97. The Third Man (1949)

Perhaps the ultimate example of film noir - a lost genre that gave rise to a number of cinema's greatest classics - The Third Man is absolutely vintage. At its core is Holly Martins (Joseph Cotton), a man who, like all great protagonists, is suave, cynical, damaged and complex. As the narrative twists and turns, Martins encounters a number of film noir staples - the femme fatale, the hard-boiled cop, sleazy jazz club patrons. And at the centre of the labyrinth is the enigmatic Harry Lime - portrayed by the similarly enigmatic Orson Welles.

Backing up a bit, the narrative sees Martins, a weary American pulp-fiction novelist, arriving in allied-occupied Vienna to meet his childhood friend, Lime. Upon arriving, he finds that Lime has recently been killed in a road accident, though the details surrounding the circumstances of the "accident" grow murky as witnesses and companions of Lime's offer conflicting statements. One of the film's least suspicious-looking bods - a homely caretaker - advises Martins that an eponymous Third Man was present at the scene of the accident, while other witnesses contest that only two men were there. The helpful caretaker is, naturally, swiftly despatched. Meanwhile, the police don't take kindly to Martins' interest in the case, proving problematic for Martins, but no more so than the introduction of Lime's actress girlfriend, with whom he becomes quickly infatuated. As the mystery unravels and the fate, and background of Lime - a man whom Martins believed he knew and loved - becomes clear, the key players are plunged deeper and deeper into a dark world of deceit, murder and cruelty.

The crooked angles, stark black and white imagery and claustrophobic set-pieces (all winding staircases, maze-like sewers, twisting alleyways, flitting shadows and clacking footsteps) create a classic dreamlike quality and adequately heighten the atmosphere of unease and paranoia. The film's score - a strangely jaunty series of melodies performed solely on a zither (a little like a lute) - serves as a dramatic juxtaposition against the tightly-wound characters and onscreen tension. Said score has gone down in movie history as one of the best, and made its composer an international star - but for me it proved a little distracting in its quirkiness.

All in all, it would be impossible to argue against The Third Man being a cinematic classic. Every frame of the film carries a depth and intrigue, the performances are stellar, there's some mighty fine verbal sparring and the twists and turns in the narrative proclaim onscreen storytelling at its most challenging, perplexing and entertaining. Well worthy of its position on the list.

18: Star Wars: Episode IV - A New Hope (1977)

I recently revisited this genesis of the Star Wars franchise - it was May 4th, after all. I always love revisiting the original Star Wars saga due to it being such a huge part of my childhood - indeed, it's probably the movie that really sparked my interest in cinema and discussing film. Certainly, there was plenty to discuss with my friends upon our recent viewing, given that the new Disney-helmed Star Wars film has started to reveal details of its cast and production.

Yep, it's shaping up to be pretty interesting. Original core cast returning. Andy Serkis, Domnhall Gleeson, Adam Driver, Oscar Isaac and Max Von Sydow signed on as new characters. And JJ Abrams as director - a choice that has certainly appeased a lot of the most irate Star Wars purists. If anyone can be trusted to successfully revive the franchise, it's Abrams. Indeed, while the initial billion dollar buyout between George Lucas and Disney was announced, a lot of hearts sank. When Disney announced they planned to release a new Star Wars film every year forever, collective childhoods screamed out in anguish. Yet, as things have developed, defensiveness has turned to curiosity - perhaps this won't be such a bad deal after all. The Star Wars world has finally been taken from Lucas' destructive hands - the man who created one of the most beloved stories in history has, in recent years, managed to inadvertently ruin its charm at every given opportunity. Misjudged character introductions, bad casting, ill-advised thematic choices and piss poor dialogue in Lucas' later efforts (both the prequels and the remastering of the originals) led to Star Wars fans everywhere holding him in contempt with the same passion with which they cherished his original creation. With Lucas out of the picture, there's opportunity for some truly great filmmakers to take the Star Wars universe into exciting new directions. It could be the start of something great. Perhaps...

One thing that can never be spoiled, however, is the true greatness of those first adventures. While many hail The Empire Strikes Back as the greatest of the saga, my heart lies with A New Hope - or simply Star Wars, as it was titled on its initial release, back when noone knew just what an impact it was about to have. For me, the flow of the narrative, the introduction of the characters, and the authentic atmosphere of the worlds we are introduced to, stand as a masterclass in effective storytelling.

Beginning with the ransacking of a rebel ship - the focus being on the two bickering droids with only a fleeting glimpse of Princess Leia and a brief, unforgettable entrance by Darth Vader - we are then transported to a dusty western setting, littered with otherworldly skeletons and shadows, which just sets the whole thing up perfectly. An attack on the droids by the glowing-eyed, bandit-like Jawas ultimately leads to the introduction of Luke Skywalker, the humble farm boy who dreams of adventure, and that iconic shot of him standing before Tatooine's twin setting suns to the swell of John Williams magnificent score. As we continue, we are introduced to the wise old hermit Obi Wan Kenobi - soon to be revealed as a badass Jedi Knight and possibly the most pivotal hero of the overall storyline - as well as some genuine perils. As a youngster, I was freaked out by the creatures in the Mos Eisley cantina, who seemed so casual in the face of murder, and by the sight of the burning corpses of Luke's guardians. Such stark images and unsettling scenes are certainly elements that were missed in the sleek, shiny worlds presented in Lucas' prequel films, which seemed to favour comic relief over darkness, and dull committee chambers over sleazy space ports and sun-seared deserts.

In said sleazy bar, as the bug-eyed brass band squeals, we are casually introduced to the pop culture icons of Han Solo and Chewbacca. The smooth-talking, sarcastic smuggler Han represents the perfect anti-hero that any audience, regardless of age or genre, can adore and root for. And Harrison Ford just nails it. Again, that dark edge makes an appearance as Han fries his bounty-hunting opponent Greedo with a well-aimed blaster laser. Greedo, for the record, didn't get chance to squeeze the trigger. Finally, we are introduced to the last major character of the film - the clunky spaceship christened the Millennium Falcon. The kickass name, and it's characteristics of constantly needing repair work, yet always delivering an efficient performance when needed again represents an element that was missing from Lucas' later work, where the spacecrafts were simply sleek, CGI'd dead objects.

Obi Wan explaining the ways of the Force to Luke is kept at just the right level of cryptic, the blossoming romance between Han and Leia is hinted at and not overplayed, the battle between Vader and Kenobi (in which Kenobi surrenders himself to the Force) is suitably powerful, and the final space race between Luke and Vader leaves the audience in fist-pumping triumph. This is truly how to unravel a great adventure story. I will never lose my love for these characters, nor my enjoyment of the world they inhabit and the adventures they have.

In a terrible alternative universe, in which the sequels The Empire Strikes Back and The Return of the Jedi were not green lit, at the very least, Star Wars would stand as a great stand-alone film. And indeed it does. Watched on its own, or as part of the full trilogy, A New Hope is a true classic of the sci-fi genre and of universal filmmaking at its very best.

Does it deserve it's place in the top 20 of IMDb's list? Heck yes. Long live Star Wars! May the force be with us all.

A Mini Miyazaki Retrospective

In the run up to the release of The Wind Rises, Hayao Miyazaki's cinematic swan song, now seems a good time to reflect on the work of the anime maestro, and the everlasting impact of Studio Ghibli.

The IMDb Top 250 list contains seven Studio Ghibli features. Seven. It's a staggering amount considering the studio's considerably small output - Ghibli is thirty years younger than Walt Disney Studios (sixty years younger than the overall Disney group) and has produced eighteen features thus far - and just goes to show the quality of the Ghibli brand, and the extent to which it has engaged with audiences worldwide. The fact that a global audience has announced a full third of the studio's output (all Japanese-language animations) worthy of a position in the list of the greatest 250 films ever made, goes to show the impact Miyazaki and co. have had.

Miyazaki in particular stands firmly as the poster boy for Ghibli, amassing praise from all corners of the industry and from far-flung audiences across the globe. That all but one of the featured titles in the list are Miyazaki-directed pictures, speaks to the mastery of the man's storytelling prowess and artistic genius. His work often blends the ancient worlds of nature and spiritualism with the modern day worlds of machinery, industry and teenagers, often offering a socio-historical commentary, while maintaining a gentle empathy between the audience and the often bizarre characters. Among his most famous character creations are No Face - a sinister, people-eating silhouette, Calcifer - a wise-cracking flame, and Totoro, a humongous grinning cat-beast who has since become the Studio's logo and an internationally recognised pop-culture icon. In short, Studio Ghibli's reach is awe-inspiring and Miyazaki sits comfortably as the world's greatest living animator.

It is with a mixture of excitement and sadness that we await The Wind Rises. A masterpiece it is sure to be, but the idea of Miyazaki bowing out of filmmaking is difficult to bear. Let us, for a moment, turn away from that sad future, and look back on some of Miyazaki and Studio Ghibli's greatest triumphs.

Spirited Away (2001)

For many audiences, Spirited Away acts as an introduction to the world of Ghibli. It was certainly the film that garnered the studio its first major global platform when it scooped an Academy Award for Best Animated Feature, and began a hugely successful franchise in well-cast English dub versions of the Ghibli canon. And it certainly earned the praise it received. An eccentric story following a naive girl's entrapment in an abandoned theme park ruled by spirits, the film tackles the tricky themes of loss of childhood, crises of identity and, of course, grown-ups turning into pigs. It also introduces us to the characters of spooky ghost No Face, the spider-like boilerman Kamaji and the devious witch Yubaba. Unique, odd, dreamlike, charming, flawless.

Grave of the Fireflies (1988)

Easily the most sombre of the Ghibli films, Grave of the Firelies is often cited as one of the most powerful movies about World War II ever to be produced. It is also one of the few war films that depicts events from the perspective of the Japanese. The achingly sad narrative follows headstrong 14-year old Seita and his playful younger sister Setsuko, as they navigate wartorn Japan in the final months of World War II. As the world as they know it crumbles around them, the pair face constant challenges and ultimately must abandon everything, including any trace of hope, as their story develops into a shattering tragedy. Deeply moving and undeniably affecting, Grave of the Fireflies is a profound piece of filmmaking that utilises every asset of its medium to convey the effects of war in ways live-action cinema will likely never achieve.

Princess Mononoke (1997)

A true fantasy epic, Princess Mononoke represents a further departure from the standard Ghibli conventions. Whilst it contains more than its fair share of whimsical characters and odd little creatures, Princess Mononoke is also a frequently violent, fiercely serious meditation on man's destruction of his environment. Presented in the form of a classic fable, Mononoke contains some breathtakingly rich environments, and brilliant storytellling which pulls the audience deep into an intensely well-realised world. The notion that the entire film was, for the most part, hand drawn is simply mind-boggling. A true classic of the fantasy genre and without doubt one of the greatest animated films ever made.

Long live Ghibli!

150: Fargo (Joel & Ethan Coen, 1996)

This film is simply one of the greatest ever made. That's how I view the Coen brothers' blood-spattered, frost-bitten thriller. It's arguably their finest work to date, and certainly the film that put them on the radar of many a diehard movie-goer. A quiet, self-contained, beautifully written and gloriously performed blend of humour, tension, tragedy and eccentricity.

I love everything about this film - from the tongue-in-cheek prologue declaring the movie to be based on a true story, to the stark closing sequence as police squad cars plow through snowdrifts against Carter Burwell's swooping score. In between we witness what the Coens do best - tell a darkly comic tale of oddball characters getting totally out of their depths, with sometimes hilarious, but ulitmately devastating consequences.

In the case of Fargo, we centre on the tragic character of Jerry Lundegaard (William H Macy), a down-on-his-luck car salesman in the snowy city of Fargo, North Dakota. Plagued by debt but shackled by pride, Jerry schemes to have his wife kidnapped by two hired goons (Steve Buscemi and Peter Stormare), so that he may pocket the ransom money provided by his wealthy father-in-law (Harve Presnell). A seemingly simple plan turns into a nightmare as Jerry's father-in-law refuses to play ball, the goons prove increasingly inept at kidnapping but totally efficient at indiscriminate murder, and super-sharp, heavily pregnant police detective Marge Gunderson (Frances McDormand) quickly picks up the trail.

Many moments in the film are brilliantly funny - Marge's interview with two homely prostitutes, Steve Buscemi's snappy outbursts and an old local's witness statement - others are shockingly violent - the goons' encounter with a police officer and a passing family - and still others lie perfectly between the two - "step in" the woodchipper...

A superbly original and exquisitely witty bloodbath which gets better upon each viewing. Despite being nearly 20 years old, it hasn't aged a day. And does it deserve its place in the IMDb top 250 list? "You betcha ya!"