CINEMANIA:

Fitzcarraldo (Germany, 1982, Werner Herzog)

Werner Herzog's most ambitious film divides audiences between those who laud its astonishing portrait of obsession and its insightful commentary on the absurdity of ambition and those who complain that it is a sterile, loud, boring journey to nowhere. Count me among the former--with qualifications.

Regardless of one's position on the film, there is no denying the visual and technical magnificence of Herzog's achievement, as the jungle scenes have a palpable sense of authenticity, and those poor natives really DID haul that boat over that mountain. Lacking scenes of narrative introspection, the film leaves the audience to figure out the complex and paradoxical title character, who appears to be equal parts madman and genius.

Paths of Glory (USA, 1957, Stanley Kubrick)

Paths of Glory is a remarkable anti-war film that retains its impact decades after its release. 

The story's horrifying, tragic inevitability combines with Stanley Kubrick's forthright documentary style to create a film of rare power, a stinging, pre-Vietnam indictment of the inflexibility of war-time decision-making.

Taps (USA, 1981, Harold Becker)

Probably more notable for its sterling young cast than its contribution to the language of cinema, Taps's study of the code of honor that joins the young cadets is mildly engaging, but burdened by a predictable climax. 

In a reversal of subsequent career moves, Sean Penn's feature film debut as the group's conscience is impressively intense, while a very young Tom Cruise also makes a strong impression as the corp's psychopath.

Mr. Deeds Goes to Town (USA, 1936, Frank Capra)

Frank Capra built his career around the themes that he explores in Mr. Deeds Goes to Town. 

For the populist Capra, the battle lines are clearly drawn; he makes his points (sometimes heavy-handedly) by pitting small-town simplicity, selflessness, and idealism against big-city sophistication, greed, and cynicism. Capra raised the "little guy" to iconic status, stereotyping him as effortlessly as he stigmatized the corrupt city slicker.

The Private Life of Henry VIII (USA, 1933, Alexander Korda)

Charles Laughton's Oscar-winning performance as Henry VIII rises above the stuffy limitations of the period piece to give us a portrait as rounded and exuberant as any on film. 

Laughton is well-supported by fine actresses as his wives, particularly Wendy Barry as the doomed Jane Seymour and Merle Oberon as the dim but delightful Anne Boleyn.

Hud (USA, 1963, Martin Ritt)

Hud is a "modern" Western, with few admirable characters and a decidedly unsympathetic anti-hero, played with licentious and unscrupulous arrogance by Paul Newman.

Hud's lack of a discernible moral system makes him far more unlikeable than his judgmental but ethical father, Homer (Melvyn Douglas). The unconventionally attractive Patricia Neal delivers a subtle and sensual Oscar-winning performance as Homer's housekeeper Alma.

Sounder (USA, 1972, Martin Ritt)

Director Martin Ritt -- who was blacklisted in the 1950s for his association with the Communist Party -- specializes in intimate, earthy southern dramas (Murphy's Romance, Norma Rae, Hud), and Sounder is one of his best works. 

Taj Mahal's sparse blues score combines with John A. Alonzo's stirring cinematography to create the movie's palpable sense of mood and setting (shot on location in Louisiana).

Blue is the Warmest Color  (Abdellatif Kechiche, France, 2013)

Of himself Andy Warhol said: "I am deeply superficial."  I figure Blue Is The Warmest Color is Andy inside out, superficially deep.  On the face of it, well, that is what there is to it.  Not that there is no meat on the bone.  Just that most of this flesh is skin in the first place.

Laurence Anyways (Xavier Dolan, Canada, 2013)

This film is too long.  What makes it too long is unusual, however.  The running time is not the result of slow pacing.  The program moves along with pretty snappy energy that actually gains momentum.  This corresponds to the intensification of the drama in the second act, which is as it should be.  So the film is not too long because of any pretentious stasis.

Like Father, Like Son (Hirokazu Koreeda, Japan, 2013)

Ben Livant:

First as to my personal viewing circumstance, it happened to be my father's birthday, 82 he would have been.  An accomplished pianist, my earliest memory of instrumental music is of him playing what I later could identify to be Bach.  The film made use, three times no less, of a Partita, (or was it a Goldberg Variation?) performed at the slowest tempo I have ever heard it played to very good effect.