10- The Dam Busters (1955)
Dir- Michael Anderson
'Enemy coast ahead,' announces one of the distinguished heroes in Michael Anderson's stirring, sensational World War II yarn in which the Royal Air Force sets out to bring an early end to the fighting by…destroying dams. Based on the real-life attack on the dams of Mohne, Eder and Sorpe in Germany's Ruhr Valley and adapted briskly from Paul Brickhill's book, The Dam Busters is the rare action-packed men-on-a-mission swashbuckler that also packs in a heady serving of intelligent plotting and meticulous attention to detail. A charmingly articulate Michael Redgrave plays impassioned scientist Barnes Wallis, who pitches his audaciously brilliant concept of a bouncing bomb to the High Command. His efforts and patience bear fruit; the plan is green-lit and dashing RAF squadron leader Guy Gibson (Richard Todd) assembles his crew and their collective skills to make it a reality. The fascinatingly cut-and-dried buildup soon makes way for the spectacular bombings in the white-knuckle, edge-of-the-seat climax, one of the iconoclast aerial attack scenes that inspired a certain George Lucas for something similar in his own film.
9- Performance (1970)
Dir- Nicolas Roeg and Donald Cammell
You watch Performance with both shock and perverse fascination: is this what swinging London came to at the end of the freewheeling 1960s and with the split of the Beatles? Every bit the anarchic, nihilistic opposite of the fun-filled A Hard Day’s Night, Roeg and Cammell’s film is, first, a lean and mean tale of smoothly groomed hitman Chas (James Fox in a performance that oozes with grungy style) going rogue when his doddering, pudgy bosses demand him to compromise and things get really ugly. Then, as Chas checks in for refuge at the basement of a decadent Notting Hill flat where faded rockstar Turner (Mick Jagger) lives and cavorts in a seedy ménage a trois arrangement, it turns into something deeper, more morbidly entertaining and absurdly spectacular: an incendiary clash of old order and new chaos, mashed together in a simmering pot of psychedelia, sex and subsequent erosion of identity. Accordingly Roeg and Cammell cut, dice and shuffle scene after scene, resulting in a sinfully sleazy and kaleidoscopic cinematic feast for ages. Just watch Jagger’s crazed yet poetic rant as he croons Memo From Turner.
8- Black Narcissus (1947)
Dir- Michael Powell
More than 7 decades after it first enthralled audiences, we are still tempted to ask this: just how can we describe this awe-inspiring, incredible and intense work of cinematic art that defies every description? Is it the first erotic drama of the strangest, simplest kind, of the stirrings of forbidden desire and lust in the tempestuous climate of a foreign land? Are the sparks that fly between the desperately diligent Sister Clodagh (an impressively frosty Deborah Kerr) and the cocky, raffish agent Mr. Dean (David Farrar) representing the eternal Freudian battle between the id and the superego? Is the eventual breakdown of sanity and resilience in the climax representative of the inevitability of mankind's failings? Leave all those questions to the mental masturbators even as they make for intelligent, provocative storytelling. Instead, sit back and witness the miraculous spectacle of Jack Cardiff's sensuous, dazzling Technicolor cinematography, the simmering sensuality of Powell's direction and the painstaking visual daredevilry of art director Alfred Junge, who recreates pastoral England as the snowy and mystic Himalayas with flawless conviction. And don't forget the electrifyingly erotic scene of Kathleen Byron with lipstick.
7- Elizabeth (1998)
Dir- Shekhar Kapur
Before we were treated to terrifying treachery and cunning court intrigue in the likes of Tudors and Rome, we had the lavishly crafted and impeccably acted Elizabeth. Driven by a blazing script by Michael Hirst and directed, by our very own maverick, Shekhar Kapur with majestic style and relentless grit, this is less of a typical costume drama and more of a seething thriller of betrayal, warped religion and sexual jealousy playing out in the corridors of the palace. When the Catholic Queen Mary dies, she bequeaths reluctantly her empire to her Protestant half-sister Elizabeth (Cate Blanchett), leaving the jackals in the court baying for her blood. But the initially diffident lady soon comes of age and consolidates her throne the hard way, aided by the unlikeliest of allies. Kapur and Hirst barnstorm thrillingly into palace politics and statecraft with hedonistic relish and ratchet up the violence and anarchy dramatically. A distinguished supporting cast, including Joseph Fiennes, Christopher Eccleston and Geoffrey Rush, anchors the always electrifying Blanchett superbly. Shakespeare would have rubbed his hands in delight at this tense and thrilling marvel.
6- The Life And Death Of Colonel Blimp (1943)
Dir- Michael Powell
It has the name of the legendary comic book buffoon and the opening fifteen minutes or so are filled with the kind of cheeky barracks tomfoolery that you would find in Spike Milligan's hilarious wartime memoirs. But as a tracking shot in a Turkish bath take you back 4 decades into the past, you discover just how deep, introspective and subtly charming is this film from the Archers. Powell's mesmerising, visually evocative direction and Pressburger's thoughtful and timely narrative together blend seamlessly to create an empathetic and always lively portrait of a man's life bookmarked by war and how he tries to adapt to the interchangeable nature of war, dissent and the new generation of fresh-faced men unaware of reality or history. Serenading majestically from post-Boer War Berlin, where the titular old-timer Major Clive Candy (an indelible Roger Livesey) loses a love and wins a friendship to the regrettable political upheaval of the 1940s complicate the very meaning of honour, this is a funny, poignant and frequently profound film that explores the vulnerability of man in front of decisions taken by nations.
5- Trainspotting (1996)
Dir- Danny Boyle
Did Trainspotting shape the modern youth movie, a genre that has become so generic these days? I find it quite probable that at least Danny Boyle’s fast, frenetic and fabulously entertaining take on Irvine Welsh’ otherwise grimy novel set amidst Edinburgh’s depraved drug scene did set the template for every radical film that explored the harsher realities of living a life on the edge (from Fight Club to Requiem For A Dream). The story, even with the weightier subtext of the pitfalls of substance abuse and the horrifyingly anarchic sequences of disorientation and withdrawal symptoms, is one that feels as relevant and timely as ever; this is an absurdly hilarious but also anguished portrait of young male boredom and about how adulthood also erodes the foolhardy innocence of adolescence forever. Clocking in at 90 minutes, this film is a fever dream featuring some of the most instinctive and natural performances of all time, led by a fantastic Ewan McGregor as the reckless Renton seeking a respite from his vices. It is also as sensational a piece of British filmmaking as anything by Nicholas Roeg and Terry Gilliam.
4- Life Of Brian (1979)
Dir- Terry Jones
Bagging my personal prize for the best comedy film of all time means something completely different. Satire, especially religious farce, can be a tall order; anybody would end up getting tangled into elaborate jokes about the metaphysical side of things. Life Of Brian pulled it off with style and wit with the simplest yet most brutally effective tropes. From disciples who argue over shoes, sandals and a much-haggled-over gourd to the same asking how do they fuck off, right down to a blasphemer who is being stoned for saying Jehovah, each blazing one-liner and side-splitting gag delivers a well-aimed blow at the very foundation of blind faith and superstition. There is more on offer as well, from anarchists who fight more with each other than against the Romans (who have indeed done a lot for us, as the film informs helpfully) to Centurions who are very good at Latin and hopeless at understanding Pontius Pilate. Capped off with a lovely, oh-so-English song about being optimistic, this is the finest hour of not only Monty Python (even with two other equally uproarious films), but also of British and all comedy in general.
3- A Matter Of Life And Death (1946)
Dir- Michael Powell
It begins as any wartime romance would end: a dashing, smart-mouthed RAF pilot is bantering with an audibly perturbed American girl at a radio, forgetting for the moment that his plane has been hit, his crew are all slain and he might not have long to live. About ten minutes later, it is time for the serious-faced angels up above the skies to be perturbed that this pilot did not die, as expected, but rather landed to find that same lass and be united with her in perfect cinematic bliss. Of course, the law that dictates the universe won't have any of it and soon, love itself becomes a trial over which unlikely life and certain death will be debated.
That is all that this glittering classic from the Archers should be about. But Powell's dazzling mastery of the visual idiom (filming purgatory pleasures in gorgeous, eye-popping Technicolour and heaven's bureaucracy in monochrome) and Pressburger's brilliantly subversive narrative make it more than just a love-against-all-odds yarn. There is much more debated and argued compellingly and candidly in this film, from the erstwhile love-hate relationship between America and Britain, the former's shallow consumerism and the latter's flawed status as a colonial power and, most crucially, between logic and belief, between free will and destiny. And like all memorable romances, it makes a case for love's triumph over fate, with nothing other than a rose with a teardrop as a lasting sign of affection.
2- Don't Look Now (1973)
Dir- Nicolas Roeg
There have been many horror thrillers that have doled out generous chills and spills but there are only a handful of films which boast of an unrelenting atmosphere of dread that sends shivers down the spine more than mere set-pieces themselves. But forget atmosphere or horror; Nicolas Roeg's masterful reworking of Daphne Du Maurier's short story is so many compelling things at the same time that, in a flash of irony, despite its title, it is nearly impossible to look away from the screen.
First and foremost, it is a sobering, deeply unsettling drama that examines, with probing incisiveness, the shattering effect of a personal tragedy on marriage and intimacy. Then, it is something of a grown-up metaphysical thriller that shows how an inexplicable miracle can restore happiness and marital bliss through a renewed sexual dynamic. Then, it is a thoughtful meditation on the question of whether seeing is indeed believing. Finally, it is a stealthy, sweltering thriller spliced together with Roeg's seamless editing mastery and armed with one of the nastiest, bloodiest twists ever in the history of horror cinema. With devastating performances by Donald Sutherland and Julie Christie, gorgeously gritty visuals filmed in a nocturnal Venice and, possibly, the most moving and erotic lovemaking scene ever filmed, Don't Look Now is British filmmaking at its boldest and most incendiary.
1- The Third Man (1949)
Dir- Sir Carol Reed
Let’s leave aside its cinematic accomplishment as Britain’s finest cinematic hour and instead talk about its literary greatness. Let’s think of how Sir Carol Reed, in defending author extraordinaire and screenwriter Graham Greene, managed to hoodwink Hollywood producer David O Selznick when pitching the idea, even as it sounded preposterous then. Let’s think of how Greene hammered out a story treatment of juiciest real-life details obtained by the legendary writer’s thrilling flair for guerrilla journalism, from Vienna’s black-market trade to the use of drills to dig graves in snow, from the bustle of dressing rooms in the theatre right down to the underground sprawl of sewers. Let’s also think of how both the director and the writer made for a mutually productive collaboration, with the former ironing out the creases in the latter’s raw source and the latter tweaking details and fleshing out characters and agreeing to a sadder ending, something that would happen with Robert Towne and Roman Polanski in Chinatown as well.
It is only then that we start to admire the flawless quality of the final product, the peerless craft at display, the effortlessly entertaining narrative tinged with both sarcasm and poignancy and, of course, the choice of Anton Karas’ tinkling zither score. The Third Man is not just a pitch-perfect thriller of both suspenseful intrigue and moral complexity. It is also a drama of memorably good, evil and mysteriously grey people, fully-fleshed characters brought to life by stunning performances and a cheeky casting coup pulled off in a nod to one of the finest American films ever made.
These are, however, cinematic pleasures to discover for a rookie and even for the lovelorn fanatics, each viewing of The Third Man reveals something new and undeniably special about a film nearly 70 years old. Thrillers have seldom been this intelligent and daringly respectful of their audiences; thrillers have also been rarely this well-crafted, as evidenced by Robert Krasker’s wonderfully tilted and textured visuals. And no other thriller, not even the finest from Alfred Hitchcock, has been this sneakily hilarious, in its own dark and nihilistic way. This is a film worth treasuring, the definitive moment of not only British cinema but also of a whole genre of intricately plotted suspense and it is a dazzling piece of art that refuses to age with time or generation.
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