It’s that season again—time to revisit the best movies from half a century ago. And 1974 was a great year for the movies. The New Hollywood, which only had two big years left ahead of it, wasn’t just hot, it was incandescent. And it was a also a very strong year for film globally. Confronted with this embarrassment of riches, we’ve going with a Top Twelve list this time around, rather than the traditional Top Ten. Any one of our first six entries would have easily vied for “film of the year” in any year; the next six are exceptional as well (and we’ve even added a little supplementary shout-out to another half-dozen notables worthy of at least a hat-tip—and probably still left out a few gems).
Here then, is the T12 (and more). First, in alphabetical order, are the sensational six (it’s no surprise to realize that we’ve written already written extensively about five of them, often multiple times), followed by a second sextet, also presented alphabetically. (The honorable mentions follow the final two screen-grabs below.)
Alice in the Cities In our recent essay on Wim Wenders we listed this one among the four great films that punched his ticket for the Hall of Fame. Of that quartet, Alice is probably our favorite; it is, not simply, as we put it, “one of the cinematic achievements of the 1970s,” but also Wenders’ “most intimate and personal” effort—and we’re sticking with our story that the little boy leaning against a juke-box sipping a coke is a stand in for the director himself.
Chinatown Roman Polanski directs Robert Towne’s screenplay; Jack Nicholson, Faye Dunaway and John Huston simply soar. We’ve called this one “a perfect film” and dubbed it “the Citizen Kane of the seventies film.” We’ve written about Chinatown here, and here, and here—really, what more is there to say?
The Clockmaker Bertrand Tavernier’s subtle but astonishing debut feature, featuring Philippe Noiret (who would become the director’s on screen alter-ego) and the sublime Jean Rocherfort, remains our favorite film from one of our favorite directors. Roger Ebert lauded “an extraordinary film” which “attempts to show us the very complicated workings of the human personality, and to do it with grace, some humor and a great deal of style.” More from us on The Clockmaker here.
The Conversation Another landmark—and another movie we’ve written about again and again. It’s so New Hollywood that Francis Ford Coppola could only get it made as the price he extracted for agreeing to take on The Godfather, Part II. Gene Hackman’s performance is a marvel, and turns by John Cazale, and the great seventies character actor Allen Garfield are worth the price of admission alone. Oh, and the last third of the movie is almost entirely without dialogue. (Clears throat): This, is cinema.
The Godfather, Part II Speaking of which, Coppola created two masterpieces in 1974 (you have to reach for Bergman to find that sort of achievement). Cinematographer Gordon Willis was among his essential collaborators. A movie of bravura scenes (here’s our favorite, with Mr. Lee Strasberg)—our pet argument is that, wire to wire, the first movie has the edge, but that the best bits of Part II are better than the finest moments in the original (if with the possible exception of that exhilarating sequence following Michael’s declaration that it is he who must take out Captain McCluskey).
The Parallax View The middle entry of Alan J. Pakula’s paranoid trilogy (all three shot by Gordon Willis); this one stars Warren Beatty (but keep an eye out for what we consider William Daniels’ finest screen performance; and note that supporting player Hume Cronyn had a hand in the screenplay). Once again, we’ve almost run out of praise for this one, “an iconic seventies film, steeped in pessimism, narrative complexity and moral ambiguity, and insisting on an ending that is relentlessly downbeat, even by the brooding standards of the era.”
A Woman Under the Influence Not our favorite Cassavetes, but, um, wow. Peter Falk and Gena Rowlands turn in performances that are so raw I find myself shying away from repeated viewings. No studio would touch it, so Cassavetes and Falk bankrolled the movie themselves, and, lacking distribution, then virtually engaged in hand-selling to get the film screened in theaters. But heed the soaring praise of Dave Kehr and Richard Brody.
California Split Robert Altman’s gambling pic, with Elliot Gould and George Segal (really, do I have to tell you more than that?) is a high point in the director’s astonishing New Hollywood run (“twelve films from 1967 to 1977 stand up robustly in comparison not only with his distinguished contemporaries, but alongside almost any figure we can think of in the history of cinema.”) Bonus: many Altman intimates consider this to be his most autobiographical film.
F For Fake One of Orson Welles’ great “essay films”—we’ll leave it to noted Wellesian Jonathan Rosenbaum to sort through the baroque complications both the film and its production. In Rosenbaum’s estimation, “his methodology putting this film together gave him a kind of freedom with his materials that he’d never had before or would again.”
I, You, She, He (Je tu il elle) In 2022, the placement of Chantal Akerman’s Jeanne Dielman, 23, quai du Commerce, 1080 Bruxelles at the very top of the Sight and Sound poll as “the greatest film ever made” caused quite a stir—Paul Schrader, a longtime champion of the movie, was little short of apoplectic. We’re with Paul. Personally, I don’t find Jeanne Dielman to be one of the five greatest films . . . by Chantal Akerman. Our favorite is News From Home; and we also love this one, her debut feature and nothing short of an indie landmark.
Lenny Bob Fosse’s Lenny Bruce biopic boasts boffo performances from both Dustin Hoffman and Valerie Perrine; shot in stunning black and white by another seventies maestro, Bruce Surtees (Night Moves, Blume in Love, Dirty Harry), this very fine film also serves as a reminder – all too necessary today – that Lenny Bruce died fighting for the rights of free artistic expression that we won in the 1960s and which are somehow again under siege.
The Traveler It is little short of thrilling to go back fifty years and watch the debut feature of the Iranian director Abbas Kiarostami, who would go on to become one of the giants of world cinema (our favorites include Where is the Friends House, The Wind Will Carry Us, and Certified Copy). Pro tip: it comes as an extra on the Criterion edition of Close-Up.
As for the rest: Ali Fear Eats the Soul, which took home two top prizes at the Cannes film festival, is probably our favorite Fassbinder; Most of the fellow travelers in my movie-going tribe would have found a place in their 1974 Top Ten for Badlands, Terrence Malick’s debut feature, with Martin Sheen, Sissy Spacek (and Mr. Warren Oates); Jacques Rivette’s Céline and Julie Go Boating is one of David Thomson’s Top Ten Films—of all time; we are terribly fond of Alain Resnais’ Stavisky (written by Jorge Semprún and featuring Jean-Paul Belmondo); The Taking of Pelham 1-2-3 is an irresistible pleasure, both for its spectacular cast, as a time capsule of the mid-1970s Big Apple in bankruptcy; Young Frankenstein is packed with countless priceless moments, but this one is our favorite.