When people think of American cinema in the 1990s, it’s somewhat understandable they’d immediately leap for the big hitters: Pulp Fiction, Goodfellas, The Shawshank Redemption, Titanic.

It was a decade stuffed with memorable titles, major box office hauls, and the indie boom fueled by Sundance and Miramax. But the decade’s cultural behemoths have sometimes overshadowed a rich selection of films that haven’t lingered in the mainstream conversation in the same way.

These are the movies that were either misunderstood, overlooked, or simply swamped by noisier competition at the time. Some were box office disappointments that deserved better; others were always destined for cult status. But all of them are very much worth revisiting, or discovering for the first time.

1. Internal Affairs (1990)

Richard Gere rarely gets enough credit as a villain, but he is superbly slimy in Internal Affairs, playing Dennis Peck, a corrupt LAPD officer whose slick exterior masks a rot that spreads far and wide. Andy Garcia, doing some of his best work, plays the righteous Internal Affairs agent who starts to unravel Peck’s criminal empire.

Director Mike Figgis (who went on to helm the Oscar winning Leaving Las Vegas in 1995) keeps the tension bubbling beneath the surface, allowing for a more psychological and insidious cop drama. It’s a film that exudes masculine insecurity, and the power dynamics shift with every scene, with Gere at the absolute top of his game.

It’s no surprise that The Departed (2006, itself a remake of the 2002 Hong Kong masterpiece Infernal Affairs) borrowed some of its tonal cues from Figgis’ film, Internal Affairs keeps you unbalanced all the way to the end.

2. Catchfire (1990)

Also known by its director’s pseudonym Alan Smithee (Dennis Hopper disowned the final cut), Catchfire is one of those notorious production disasters that hides a surprisingly compelling little noir inside. Jodie Foster plays Anne, an artist who witnesses a mafia hit and goes on the run, only to fall into the orbit of a mysterious recluse (Hopper) who may or may not be her salvation.

The film is rough around the edges, with a kind of erotic tension that feels very of its era, but Foster grounds it in something real, and there’s a fractured, offbeat energy to it that’s oddly compelling. Catchfire was understandably lost in the dust that was left by another Foster film, 1988’s gripping and harrowing The Accused; but despite its checkered history, Catchfire (especially in its longer director’s cut, ‘Backtrack’ which restores Hopper’s name to the credits) is well worth a look.

3. Alive (1993)

Based on the true story of the 1972 Andes plane crash, Alive didn’t exactly bomb, but it’s rarely talked about in the same breath as other survival films. Directed by Frank Marshall and featuring a young Ethan Hawke, it’s a harrowing tale of endurance, community, and of course, cannibalism.

There’s a reverence to Alive, a refusal to sensationalise the grislier aspects of the story. It’s a film about moral compromise and the instinct to live, and it handles its subject with admirable restraint.

Marshall’s film feels especially forgotten in the wake of J.A. Bayona’s sensational portrayal of the same story in 2023’s Society of the Snow; but Alive offers us a bold and daring adaptation of what is truly one of the most astonishing tales of survival in human history, and despite the admitted brilliance of Bayona’s film, Alive is a far better and more thoughtful film than it’s perhaps given credit for.

4. Kalifornia (1993)

Part road movie, part serial killer thriller, Kalifornia is an unnerving descent into America’s underbelly. David Duchovny and Michelle Forbes play a young couple touring famous murder sites for a book, only to pick up a hitchhiker (Brad Pitt) and his girlfriend (Juliette Lewis) who may embody the very material they’re trying to study.

Pitt is sensational as the charming, feral killer, and the film becomes a slow motion exercise in dread as the characters spiral toward inevitable disaster. Thematically it shares elements (and the presence of Lewis) with Oliver Stone’s Natural Born Killers which came a year later, but is a more serious affair; lacking a story written by Quentin Tarantino actually works in Kalifornia’s favour.

Dominic Sena’s film is gritty, disturbing, and full of dark irony, and although it made no sort of commercial splash on its release whatsoever, it holds up now as one of the most offbeat and effective thrillers of the ’90s.

5. Quiz Show (1994)

Robert Redford’s sharp, elegant drama about the 1950s quiz show scandal is one of the decade’s most intelligent films, and it has aged beautifully. Ralph Fiennes plays Charles Van Doren, a handsome, privileged intellectual who becomes the face of a rigged game show, while John Turturro is equally excellent as the more harsh, working-class contestant, who gets cast aside in favour of better ratings.

Quiz Show, as you might expect, deals with ethics, media manipulation, and the dangerous appeal of fame, all presented through a cinematic prism that doesn’t curtail to Oscar baiting scene stealing; although it was correctly nominated for Best Picture, losing in a crowded field that included Forrest Gump, Pulp Fiction and The Shawshank Redemption (all 1994).

Maybe that’s part of the reason that Quiz Show falls through the cracks somewhat when the subject of 90’s classics comes up, but don’t let that stop you giving it a watch if you haven’t already.

Some eras are associated with specific genres. For instance, the late-‘70s and early-‘80s were known for their slashers, whilst the 2000s are synonymous with Frat Pack comedies. The 1990s, on the other hand, are often correlated with crime thrillers, notably Pulp Fiction (1994). Conversely, this does not tell the whole story, as every genre experienced excellence in the ‘90s.

There were animated classics like Toy Story (1995), iconic comedies like Dumb and Dumber (1994), sci-fi flicks such as Armageddon (1998) and biopics including Forrest Gump (1994). The ‘90s was an outstanding decade for films of every genre. This list will examine ten 1990s American movies that are worth the time of cinema fans.

1. Raising Cain (1992)

Dr. Carter Nix (John Lithgow) kills mothers and steals their children, so his father can experiment on them.

A highlight of any Brian De Palma movie is his luscious, revolutionary approach to cinematography. DP Stephen H. Burum engineers two especially dazzling scenes: an extended tracking shot through a police station and a slow-motion climax, referencing Battleship Potemkin (1925). The first scene serves to intensify the plot’s mystery, whilst the latter is used to horrifically pinnacle the events in great detail, from multiple angles.

Usually, John Lithgow plays erudite and kindly characters. His recurrent collaborator Brian De Palma gives him the opportunity to fully flex his acting talents. Due to the protagonist’s multiple personalities, Lithgow shocks the audience with his fickle transformations and the frightening depth of his depravity. Overall, Raising Cain has been undervalued as a seminal psychological thriller, one of De Palma’s strongest efforts.

2. Confessions of a Hitman (1994)

Hitman Bruno (James Remar) steals money from his mobster uncle. He escapes across the desert in a limousine, pursued by mafiosi. After finding out he is dying, Bruno seeks redemption for his history of murder.

It is unusual to encounter a piece that takes narrative filmmaking in a radically different direction. Though it begins as a mafia movie, Confessions of a Hitman (A.K.A. Fallen Angels) evolves into a poignant meditation on mortality and friendship. Its feelings of despair and loneliness are heightened by Peter Warrilow’s bleak desert cinematography.

Moreover, they are brought to life through James Remar, who turns his face into a battleground between traumatised anger and reluctant tenderness. Ultimately, Confessions of a Hitman is a transformational film. Its timeline is a process of stripping back life’s trivialities, finally arriving at a warmhearted, more enlightened core. The movie is affecting because it addresses a universal human concern: coming to terms with one’s own death.

3. Love and a .45 (1994)

After a robbery, Watty (Gil Bellows) and Starlene (Renée Zellweger) are forced to go on the run.

Love and a .45 is a prototypical neo-noir road movie, taking inspiration from Bonnie and Clyde (1967) and Badlands (1973). Aesthetically, it is emblematic of hip ‘90s style, whilst its gory violence contrasts with humorous dialogue. Alongside Gil Bellows and Renée Zellweger’s romantic chemistry, Easy Rider’s Peter Fonda makes a cameo as a mute hippie. During the ‘90s, critics took issue with what they saw as ‘Tarantino copycat’ films. Of all of these titles, Tarantino himself considered Love and a .45 the best:

“Love and a .45 was really good. It was very close to True Romance (1993), Natural Born Killers (1994) and Reservoir Dogs (1992) — all combined. That might be the only film that guy ever made, but he had a gift for really funny dialogue.” However, writer-director C.M. Talkington revealed that he was not influenced by Tarantino. What critics fail to notice is that the neo-noir movement was already underway when Tarantino arrived. Tarantino may have been the best of the group, but he by no means spawned the style. It perhaps began with the Coen brothers’ Blood Simple (1984), or even arguably before, with Jean-Pierre Melville’s oeuvre.

4. Broken Arrow (1996)

In the Utah desert, Major Vic Deakins (John Travolta) blackmails the US government with a stolen nuclear warhead. It is up to Captain Riley Hale (Christian Slater) to stop him.

John Woo is heralded as one of the most masterful directors of action movies. In Broken Arrow, his acumen is apparent in the detailed orchestration of the fight scenes. The zenith of this is the thrilling final set piece, which takes place on a train. Woo infuses the operatic and humorous qualities of his Hong Kong heroic bloodshed movies with an American aesthetic and cast. The resulting grandeur effortlessly overshadows the work of American action moviemakers. The suspense is further exacerbated by the looming threat of nuclear apocalypse.

5. One Fine Day (1996)

After their children miss their school trip, single parents Melanie (Michelle Pfeiffer) and Jack (George Clooney) must look after them whilst completing professional obligations. Melanie and Jack reluctantly begin to fall for each other.

One Fine Day is a charming, sweet and breezy rom-com, championing single parenthood. It is strongly recommendable to fans of the genre. At the forefront is Pfeiffer and Clooney’s chemistry and repartee, as well as their likeable, watchable on-screen personas. As the title suggests, the film is set over the course of one day, lending a contained, realistic quality to the narrative.

Critic Bobbie Wygant opined that One Fine Day feels “hip and nineties.” Pfeiffer countered by saying it “feels old-fashioned.” At first, Melanie and Jack do not get on well, their sharp dialogue harkening to the screwball comedies of the ‘40s. Alongside From Dusk Till Dawn (1996), One Fine Day helped Clooney transition from TV to motion pictures.

Growing up as I did as a film lover in the 1990s, looking back now I can see it truly was a special time for both independent and mainstream cinema. Every month saw the release of half a dozen tent pole pictures, huge-budgeted blockbusters which essentially kept the film industry afloat so that there was more money to put into smaller, more intimate pictures.

Whether this is the case now, of course, is up for debate, but back in the final decade of the 20th century there seemed to be a fair balance between big and small movies, both the mainstream and more quirky character-based pictures. It’s arguable whether this equilibrium was ever reached again.

Below are ten American films from the 1990s which may have slipped by you in the past couple of decades. Whether they were critical or commercial hits or not, these are movies which I believe deserve more appreciation.

1. Ed and His Dead Mother (1993)

Right after the roaring success of Reservoir Dogs, Steve Buscemi took a lead role in a little known obscurity by the name of Ed and His Dead Mother. Directed by Jonathan Wacks, it’s one of those comforting little indie films the 90s were so full of, only this one has some rather unsavoury factors about it, ensuring it borders on the fine line between horror and comedy.

Steve stars as Ed Chilton, the owner of a hardware shop who is trying to adjust to life now his mother has died. Ned Beatty plays his uncle Benny, who attempts to lift Ed’s spirits and help him get on with his life. When sharp suited salesman AJ Pattle (John Glover) visits his store with the promise he can revive his dead mum, Ed goes along with the scheme for a mere 1000 dollars. However, things do not go according to plan. When reanimated, Mabel (Miriam Margoyles) is not quite the woman she once was. As we are told in the black and white opening scene set in a courtroom, Ed ends up decapitating his mother, whose behaviour has become increasingly bizarre.

If this film is a metaphor for letting go of a dead loved one and moving on in life, then it puts its point across very literally and with many broad laughs. The script is wonderful, full of sharp gags and witty little lines, but it’s the cast who make it gently dazzle. The always great Glover is shiftiness personified as the salesman, and Ned Beatty is hilarious as Benny, always ogling the girl who sunbathes over the road. Margoyles puts in a fine effort too, one of the best British character actresses to make it over the other side of the pond. But it’s Buscemi who carries the film, with his gentle, mild mannered depiction of a son who just can’t move on, until he has no choice.

Ed and His Dead Mother is the kind of film that sells you on its title alone, but the press were less than kind to this quirky tale of a momma’s boy who literally cuts off the apron strings. Many critics claimed the direction to be the film’s major problem, praising the script and performances but having problems with Wacks’ approach. While the film failed to set the world alight back in the day, it is now something of a cult curiosity (thanks largely to Buscemi’s fame) and can be viewed easily, and freely. I suggest you do so.

2. Diggstown (1992)

Something of a favourite among hardcore James Woods fans is Diggstown (1992). Directed by Michael Ritchie and written by Steven McKay, the film stars Woods as Gabriel Caine, a con man who’s just got out of prison and has a fresh scam on his mind. Fitz (Oliver Platt) is his partner in crime, and together they travel to Diggstown, a place that puts boxing on a pedestal.

Bruce Dern is John Gillon, a high roller who owns most of the town and once managed their most famous export, boxer Charles Diggs. Fitz challenges the city’s claim that Diggs once KO’d five boxers in one day and insists that Gillon will pay him $100,000 if he can bring to town a boxer who can floor all ten of Diggstown’s best fighters. Gabriel chooses Palmer (Louis Gossett Jr.) for the job, an ex-boxer nearing fifty whose glory years are behind him. Can Palmer rise to the challenge, or have Fitz and Caine pushed it too far this time?

Diggstown works on many levels. Firstly, it’s the classic underdog story, where the man least likely to succeed does so in the end. Dern is the establishment, smug and complacent, and Woods and Gossett Jr. are the little men, the rebels standing up to his cruel greed. Though the feat seems impossible, we genuinely root for them and want them to come out on top.

The script is great of course, but the acting is what makes the picture a winner. Woods is at his motor-mouth best, a man who could talk his way into and out of anything. This is the kind of role no one else could have played. Woods is the star here, the central figure, and it’s a thrill to see him as the leading man in a major piece of mainstream entertainment. The fact he carries it (aided of course by the brilliant Louis Gossett Jr.) is a credit to him. One of the finest American actors of our time, he shows his range as the wily crook.

Diggstown does have a sizeable following, especially in the US, but I still feel it deserves more attention. A lavish blu-ray release seems the right way to go at this stage. A 90s indie classic, Diggstown deserves cult classic status.

3. City Hall (1996)

Coming six years after their collaboration on Sea of Love, director Harold Becker and Al Pacino teamed up once more for this riveting, largely overlooked drama. With a script co-written by Paul Schrader, the story concerns a mob shoot out which takes place in a busy street and includes the killing of an innocent child.

Martin Landau is Judge Stern, a friend of Mayor John Pappas (Pacino), heavily criticised for having previously let the killer out of jail, while the cop involved in the shooting, Detective Santos, much to the distress of his family sees his name smeared with the ugliness of the scandal. It is the deputy mayor, Kevin Calhoun (John Cusack), with help from police union lawyer Marybeth Cogan (Bridget Fonda), who starts looking for clues, and their investigations lead to worrying links between the establishment and the mob.

City Hall was a financial disappointment upon release, a film which was overshadowed by more showy pictures. Even Pacino fans didn’t bother to see it, instead opting for the much more publicised Heat, his first on screen stand off with Robert De Niro. City Hall, though, is a fine suspense drama, full of tension, twists and turns. It is wonderfully directed in a no-frills fashion by the ever reliable Becker, a hugely underrated director who made some of the finest American movies from the 1970s onwards.

Acting-wise the film is without fault, with Pacino, Cusack, the hugely overlooked Fonda, and Landau all sturdy in their roles. It may have suffered commercially due to its sizeable budget and the uncommercial quality of the story, but thirty years on it seems unfair that such a well made and engaging picture as this is so overlooked.

4. Catchfire (1990)

Despite directing one of the biggest hits of the 1960s, Easy Rider, Dennis Hopper was never really offered a film that matched it. He loved to direct, but the work he got to take on rarely ignited his flame. His first directorial picture of the 1990s was Catchfire, written by Alex Cox and three other writers. It follows Jodie Foster as a woman who goes on the run after witnessing a mob killing at the hands of Joe Pesci. Directing with a touch of glossy class, Hopper also stars in the picture as Milo, a mysterious hit man who tracks her down but typically offers to spare her life if she’ll do anything and everything he desires. Pure Hopper.

As with most of his directorial work, the cutting and releasing for Catchfire was all over the place. There is a three hour cut out there somewhere, rather predictably the one that Hopper preferred, and the film also went out on TV in the States as Backtrack with 20 extra minutes put in. Though we cannot see the 180 minute cut, the Hopper approved TV edit is just about good enough. A simmering, suspenseful film, it’s well acted and wonderfully directed too, with a surreal edge that separates it from other bog standard action thrillers from that era. As well as directing with firm efficiency, he delivers a stunning performance as the New York accented killer. “Passion’s a hard thing to conceal” is one of his stand out lines.

Hopper’s view of Catchfire soured quickly, seeing as he disowned it and wanted his name removing from the credits. Though no masterpiece, it is highly engaging, and just the kind of film that you have to see to believe. When all is said and done, who could resist a film that features Joe Pesci, Charlie Sheen, Dennis Hopper, Vincent Price and even Bob Dylan as a chainsaw wielding artist? I’ll await your response…

5. Bringing Out the Dead (1999)

One of Martin Scorsese’s most underrated pictures is Bringing out the Dead, a harrowing, enthralling and completely disturbing ride into the farthest reaches of urban hell. The film stars Nicolas Cage as Frank Pierce, a New York city paramedic who is starting to lose his mind. He is close to a complete breakdown, a man highly depressed by the number of deaths he has on his conscience. In a dizzying and disorientating fashion, the film charts his near-descent into near mental oblivion.

Written by Paul Schrader, and based on the novel by Joe Connelly, on paper Bringing out the Dead looks like it might merely be Taxi Driver in an ambulance, with Travis Bickle being replaced by a more sensitive soul who just cannot take it any more. That said, it doesn’t take long to realise that the film is a very different beast indeed. Full of jump cuts, speedy editing, and an overall fragmented visual style, it is the most un-Scorsese film you could pick out. Frantic and jarring, it’s a hugely distressing but totally engaging thriller of the mind, a psychological roller coaster which grabs you by the scruff of your neck and refuses to let go for two very tense hours.

Its story and visual approach aside, one reason to watch and enjoy Bringing out the Dead is to see some of the most talented actors of American cinema at their very best. Cage delivers what might just be one of the finest and most overlooked performances of his whole career, while ample support is provided by the likes of a completely unhinged and close to terrifying Tom Sizemore, a sweet and appealing Patricia Arquette and the ever reliable John Goodman.

Bringing out the Dead might take a bit of getting used to, but if you do adjust to its unnerving atmosphere, there is much to enjoy. Certainly seen as a lesser Scorsese movie by most critics, I feel it’s one to reassess now that it’s reached its 25th anniversary.

As a teenager in the 1990s, one was aware that American cinema was experiencing something of a golden renaissance, a period in which indie cinema and mainstream blockbusters could exist together and get along. There was room for both, and in fact the average cinema buff could healthily sample the mainstream and the independent, and remain totally satisfied by their viewing experiences.

For every tent pole monster flick or big scale crowd pleaser, there were at least ten more smaller, more character-driven pictures. Sadly, many of them have dimmed as the years have gone by. Below are ten more American movies of the nineties which I feel deserve a lot more attention than they currently get.

1. The Blackout (1997)

Back in 2017 I spoke to Ken Kelsch, the man who has seen to the cinematography for numerous Abel Ferrara classics, all about Abel’s movies and technique. We talked about many films, from Bad Lieutenant to Dangerous Game, but the one he singled out as a lost gem was The Blackout, which he called “another underrated Abel film.” He had a point.

In Abel Ferrara’s forgotten The Blackout, Matthew Modine plays a very famous film star who moves to Miami, and when destroyed by his girlfriend’s abortion, goes out on a wild night with hot shot, ultra hip video filmmaker Dennis Hopper (as Mickey). A year on, things have changed and he is settled down, though there is a section of that night out which remains a mystery. So he returns to Miami to get to the bottom of it, re-immersing himself in booze and drugs to attempt to capture the elusive moment.

Though in my view all Ferrara’s movies are underrated, Blackout is rather unjustly so. Modine gives one of his finest performances, and Hopper, though more in control of his emotions as the revolutionary movie maker, and refreshingly so, is brilliant too. His command of the seedy film set, lined with strippers and cameramen, is especially electrifying. In many ways though, as with most of his films, it still feels like Abel’s show. The master of darkness, unafraid to go where others dare not to, makes his presence behind the camera known. This is dark, unsettling, alluring, sickening, disturbing and mysterious in equal measure.

Unfortunately, as is the case with most of Abel’s movies, the critics didn’t really appreciate it, and few seem to single this one out as noteworthy. Which is a shame. But then again, it’s their loss.

2. Saint of Fort Washington (1993)

In the early to mid 1980s, Matt Dillon was one of the brightest young actors around, and for a while it looked like he might become the great movie star of his era. While his contemporaries went down more commercial routes, Dillon stayed true to himself and chose only the parts that appealed to him. In other words, he made artistic choices rather than commercial ones.

Into the 1990s, Dillon continued to play flawed but intriguing men. Perhaps his most sensitive and moving piece of work in that decade was as Matthew in the underrated gem, The Saint of Fort Washington, the tale of two homeless men (Dillon and a top-form Danny Glover) dreaming of a better life off the streets.Dillon, lovably wide eyed yet also unpredictable as the schizophrenic vagabond, is truly extraordinary in the movie, which made its underwhelming box office even more regretful.

In my view it was perhaps Dillon’s finest performance of the whole decade, and certainly one of the finest of his rich career. Glover is fabulous too, and the duo have a warm, special bond and chemistry which more than rivals the teaming of Jon Voight and Dustin Hoffman in the similarly bleak but weirdly uplifting Midnight Cowboy.

Directed by Tim Hunter and written by Lyle Kessler, it never goes towards sentimentality and contains no schmaltz whatsoever. It’s a tale of hope in the most dark and unpromising of locations, but somehow it never becomes too much, or even remotely depressing. There’s a fine supporting cast too, but it’s Glover and Dillon who impress the most, particularly the latter.

Totally obscure today, The Saint of Fort Washington doesn’t look like it’s going to be dusted off and rediscovered any time soon, which is a shame indeed.

3. Permanent Midnight (1998)

Today we all think of Ben Stiller as one of modern cinema’s great comedic talents, a mega star who’s made his way into household name territory with the likes of the Zoolander movies, Meet the Parents and its many sequels, and of course the Night at the Museum franchise. Before he became a huge star though, Stiller in some much less commercial fare. Though the darkness is there in many of his better known parts (it bubbles away quietly and often explodes in a sweaty outburst of burst tension), none of them are anywhere near as bleak and desperately fiendish as his lead role in David Veloz’s Permanent Midnight.

Adapted from Jerry Stahl’s memoir of the same name, it stars Stiller as Jerry himself, who is working at a drive-through fast food joint when we first meet him. During a one night stand with a customer, Stiller goes back on his time as a Hollywood writer, during which he was fighting a crippling addiction to various drugs. Jerry was effectively living a double life, the sweaty pill-reliant creep and the full-of-ideas man of letters. As his story goes on though, Jerry finds it increasingly challenging to juggle these two identities.

Shot with a sense of desperation, it’s acted wonderfully by Stiller, who pulls off what might be his most troubled but strangely convincing turn. We don’t like his Jerry, nor do we understand or relate to anything he does, but for some reason we still care what happens to him. He has no redeeming qualities (I urge you to find even one) but Stiller makes him multi-faceted and far from a drug crazed caricature. The whole cast, which also includes Owen Wilson and Elizabeth Hurley, are also very good, but Stiller is especially strong.

Permanent Midnight is rarely aired these days, and never gets singled out when discussing Stiller’s rich and enjoyable filmography, but in my view it deserves a lot more attention.

4. Living in Oblivion (1995)

Director Tom Dicillo first made his mark in 1991 with the cult film Johnny Suede, but seeing as it was no commercial success, Tom found it hard to find funding for a follow up. Frustrated by the Hollywood system, Tom was so burned by the business that even the mention of a movie would send him into overdrive. But he was desperate to get his frustrations out into something real and physical. He came up with the idea of a film set, where the makers try and try to get the best results, but everything keeps going wrong. He wanted to capture the nightmare of low budget film. When he told his Johnny Suede star Catherine Keener all about the idea, she was mightily enthused, and agreed to play the female lead. Her husband, Dermot Mulroney, put up a little money so Tom could develop his ideas into a short, and Steve Buscemi signed up for the part of the director.

Firstly, the cast and crew filmed a half hour short, completed in a mere four days. But the gang had so much fun on the set that they urged Tom to expand it. When he finally got the money to do so (the budget ended up at half a million dollars), he fleshed out the idea and got everyone back again. The result? Possibly the finest film ever made about filmmaking.

The film is split into three sections. The first is in black and white, as Nick and his crew start filming a scene involving Catherine Keener and an older lady who is playing her mother. The scene won’t go right, and every time they think they are getting somewhere, it all collapses. The second part follows Keener and her romantic lead Chad (James LeGros), who are about to make their way to the set after spending the night together. The shoot is spent battling with Chad’s ego, a love scene that is tired, clichéd and never quite works. The final segment, featuring the brilliant Peter Dinkelage, is where it supposedly all comes together.

Living in Oblivion was released slap bang in the middle of the 1990s, and it represents that golden indie era better than most other films one can think of. Steve Buscemi is fantastic as the tormented filmmaker, and seems to be relishing every second of his part. An intense but also very funny performance, it’s one of Steve’s greatest achievements.

Living in Oblivion actually made a profit a the box office, and for Tom and the gang, was one of the most enjoyable shooting experiences they ever had; which is ironic, given the hell of the making of the film within the film. Tom rips away the myth of the cool “rock star” indie filmmaker, highlighting what he sees as the constant battle to keep sane on the highly hazardous low budget film set. And it has to be said, Living in Oblivion really does define the dichotomy of filmmaking quite sublimely. Essential viewing indeed.

5. Heaven and Earth (1993)

Heaven and Earth is the unjustly overlooked third entry in Stone’s Vietnam trilogy, a triptych which began with Platoon in 1986, and included the adaptation of Ron Kovic’s marvellous book, Born on the Fourth of July, in 1989. Heaven and Earth, released in 1993 to low box office returns and little fan fare, saw the horrors of the Vietnam war from a different perspective, one that few other, if any at all, Americans would think of portraying – from the view of a young Vietnamese girl.

The girl in question is Le Ly (played by Hiep Thi Le), a villager in mid-20th century Vietnam. She firstly has to endure the presence of the French authorities during the Indochina era, who are in turn fought by communist insurgents. Her struggles continue when the Americans arrive to fight the Viet Cong. She is captured by the South Vietnamese, who think she’s a spy for the Northerners, and is beaten and tortured. Later she endures a horrific rape by the Viet Cong. She then moves to Saigon with her family, where she meets Steve Butler (Tommy Lee Jones), a United States Marine Corps Sergeant who falls in love with Le Ly. His apparent kindness changes her situation, and the pair leave Vietnam for a life in America. However, Steve begins to show his true colours, the effects of the war having taken their toll on his mental state. Despite leaving the war in Vietnam behind her, Le Ly’s struggles are far from over.

Heaven and Earth is a story of personal strength, of one woman’s struggles through nightmarish times. It is personal as well as historical, but it homes in one on the individual, a human being often treated like anything but a human being, and a microcosm for mass suffering. Heaven and Earth deserves to be seen by more people. It’s moving, powerful, unpleasant at times, but ultimately a rewarding viewing experience. Le Ly’s journey is told with passion, and Stone stays true to her tale. This is one to seek out and dust off, a vital entry in Stone’s filmography.

The 1990s were the age of the mega blockbuster and the movie star as larger than life idol. From Will Smith to Harrison Ford, this was the era of the brave hero fighting against all odds, facing and indeed tackling a problem that was much bigger than him, and more often than not bigger than the world itself. There were aliens, earthquakes, volcano eruptions, dinosaurs, giant lizards and a host of other grandiose horrors threatening to take us out, and it was always up to the stars to save the day.

That said, there was much more to the 90s than large scale disaster flicks and adventure epics, with everything from erotic thrillers to broad comedies attracting cinema-goers in their millions. Again though, as with every other decade, there were dozens, hundreds in fact, of films which went under the radar or were unfairly sidelined by audiences and critics. Though one could easily name many more, here are ten American films of the 1990s which have been unjustly overlooked.

1. In the Soup (1992)

Alex Rockwell has consistently been one of the most interesting and enduring indie filmmakers America has produced in the last thirty or so years. Known for his segment in the underrated Four Rooms (1995), and the kooky and wonderful Somebody to Love (1995), there is another film which should spring up whenever he is mentioned – and that film is In the Soup.

In the Soup features an early starring role for Steve Buscemi, a rare leading part which proves he can carry a feature from start to finish. He stars as Adolpho Rollo, a down on his luck aspiring filmmaker, who has written a 500 page screenplay he is desperate to get on the screen. Broke and living in a crummy apartment, he fantasises about being a great director while working his menial jobs and getting frustrated with the lack of action with the neighbour he so desires (played by Jennifer Beals).

Adolpho’s luck changes though when he meets a shifty stranger called Joe (played by the hilarious Seymour Cassell) who offers him large sums of cash to make his film. What seems like a perfect sweet deal soon turns out to be a hellish nightmare, when it’s clear Joe has his own ideas for the film and drags Adolpho into his often sleazy, shady little world.

In the Soup is one of those perfect little films which just flows beautifully. The black and white look is sublime, and Buscemi’s features come alive off the screen in every scene. His charisma shines through too, and Adolpho remains one of his finest, though not most well known characters. We really do root for the guy, especially when the untrustworthy, but immensely likeable Joe drags him further into his unsavoury universe. The film itself is a little lost in time, though it does have its own small cult fanbase.

2. Trees Lounge (1996)

In 1996, Steve Buscemi finally managed to get together his semi autobiographical project Trees Lounge, which he directed, wrote and starred in as Tommy, an unemployed mechanic who spends his days hanging in his favourite bar, the Trees Lounge. Based on aspects of his own younger years, it’s a funny, but often very dark comic drama that deserves more attention.

This is arguably Buscemi’s finest hour as both director and performer, and his embodiment of the down on his luck alcoholic comes to life with a believable and moving performance. What makes the film more powerful is its level of honesty. Buscemi pulls no punches in his depiction of this lost life, nor does he look down his nose at the drunks and faded faces. For him, it was cathartic, considering what could, and just might have been.

Though Buscemi’s central performance holds the film together (he plays the scally wag brilliantly), the supporting cast deserve their credit too. Chloe Sevigny is fabulous as the teenage girl who Tommy gets involved with, and Daniel Baldwin is scary as her angry step dad, who doesn’t take their closeness too well. Anthony La Paglia plays Tommy’s former friend, who is now dating his ex, and Carol Kane is just sublime as the barmaid at the lounge. Mark Boone Junior, Steve’s old pal, is also excellent as an alcoholic man trying to win his family back. A film full of lively performances and memorable scenes, Trees Lounge is a 90s indie gem.

3. Smoke (1995)

One of the most sublime of all the American indie movies to appear in the 1990s, Smoke (1995) was written by Paul Auster and directed by Wayne Wang. Inspired by a short story Auster had written for the New York Times, a Christmas yarn told by an imaginary cigar shop clerk named Auggie Wren, it was Wang who suggested they flesh out the story into a film. Though it took some time for Auster, who was working on novels at the time, to hammer together a decent screenplay, the film was eventually made with Harvey Keitel in the vital role of Wren, and William Hurt as the widowed writer, Paul.

Set in Brooklyn, and based around the cigar shop, focusing on the various characters who come and go and interact about the store, Smoke is a wonderful film with a fine cast and an atmosphere all of its own. This is no Scorsese New York, there is no Travis Bickle and the streets are not mean. No, Wang and Auster’s Smoke is an almost comforting place, a city where, though dangerous at times, is made liveable and pleasant by the people, the ordinary folk who are kind, who engage in small talk, who become a part of your everyday life. In its various sub plots and winding tales, Smoke is a celebration of humanity, a film about people connecting in an environment that, without such simple acts of friendly humanity, would be a unforgiving jungle.

Keitel gives the films its most charismatic turn, a wonderful performance that is subtle and likeable. Based on a real chap Auster used to buy his cigars from, Wren is a vivid creation made flesh by Keitel, who makes him believable and warm. Though Auster did want Tom Waits for the part, it’s hard to imagine anyone but Keitel in the part. Smoke is a real gem of a movie and deserves to be seen again and again. So seek it out, and be richly rewarded.

4. American Buffalo (1996)

Based on David Mamet’s acclaimed play, American Buffalo concerns Donny (Dennis Franz), owner of a down town junk shop in the least aesthetically pleasing neighbourhood imaginable. Sean Nelson plays Bobby, a younger man who hangs around the shop, and Dustin Hoffman is Teach, a seedy lay about who never seems to want to go home. One day he comes up with a plan, to rob a man’s safe thought to contain rare coins. The robbery, however, does not exactly go to plan.

American Buffalo first burst on to the theatre in the mid 1970s, making Mamet a name to watch. In the years that followed he continued to write acclaimed plays like Glengarry Glen Ross and Speed the Plow, while he scripted such films as The Untouchables, We’re No Angels and The Postman Always Rings Twice. American Buffalo, one of Mamet’s least cinematically inclined plays, was first developed for the screen with his Glengarry Glen Ross star Al Pacino tipped for Teach, the very part he had won rave reviews for on stage.

When Pacino did not respond quickly enough, Dustin Hoffman was offered the role instead. As good as Pacino would have been (think of his Levine in the film version of Glengarry Glen Ross), Hoffman is suitably dynamic. His Teach is a sleazy, grubby individual with shades of Ratso Rizzo about him. Though little known, this could well be among his finest performances.

American Buffalo hardly set the world alight however and seemed to come and go without much fanfare. Reviews were mixed and it did no business. Now, it is almost totally forgotten. Which is a shame, because it’s superbly acted and gripping from start to finish.

5. Another Day in Paradise (1998)

Larry Clark’s Another Day in Paradise (1998) is a hidden gem that harbours all that was good about the liberated world of indie cinema of the 1990’s, but featuring none of the superficiality that often ensured movies of that era didn’t age so well. Another Day in Paradise though, is a film that is in a league of its own. A mercilessly grimy and occasionally foul exploration of living the life of crime in modern America, it’s a film that does not let up, never shies away from showing the truth of the dark underbelly of petty crime, of living day to day, shooting drugs and going after the next big score.

It stars James Woods and Melanie Griffith as two criminals, Mel and Sid, who take a young hedonistic couple under their wings. The sleazy foursome (with Vincent Kartheiser as the boyish Bobbie and Natasha Gregson Wagner as pixie haired junkie Rosie) begin to drive through America, getting into scrapes and pulling off increasingly risky jobs. As more drugs come into the mix, things get out of hand, especially when the crew mess up a particularly ill advised robbery, and ultimately proceedings head towards the tragic.

The film is gritty, addictive viewing, and the performances are splendid. Griffith gives what may be her finest effort, while this is hyper-Woods at his best, in some ways carrying elements of Casino’s Lester Diamond, in mannerisms and dress most of all. But he is a far more competent man and criminal than the pathetic pimp. Mel is different; though a junkie, he has a vision and knows how to carry it through. Afraid of old age, he promises he will drive his car off a cliff when he is sixty. Anything, even death, is better than getting old.

Though the film was not a box office hit, it did attract the kind of critical praise Woods thought it would. And when one considers what else was coming out and getting shoved in our faces in 1998, it’s no surprise the film was not a smash success; how could it have been, really, in a year that saw the release of such blockbusters as Armageddon and Godzilla? Still, reviewers were impressed.

Buried in time, Another Day in Paradise is one of the most effective thrillers of the 1990s. Thankfully it’s widely available on DVD, so you owe it to yourself to track it down.