a first-time director, and find a cinematographer. He and David already knew Nic Roeg, who by that time had shot some major films and was interested in becoming a director, so Donald proposed they direct the film together.

JF: Donald Cammell began his career as painter. How do you think his background influenced Performance?

SU: Like the late great David Lynch, who was also a painter before he became a filmmaker, Donald Cammell had keen instincts as an artist, a great visual eye, and he had shown prodigious artistic skills as a child. Performance merges the worlds of art and crime, two sides of the same coin, creation and destruction.

JF: What were some of Donald Cammell’s other influences on Performance?

SU: Several films, some more important than others. I think Ingmar Bergman’s Persona (1966), an exploration by Bergman on the theme of the vampiric artist, was certainly an influence. I think it more influential than, say, Joseph Losey’s The Servant (1963), frequently cited by some critics as an influence due to its use of the Kammerspiel or “chamber play,” a drama set in one location with only a few characters. But so is Bergman’s Persona.

Bergman’s film is more experimental in style, and explores issues essential to Performance, such as identity and insanity, for instance. (“The only performance that makes it, that really makes it, that makes it all the way, is the one that achieves madness.”)

But I believe it was John Boorman’s Point Blank, which opened in theaters in London’s West End during the last week of December 1967, that was the major and immediate influence on Performance.

Donald Cammell was so impressed by Point Blank that he took several members of the cast and crew to see it, and he saw the film repeatedly. Point Blank’s influence can readily be seen in Performance, for instance, in the way Harry Flowers and his fellow gangsters are depicted as businessmen rather than stereotypical thugs.

There is a strong homoerotic tension between the two male leads in Point Blank, just as there is in Performance. There are many other connections between the two films. Interested readers will have to read our book. I should point out that we’re not the only critics who recognized the connection between Point Blank and Performance. In his book, Dreams and Dead Ends (1977) film scholar Jack Shadoian astutely pointed out the indebtedness films such as Mike Hodge’s Get Carter (1971) and Performance owed to Point Blank—even without knowing first-hand the extent to which Cammell admired Boorman’s film—and his chapter on Point Blank is one of the finest pieces ever written of the subject.

I should also mention that Performance contains a brief clip from Carol Reed’s classic Odd Man Out (1947), a film that Donald Cammell once referred to during an interview as the “secret movie” within Performance, a flash cut inserted during the sequence when Chas murders Joey. Rebecca and I discuss the connection between Odd Man Out and Performance at length in our book. Suffice it to say that Odd Man Out contains a link between death and transcendence that appealed to Donald Cammell emotionally and intellectually.

Performance is a film that moves from a mundane or desacralized existence to a “higher,” transcendent state. It begins realistically and moves toward allegory.

I should also mention that in Jean Cocteau’s Orphée (1950), the poet-martyr Orpheus is whisked off to Death’s kingdom in a Rolls-Royce.

JF: How would you describe James Fox’s character Chas in the film? How does the title Performance relate to his character?

SU: Chas is a “performer,” a gangster who carries out or performs, “executes” if you will, the orders from his boss. He is also a performer in another way, a person who dons disguises and takes on a fictional self as is necessary to suit the demands of any particular occasion. It so happens that once he meets Turner, he takes on a disguise that he hopes will save his life.

The twist is that Turner happens to be a figure of the vampiric artist, stealing from another’s personal struggle or agon to use the material to transform into his art. Remember what Pherber tells Chas: Turner is “stuck.” Turner, too, is a performer. He is a “pop star” after all.

JF: Harry Flowers is also an interesting character in the film. Is he based on the British gangsters of that time like The Krays?

SU: The Kray twins were arrested and jailed in May 1968 shortly before Performance began filming, so they were very much in the news at the time the film was in the pre-production phase. One of the actors, John Bindon, who plays Moody, apparently had some sort of underworld connections.

Johnny Shannon, who plays Harry Flowers, was not connected to the Krays, although his character may have been loosely inspired by Ronnie Kray. Shannon had had some success as a boxer, and helped James Fox prepare for his role by arranging sparring sessions at a London gymnasium. He also helped him with his accent.

Interestingly enough, Johnny Shannon went on to have an acting career after Performance.

Perhaps most important, the “dialogue coach and technical advisor” on Performance, “chat artist” David Litvinoff, definitely had underworld connections and was more than a mere acquaintance of the Kray twins. It was Litvinoff, for instance, who arranged for James Fox to meet with Ronnie Kray, who was then in prison.

JF: The “Memo From Turner” sequence has often been called the first music video. How did this sequence come about? Could you break down the influences and symbols used in it?

SU: I think Richard Lester might question the notion that “Memo From Turner” was the first music video. And rightly so, since his huge commercial hit starring the Beatles, A Hard Day’s Night (1964), was the film that had figured out a form for rock music.

Several sequences in A Hard Day’s Night could be considered music videos. Think, for instance, of the sequence early on in the film set in the train’s baggage car showing the group sitting around a table playing cards. “I Should Have Known Better” begins to play on the soundtrack. Then, there is a jump cut to the band sitting around the table, but they are now playing their instruments. There is then another jump cut showing the band sitting at the table once again playing cards. The use of sound in this sequence is vitally important, because Lester had demonstrated how easily you can move between the diegetic and nondiegetic use of sound (in this case, music that occurs within the scene as opposed to music which is overlaid on the scene).

The “Memo From Turner” sequence exploits this freedom of movement on the soundtrack. The song begins to play on the radio, while the characters repeat or quote lines from earlier in the film, creating a sort of disorienting “echo” effect. When “Memo From Turner” comes on the radio (nondiegetic sound), Turner/Jagger orders the radio to be turned up, a line spoken earlier in the film by Harry Flowers. When Turner/Jagger begins to sing, the sound becomes diegetic.

The use of sound here is playful but disorienting, made more so by Turner/Jagger’s multiple guises, appearing alternately as a Fifties rebel, then as a Sixties rebel.

“Memo From Turner” is blues rock, with Ry Cooder’s slide guitar invoking a favored Rolling Stones musician, Elmore James. The lyrics of “Memo From Turner” came from suggestions by Donald Cammell, who according to Mick Jagger wanted them “dirty.” They are as far from conventional pop song lyrics as you can imagine. I should add that the lyrics were written rather quickly because the “Memo From Turner” sequence was a late addition to Performance.

If the happy-go-lucky Beatles of A Hard Day’s Night were a representation of the counterculture’s best image of itself, Mick Jagger and the Rolling Stones were the counterculture’s dark double. Remember that Woodstock was followed almost immediately the same year by the debacle at Altamont.

JF: In your book, you talk about the meaning of the “final catastrophe” near the end of the film. Could you discuss the concepts of the mnemonic self and transmigration?

SU: As you say, we discuss the conclusion of Performance at length in our book. Transmigration is the passing of the soul at death into another mortal body. The mnemonic self is the one composed of our own highly personal, specific, and individual memories. (Mnemonic devices are the aids we use to assist our memories.) Memory, of course, contributes to our sense of self, the self-identity we have as we move through time.

The “final catastrophe” we are referring to is what we are to understand happens at the film’s violent conclusion. What happens? The bullet fires: we follow its path through Turner’s brain; the mirror shatters and we emerge on “the other side,” outside Turner’s house. Whose mnemonic self are we to imagine remains after Chas fires the bullet? Turner’s body—not Turner’s self—is revealed to be stuffed in a closet downstairs. But where is Turner? Near the end, he is shown in the white Rolls Royce sitting next to Harry Flowers. But what’s happened to Chas? That’s the final catastrophe we are talking about, with its deliberately elliptical editing.

JF: Performance is famous for its ending. How should viewers interpret it?

SU: Viewers should track down a copy of Jorge Luis Borges’ story, “The Enigma of Edward Fitzgerald,” in which Borges’s subject is the English poet Edward Fitzgerald, most famous for his 1859 translation of the Rubáiyát of Omar Khayyám. This story is included in the book from which Turner reads, Jorge Luis Borges’s A Personal Anthology (UK Edition 1968). It follows the story, “The South,” the story Turner is reading in the kitchen scene. I think reading this story will help the viewer understand the enigmatic note Rosebloom leaves for Lucy near the film’s conclusion, “Gone to Persia.” Briefly, Borges tells us that Edward Fitzgerald’s encounter with the poetry of Omar Khayyám was so powerful as to convince Fitzgerald that he was not merely a translator of the Persian poet’s works, but that he was Omar Khayyám in a previous life. Borges suggests that Omar Khayyám believed in the doctrine of transmigration, which we discussed just a moment ago.

JF: After the film originally finished postproduction, Warner Brothers was unhappy with it. Why?

SU: The short answer is sex, drugs and rock ‘n’ roll. Warner Brothers executives hated it.

Reports on the official account say that it was perceived to be a “dirty” movie, filled with sleazy sex and extreme violence. It featured the use of drugs and hinted at homosexual behavior. Nic Roeg recalled after the screening someone remarked, “even the bath water is dirty.” But I would add, my own theory—just that—is no one understood the ending, either.

JF: How did Frank Mazzola get involved in the re-editing of the film? How significant were his contributions to the final recut of the film? Since you got to know Frank Mazzola well after you interviewed him for your book, what was he like as a person? Why didn’t Mazzola get an editing credit on the film?

SU: At the time Frank met Donald Cammell, he was working as the editor on a western being produced by Joseph E. Levine titled Macho Callahan, starring David Janssen and Jean Seberg. Although the film was being shot in Mexico, Frank had requested that he be able to work on the film in his preferred set of editing offices at the old United Artists studio located on the corner of Formosa Avenue and Santa Monica Boulevard in West Hollywood (long known as the Samuel Goldwyn Studio before it became Warner Brothers Hollywood).

He got word there was a British director in town looking for an editor to help him recut a film that Warner Brothers hoped to release, assuming the recut met with approval. And so, he met with Donald, and they discussed what they might do with Performance. He liked Donald’s ideas and decided he wanted to work on the film, so he turned Macho Callahan over to his assistant editor and moved his editing office next door, where he and Donald worked on Performance. Serendipitously, many years later and after Cammell’s death, this same editing office was where he would recut Wild Side.

Frank told me that when he first screened Performance, his initial impression was that film played “too slow,” it just plodded along, without energy. He said the first half played just like the second half. Nothing like the version we have now.

He told me several times that the majority of his work on Performance was on the first half. The delirious montage in the opening shots, the flash cut to Mick Jagger spray-painting the wall, all of that and more was done by Frank. He also made a few cuts in the second half, for example, cutting in the shot of Turner smashing the mirror with the pistol in order to “punctuate” the conclusion of the “Memo From Turner” sequence.

What I think he was most proud of was the fact that he and Donald did all that recutting in very little time, fewer than eight weeks. Warner Brothers was pushing them the entire time to get it finished as fast as they could. And he helped make the film releasable.

Frank was a friendly, fascinating guy, and I learned a lot from him. He’d grown up in Hollywood, had spent his entire life there. He had lots of stories about the “old” Hollywood, about his adventures as an editor; one of his mentors had been Aram Avakian.

He told me about working on Rebel Without a Cause (1955), about his friendship with James Dean and with Nicholas Ray. He had an encyclopedic knowledge of Hollywood history. One time we had lunch in the commissary at Warner Brothers Hollywood, and after lunch he told us the story behind every picture hanging on the commissary walls, the context, where, when, everything.

As for why he didn’t get editing credit on Performance, I know Donald tried to get him credit. He showed me the letter Donald wrote to him explaining why he was unable to get screen credit for him. As I recall, it was something about a union issue, since the film already had contracted, credited editors, and Frank’s work wasn’t considered substantial enough. We had many good times with Frank and his wife Catherine. He was a wonderful person and a good friend.

JF: When the final cut of Performance was finally released to theaters, what was the public’s reaction to it? How did critics review it? Did it do well at the box office?

SU: The film was attacked using the rhetoric of moral outrage. Richard Schickel, in Time magazine, said it was “the most disgusting” film he’d ever seen as a professional reviewer, and said it was “completely worthless.” For John Simon, in The New York Times, it was “sleazy.” The hip journal of the era, Rolling Stone, reproduced a still from Performance, prominently featuring Mick Jagger, on the cover of its 3 September 1970 issue, but reviewer Michael Goodwin gave it an ambivalent reception, saying it was “stunning…in the sense of a body blow” and concluded, “Performance is a very ugly film.”

Even before its release in the UK, the film made headlines. A British underground newspaper called It gave Performance a front-page splash with the headline, “Jagger’s Sadist Movie Finally Released,” and proclaimed it “A Heavy Evil Film, Don’t See It On Acid.”

As you might imagine, it didn’t do especially well at the box office. Now, of course, it is considered by many to be one of the greatest films ever made. You needn’t ask me if I disagree.

(Part Two of my interview with Dr. Sam Umland focuses on Donald Cammell’s personal life and the films he made after Performance. Look for it here soon).

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1979 was a great year for movies. Just take a look at all the wonderful films released during that twelve month period: Woody Allen’s Manhattan; Hal Ashby’s Being There; Robert Benton’s Kramer vs. Kramer; Francis Ford Coppola’s Apocalypse Now; Walter Hill’s The Warriors; Alan Parker’s Midnight Express; Ridley Scott’s Alien; and Peter Yates’ Breaking Away.

And then there was Bob Fosse’s musical extravaganza: All That Jazz.

For those unfamiliar with the film, All That Jazz is a surreal musical fantasy-drama that has elements of comedy, cynicism, and irony spread throughout the story.

Billed as a semi-biographical portrait of director Bob Fosse’s own life as a womanizing workaholic stage director/choreographer and filmmaker, All That Jazz stars Roy Scheider as Fosse’s alter-ego, Joe Gideon.

At the film begins, Joe Gideon reflects on his life as he sits next to a female angel of death in a sort of purgatory as they, and by extension, we, flash back to the final year of Gideon’s life. As George Benson’s, “On Broadway” plays on the soundtrack, Gideon holds auditions for the new Broadway musical he’s directing and choreographing starring his ex-wife. At the same time, Gideon is also editing his latest movie about a Lenny Bruce like comedian called, “The Stand Up.”

Throughout all of this, Gideon juggles a variety of personal and professional relationships (along with one night stands) while he ignores his own declining health. Eventually, it all catches up with him and Joe Gideon is forced to confront his own mortality.

Sprinkled throughout all of this are spectacular musical numbers featuring Bob Fosse’s brilliant choreography and sense of style.

Yet, the glue that holds all of these elements together is Roy Scheider, who appears in almost every scene as the main character, Joe Gideon.

Scheider is probably the last actor you’d expect to be cast in this role. Until Fosse cast him for the role, Scheider had never danced before except at his local disco.

In fact, until All That Jazz, Scheider was primarily known for playing cops in movies like The French Connection, The Seven Ups, and even Jaws.

Interestingly, Scheider’s Jaws co-star Richard Dreyfuss was originally cast as Joe Gideon, but Dreyfuss never felt comfortable with the role and he and Fosse didn’t get along, so eventually Dreyfuss quit.

Once Dreyfuss left the project, Scheider’s agent, Sam Cohn, got Scheider a meeting with Fosse. It went well, so the two men got together every evening for a week at Fosse’s apartment to go over the script.

By Sunday, Roy Scheider was cast in the role.

During this time, Fosse was also rehearsing his Broadway musical, Dancin’. Scheider began shadowing him, attending every rehearsal and making notes about Fosse’s mannerisms, the way he talked to dancers, the way Fosse smoked cigarettes, and even the way Fosse continuously coughed.

Soon, Scheider also began to imitate Fosse’s appearance: he grew a goatee, wore only black clothes, and started chain-smoking cigarettes all the time. It was as if Fosse had been cloned.

Later, Fosse put Scheider through a grueling two and half weeks of intense dance lessons so Scheider would be prepared for musical sequences in the film.

You see, for the role of Joe Gideon, Roy Scheider not only had to act, he had to convincingly “direct” the other dancers on-screen, perform dances himself, and occasionally sing - all while smoking the ever present cigarette in his mouth, just like Bob Fosse.

The result is an amazing multi-layered performance by Scheider that is not only the best acting of his career, but also perhaps the best dramatic portrayal of a director-choreographer shown in any Hollywood musical.

From the moment we meet Scheider’s Joe Gideon in the film, we believe he really is a brutal but extremely talented choreographer/director. This is because Scheider exudes authority in the way he talks to the other characters, especially during the open cattle call audition at the beginning of the movie.

Scheider also does a great job of showing Joe Gideon’s dark side: the cynicism, misogyny, endless lying, promiscuity, unfaithfulness to his wife and girlfriends, contempt for those around him, and even his homophobia. Scheider doesn’t hesitate to show us all of these sides of Joe Gideon, along with his many contradictions. Often, there is some humor mixed in too.

A good example of this takes place the morning after Gideon’s girlfriend, Katie, catches him in bed with one of his female dancers. While Gideon is in the bathroom, Katie uses the phone in his bedroom to call another man and make dinner arrangements. Of course, Gideon overhears the conversation. Afterwards, Gideon tells her, “how dare you use my phone, my telephone, to call someone who’s not gay.” Thanks to Scheider’s comic timing, this line is funnier and more ironic than it should be and perfectly captures all of the contradictions in Gideon’s personality.

The truth is that Joe Gideon is a loathsome person. Yet, somehow through his performance, Scheider makes us believe there is still something good underneath all the terrible things Gideon says and does to everyone in the film.

I believe it’s Roy Scheider’s ability to show Joe Gideon’s vulnerability that makes his performance so memorable.

For example, every morning, we see Gideon go through the same routine: he plays a cassette tape of Vilvaldi’s The Four Seasons, pops a few dexedrine pills in his mouth, washes them down with an Alka-Seltzer, and puts drops of Visine in his eyes. Afterwards Gideon looks in the mirror, smiles, and proclaims, “It’s showtime, folks!”

However, as the movie goes on, Scheider brilliantly uses his facial expressions and body language to show the physical toll all of the drugs, carousing, and overwork is taking on his health. Little by little, as Joe Gideon says his mantra, “It’s showtime, folks,” Scheider’s enthusiasm fades as we see him start to crack and fall apart.

Another example of the vulnerability Scheider brings to his portrayal of Joe Gideon is the scene where Gideon is strapped to a gurney as he’s being pushed down a hallway in the hospital. The nurses are taking him to the operation room for his heart surgery. As the chloroform takes effect, Gideon looks at the nurse on his left and sees her turn into his ex-wife, Audrey. He says, “If I die, I’m sorry for all the terrible things I’ve done to you.” Then Gideon looks over at the nurse on his right and sees her become his current girlfriend, Katie. He looks at her and says, “and if I live, I’m sorry for all the terrible things I’m going to do to you.”

But it’s in the last part of the film as Joe Gideon realizes his death is inevitable that Roy Scheider’s performance really shines.

This is made clear when Joe Gideon escapes from his bed in the intensive care unit. As Gideon wanders around the hospital, he mutters out loud to himself while going through the five stages of grief. Ironically, this mirrors the footage of the comedian’s stand up routine Gideon was editing earlier in the film.

During this sequence, Gideon runs around the basement of the hospital, jumping in and out of puddles of water on the floor. In this sly reference to Singin’ in the Rain, Gideon breaks the fourth wall and looks up at the camera as if he’s talking to God. He says, “What’s the matter? Don’t you like musical comedy?” It’s an eerie and discomforting moment.

Later, Gideon walks into the room of a dying woman moaning in pain. Gideon goes to her bedside and kisses her, telling the shocked patient that she’s the most beautiful woman he has ever seen. We see the woman’s face change from agony into a brief smile of contentment as she passes away. It’s a very touching moment. It’s also one of the few times we see Joe Gideon do something nice for another person.

In his positive review of the film, New York Times critic Vincent Canby praised Scheider’s performance and said, “with an actor of less weight and intensity, All That Jazz may have evaporated as we watched it. Mr. Scheider is a presence to reckon with.” Other critics were divided by the movie but all of them praised Scheider’s work in the film.

At that year’s Academy Awards, All That Jazz received 9 nominations, including best picture, best director, and best actor in a leading role. Scheider’s competition for the award that year were Dustin Hoffman (Kramer vs. Kramer); Jack Lemmon (The China Syndrome); Al Pacino (And Justice For All); and Peter Sellers (Being There).

On the night of the ceremony, Dustin Hoffman won the Oscar for his performance in Kramer vs. Kramer.

This was rather surprising because Hoffman had always been critical of the Academy Awards, calling them “a garish and embarrassing evening.” Even so, Hoffman still attended the 1980 ceremony in person and gave an emotionally powerful speech as he accepted the award:

I refuse to believe that I beat Jack Lemmon, that I beat Al Pacino, that I beat Peter Sellers. I refuse to believe that Robert Duvall lost. We are a part of an artistic family. . . .And to that artistic family that strives for excellence, none of you have ever lost and I am proud to share this with you. And I thank you.

After the 1980 ceremony, the Academy stopped having presenters say, “And the winner is…” and changed it to, “And the Oscar goes to…” This was most likely due to the effects Hoffman’s speech had on everyone present at the ceremony and watching the show at home on television.

So why did Dustin Hoffman win the Oscar for best actor that year instead of Roy Scheider?

Perhaps Oscar voters were turned off by Roy Scheider’s portrayal of one of the most unappealing characters ever put on film at that time. As mentioned earlier, Scheider’s character, Joe Gideon, has few (if any) redeeming qualities except his talent.

Compare that to Hoffman’s character in Kramer vs. Kramer, Ted Kramer. In this film, Dustin Hoffman plays a workaholic and absent parent who must suddenly learn how to be a good father to his young son after his wife leaves him. As the film progresses, we see Ted Kramer evolve from a self-obsessed advertising executive whose life revolves around his work to become a loving father whose life revolves around his son.

Clearly, Hoffman portrayed a character audiences could root for and admire; just the opposite of Scheider’s Joe Gideon.

In addition, Hoffman had previously been nominated three times for his performances in The Graduate (1967); Midnight Cowboy (1969); and Lenny (1974) but had never won. Perhaps the Academy thought he was overdue for an Oscar.

Even so, I would argue that Hoffman’s performance in Kramer vs. Kramer, while quite good, still doesn’t compare to Roy Scheider’s multi-layered portrayal of Joe Gideon. Scheider’s character is more complex, full of contradictions, and requires Scheider to be cynical, dramatic, ironic, and funny - often all at the same time. On top of all that, Scheider, who previously had no singing or dance training, is required to do both in the role.

Now, 46 years later, I’m not sure most people remember Kramer vs. Kramer or Hoffman’s role in the movie. Sure, they might watch the film if it pops up on a streaming channel, but I don’t think it’s a movie most people talk about or make reference to today.

But in contrast, All That Jazz and Roy Scheider’s performance in the film have grown in stature through the years. According to letterboxd, the film is currently a favorite of both cinephiles and showbiz folk like Greta Gerwig, Ethan Hawke, Anne Hathaway, and Alex Garland. In addition, directors such as David Fincher, Martin Scorsese, Guillermo del Toro, and even Zack Snyder list it as one of their most favorite films on the website.

But perhaps the greatest compliment to both All That Jazz and Roy Scheider is from the late film director, Stanley Kubrick. According to biographer John Baxter, Stanley Kubrick referred to All That Jazz as “the best film I think I have ever seen.”

As Joe Gideon would say, “It’s showtime, folks!”

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If you missed part one of our series about great movies and performances that didn’t win at the Oscars, you can read it by clicking on the link below:

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In the spring of 1968, Stanley Kubrick’s visionary film, 2001: A Space Odyssey, was first released. It played in Cinerama (by then essentially 70mm and 6 track stereo sound) in roadshow engagements around the world.

At the time, the critics were divided by the film and the box office was just okay. However, a few months after it opened, the film began to attract a younger, hipper audience, and many of them saw the film while under the influence of drugs.

In fact, MGM, the studio who made the film, reissued it to theaters later that summer and began selling 2001 as “the ultimate trip.” The movie became a hit and eventually a modern classic.

I didn’t get to see 2001 until it was re-released in 1971 when I was 13 years old. I was fortunate to see it in 70mm 6 track stereo sound on a 105 foot wide, 35 foot high screen at my local Cinerama theater, The Indian Hills, in Omaha, Nebraska.

It really was the ultimate trip.

It was also the first time I realized I had seen a film and not just another movie.

It’s still my favorite all-time film today.

But one thing has always puzzled me: why did 2001, one of the most amazing films ever made, only win one Academy Award for special effects in 1968?

The truth is that 2001 should have won 10 Oscars that year.

First, there’s no question that 2001 was the best film of 1968. Yet, shockingly, Kubrick’s masterpiece wasn’t even nominated for Best Picture that year.

Instead, the nominees were: Funny Girl, The Lion in Winter, Oliver!, Rachel, Rachel, and Romeo and Juliet. All of them are very mainstream and rather old-fashioned movies — even back in 1968. (In case you’re wondering, Oliver! won the Oscar for Best Picture that year. It’s another big screen adaptation of a Broadway musical Hollywood kept making after the success of The Sound of Music a few years earlier.)

How could Hollywood ignore the iconic film 2001 would eventually become?