The 1970s is a revered period in the canon of cinema. It is an era defined by auteurs having complete control of their artistic craft. ‘70s cinema, often cited as New Hollywood, shaped the collective consciousness of the power and role of a film director.

Not only are there undeniable works of art across the decade, countless films remain classics today watched by a mass audience. Under the shadow of the titanic crowning achievements is a plethora of underrated gems by prominent voices featuring the staples of New Hollywood text.

1. Brewster McCloud (1971)

In the same year as M*A*S*H, Robert Altman established himself as a maverick filmmaking voice that could be equally populous and creatively ambitious. In a bizarre pivot, Altman directed a film that is a little bit of everything but manages to act as a unique whole piece. The director flexed his off-beat sensibilities even further with Brewster McCloud, a film undefinable and eternally curious, but an essential text to the director’s style.

The 1971 film follows timid loner Brewster (Bud Cort) living inside the Astrodome who plans to develop a pair of wings that will help him fly. Throughout his career, Altman viewed the plot as frivolous and focused his efforts on peculiar character studies and showing humanity at its most minimalist and overwhelming simultaneously, constantly blending realism and formalism. Brewster McCloud is quite comfortable in this sphere–appearing like a complete farce but supported by grounded and relatable emotions. The director is emphatic in his vision of his quirky titular character. This allows the elements of spontaneous screwball comedy to flourish, even if it is purposefully restrained through Altman’s methodical pacing.

The director is quite expressive with the camera, especially when it tracks the air travel of all breeds. The sprawling nature of Brewster McCloud could be a turn-off for some viewers, but its magnitude is certainly accessible. Similar to all Altman films, it is interested in subversion and lonely figures grappling with their plight. With this fascination comes the chance for a variety of sentiments about U.S. culture that Altman and the titular lead express: wonder, contempt, hope, and nihilism.

2. Carnal Knowledge (1971)

At the dawn of New Hollywood in the late ‘60s, Mike Nichols announced himself as a premiere voice of a new generation with the revolutionary and boundary-pushing coming-of-age film, The Graduate. The director could take any direction he desired thanks to the film’s success. He continued his path in engaging with the complexities of human relationships and the murky desires of individuals in Carnal Knowledge.

The film centers around the lifelong relationship between two men, Jonathan (Jack Nicholson) and Sandy (Art Garfunkel) who meet in college and their respective development in sexuality in romantic relationships. At opposite ends of the spectrum, the leads of Carnal Knowledge strive to alter their livelihood, for better or worse. The film is fascinated by empty people attempting to conform to societal norms, only to have their woes counter their efforts.

Presented as a benign drama about romance and friendship, Nichols’ film is perverse and daring but not gratuitous. Anxieties surrounding sexuality are omnipresent throughout the story, clashing primal and intellectual instincts. The cutting nature of the film exploits the unflinching reality of these complicated men. Nichols expanded upon his vision of The Graduate by exhibiting the idealistic masculine figure, particularly in Jonathan, as a ne’er-do-well whose inability to grow causes him to be a toxic figure. Carnal Knowledge is pure ‘70s text, but Nichols’ direction is restrained and devoid of athletic filmmaking to fit the mold of classically gripping character dramas.

3. The Candidate (1972)

One of the premiere movie stars of the decade, Robert Redford, was certainly aided by his picturesque appearance. However, he was always subverting his beauty by tackling challenging and daring projects. His bids to be taken seriously were just as contemplative as his films driven by him as a matinee idol. An underrated star vehicle for him, The Candidate, is the ultimate Redford movie and performance of his.

In this political dramedy by ‘70s journeyman director Michael Ritchie, an idealist, liberal lawyer, Bill McKay (Redford) is recruited by campaign managers to run for U.S. Senate in California against a Republican favorite. Unlike most films of today concerning political satire, there is no sense of overwrought handwringing about the issue at hand. The Candidate is humble and nuanced in its dissection of the machinations behind political campaigning and government bureaucracy. Ritchie was a sturdy hand throughout the decade–always extracting great performances and layered his films with just enough weight to elevate the drama and levity to cement a groundedness.

The comedy in the film derives from the bizarre, yet plausible circumstances of gaming the political system. Viewers are designed to simultaneously root for McKay and be weary of his naivety. This is why the role is perfect for Redford, as the wunderkind senator candidate is playing off of good looks and hoping to prove himself as a smart and component political maverick. The Candidate is in-tone with New Hollywood’s evergrowing panic surrounding the political system and domestic state of affairs–effectively colliding this apprehensiveness with the remaining strands of hope in the American government complex. In McKay’s case, power can be a wonderful prospect, but the system stands as the definitive suppressor of the American spirit.

4. Phantom of the Paradise (1974)

Of the core of the New Hollywood pack of filmmakers, Brian De Palma is perhaps the most visually intuitive and daring director. While never receiving the same reverence and populous recognition as his counterparts such as Martin Scorsese, Francis Ford Coppola, and George Lucas, De Palma was an expert mechanical and emotionally vibrant storyteller, constantly bending genre and formal expectations. Nowhere is this more indicative than in Phantom of the Paradise.

In this twisted riff on the legendary theater production, Phantom of the Opera, the film follows a disfigured composer, Winslow (William Finley), who sells his soul for the woman he loves so that in return, she performs his music, while greedy record tycoon, Swan (Paul Williams) betrays him by stealing his music to open a rock palace, which ensues the composer to terrorize the establishment. The weighty pathos of Phantom of the Paradise naturally lends itself to a postmodern operatic text, but De Palma’s frenzy direction of farce and black humor spins the film into an uncontainable scope.

The film is maximalist in every sense of the word. The director is unafraid to play for laughs in the most perverse settings and feed into the melodramatic tragedy of the story, all in all, executing an impressive juggling act of tone. Stylistically, Phantom of the Paradise is pure De Palma. The slick production design, camera work, and editing are a perfect symphony to the grand scale of the dramatic arc. De Palma’s fixation on manipulating the medium of film and its potential is at its proudest on this bizarre and entrancing stage. The film is a mesmerizing interpretation of a rock opera envisioned on the big screen helmed by a distinct filmmaking voice.

5. Lenny (1974)

In the world of theater and choreography, Bob Fosse is an incredibly influential figure. He also has quite the foothold in cinema–telling stories of disconcerting artists under the mold of subverted Hollywood films. Fosse, a deeply cynical artist, infused his downbeat attitude into the rudimentary celebrity biopic, Lenny.

Based on the rise and fall of maverick stand-up comedian Lenny Bruce (Dustin Hoffman), the film depicts his evolution from a hacky joke-teller to a social critic, elevating him to the status of a cult-like hero. Fosse’s portrayal of a comedian is telling that Hoffman’s performance as Bruce is stripped of any traditional humor. From the beginning, the comic is emotionally bruised and disgruntled at the world. The director sympathizes with him as an outcast, even when viewers are inclined to think the comedian’s self-destruction bears more guilt than his persecution. The film’s black-and-white photography is purposeful, but it effectively conveys a somber tone.

Lenny is committed to validating the subject’s role as a catalyst to the social upheaval that would arise at the time of the film’s release in 1974. The post-mortem dissection of Bruce in the film glorifies his impact from one perspective, but it simultaneously adds to the unknowable quality that Fosse depicts surrounding him. While his passion is applaudable, his enforcement of Bruce as an important man to the fabric of American counterculture is didactic. The director’s lack of interest in allowing Bruce to be funny on stage restricts the characterization to show his importance, rather than Fosse outright pushing for his recognition. Nonetheless, the bleak tone is captivating, especially when Lenny operates as a text of societal hypocrisy and extreme moral uprightness.

By 1957, Life magazine called the 1950’s “the horrible decade” for Hollywood. This didn’t change for the first part of the 1960s. Major studios were pumping millions into aging historical epics and musicals such as Hello Dolly! Cleopatra and King of Kings. With the rise of the French New Wave, Japanese cinema and Spaghetti Westerns making a splash in the US, audience members (mainly the youth) were demanding something new from Hollywood. Something they could find meaning, something that had artistic value, something like Michelangelo Antonioni’s Blow Up, a film with full-frontal nudity and distorted narrative structure. Or something like Bonnie and Clyde…

Arthur Penn’s crime film was the one that really knocked on Hollywood’s door step to say “out with the old, in with the new”. Soon, films like Midnight Cowboy, The Graduate, The Wild Bunch, Faces, The Trip and Easy Rider weren’t just filling movie theatres, but they were making money, creating a whole new brand of stardom, but also winning Oscars…New Hollywood was born.

The 1960’s remains one of, if not, the most important and significant decade of film history. This list explores 10 great films from 60s that are sometimes overlooked or underrated compared to heavy hitters.

1. The Swimmer (Frank Perry, 1968)

Burt Lancaster stars as Ned Merrill, a successful ad man who visits his friend in suburban Connecticut. When he notices the large amounts of backyard swimming pools in the area, Ned decides that he’d like to make his way back home by swimming across every pool in town. As Ned swims in each pool, he’s confronted with a reminder of his failures. The story was based on the 1964 short story of the same name by John Cheever, which appeared in the July 18, ’64 issue of The New Yorker. The screenplay was written by Eleanor Perry and directed by her husband, Frank Perry.

Although not smashing any box office records, or gaining any memorable praise from critics from the time, in recent years the film has gained cult film status. Roger Ebert described the film as “a strange, stylized work, a brilliant and disturbing one”. Vincent Canby in The New York Times wrote: “although literal in style, the film has the shape of an open-ended hallucination. It is a grim, disturbing and sometimes funny view of a very small, very special segment of upper-middle-class American life”.

Burt Lancaster is no stranger to great performances, but his portrayal of Ned, a man who attempts to keep a smile on his face, no matter how many times he’s reminded of his regrets and failures, is truly breath-taking. His large, broad, manly appearance, his charismatic manners and speech, is all just a mirage leading to the final devastating scene. The Swimmer is one of those films where the premise seems quite simple yet you stay for the character, and then you’re truly starstruck by its climax.

2. Two Thousand Maniacs! (Herschell Gordon Lewis, 1964)

Three Yankee couples are lured into the small Southern town of Pleasant Valley for a Centennial celebration. The trip takes a dark bloody turn when the residents begin killing the tourists one by one, as revenge for the town’s destruction during the Civil War. The film was written and directed by “The Godfather of Gore”, Herschell Gordon Lewis, a term given to him due to his ruthless exploitation films. The film stars 1963 Playboy Playmate Connie Mason, who also starred in another one of Lewis’ bloody horrors, Blood Feast, the year before.

The film was one of the first to introduce audiences to the “Southern Gore” and “Hicksploitation” sub-genres of films: the device which saw Northern outsiders stranded in the rural South who are then violently murdered by malignant, backwoods Southerners. The film was incredibly influential on Tobe Hooper’s classic horror, The Texas Chainsaw Massacre, as well other films such as Deliverance, Eaten Alive and The Hills Have Eyes.

What makes the film quite special is that they shot it in the small town of St. Cloud, Florida, and had the entire town’s residents participate in the film as actors and extras. This gave the film that extra authenticity which added to the “fish out of water” storyline that the characters from up North were experiencing.

The film was heavily cut by the MPAA for its release which resulted in it hardly being screened across the country. Instead, the film mostly played at drive-in theatres and did considerably well, especially in the Southern states. The crude, gory violence is what makes the film special. It starts off as a positive trip, full of laughter, fun, celebration and that stereotypical Southern hospitality. Then, it soon turns into a violent nightmare of vengeance. What really makes the film horrifying, is the way the Southern characters act. They’re rarely angry, or show their emotions of revenge. Instead, they follow out their violent plan with a smile, containing their hospitality.

3. Point Blank (John Boorman, 1967)

After being double-crossed and left for dead, a ruthless gangster named Walker (Lee Marvin), swears revenge as he goes on a violent journey to retrieve the money that was taken from him. The script was written by Alexander Jacobs, David Newhouse and Rafe Newhouse, and was based on the 1963 crime noir pulp novel The Hunter by Donald E. Westlake (as Richard Stark).

The film was met with good reviews upon its release. Legendary film critic, Pauline Kael, wrote “A brutal new melodrama is called Point Blank, and it is…intermittently dazzling”. Roger Ebert also praised the film, giving it three out of four stars and said “as suspense thrillers go, Point Blank is pretty good”.

The film stood out in 1967 as it experimented with various styles and techniques. It blended film styles such as film noir and French New Wave as well as having a broken time-line due to the novel having a non-linear structure. The film also plays with narrative rhythm as it has long quiet scenes suddenly juxtaposed with bursts of violence. Boorman and Marvin worked very closely on the film, with equal parties coming up with ideas on how to shoot scenes and which visual metaphors to use.

The film has been an inspiration for many other movies and filmmakers, most notably Steven Soderbergh, who did the commentary on the DVD release of Point Blank. You can see many similarities in style, character and use of Los Angeles with Point Blank and Soderbergh’s The Limey. Brian Helgeland’s Payback, starring Mel Gibson was also based on the novel, The Hunter, although wasn’t as ground-breaking or critically acclaimed as Point Blank.

4. The Big Gundown (Sergio Sollima, 1966)

Lee Van Cleef stars in this Spaghetti Western as retired bounty hunter, Jonathan “Colorado” Corbett, on the hunt for a ruthless Mexican peasant, Cuchillo (Tomas Milian), who is accused of raping and killing a 12-year-old girl. Thinking it’s going to be an easy task; Corbett finds himself in more of a struggle than he thought as Cuchillo seems to be one step ahead of him. As the story progresses, Corbett discovers certain truths and revelations that change the motivation of his journey.

The film was directed by Italian exploitation director, Sergio Sollima, known for films such as the mafia flick The Family starring Charles Bronson, police thriller Revolver starring Oliver Reed, and Spaghetti Western Face to Face starring Tomas Millian and Gian Maria Volontè. The script was penned by Sollima and Sergio Donati, who wrote the Sergio Leone films For a Few Dollars More, Once Upon a Time in the West and A Fistful of Dynamite. He then went on to write and work on some heavy hitters in the 80s such as Raw Deal, Renegade and Man on Fire.

The film’s twists and turns are satisfying yet expected with both the genre and the filmmakers, but what really makes the film special is the on-screen relationship Lee Van Cleef and Tomas Millian have. Millian’s juvenile and despicable behaviour matched with Cleef’s strict, straight faced, determination creates a two-man brand that could have worked wonders in comedies similar to that of Terence Hill and Bud Spencer’s.

The film’s secret sauce that really makes it stand out is its score, composed by the great and irreplaceable, Ennio Morricone. The score is emotional, yet grand and thrilling. Morricone’s contribution to not only westerns but films of all genres, was and will be forever unmatched. He could boost a film’s quality up to ten just by simply adding some of his masterful themes into a scene.

Although The Big Gundown isn’t the greatest Spaghetti Western ever made, it sure is one of the most entertaining and satisfying to watch, especially when you have Lee Van Cleef at the top of his game, dominating the screen.

5. Bob & Carol & Ted & Alice (Paul Mazursky, 1969)

Bob (Robert Culp) and Carol (Natalie Wood) are a trendy hip Los Angeles couple who begin having an open relationship due to them both having affairs. Attempting to take it further, they try to involve their uptight friends Ted (Elliot Gould) and Alice (Dyan Cannon) into their relationship. The film was penned by Larry Tucker, known for Alex in Wonderland and I Love you, Alice B. Toklas! As well as Paul Mazursky who also directed the film.

Mazursky is one of the crucial directors that led the New Hollywood movement with films such as Alex in Wonderland, Blume in Love, Harry and Tonto, Next Stop Greenwich Village and An Unmarried Woman. In both his writing and directing, Mazursky marvelled in capturing the late 60s, early 70’s hippie rebellion as well as the opposite side who didn’t understand it, which is exactly what the characters in Bob & Carol & Ted & Alice share. Bob and Carol are open to the hippie movement, open to trying new things and exploring the new age of meditation and mindset. Yet, Ted and Alice have a minor stiff upper lip that prevents them from doing the same.

Like most of Mazursky’s work, the film has a good amount of humour which works in most of the actor’s favour, such as Gould who would act in the ground-breaking, Oscar worthy comedy M.A.S.H the following year. Although criticised at the time, the film’s ending is really what ties the film together. The audience gets to a place near the end of the film where it’s expecting the obvious outcome, yet it doesn’t deliver, but deep down, the audience is glad it doesn’t. With a nod to Fellini’s 8 ½, the film’s ending uses Jackie DeShannon performing Burt Bacharach and Hal David’s “What the World Needs Now Is Love”, in the most elegant way.

What makes Bob & Carol & Ted & Alice a uniquely great film, and especially that of the 60s, is it understands the complex moral confrontation that Americans in the age group of the film’s characters have. Similarly, to The Graduate, the film decides to show this in a comedy, which deep down dramatizes it in a way far more superior than if you were to strip the humour away.

Based on longevity, box office, critical success, the formative influence on the Western, and general iconography, Clint Eastwood has had one of the finest careers in Hollywood history as an actor and director.

A populist favorite who pushed the artistic envelope, Eastwood’s notable works and his hidden gems are captivating pieces of entertainment and integral texts surrounding masculinity, violence, and redemption. With such a vast filmography, one is certain to have missed a handful of great films that he has put his name to.

1. Where Eagles Dare (1968)

The late 1960s is when Clint Eastwood emerged from television and firmly announced himself as a premiere movie star. In an unusual dynamic for the actor, he played second fiddle to Richard Burton in this sturdy man-on-a-mission caper. Where Eagles Dare laid the groundwork for the kinds of projects that Eastwood would be attracted to and subsequently elevate on his part.

The film, directed by Brian G. Hutton, follows a journey of Allied agents who plan a daring raid on a castle where Nazi soldiers are holding an American general hostage. During this time in Hollywood, movies were prone to glamorize combat set in World War II. It was used as escapism amid a time of social and political upheaval in the ‘60s.

In Where Eagles Dare, the gritty and precarious situation of the story keeps the viewers on edge. The slickness in Hutton’s direction satisfies the expected elements in a wartime adventure film, but thanks primarily to Eastwood’s presence, the film carries itself with menace. Eastwood, who plays Lieutenant Schaffer, an American who is skeptical of the mission, is the audience avatar. However, his stern demeanor resembles him closer to The Terminator than anything played following.

As is the case with every instance where he stood in front of the camera, Eastwood’s presence is unmistakable, and the driving power of a film that is often dragged by the plot mechanics. When the rubber meets the road, the impressive action set pieces in Where Eagles Dare makes the entire narrative feel worthwhile. Amid the grand scope of the Allies vs. the Nazis, Eastwood proves himself as a titanic figure.

2. The Beguiled (1971)

1971 was a monumental year for Clint Eastwood. Considering it featured his directorial debut, Play Misty for Me, and the inaugural portrayal as Harry Callahan of Dirty Harry, the year confirmed that Eastwood would be a prominent star and visionary in Hollywood for years to come. Off to the side this year, he also collaborated with Dirty Harry director Don Siegel to make The Beguiled, one of Eastwood’s most complex and daunting pictures to date.

Based on the novel by Thomas Cullinan, The Beguiled centers around a Confederate girls’ boarding school during the Civil War that houses a gravely wounded Union soldier, John McBurney (Eastwood). The soldier grows to seduce the hearts of the inhabitants of the school, which causes betrayal and turmoil between the girls and eventually McBurney. The film utilizes Eastwood’s stardom and image richly. Even though he is an enemy, these Confederate girls can only help but offer him hospitality. While the audience suspects that McBurney is in control of the situation, Siegel unravels the dynamic by revealing him to be imprisoned by the unhealthy desire for affection on the girls’ part.

The film is effective as a psychological thriller, with Siegel’s visual language of a disturbed gothic romance brilliantly deconstructing Eastwood’s star persona. By making McBurney vulnerable, it simultaneously characterizes the boarding school instructors and students as deeply wounded spirits. Both parties are stricken with temptations and trepidations–allowing the story to be refreshingly ambiguous thematically. The Beguiled, as a domestic drama, crystalizes the undermining horror of the Civil War and a fractured America. Don Siegel was a master genre filmmaker, so even with the greater narrative implications aside, the film is paced with such a riveting momentum and energy. The Beguiled signaled the revisionist takes on revered American heroes that Eastwood would desire to tackle as an actor and director.

3. High Plains Drifter (1973)

Decades before his magnum opus, Unforgiven, Clint Eastwood laid the groundwork for the revisionist Western envisioned by John Ford in his later years. Ironically, it was Ford’s frequent collaborator, Western icon John Wayne, who notoriously despised High Plains Drifter and vowed to never work with Eastwood after receiving an offer to star together. Wayne’s reaction to the film’s unsavory, unromanticized depiction of cowboys and the American frontier is precisely why it is brilliant.

In Eastwood’s second bid as director, High Plains Drifter depicts a brutal, nameless vigilante Stranger (Eastwood) who is hired by a small town to rally its folks together to defend against an attack from three outlaws. This is Eastwood’s closest manifestation of the Devil and the harshest depiction of the old west as a hellscape. The artifice of the local settlement’s neighborhood disguises the true wickedness of the violent undertones of vigilantism.

High Plains Drifter is as if the palatable revisionist Western was inverted to display the ugly facets of the American mythos that the respective films tried to maintain. The Stranger is a vicious figure who commits sexual assault and murders at will. There is nothing redeemable about him even in his supposed righteous cause, but the townspeople have no choice but to accept his guardianship.

High Plains Drifter relishes in the bleakness of a world resigned to nihilism as a means of justice. The Stranger tears down the glamor of Western iconography by painting it red and eventually burning it all to the ground. From such an early point in his filmmaking career, Eastwood’s haunted reckoning with the American West as a vehicle for violence and immorality among fabled guardian angels was profound.

4. Thunderbolt and Lightfoot (1974)

Before reaching the artistic heights of The Deer Hunter and permanently altering the fabric of the movie industry with the fiasco of Heaven’s Gate, Michael Cimino gave Clint Eastwood a fascinating star vehicle. Paired with a rising star, Jeff Bridges, Eastwood could play off the energy of a new radiant voice in Thunderbolt and Lightfoot. The buddy road trip movie boded well for the star, but Hollywood was misguided by the success and stuck him with an orangutan in a film of the same orbit in Every Which Way but Loose.

In Thunderbolt and Lightfoot, a seasoned bank robber, Thunderbolt (Eastwood), along with his newly acquainted troubled sidekick, Lightfoot (Bridges), decides to reunite with his former partners in crime to organize a new heist. As Cimino is rooted in his time, the film is ingrained with the style and tone of a New Hollywood character study but is classical in its storytelling and structure. If not for a compelling dynamic between the titular characters, the film would have collapsed under itself.

Fortunately, Eastwood and Bridges share electric chemistry. They give similar enough performances to not devolve the story into a watered-down odd-couple story of bickering counterparts. The road trip feels like a piece of a lost Americana that Eastwood has spent his career trying to reckon with as a director. Cimino’s fixation on the genre elements and beats of the greater plot distracts from the real charm at the heart of Thunderbolt and Lightfoot. The film is better off stripped down of its intrigue with the heist and focused on the relationship between the two. Either way, the 1974 film makes one wish that Eastwood matched himself with an up-and-coming star more often to serve as his foil.

5. Escape from Alcatraz (1979)

Few actor-director duos have a higher standard of consistent excellence than Clint Eastwood and Don Siegel. When together, audiences are assured to experience a tightly-paced, star-driven, expertly crafted film. Escape from Alcatraz, while not the most thematically provocative film, is the kind of engaging thriller that would be welcomed immensely today. The 1979 film is a confirmation that, when Eastwood is on screen, a film will have everyone’s attention.

Based on a true story, Escape from Alcatraz follows bank robber Frank Morris’ (Eastwood) master plan to break out of the seemingly impenetrable federal penitentiary. It’s such a simple premise, but it is wholly satisfying. Siegel’s meticulous pacing heightens every move made by the characters toward the climax. The characters’ motives are employed through the patient pacing of the respective staging. Siegel’s commitment to the interconnectivity of escape coordination builds natural tension. In general, there are few narratives inherently more enjoyable in movies than heist setups and/or escape plans, and the film knows this.

Escape from Alcatraz is refreshing in its choice to curb forced character ethos in the writing–solely focusing on the outcome of the dungeon-like prison to elevate the fatalistic implications of the story. Eastwood is as captivating as always. He is charismatic enough to hold attention but is restrained to reality and the repressive nature of prison life. The lack of tiresome melodrama in the film helps define its working-man characteristic that is right in the wheelhouse of Siegel and Eastwood. Just as much as his future films aggressively reflect his image, Escape from Alcatraz’ straightforward thrills and payoffs embody Eastwood.

In more ways than none, Steven Spielberg is synonymous with the art of film directing. Not only is his commercial success unparalleled, but he is also responsible for some of the most iconic films, characters, images, and thematic ideas of Hollywood history.

In essence, Spielberg is the ideal filmmaker, equally populous and crowd-pleasing as he is intelligent, groundbreaking, and artistically sound. Everyone knows the classics, but Spielberg, who has directed over 30 films throughout his illustrious career, has underseen and overlooked gems in his reservoir.

1. Duel (1971)

Watching a significant director’s debut film in retrospect of the current context is always fascinating, especially when the seeds of their artistry were intact. While merely a T.V. movie, Duel is the definitive blueprint to Jaws, as well as the masterful staging and viscerally accessible entertainment that Steven Spielberg perfected. The film has become an object of cult fascination over the years, and it is the Rosetta Stone for how Spielberg emerged as the populous voice of a generation.

Duel follows a business executive, David (Dennis Weaver), who commutes to an appointment with a client when an ominous truck driver terrorizes him during his trip. The truck continues to chase after him on the road, and David is forced to drive for his life. Plot-wise, Duel mirrors the crux of Jaws. Other stylistic and thematic elements, such as the elevation of trashy B-movie material and the fear of the enemy being the dramatic device rather than the entity itself, lends the 1971 TV movie as the true predecessor to the summer blockbuster. The truck driver, and even the truck itself, remains a faceless figure lacking any tangible motivation throughout, which only heightens the treacherous stakes.

Once the frantic cat-and-mouse game between David and the truck ignites, Spielberg never figuratively lets his foot off the gas. The accelerated momentum of Duel is too rampant for the small screen. On a textual level, the film utilizes the desert setting to, perhaps implicitly, exploit the dynamic of a white-collar, suburb-dweller trekking out to the frontier and confronting the danger of the wild west. Whether or not this is designed to comment on a sociological phenomenon, this juxtaposition further adds to the thrills and cinematic bliss of Duel.

2. The Sugarland Express (1974)

His arrival on the big screen, this early work is not as omnipresent with the traditional Steven Spielberg DNA. Indebted to New Hollywood films about outlaws on the run, The Sugarland Express is a downbeat spin on the director’s exploration of family and adventure, and the integration of classic Hollywood figures and ideas into a modern world. While Spielberg pivoted in a different direction, films of this limited scope could have boded well for his artistic craft.

In The Sugarland Express, Lou-Jean (Goldie Hawn) and her husband Clovis (William Atherton), who recently escaped from prison, are on the run from the law after taking a police officer hostage in their attempt to kidnap their child from foster parents. The film may remind audiences of counterculture road movies like Bonnie and Clyde and Easy Rider on the surface, but Spielberg’s formative expressive camera movements and explosive action set pieces offer something slightly more palatable.

If anything, The Sugarland Express demands more attention to the psychology of broken people. Spielberg is perhaps too committed to testing his abilities as a director of spectacle. Because of this, however, he proactively discovers ingenious ways to shoot the most rudimentary sequences. Every angle, shot length, and framing device is employed by Spielberg.

His admiration for Westerns and the filmography of John Ford is evident in the casting of Ben Johnson and the characterization of powerful lawmen at the end of the line. If The Fabelmans reminded Spielberg and his audience anything, a shot comprised of a horizon in the middle of the screen is, described by David Lynch’s portrayal of Ford, “boring as shit.” The Sugarland Express laid the groundwork for Spielberg as a wondrous visionary.

3. Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom (1984)

For some baffling reason, Temple of Doom has been subjugated as part of the “bad Indiana Jones” films alongside Kingdom of the Crystal Skull. While the 2008 Indy comeback film is ripe with flaws, the 1984 sequel pushed the envelope for franchise filmmaking and the MPAA rating board. Spielberg uses a bankable franchise and beloved character to vault towards deranged filmmaking that he never aspired to before.

The Temple of Doom is set before the events of Raiders of the Lost Ark, following Indy’s (Harrison Ford) quest to reclaim a rock stolen by a secret cult lurking beneath the catacombs of an ancient palace. It is refreshing to watch a prequel that isn’t relentlessly bogged down in expanded universe lore, or panders to fanbases regarding a favorable portrait of the central character. Furthermore, the plot of the film is superfluous. Spielberg is focused on incredible spectacles and dazzling set pieces. Temple of Doom has an escalation and momentum that boosts tension and the livewire character dynamic between Indy, Short Round (Ke-Huy Quan), and Willie (Kate Capshaw).

The film mimics its own minecart chase, never slowing down until the closing credits. Spielberg sees no creative boundaries with his film, as he gleefully leans into both horror and slapstick comedy, with the former of the two being so pronounced that the PG-13 rating was implemented thanks to the movie. The film’s depiction of Southeast Asian people is slightly problematic, to say the least, but all of these indelible facets of Temple of Doom highlight how bold and daring Spielberg was at the time. He easily could have phoned in an Indy sequel just for the paycheck, but he chose to up the ante by giving the character a gonzo treatment.

4. Empire of the Sun (1987)

The mid-late 1980s saw Steven Spielberg, perhaps at the height of his popularity and commercial success, chasing after an Academy Award by tackling serious “adult” stories. The films of this time, including The Color Purple and Empire of the Sun, are still embedded with his sense of wonder and hopefulness in the face of danger. With his latter film in 1987, Spielberg got his first taste of a historical epic about the immense gravity of political turmoil, all through the perspective of a child, in Spielberg fashion.

Empire of the Sun centers around a young English boy, Jim (Christian Bale), who struggles to survive under the Japanese occupation of China during World War II. An expert in directing child actors, a young Bale is a perfect match for Spielberg. He has a delicate touch regarding elevating children to make them sympathetic and relatable to adults. Following this story with lofty stakes from young Jim’s eyes is seamless. Despite being a film about wonder and sentimentality amid a national crisis, Spielberg displays a remarkable amount of restraint from his typical wonder and sentimentality. In this case, Empire of the Sun relies on natural emotional manipulation.

For better or worse, the film is usually leveled and doesn’t give into monumental payoffs, especially in the first half. The section before entering the internment camp contains some of the most harrowing sequences and imagery of the director’s filmography, as the despair of war-torn China correlates with the inherent danger of shattered innocence. Empire of the Sun operates as a transition phase for Spielberg, as he juggles the wholesome quest for hope against a dire historical context later seen in Schindler’s List and Lincoln.

5. A.I. Artificial Intelligence (2001)

In 2001, Steven Spielberg was handed the impossible task of completing an unfinished project by the recently passed Stanley Kubrick. Two directors with seemingly counterintuitive artistic and thematic styles would converge to produce A.I. Artificial Intelligence, a science fiction riff on Pinocchio. What was criticized at the time for muddling the cynical outlook of Kubrick as a result of Spielberg’s hopefulness is in actuality one of the soulful and sobering depictions of humanity of all time.

In a dystopian future, where A.I. is set, a highly advanced robotic boy, David, (Haley Joel Osment) vows to become real to inspire the love of his human mother (Frances O’Connor). Kubrick’s imprint on the narrative is inseparable, but make no mistake, this is Spielberg’s alluring vision. The film’s distinct three-act structure gives it a sprawling scope. Some cite this as messy storytelling, but Spielberg’s exploration into how advanced technology only suppresses the hearts of broken natural and artificial life forms across various walks of life is magnetic. A.I. expertly walks a fine line between the bleak distortion of artificial life and longing for human affection remarkably.

There is an unnerving dreamscape to A.I. that mirrors the moral quandary of the future of artificial intelligence that lingers today. The characters, environment, and feelings are all familiar, but they are ultimately impenetrable. Basic human core values, love, companionship, and trust, all are muddied in this universe. The paradox surrounding the manufacturing of affection is met with an inevitable reality of David, a programmed robot, doing whatever it takes to satisfy its coded definition of becoming a real boy. On the surface, the film’s ending is a tiring illustration of Spielberg’s sappiness, but only in a subversive reading does it conclude that artificiality clouded as blissful reality is the cruelest form of closure.

Without question, Martin Scorsese is one of the most beloved and influential filmmakers of all time. His consistency of excellence throughout six decades of directing is impeccable. Because of his preservation and advocacy of the film medium, Scorsese has maintained a high status of relevancy unparalleled for filmmakers. Across 40 narrative and documentary feature films, he has made undisputed classics, but he also has under-the-radar gems in his resume.

1. Alice Doesn’t Live Here Anymore (1974)

Martin Scorsese has faced criticism over the years for his lack of female representation and stories centered around women. While he is certainly a filmmaker interested in stories from a male perspective surrounding issues of masculinity, the idea that he doesn’t care about women, or that he isn’t responsible for riveting female characters is fraught. If anything, the director is always interested in learning more about personal blindspots, which is exactly why he decided to accept an offer from star Ellen Burstyn to direct Alice Doesn’t Live Here Anymore.

Scorsese’s film about a single mother, Alice (Burstyn), who travels cross country searching for a fresh start in life after her husband dies is one of his most human and grounded portrayals of a conflicted protagonist. Thanks to Burstyn’s incredible Oscar-winning performance, the film ceases to operate on a black-or-white basis. Alice longs for independence, but simultaneously, she can’t help but be tempted by life with a new husband. Staying true to the grain and moral complexity of New Hollywood ‘70s cinema, Alice is not afraid of confrontation, awkward emotions, and ambiguity.

The film manages to carry the same weight as Raging Bull or Goodfellas without overcompensating the protagonist’s plight. Scorsese’s underground rock-and-roll filmmaking established in Mean Streets is quite prevalent. The director walked the thin line between employing his natural artistry and adapting to a new story and environment. His sympathy and admiration for the titular Alice is palpable. Scorsese making more films like Alice Doesn’t Live Here Anymore would be welcomed greatly, especially to demonstrate his nuance and versatility.

2. New York, New York (1977)

Following the critical acclaim of Taxi Driver, Martin Scorsese was set to continue his inversion of cinematic ideals. With the divisive revisionist musical, New York, New York, the director took a big swing. While many find the film disjointed, and it certainly whiffs on many of its power swings on occasion, it is an endlessly fascinating text to analyze. The 1977 film and its subsequent audience disappointment led the director to question his motives and place in Hollywood.

New York, New York, a manifestation of New Hollywood sensibilities integrated into MGM classic musicals, follows an egotistical saxophone player, Jimmy Doyle (Robert De Niro), and the rocky personal and professional relationship with lounge singer Francine Evans (Liza Minnelli). Scorsese’s decision to place a downbeat love story against the backdrop of post-war Americana is quite interesting. The uncanny style of the film, featuring a set resembling an old studio backlot, is essential in creating the unglamorous vision of Scorsese’s tale of two dedicated artists who can’t express healthy love for each other.

The director’s admiration for the genre is evident, but he never holds back from crafting a grainy depiction of what usually is a home of jubilated movie magic. The Jimmy Doyle character is actively unlikeable–turning off many viewers, but the film’s unflinching characterization parallels the gloomy mindset of Scorsese at the time. New York, New York engages in an often convoluted juggling act with its themes, and it tends to grow weary and dull. This is the only instance in Scorsese’s career where his ambition got to the better of him. Major flaws aside, Scorsese’s musical, with its intersection of Hollywood history and ‘70s social turmoil, is worthy of a viewing.

3. The Last Waltz (1978)

Unbeknownst to casual observers, Martin Scorsese is an active documentary filmmaker. He is also an avid fan of classic rock and roll. The use of rock in his films is prevalent and widely celebrated, as his curation of pop music beautifully meshed with his stories. These passions converged to create The Last Waltz, the director’s concert documentary tributing The Band in its final performance. A soulful and touching depiction of a swan song, Scorsese’s heart is all over the stage as much as the rockstars.

Cross-cutting between The Band’s concert on Thanksgiving 1976 and behind-the-scenes interviews with band members, the 1978 film explores the interactions the music generates on stage and focuses deeply on the nature of friendship and harmony channeled through their music. Scorsese assembled a collection of the finest cinematographers and camera operators working at the time, including Michael Chapman, Vilmos Zsigmond, and Laszlo Kovacs, to precisely capture the most finite details–by proxy enhancing the beauty of rock and roll.

From the “this film should be played loud” title card to the intimate setting created by the camera on and off stage, The Last Waltz is rock and roll transformed into film. Each sound and patiently-drawn images are magnetic. Scorsese employs the iconography of famous guest performers at the concert, such as Bob Dylan, Muddy Waters, Van Morrison, Eric Clapton, Neil Young, and Joni Mitchell, to an honorable degree. The film reckons with nostalgia, legacy, and authorship. The candid interviews between members of The Band stay true to the director’s grounded authenticity. One of the most brilliant artistic choices of Scorsese’s career is restricting the camera to only capture the stage, and never showing the audience, leaving The Band on an island like mythical beings.

4. The King of Comedy (1983)

Recently a major influence on a franchise blockbuster in Joker, Martin Scorsese’s overlooked at the time, but recently reclaimed satire, The King of Comedy, ranks among the finest of his work. A downbeat film from 1983, a cinematic period ruled by populous entertainment, this is a continuation of the director’s exploration of the souls of broken people, and what depths they submerge to for the purpose of redeeming themselves. With this film, Scorsese has something biting to say about society and was more prescient than anyone could have imagined.

The story of The King of Comedy centers around Rupert Pupkin (Robert De Niro), a wannabe stand-up comic who stalks famous late-night host Jerry Langford (Jerry Lewis) and eventually kidnaps him in pursuit of claiming overnight fame. What makes Scorsese’s film so brilliant is that it is just as bleak and cynical as Taxi Driver and Raging Bull, but the film just pretends it isn’t. The hallucinogenic and operatic visual language of his previous films is stripped away. In The King of Comedy, there is a sense of the ordinary. Rupert Pupkin exists in everyday life.

While still composed of intuitive cinematography and shot selection, Scorsese is purposefully non-flashy in its style. Whereas Travis Bickle and Jake LaMotta are reprehensible tragic figures, Rupert is likable. His showman quality draws the viewer to root for his quest to become a stand-up comic. This is where Scorsese pulls the rug out from viewers as his quiet sociopathic tendencies slowly unravel. The fact that he never breaks from his benevolent personality only heightens the psychotic nature of the protagonist. Ultimately, The King of Comedy dishes out harsh commentary on celebrity obsession and society’s glorification of crime. Rupert, an average-at-best talent who makes it big, is never punished for his crimes, but rather, he is celebrated by culture. In an age dominated by reality T.V. and exploitive true crime, this idea certainly packs a punch today.

5. After Hours (1985)

After the box office calamity of The King of Comedy and the cancelation of The Last Temptation of Christ, Martin Scorsese needed to hit the reset button. He needed to truncate his filmmaking back to his indie roots. Luckily enough, a clever script came into his sights, and was able to reinvigorate his style and thematic devices, creating the gonzo After Hours in 1985. With a simple premise rounded out by a cast of under-the-radar stars, this film ranks among Scorsese’s finest work, backed by incredible visual storytelling and subtle integration of the director’s frequent themes.

In this Kafkaesque nightmare, yuppie word processor Paul Hackett (Griffin Dunne), travels out to the neighborhood of SoHo for a night out, and through a string of misunderstandings and mishaps, he is unable to return home. From the eerie portrait of New York to the fear of unknowability, the film closely resembles a nightmare. Paul is like a rat trapped in a maze–all because he wanted to spice up his life by going into this trendy neighborhood for a date.

On the page, After Hours is played straightforwardly thematically. In actuality, Scorsese dissects man’s subconscious concerning sex. His draw towards various blonde women that he encounters on his terrible night rather than making his escape from the neighborhood indicates such feelings. Additionally, there is a reading on the film that centers around sadomasochism. This punishment handed out by the SoHo community is what Paul desired all along. After Hours has a personal connotation with the director, as the manic depiction of a person stuck in a never-ending cycle of misfortune had to have hit home for Scorsese when The Last Temptation of Christ was taken away from him. Even when the film is operating like a screwball comedy, the typical despair commonly found in Scorsese’s filmography is omnipresent here.

There had been lots of attempts to introduce old-school horror masters to the younger generations, from the show “Masters of Horror” to documentaries like “In Search of Darkness”. While some filmmakers like John Carpenter are still well-known and beloved, some others are rarely being discussed anymore which is a shame. As great as Jordan Peele, Ari Aster, Ti West, and Robert Eggers are, they would be nothing without their masters.

For true horror fans, however, these maestros always meant something and still do. However, even the most accomplished and most “cult” of horror filmmakers sometimes make films that are largely ignored even if they’re in their prime. Here are ten films from great filmmakers of the horror genre that are worth to be seen by every horror fan. Only one of them is a non-horror but still is a film that is made for people who love and appreciate horror.

10. A Cat in the Brain (1990, Fulci)

Italian giallo cinema was not all about Argento and Bava. It was also Umberto Lenzi, Sergio Martino, Paolo Cavara, and many more. If you’re a fan of the genre, you probably know all these names well. One of them happens to be Lucio Fulci who also has made lots of comedies and westerns but is mostly remembered for his giallo films.

“A Cat in the Brain” is one of his most underrated ones, unfortunately. Probably because it’s not accessible enough? It seems like he went out to make the deranged version of Fellini’s 8½ and luckily, he succeeded. Fulci is playing himself in a movie, a version of him whose plagued by nightmarish dreams that almost drive him insane and hinder the work of his current film. In his dreams, he encounters splatter scenes, especially from his later creative phase. He visits the psychiatrist Prof. Egon Schwarz to get help but things get even more out of control. It’s one of his last movies and a fittingly meta one. He doesn’t only takes a look at his own career but also expresses his love for the genre.

9. Special Effects (1984, Cohen)

His stuff might not be for everyone but there’s no one like Larry Cohen and given his cult status, he deserved to get a mention on our list. He’s an endlessly fascinating figure. His 70s works, particularly It’s Alive (1974), God Told Me To (1976), and It Lives Again (1978) made him a favorite among some horror fans. The critics were somewhat confused by his work. It’s hard to break down his work for that reason ‘cause they can be so complex but also “weird” enough to not appeal to everyone. He’s a bit of like Sam Fuller in that regard. You can’t just dismiss even their failures.

Aforementioned films aside, he’s also known for “Q” and “The Stuff” which is why our list prefers to name “Special Effects” instead. One of his lesser-known works that deserve a second look. He’ll later make a glorious comeback with “The Ambulance” which still deserves a bigger audience but ”Special Effects’ Is more in the vein of his horrors.

The plot is about a sleazy filmmaker who strangles a would-be actress and films it. Her husband is charged with the murder. It feels like a De Palma movie made by Cohen and the result is… well, if you think Cohen is an auteur, it’s great. If you don’t, then it’s still an intriguing one. 80s synth soundtrack might be overbearing sometimes but it’s a fascinating film to check out, at least for the seductive camera work, good acting, nasty killing scene, gritty New York scenery, and effective finale.

8. The Pit and the Pendulum (1991, Gordon)

“Re-Animator” has a strong fan base and some of his other films have also received acclaim and attention like “From Beyond” but it’s unfortunate that Stuart Gordon never got the fame he deserves. He never stopped being interesting, even his later films like “King of the Ants” and “Edmund” are worth checking out. He also directed arguably the best episode of the short-living anthology “Fear Itself” called “Eater”.

“The Pit and the Pendulum” is a short story by Edgar Allan Poe and was previously adapted into cinema by Roger Corman. The third act in that film was astonishing and made it a cult hit back in time. If you’re a fan of the story, gotta say, it’s a very loose adaptation of it. So don’t be fooled by the title. If you know Gordon’s style, his usual tone, and how he approaches adaptations, you must already know what to expect before seeing it.

However, those who are not familiar with him enough might find it all a little too weird. Here the tone is constantly changing between something dark and serious with self-aware B-movie black comedy. Story-wise, it cleverly integrates the motives of insanity, sexual violence, and religious madness. Last but not least, Lance Henriksen always delivers as the baddy. Even the detractors of the film might enjoy his performance.

7. Tales of Terror (1962, Corman)

Roger Corman is many things. He’s the producer (and sometimes director) of many so-bad-its-good B-movies, director of great dramas like “The Intruder” as well as great Edgar Allan Poe adaptations among others, he’s the distributor of European and Asian auteurs in America, he’s the man who gave careers to many directors and actors. The documentary called “Corman’s World” is great enough to explore his career, though his life and career are so rich that one would need a series about it. We usually just call it “Poe films”, but most of them have one another common element which is incomparable Vincent Price.

Corman/Price collaborations have to be one of the most underrated filmmaker/actor collaborations of cinema. They just keep delivering and “Tales of Terror” is one of their lesser-known ones, unfortunately. It is an anthology film consisting of three very entertaining stories. Since they’re short, it’d be spoilerish to talk about their plots but it’s not just the stories that make them great. It’s all very stylish, the production design is truly wonderful in all of them. Price plays three roles and he’s masterful in them all. The wine-tasting scene between Peter Lorre and Price will be enough for you to not regret watching this.

6. Two Evil Eyes (1990, Romero & Argento)

Since we’re talking about Poe anthologies here, it makes sense to follow one Poe anthology with another one. George Romero and Dario Argento – two of the greatest horror filmmakers of all time have previously collaborated on the masterpiece called “Dawn of the Dead” (1978). It was originally intended to be an anthology film consisting of four segments based on Poe stories, but John Carpenter and Stephen King refused to be involved. Instead, we got two short segments, one by Romero and the other one by Argento.

Again, since it’s an anthology, revealing much about the plot would spoil the stories. However, both segments work not only because of the stories but also for the great technical details. Romero sounds like an unusual choice for the material he got but he’s delivering the goods. It keeps your interest all the way through and surprises you with its ending. Argento’s segment is even better with a great Harvey Keitel performance, a more twisted plot, and more stylish direction choices. The fans of both directors might enjoy this, though Argento’s segment is more likely to please the fans of his other works.

In the last decade, A24 has emerged as a favorable name brand in cinema. The independent distribution and production company only seems to grow in influence and popularity throughout the film landscape. As a result, the studio has become synonymous with a house style that is definable across all of their films, even when they are merely distributors.

Their overarching brand of artistically-minded films with singular visions ought to be a shared practice across the entire medium, but in an age of franchise domination in the industry, the kind of movies A24 spreads to the mainstream public is a true blessing. Many of their films, notably the Best Picture-winning Moonlight and last year’s Everything Everywhere All at Once, have found a populous outreach. However, there is still a field of overshadowed and underappreciated films from the studio’s impressive library.

1. Spring Breakers (2012)

Jarringly misunderstood at the time of its release and today, despite the mild cult following it inspired, Spring Breakers was an early film from the independent distributor and perfectly defined their cinematic taste. From the poster and basic plot synopsis, viewers might have expected Harmony Korine’s film to be a typical college frat comedy with a crime twist, but the film was unsuspectingly after something ambitious. The film follows a group of college friends who commit robbery to pay for a trip to St. Petersburg, Florida for spring break, and subsequently become entangled with the local criminal underworld.

Thanks to Korinne’s distinctive visual palette, sudden tonal shifts, and melancholic interpretation of a vibrant environment, Spring Breakers is one of a kind. The director’s vow to create a sensory film paid dividends, allowing the film to be contemplative about these young women’s desires and the consequences they must pay for their sins.

Most impressive of all, Korinne envisioned a film about college girls going on a wild, unforeseen spring break with earnestness. The film does not judge them for their temptations of a fun vacation, but it does not apologize for their misdeeds. Spring Breakers operates as a tragic cautionary tale about ambitious people, covered under the garment of co-ed hijinks and Tumblr aesthetics.

2. The Bling Ring (2013)

Devoted to upending audience expectations, A24 identified The Bling Ring as the ideal film to accomplish this goal. A companion piece to Spring Breakers, this film from Sofia Coppola is a meditative satire on the desire for fame and excess about a celebrity-obsessed group of girls who rob the homes of famous people. From the outskirts, the film presents itself as a highly stylized portrayal of reckless youth morphing into a Scorsese-esque rise-and-fall of deplorable criminals. In reality, Coppola’s film sits somewhere in the middle of this description. It has a clear and pronounced visual language, but it is reserved relative to the subject matter.

The Bling Ring meticulously balances character sympathy with the stunning reverberations of harsh consequences that Coppola lays on these real-life figures. As a viewer, the clashing sentiments over these people give the film a dynamic quality. The film captures a specific window of the late 2000s-early 2010s that adds text to the characters and the reasons for their criminality, as their social media-savvy livelihood was a prescient display of the dangers platforms like Facebook would have on our current society. Like any good satire, Coppola offers no clean resolutions. She shows that the characters never learned from their misdeeds, and worst of all, culture let them walk away scot-free.

3. While We’re Young (2014)

The films of Noah Baumbach confront harsh realities about life and one’s respective purpose in the world. Perhaps as a comment on himself or fellow colleagues, the director is prone to show the unpleasant side of the stereotypical self-indulgent artist. While We’re Young, a film that even the most passionate fans of Baumbach tend to overlook, follows an uptight documentary filmmaker (Ben Stiller) and his wife (Naomi Watts) loosening up their stale lives after befriending a younger, free-spirited couple. The reflective nature of the film is evident in Baumbach’s self-consciousness about aging and growing out of touch with the new trends in the world of art.

While We’re Young is the closest thing audiences will see to a director evolving his artistic sensibility and attitude within the duration of a film. While always presented as palatable dramedies, Baumbach’s previous films featured the biting cynicism of a specific breed of high-brow New York intellectuals. His following films, such as The Meyerowitz Stories and Marriage Story, are emblematic of the reawakening process that the Stiller character undergoes, where he discovers that there is something of value beyond his insular perspective of the world. However, despite the character’s reflection, viewers are still left with a lingering feeling of self-entitlement from the Baumbach avatar. While We’re Young offers no definite answers–only uncertain considerations.

4. De Palma (2015)

The overlooked sibling of the family of New Hollywood filmmakers who emerged in the 1970s, Brian De Palma’s career and films are given a proper stage in this engrossing documentary from Noah Baumbach and Jake Paltrow. In De Palma, the titular director of erotic and voyeurism thrillers recounts his career from his perspective, supplying noteworthy anecdotes and dissections of his films and his relationship with Hollywood.

Unlike the subject’s own films, Baumbach and Paltrow direct this film rudimentary and straight to the point, leaving all of the attention on De Palma, as he sits in the middle of the frame. The intercutting between De Palma, archive photos of behind-the-scenes sets, and movie footage keep the film at a constant, brisk pace, never lagging but never leaving too much information on the table.

De Palma’s story details many corners of the filmmaking industry, from filming underground pictures with his friends (Get to Know Your Rabbit and Hi, Mom!), emerging as part of the New Hollywood wave (Sisters and Blow Out), redefining himself in the ‘80s (Scarface and Casualties of War), and working his way up to directing blockbusters (The Untouchables and Mission: Impossible).

While hagiographic in spurts, the film is a product of De Palma’s testimony–always honest, thought-provoking, and faithful to his unique sense of humor. The effectiveness of De Palma, from its educational value of recent film history and visual storytelling to its exhibition of the bliss of moviemaking, makes one wish that every prominent director could receive their version of Baumbach and Paltrow’s documentary.

5. Under the Silver Lake (2018)

A film arguably preordained to be misunderstood upon release, Under the Silver Lake is crafted with an infinite amount of layers for audience deconstruction, but no hypothesis is definitely correct. In a purposefully hazy narrative in the spirit of classic noirs and revisionist noirs like The Long Goodbye, the film tracks the murky investigation of a missing woman and the sinister conspiracy surrounding it by the woman’s aimless neighbor, Sam (Andrew Garfield). David Robert Mitchell’s film was criticized for its cryptic narrative and lack of depth in its ultimate payoff.

As with many of the great noirs, the general ambiguity surrounding plot and character motivations is a rich thematic device. The film brushes upon various subjects, including paranoia, voyeurism, sexual anxiety, and obsessive media consumption. Despite its ambitions, Under the Silver Lake is never congested. Thanks to Mitchell’s reliance on vibes, every intricate facet of the story can be left without total comprehension. Viewers are mainly in awe of how far Sam will endure this mysterious odyssey to discover the whereabouts of his neighbor.

The film also constructs for the audience a peculiar relationship with its protagonist, in that one is not entirely certain if they are on his side throughout his adventure. Much like the emptiness of Sam, viewers are left dumbfounded by how this film evolved into an examination of the possible subliminal messages in popular media. Under the Silver Lake is one of a kind, even for a film backed by A24.

The words “underrated” and “overrated” have always caused controversy because, frankly, they’re both hard to define in a way that feels concrete. Yes, we all vaguely know the dictionary definition of these terms, but there’s so much contention regarding what makes something overrated or underrated.

Is a film underrated if it garnered glowing reviews but failed to ignite the box office? What about if you flip it? The live action Lion King grossed well over a billion dollars worldwide, so is it okay to label it underrated based on its poor reviews? Let’s be honest – trying to figure out a one-and-done definition will always be exhausting, so we’re going to keep things simple.

The films listed below are simply underappreciated. They can be considered underappreciated because of a lack of mainstream success or because of lukewarm reviews. In some cases, a film on this list might be a critical and commercial failure. It doesn’t matter because, in the end, this list just seeks to shed light on movies that deserve extra attention. Positivity is the primary goal here, and even if not every entry fits everybody’s definition of “underrated,” there’s still plenty to celebrate.

1. Beyond the Infinite Two Minutes

It’s hard to talk about Beyond the Infinite Two Minutes without bringing up One Cut of the Dead. They’re both ultra-low-budget one-shot Japanese movies that uniquely utilize creative camera tricks to move their inventive stories forward. They also defy genre conventions by eschewing Hollywood clichés, instead opting for more creative storytelling techniques.

That being said, they are very different movies when you move past those very obvious comparisons. Yes, Beyond the Infinite Two Minutes uses some of the same tricks, but it’s still an incredibly inventive sci-fi gem that has more heart and soul than most Hollywood blockbusters. Without the lavish special effects, A-list stars, and massive setpieces, Beyond the Infinite Two Minutes must rely on other things. That’s where the creative premise comes into play.

The film looks into the lives of a group of people who discover an unusual device. This device allows them to see two minutes into the future, but only from the perspective of a lone television in a cafe. When the group learns that they can create a Droste effect, they pile on screen after screen, pushing them further and further into the future.

The premise itself is creative enough, but on top of that, the movie just oozes with charm. The characters are lovable, the twists are clever, and the jokes land more often than they don’t. This isn’t as high-stakes as something like Tenant, but that doesn’t matter. It finds other ways to grab your attention.

2. Babylon

It’s easy to see why Chazelle’s three-hour epic has garnered mixed reviews. It’s an exercise in maximalism that often struggles to justify its ridiculous runtime. Put simply, certain viewers can’t quite stomach a film that’s so brazenly in-your-face for so long. Yes, Babylon is bound to polarize, but let’s make one thing perfectly clear – in spite of its messy nature, Babylon is never boring.

The cocaine-fueled black comedy focuses on several distinct characters who try to make a name for themselves in the early days of Hollywood. There’s Jack Conrad, the stoic moviestar who bounces from one bad choice to the next. Then you have Nellie LaRoy, a desperate, brash young woman who proudly jumps through hoops to become the next Hollywood it girl. Finally, there’s Manny, the naive who sort of stumbles into the movie industry after several unusual encounters. These characters make Babylon worth watching.

See, the actual narrative isn’t anything new. In particular, we’ve seen variations of Jack Conrad’s story hundreds of times. What sets Babylon apart is the way each character is handled. While they’re not exactly good people, the central trio is undeniably entertaining. In particular, Nellie LaRoy, played by the marvelous Margot Robbie, commands the screen at every given opportunity. She finds a way to keep you hooked even when more frustrating aspects begin to pile up.

It almost feels unfair to tell viewers that they should ignore the obvious faults, but let’s be real, Babylon is an absolute treat once you stop overanalyzing it. To add to that, it’s not like it’s a complete “check-your-brain-at-the-door movie.” This isn’t Crank or Hobbs & Shaw. It’s still a reasonably intelligent look at the ups and downs of Hollywood. The execution is clumsy, but even so, it’s a joy to sit through.

3. Cha Cha Real Smooth

This Sundance hit may have impressed critics upon release, but its inability to leave a lasting impression hasn’t gone unnoticed. Although Cha Cha Real Smooth undoubtedly has loyal fans, the initial hype seemed to come and go rather quickly. This could be because it lacks the groundbreaking moments of some other noteworthy releases, but even so, this is a movie that deserves attention.

The premise is simple enough. A 22-year-old party host named Andrew quickly becomes enamored with an older woman named Domino. As Domino’s layers begin to unravel, it becomes clear that Andrew has a lot of growing up to do. The relationship between the two protagonists propels the narrative forward, but that’s because the dialogue is so witty and engaging.

In spite of its relative simplicity, Cooper Raiff delivers one hell of a script. Films like this often suffer because of a lack of authenticity. That’s not the case with this movie; the characters behave like real, authentic human beings, and more importantly, they behave like admirable (albeit flawed) human beings.

This is all strengthened by strong performances. Dakota Johnson is, no surprise, fantastic. The actual surprise is Raiff, who directs himself. Raiff delivers a confident performance throughout the entirety of the runtime. When these two are the ones bringing such a strong script to life, it’s easy to see why the final product is so good.

4. The Outfit

The Outfit brings to mind gangster thrillers from a different era. It lacks the flashy pizazz of its contemporary brethren, and it instead seeks to deliver intricate thrills without the fluff. Since people are used to more grandiose crime movies, it’s easy to see why The Outfit slipped through the cracks so quickly, but that doesn’t excuse the lack of attention.

Strong performances and a layered screenplay ensure Graham Moore’s lean little movie packs a punch. Rylance is excellent, and thankfully, he has a strong script to work with as well. It might not provide as much impact as the classics it seeks to replicate, but it still provides plenty of entertainment, especially if you know what you’re signing up for.

5. Thirteen Lives

Ron Howard’s dramatization of the Tham Luang cave rescue isn’t quite as interesting as the main story, but that’s often expected of movies like this. The historic event, which was previously covered in the documentary The Rescue, has so many fascinating elements that it’s hard to cover everything in one feature length narrative film. That being said, Thirteen Lives is still an endlessly thrilling feat with an A-list cast.

Surprising nobody, Howard has quite the knack for directing. With him behind the camera, audiences are left with a visually stunning drama that makes terrific use of strong actors. If it occasionally feels too safe, that’s because it is. Nevertheless, it’s powerful and it’s in the right hands.

The 2010s was a decade packed with a bevy of instant classics that gave us plenty of reasons to believe that cinema is still alive and well. Word-of-mouth hits like “Parasite” shattered expectations and carved a niche for themselves despite the alarming dominance of multi-billion-dollar franchises at the box office, the growing popularity of prestige television, and the emergence of streaming services.

However, for every exalted critical darling that suddenly took on a life of its own against all odds, countless other titles fall by the wayside through no fault of their own. This is a list that aims just at that; casting a light on a selection of films that were wrongly panned by critics, bombed at the box office, or at the very least, remain in relative obscurity in spite of their quality. Without further ado, here are 10 underrated movies from the past decade that deserve a second look.

1. An Elephant Sitting Still (Hu Bo, 2018)

Hu Bo’s first and only feature film is four hours long, but that only sounds like a lot until you actually start watching it. A contemporary epic whose power matches the scale of its vision, “An Elephant Sitting Still” guides us through the northern Chinese city of Manzhouli, where four lonely characters cross paths and brush past each other, perpetually searching for belonging and solace while the concrete jungle they inhabit seems to be collapsing on itself.

Just like the film’s tortured souls, you’ll find yourself repeatedly questioning yourself as you watch the story unfold. And though the movie often tests the viewer’s patience with its unhurried pace, there are certain moments, scenes, and images that hang around and are only possible within the framework that its lengthy runtime provides. Though it provides no cosmic revelations and raises more questions than answers, if you roll with it, the experience will be nothing short of revelatory — though there’s also a chance you might feel like crawling into a hole once the credits roll.

2. The Other Side of the Wind (Orson Welles, 2018)

We had no shortage of shocking surprises during the past decade, but Netflix posthumously releasing Orson Welles’ final film, 50 years after being conceived and subsequently stuck in production hell, was truly a bolt from the blue.

At once a daringly experimental, found-footage-style mockumentary, a raucous elegy for filmmaking, an autobiographical meditation on art, and a piercing smackdown of Hollywood’s poisonous ecosystem, “The Other Side of the Wind”, with the legendary John Huston as its steadfast avatar, follows an aging director joined by his crew, studio honchos and a bevy of colorful characters as his final movie production draws to a close.

As the film-within-a-film goes deeper down the rabbit hole, tensions boil over ever so uncontrollably between the grizzled director and his embittered protégé (Peter Bogdanovich), who also happens to be a successful filmmaker in his own right. Angry, radical, dazzling, and mystical in equal measure, Welles’ swan song tied an elegant knot at the end of his legendary career.

3. Inherent Vice (Paul Thomas Anderson, 2014)

Hailing from the proud bloodline of “The Big Sleep”, “The Long Goodbye” and “The Big Lebowski”, Paul Thomas Anderson’s convoluted stoner noir pits a free-spirited hippie turned private investigator (Joaquin Phoenix, in a career-best performance), who suddenly finds himself drawn into a deeply complex web of conspiracy, crime, and deceit in 1970s LA.

Though unfairly slammed for its overly complicated narrative, in putting us in the shoes of an addled, idealist stoner helplessly trying to expose the squirming hotbed of corruption and oppressive systems ingrained in American society, Paul Thomas Anderson not only deconstructed film noir tropes; he recontextualized and transformed them into something that feels like a cross between a Vietnam-era time capsule and a mordant critique of our age.

Yet again, much like Thomas Pynchon’s eponymous novel, “Inherent Vice” throws so many twists and curveballs at the viewer that it is hard not to sympathize with anyone that felt perplexed 9 years ago at the multiplex. But herein lies the film’s biggest strength: what’s unfathomable about it is precisely what makes it so enticing and rewarding to revisit.

4. Embrace of the Serpent (Ciro Guerra, 2015)

The evil ghosts of colonialism and first-world cruelty rear their ugly head in Ciro Guerra’s astonishing “Embrace of the Serpent”, an enthralling spiritual odyssey that burrows deep into the dark heart of the Amazonian rainforest recounting the journey of two European explorers who, several decades apart, traversed the Colombian jungle and made contact with an indigenous tribe threatened by extinction.

Juggling the immersive atmosphere of “Apocalypse Now” and the mythic grandeur “Aguirre: The Wrath of God”, with ample doses of Andrei Tarkovsky for good measure, South American director Ciro Guerra delivered one of the most transportive experiences of the decade; one that feels like it belongs to another era of filmmaking altogether. “Embrace of the Serpent” is, full stop, unlike anything we saw in the 2010s: an indescribably transcendent parable with a timely message and a long fuse that will somehow soothe and startle your soul at the same time. Not to be missed.

5. The Grandmaster (Wong Kar-wai, 2013)

Though Wong Kar-wai’s standing in the cinematic zeitgeist is as strong as it’s ever been, with his timeless tales of ephemeral love, wistful longing and expired pineapples only continuing to grow in stature and recognition worldwide, his final outing still merits a second look.

In 2013, the acclaimed Hong Kong auteur reunited with his loyal stalwart Tony Leung in a long-gestating Kung fu epic saga chronicling the life of Bruce Lee’s legendary mentor Ip Man. The original 130-minute film opened to rave reviews domestically and remains a sprawling actioner full of breathtaking choreography and sumptuous visuals, with the backdrop of the Second Sino-Japanese War serving only to underscore the human conflict at its core.

Unfortunately, notorious producer Harvey Weinstein decided to whittle down its runtime for American distribution down to 104 minutes, butchering much of the film’s political subtext and front-loading it with unnecessary explanatory intertitles. The result? A ham-fisted assembly that pales in comparison with Wong’s original vision and deprived Westerners of a delectable offering by one of the great cinematic masters of our time.