Top 10 Best Films of the 1970s (2016 Archive Copy, Outdated)

The 1970s is by and far my favorite decade in cinema. I love more movies from the ‘60s but the incredible evolution of genre and style the next decade heralded, in particularly for the waning Hollywood market, cements it for me as the greatest set of 10 years the medium has ever endured.

One of its most admirable traits is definition: You can’t always place flicks from other decades. The lines blur and you wonder if you’re watching something from the 50s, 40s, maybe even 30s. On the contemporary end I couldn’t tell you if something that came out a week ago was actually from 2006. But when you watch a 70s movie… you know you’re watching a 70s movie. It’s as simple as that.

10. Taxi Driver

Martin Scorsese’s very best film remains one of the finest character studies ever mounted precisely because of the meticulous detail with which he studies Travis Bickle. More importantly: We are immediately forced to become comfortable in his company. How many movies put you in an apartment with their main character, alone, for minutes on end? Its imposing intimacy builds the fascination with Bickle, a directorial style married wondrously to Schrader’s ingenious script.

Indeed what makes the film for me, above De Niro’s career best performance, the apex of Scorsese’s direction and what could be Herrmann’s greatest score- is the writing. It takes genuine skill to make us familiar with a normal person, let alone become so attached to such a desperate, deranged psychopath. It’s certainly an uncomfortable space to share, particularly as his obsessive nature gradually manifests in more disturbing and violent actions, but Schrader cements Taxi Driver as such a compelling piece of work, as mucky as its morality may be.

Scorsese’s climactic homage to Harakiri is one of the most explosive scenes of a decade defined by revolutionary cinema- punctuated by brutal violence made all the more effective by its place right at the end of Bickle’s descent into isolation. For fans of the film, I have to suggest checking out the making of documentary that explains the method behind the mania of those conclusive moments- Because with its minuscule budget and the relative lack of experience the passionate De Niro, Scorsese and Schrader had prior: It really hammers home what an inspiration Taxi Driver is to film-makers everywhere.

 9. Deliverance

Deliverance is the definitive exercise in cinematic dread. No film has ever so effectively or subtly wormed such an overpowering force of evil behind such peaceful, often inviting images as one-hit-wonder John Boorman did here. The director’s work both before and after Deliverance leads me to question whether something oozing with this much nuance and skill as an accident. Did everything just snap together in a beautiful, horrific piece of serendipity without anyone on-set realising it?

I refuse to believe that’s the case, so for what it’s worth I’d like to thank Editor Tom Priestley for holding on Vilmos Zsigmond’s gorgeous visuals for just a second too long; for pulling together what could be a by-the-numbers thriller based off an arguably quite xenophobically contrived story into a truly terrifying experience; and for laying the foundations for as shocking a scene as has ever been put on film. His work is simply incredible and whilst Boorman’s direction isn’t filled with faults its Deliverance’s unsung Editor that for my money makes it the masterful piece of work that it so surely is.

As of right now, the 1970s represent the pinnacle of horror. The honourable mentions are rife with genre picks and whilst there are certainly better horrific flicks to come (5!!) Deliverance is one of the finest examples of the terror of reality. Its situation is far from ordinary- but the fact that any stroll through the forest could turn into this nightmare is the same thing that made Jaws turn so many away from the beaches upon release. Finding a widely provocative concept is extremely difficult and Boorman’s work ranks up there with the likes of A Nightmare on Elm Street as the very best of them. If you go down to the woods today you’re sure for a big surprise…

8. The Devils

The Devils might be the most stylish film ever made. Production Designer Derek Jarman’s endless barrage of incredible sets, coupled with Russell’s volcanic direction and Michael Bradsell’s fluid editing whisk us through the Medieval world in a way no director has ever accomplished.

Andrei Rublev is the movie which most vividly portrays any place and time- but the plague-ridden, scum sucking, brutal and barbaric ‘Dark Age’ we hear about in the history books has only ever been captured in full right here. Russell’s work is absolutely insane: pulsing with incendiary images, frothing with rivers of blood and corpses and yet never descending into utter listlessness. He doesn’t so much control the chaos as he does observe it with a remarkable sense of calm. To us, this is horrifying. To Russell, everything outside of its mercurial finale is just business. 

Making a movie like this so compelling is near impossible. Russell manages not only to salvage such bizarre and excessive content- but with it fashion one of the finest films ever made. As boldly stylistic, invigorated and shatteringly Cinematic as anything I’ve ever seen, The Devils is quite literally hell in filmic form. 

7. Texas Chainsaw Massacre

This list is peppered with legendary one-hit-wonders. Whilst we equally have a lot of hugely skilled directors flexing the finest of their abilities, Tobe Hooper’s inexplicably masterful TCM is perhaps the pinnacle of the cinematic enigma. The faultless direction: From explosively abrupt violence that is as shocking as it is silently haunting. The almost ‘hidden camera’ style observation of the penultimate chase through the house. The documentary style rawness with which he watches the final survivor be sadistically toyed with- eye-level and absolutely terrifying in what almost seems like forced culpability.

TCM is a flick I respect above so many others because of its perfect understanding of fear. From frame one to the finale, Hooper’s work knows exactly what it’s doing. So many horrors let their fear dissipate by framing a story and dragging out the scares in a tedious structure. Here: It’s a few hours of the day captured wall-to-wall without pause for breath or any safe zones. Any character could be offed in a second and it’s that palpable danger which makes Hooper’s end product so electric. A lot of genre flicks contrive an early death of a ‘main character’ to present a false sense of this fear. TCM just keeps doing it.

But ultimately I think what speaks best of what is the greatest straight-forward horror film ever made is the controversy upon its initial release. British censors attempted to cut the film but could not find anything which, when removed, would dampen the horror of the piece. In fact, despite is gory reputation and oft hinderously gratuitous title, the only drawing of on-screen blood in the film is from a pin-prick in the finger. The censors demanded it be banned because no amount of cutting could blunt its incandescent force, its terrible sense of oppressive dread. That is how you make a horror film.

6. The Exorcist

Two words- plain and simple, clear as day: Perfect. Direction.

Few films I've ever seen can claim such a bold title but William Friedkin's definitive masterpiece set the standard for a horror sub-genre that I doubt will ever be reached again. I daresay this was a pick confined to the lower-half of the honourable mentions- one I didn't bother to re-watch before writing due to a strong doubt it would ever strike me with any force ever again. 

That was until the 29th of October, when I saw it as one of six classics in a Horror All-Nighter in the wonderful Prince Charles Cinema. The movie had been 'ruined' upon last viewing by a few friends and a lot of alcohol- but surrounded by pitch darkness in a sea of people quite literally screaming like I'd never heard before I understood. I finally got exactly what Mark Kermode had been banging on about all of these years. What makes The Exorcist work is the fact that it doesn't just transcend genre- It ignores it. Its a drama, which just so happens to be about supernatural possession.

It takes a hell of a lot of work to make a horror movie damn near the highest-grossing film of all time at release: One that causes walk-outs and carry outs from audiences who simply could not handle the intensity and even resulted in the banning of a trailer featuring Lazlo Schifrin's oft-forgotten beast of a score. It takes a hell of a lot more to make people realize that same terror a full 43 years later. In that cinema, I got exactly what it would feel like to have gone and seen The Exorcist way back in 1973. That (yet again) is how you make a fucking movie. 

5. Wake in Fright

Bearing several titles that, mere weeks ago, I thought I'd only ever be handing to TCM- Ted Kotcheff's ozploitation flick is the most intelligent and effective horror film ever made. Understanding and executing its pin-point premise with incredible accuracy: Wake in Fright shows us the gradual degredation of human decentcy and individual morality around those who have very little. Its not a fright-fest filled with wailing savages and buckets of blood: Instead a human drama that feasts on the slightest shared glance or shift in camera work to inflect the most insignificant moments with limitless layers of tension. 

Most importantly of all its the movie which best defines my favorite subject in writing: The Fall. Its the idea that a normal human being can be broken down into something barely resembling their starting self through the simplest of things. We see it executed perfectly in Micheal Haneke's gut-wrenching The Seventh Continent and again impeccably in honourable mention Jeanne Dielman- but there is a cinematic edge here which gives Kotcheff's work its bite. Those works strive for realism whereas here the director embraces the medium's grasp on the story and takes us for the wildest ride of our lives.

I wrote an extensive review on the piece here which I suggest you check out if you want more. First seeing Wake in Fright is one of the most profound viewing experiences of my life thus far and re-visiting it time and time again since to attempt to comphrend how it struck me in such a powerful way has only deepend by respect for the ingenious work of everyone involved. Its achingly human, which is what makes it so inescapably terrifying. 

4. Pat Garrett & Billy the Kid

What makes Pat Garrett & Billy the Kid so special is feeling, y'now? A lot of the best films I've ever seen create this unedfinable thread which flows throughout the movie and defines the overall feeling it is attempting to evoke: You've got the vouyeristic shadow of Blue Velvet, the overwhelming change of The Leopard and then this- the warm embrace of death.

So many movies attempt to evoke how cold and desolate and alone dying feels. Many more shamelessly kill off tens of extras without a word and then try and force us to feel only for the 'important' characters. Its asinine- every human death matters and no matter the cruelty or anguish they may have inflicted throughout their life, with their loss dies any chance of redemption. Nothing can be saved, no loose ends finished, no dreams achieved once you close your eyes for the final time.

And Pat Garrett knows this. It breathes this. Sam Peckinpah, despite his infamous reputation for handling extreme and often explicit violence, almost always weaves a layer of warmth underneath that rugged exterior. He understands that death is the ultimate loss and makes sure than, in Pat Garrett, each character we grow even remotely near to is given a proper farewell. They can be tragic, desperate, horrifying or even a little bit beautiful... but it would serve us all well to remember how much each and every single person matters when they finally fade away. 

3. Chinatown

Chinatown is cinematic perfection. It fully embodies all the elements I love most in cinema: Understated work, sharpness, efficient storytelling, economic use of time, gorgeous visuals, succinct and remarkably light  multi-layered writing. It came to me at a time in my life when I was searching for the right noir, packing all the parts I wanted where so many others had offered up a few but failed to deliver on so many other levels. Chinatown was that movie, and it has remained my favorite film ever since.

2. The Ascent

The most obscure pick on a list peppered with under-seen gems, The Ascent won the Golden Bear at Berlin in 1977 and then quickly faded into history. A crying shame, clearly, since it’s easily one of the finest films of what remains the greatest decade for the cinematic medium.

With a perceptible lack of production value, relying mostly on two isolated actors in the middle of a blizzard, Shepitko’s piece never feels like a low-budget work. She could have shot this in her back garden and I would still believe every word, so skilled is her flawless handling.

Moreover it contains the most intelligent and inspired directorial decision I can think of: Instead of just shooting the brutal violence of the flick, she chooses to focus on the faces of those it is being inflicted upon. It conjures a collection of the most haunting images I’ve ever seen captured, harkening to genuine wartime photos of torture and agony.

Far from a pleasant movie, The Ascent is perhaps the apex of cinematic cruelty. It’s glacial, unrelenting and peppered with inexplicable moments of piercing existential dread. That in mind it’s the grim, despair-fuelled spark of humanity glowing at its core which makes the pain so compelling. Without it, we’d almost have artsy alternative torture porn without respite. With it, I can’t help but coming back to The Ascent. A forgotten masterpiece if there ever was one.

1. Mirror

It says a lot of Andrei Tarkovsky that he made top 10 films in all three decades he worked in- but moreover has managed to take the top spot in two of them.

Mirror is the apex of the 'art' film. Its a movie which so confidently pursues the purpose of making us see the world though through the eyes of a child that it manages to achieve said effect very early on and can spend the remainder of the run-time building upon that foundation for some of the most inexplicably transcendental moments the medium has to offer. A dud grenade. A fading spot of condensation. A chicken. A field. A fire- it takes the most mundane elements of life and gifts them with more feeling than even the majority of sweeping cinematic battle scenes have to offer.

Its the second best movie I've ever seen, a true work of art. See it- and be utterly transported...

Honourable Mentions

Stalker: Because the one film per-director rule can be a curse 
Straw Dogs: Because even today it feels profound

Le Cercle Rouge: Because it’s the best heist film ever shot, and then some
Spirit of the Beehive: Because its Spanish cinema at its finest
Halloween: Because it’s fucking electric

Nosferatu the Vampyre: Because this is how you do Gothic on-screen

Days of Heaven: Because it’s beyond magical

Ali – Fear Eats the Soul: Because it’s simple soap opera elevated into something truly special

Dog Day Afternoon: Because Lumet managed to top 12. Angry. Men.

Cries & Whispers: Because it’s gorgeous, vile and damn near flawless
Five Easy Pieces: Because in its own way it says as much about American Alienation as Taxi Driver
The Holy Mountain: Because Jodorowsky is mental in the most glorious way

McCabe & Mrs. Miller: Because of that protracted climax

Suspiria: Because Goblin

Apocalypse Now: Because it will always remain Coppola’s best work

The Conversation: Because it’s damn near Coppola’s best work

Jeanne Dielman, 23 Quai Commerce, 1080 Bruxelles: Because it earns its deliberate tedium

The Deer Hunter: Because of its immaculate structure, and because Christopher Walken

Solaris: Because its pace always serves a purpose

Don’t Look Now: Because oh my god that ending

Marathon Man: Because is it safe?

The French Connection: Because it refuses to ever reveal itself

Hausu: Because I can’t think of a creepier cat

A Clockwork Orange: Because it started my cinematic obsession

The Discreet Charm of the Borgiouse: Because that theatre bit is hysterical

Blazing Saddles: Because it might just be the funniest film I’ve ever seen

Enter the Dragon: Because Bruce Lee is deadly

Patton: Because the fact that most of this happened is absolutely insane.

La Soufrière: Because Holy Shit

Eraserhead: Because it still remains able to make me feel physically sick

The Taking of Pelham 123: Because David Shire

The Friends of Eddie Coyle: Because it’s almost seductively elusive 

The Wicker Man: Because its atmosphere will never be replicated  

Vengeance is Mine: Because it deserves a hell of a lot more attention

Aguirre, Wrath of God: Because it's at least one of the most effectively jarring films ever made

and finally One Few Over the Cuckoo’s Nest: Because it’s got an ensemble to match The Godfather- and the heart to beat it