Peter Hoskin

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The Docks of New York

An entire film of blends, not least of silent-era expressionism and muscular, American realism. Film noir begins here.

City Lights

Like Chaplin’s Tramp himself, both preposterous and wonderful. And it might just have the finest final shots in all cinema.

The Roaring Twenties

A masterpiece of concision. Across 106 minutes, we have the rise, fall and redemption of the gangster Eddie Bartlett, but also the story of an entire decade. A studio-era classic in the same vein as, say, Casablanca (Curtiz, 1942), though, puzzlingly, not nearly as well known.

The Life and Death of Colonel Blimp

A totemic monument to those who have been swept up by modern history and then swept aside.

My Darling Clementine

All of Ford is in here. Sentimentalism. Heroism. Violence. Rambunctious humour. But, above all, a clear-eyed concern for people and the communities they create.

Black Narcissus

Officially, it’s some combination of culture shock and sexual repression that sends Kathleen Byron’s Sister Ruth over the edge. But, really, it has to be the Technicolor and its shocking greens and purples. Dangerously synaesthetic.

MIDARERU

Like Ozu, Naruse takes the simple, everyday actions of simple, everyday people and puts them at the centre of the universe. Yearning is his defining statement.

Daisies

Like an explosion in a glitter factory. Wooh! This is fun! But also: did anyone get hurt? Because Daisies’ brand of fun is also a very serious form of rebellion.

Out 1

As Jean-Pierre Léaud’s Colin discovers, as he tries to unpick a conspiracy that might not be real, there are no answers nor resolutions. Perhaps not even any meaning. It’s as close as films get to human life.

RUSSKI KOVCHEG

A purposeful reminder of the richness of Russia’s culture and past. There’s far more to that country than just one gangster in the Kremlin.

Further remarks

First, the rules. I’ve imposed a restriction on myself for this list, to have a different director for each film. Otherwise, I’d have started with ten John Fords – and struggled to go any further.

Then the exception. There are two Powell & Pressburger movies because, well, they were themselves exceptional – and, besides, there were two of them.

The honourable mentions. I wish there’d been space for Sunrise (Murnau, 1927), Stray Dog (Kurosawa, 1949), Stromboli (Rossellini, 1950), Singin’ in the Rain (Donen & Kelly, 1952), Track of the Cat (Wellman, 1954), The Night of the Hunter (Laughton, 1955), Barry Lyndon (Kubrick, 1975), Killer of Sheep (Burnett, 1978), Tree of Life (Malick, 2011), Once Upon a Time in Anatolia (Ceylan, 2011), and plenty more.

And, finally, the confession. As with any list of this kind, you end up thinking as much about the films you haven’t seen as those you have. In my case, there’s a yawning gap when it comes to African cinema, where I’ve watched the obvious stuff (Touki Bouki, Ousmane Sembène’s work, etc.) but not much else. That’s something I’ll be looking to rectify. Just give me – I dunno – another ten years or so?