It’s that time of year: every summer here at Mid Century Cinema we roll out a new Top 10 list . . . from fifty years ago. As always, our obligatory qualifiers apply: such exercises are silly, arbitrary, impossible, and irresistible. [Our legal department has also advised us to note that all lists appearing on this site are subject to change without notice. Well, actually, that’s not exactly right. We won’t go back and change a list. That would be wrong. But we might change our mind.]
In poring over the candidates for this year’s finest, we noticed that although it was an excellent season for American films, to our eyes it was an even stronger one internationally, with movies made outside the U.S. taking seven of the available ten slots. This was a surprising, and left us feeling some remorse at slighting so many favorites. Nevertheless, in alphabetical order, our Top Ten of 1970:
Le Boucher The fourth entry in what we dubbed Claude Chabrol’s “second wave.” With Stéphane Audran and Jean Yanne, the themes and camera movements show the clear influence of Hitchcock, but Le Boucher is all Chabrol (who has the sole writing credit for its original screenplay); this subtle, observing film unfolds across eight or nine extended movements.
The Confession Costa Gavras’ film, as we have discussed, is a timeless anti-authoritarian statement; even better, in our estimation, than his justly-celebrated but more politically fashionable Z from the previous year. Shot by New Wave legend Raoul Coutard, the resistance hero Jorge Semprún wrote the screenplay; Yves Montand, outstanding, leads a strong cast. See this now.
The Conformist Speaking of authoritarianism, Bernardo Bertolucci’s Conformist is a visually stunning rumination on interwar Italy (Vittorio Storaro was the director of photography), with a keen eye for the psychology (and architecture) of fascism. Our favorite line: “I want to see how a dictatorship falls.” With Jean-Louis Trintignant; in the words of David Thomson “a great film, drunkenly beautiful and deeply disturbing.”
The Ear Well there must have been something in the air in 1970; this Czech New Wave film (immediately banned by the government and first screened for the public at the 1990 Cannes film festival), is something along the lines of Who’s Afraid of Virginia Wolf meets 1984. Shot in vivid black and white (watch for the candles), its fragmented time structure enhances the paranoia of those trying to figure out if they might be the next victims of the Party’s purge.
Five Easy Pieces One of the landmark statements of the New Hollywood and the first “BBS” production. Directed by Bob Rafelson, written by Carol Eastman, shot by Lazlo Kovacs, with Jack Nicholson, Karen Black (smile when you say that) and Susan Anspach. From Roger Ebert: “I was at the New York Film Festival for the premiere of “Five Easy Pieces,” and I remember the explosive laughter, the deep silences, the stunned attention as the final shot seemed to continue forever, and then the ovation.”
M*A*S*H There are a dozen Altman films that we prefer to this one. And there are a dozen other films that we mulled for this slot. But it still lands here, partly because it was the first to introduce the Altman style, and was the first in his astonishing ten picture run from 1970 through 1977.
Reconstruction The debut effort from Theodoros Angelopoulos, who would emerge as one of the singular cinematic voices of his time, is not going to take you by the hand and offer much by the way of dialogue and exposition to tell you exactly what’s going on. But it’s a fascinating story well told, brilliantly shot, with a masterful use of darkness and sure-handed command of layered flashbacks.
The Red Circle About half of Jean-Pierre Melville’s films are masterpieces; this is one of them. The middle entry in his informal Alain Delon trilogy, this impeccably framed, rigorously structured film (shot by regular collaborator Henri Decae) mines familiar territory (codes of honor, acts of betrayal, cops indistinguishable from gangsters) but stands as a distinct entry in Melville’s oeuvre. With Yves Montand and Paul Crauchet.
The Things of Life We have a fondness for the films of Claude Sautet; this is one of his finest. And with the great Michel Piccoli and Romy Schneider on hand (each of whom appeared in five Sautet efforts), who could ask for anything more? So many grand moments here, large (the accident, brilliant) and small (the elevator scene, the friend who complains of being “left for a woman.” The things of life.
Wanda In When the Movies Mattered, Molly Haskell takes a close look at Barbara Loden’s Wanda, “a gusty and shattering first film . . . that should be more widely shown and remembered, and cherished.” Long-overdue attention to the film and its writer-director-star has emerged in recent years both in print and via a proper special edition from the Criterion Collection.
Claude Chabrol’s Le Boucher
The Confession
Michel Piccoli contemplates The Things of Life
Triple-Threat Barbara Loden in Wanda