50 Indie Movies You Need to See Before You Die
Independent film's best works prove that talented directors don't need to move to NY or LA. Here are the top 50 Indie movies you need to watch right now.
Woody Allen and Diane Keaton in Annie Hall
Annie Hall (1977)
Director: Woody Allen
Stars: Woody Allen, Diane Keaton, Tony Roberts, Carol Kane, Paul Simon, Shelley Duvall, Christopher Walken, Colleen Dewhurst
Annie Hall is deceivingly simple to understand: it's about a cynical comedian who muses over his failed relationship with a woman, the titular Annie Hall, who was far too free-spirited for him to ever hold onto. But to keep it at that would be a disservice to what could arguably be Woody Allen's most iconic work. Thanks to the film, no longer was Allen just the scrawny fast talker in broad comedies like Bananas, he was now a seriously filmmaker with some real insight into human relationships that typical romantic comedies usually gloss over.
The film not only cemented Diane Keaton as the trendiest BAMF in Hollywood (with her femme-Charlie-Chaplin-esque attire), but it also defined Allen's signature style-that is, a neurotic, heartbroken protagonist, a focus on slices of life, hearty and intellectual dialogue, and picturesque view of Manhattan. —TA
Bad Lieutenant (1992)
Director: Abel Ferrara
Stars: Harvey Keitel, Zoe Lund, Vincent Laresca, Frankie Thorn, Paul Hipp
Just because he's tasked with investigating the brutal rape of a local nun doesn't mean that Harvey Keitel's beyond-corrupt cop in Bad Lieutenant doesn't have time to smoke crack, snort coke, gamble, get busy with a hooker or two, and masturbate in front of a couple of teenagers. Some of which requires him to flaunt his member for all the world to see. (Harvey must've liked the way it looked in the spotlight, too, because he whipped it out again a year later for Jane Campion in The Piano.)
Is it all a bit over the top? Absolutely. Revolting at times, too. But scratch below the surface of all the shock value that has defined director Abel Ferrara's career and the message here is clear: Religion is the only thing that can kill one's personal demons.
Of course, the road to redemption is not always clearly marked. In the case of Bad Lieutenant, it's the battered nun's lack of desire for vengeance that ultimately nudges The Lieutenant toward the side of the righteous. But he's got a long climb out of the hole he's already dug for himself. (It's also fun to point out the irony of another of Keitel's starring roles in the same year: mobster Vince LaRocca in the similarly divine Sister Act. Praise thy Keitel!) —JW
Beasts of the Southern Wild (2012)
Director: Benh Zeitlin
Stars: Quvenzhane Wallis, Dwight Henry
It's rare that a movie given such a high amount of critical hyperbole and instant prestige lives up to the hype. After winning both the top grand jury prize at the Sundance Film Festival in January 2012 and the Camera d'Or (designated for best first-time director) at the Cannes Film Festival in May, first-time filmmaker Benh Zeitlin's Beasts of the Southern Wildrode one of the loudest, most enthusiastic waves of pre-release build-up seen in quite some time before its late June release.
Thankfully, all of the positive word was justified. Anchored by an astounding performance from 6-year-old rookie Quvenzhane Wallis, Beasts is an emotional powerhouse. The film follows a tough little girl, Hushpuppy, who, living in a fictional New Orleans marshland community called "The Bathtub," must contend with both a dying father (the equally dynamite Dwight Henry), mythical monsters known as "aurochs," and rising waters that are washing her homeland away.
Shot in the heart of New Orleans with newbie actors and a tight-knit production crew, Zeitlin's picture is as authentic as it is captivating. When Hushpuppy's defiant narration isn't either making you laugh or stand at attention, the film's rich characters and brave narrative turns will leave you clutching for fresh Kleenex. —MB
Before Sunrise (1995)
Director: Richard Linklater
Stars: Ethan Hawke, Julie Delpy
The first film in one of cinema's smallest trilogies, Richdar Linklater's Before Sunrise is simple in its conceit: An American traveling across Europe has time to kill before catching an early-morning train out of Vienna. He meets a French woman facing a similar predicament, and the two decide to spend the rest of the day and night walking around the city.
They talk. They argue about how the world works. Jesse, the American, postures like a hardscrabble cynic. Céline's a touch more mature to be so cynical. They're attracted to each other. Is this the start of a relationship? That it's the first part of a trilogy is telling, but Linklater's film avoids the conventions of Hollywood romances to get at something lovelier, and sadder. —RS
Being John Malkovich (1999)
Director: Spike Jonze
Stars: John Cusack, Cameron Diaz, Catherine Keener, John Malkovich, Orson Bean
As far as out-there ideas go, screenwriter Charlie Kaufman's concept for Being John Malkovich is tough to beat. A financially strapped puppeteer (John Cusack) starts working as a file clerk, and one day, while poking around the office, he discovers that one of its smaller doors leads directly into the mind of eccentric actor John Malkovich. Part drama, part comedy, and all gonzo genre charm, Being John Malkovich has two things going for it: its brilliantly strange idea, and the fact that it's wacky plot is beautifully sold.
Hugely beneficial to making Being John Malkovich work is the presence of Malkovich himself, fully committed the story's goofiness in an unhinged performance that's crucial. More important, however, is director Spike Jonze, the first-time feature filmmaker whose transition from acclaimed music videos (Beastie Boys' "Sabotage," The Pharcyde's "Drop," Weezer's "Buddy Holly") into film wasn't exactly natural (that's not a word you'd used to describe Being John Malkovich), but his knack for capturing the necessary heart within Kaufman's high-conceit script was an eye-opener. —MB
The Blair Witch Project (1999)
Director: Daniel Myrick and Eduardo Sanchez
Stars: Heather Donahue, Michael C. Williams, Joshua Leonard
If, 20 years from now, you find yourself in the bind of having to explain how found footage became the technique in horror movies, you have to trace it back to the source, to the little indie that did, The Blair Witch Project.
Released in 1999, the film wanted you to see it as non-fiction, the actual record of three students pursuing a local legend in Maryland. (Yes, this is also the film that has got you into countless arguments with dummies who think that recent incarnations of Texas Chainsaw Massacre and Paranormal Activity are based on true events.) Costing less than a million dollars, The Blair Witch Project went on to gross about 250 times that amount.
This is the model for countless films, and to be an informed, developed viewer of film, you have to go back to the blueprint. —RS
Blood Simple (1984)
Director: Joel Coen
Stars: John Getz, Dan Hedaya, Frances McDormand, M. Emmet Walsh, Samm-Art Williams
Films like Fargo (1996) and The Big Lebowski (1998) reminded critics that esteemed filmmaking siblings Joel and Ethan Coen are unparalleled when it comes to directing dark, absurd comedies. But the generous humor they developed over the years is significantly less pronounced in their first flick.
Co-written by both brothers and directed by Joel, Blood Simple is a startling exercise in crime noir that, at times, passes as full-blown psychological horror.
The set-up is classic material: A rightfully disgruntled husband (Dan Hedaya) hires a sociopathic detective (M. Emmett Walsh) to kill his cheating wife (Frances McDormand) and her side piece (John Getz). Nothing goes as planned. And it wraps a noose-like grip around your nerves every step of the way. —MB
Blue Velvet (1986)
Director: David Lynch
Stars: Kyle MacLachlan, Isabella Rossellini, Dennis Hopper, Laura Dern, Hope Lange, Dean Stockwell, George Dickerson
The film industry is full of weird dudes. But none translate their eccentricities to their filmographies as successfully-or as often-as David Lynch.
Using the same quirky formula that would make Twin Peaks such a hit in the '90s, Lynch tells the story of a sexy chanteuse (Isabella Rossellini) pinned under the thumb of an amyl nitrate-huffing psychopath (Dennis Hopper) who's holding her family hostage. And then there are the two youngsters (Kyle MacLachlan and Laura Dern) playing teen detectives, tying to unravel the mystery.
Following the box office failure of Dune, Blue Velvet was Lynch's attempt to make something personal. In Lynch on Lynch, the director notes, "After Dune I was down so far that anything was up! So, it was just a euphoria. And when you work with that kind of feeling, you can take chances. You can experiment."
And experiment he did. Using style to soften its brutal acts, the cult classic paints a surreal portrait of the juxtaposition between Anytown, USA and the perversity that lurks beneath its perfectly manicured lawns. —JW
Bottle Rocket (1996)
Director: Wes Anderson
Stars: Luke Wilson, Owen Wilson, James Caan, Lumi Cavazos, Robert Musgrave
Wes Anderson's droll debut introduced viewers to a group of characters, notably including Luke and Owen Wilson, who have absolutely no idea how to pull off a heist. Problem is, they really want to.
It probably wasn't a great idea for a guy who just left a mental asylum (L. Wilson) to enter the world of crime, but you can't blame him for wanting to try something different. From the first shot, Anderson's fixation on composition and sand-dry jokes is front and center. Devotees haven't been able to get enough since. —JS
Clerks (1994)
Director: Kevin Smith
Stars: Brian O'Halloran, Jeff Anderson, Marilyn Ghiglotti, Lisa Spoonhauer, Jason Mewes, Kevin Smith
Made for only $230,000, Kevin Smith's lo-fi debut Clerks revolutionized independent comedy with its black-and-white home-video quality and nonstop dialogue. Showing the lives of two best friends from New Jersey (one a convenience store clerk and the other a video-store worker), Smith's Generation X classic operates on an incessant amount of profanity, geeky pop-culture references, and an overall slacker's mentality.
Clerks has earned its legendary stripes by showing that anyone with a camera and even a shred of imagination can make a cherished movie-as long as you're funny. A dry Clerks, full of slackers talking endlessly without Smith's vibrant writing, sounds like a cure for insomnia. —MB
The Crying Game (1992)
Director: Neil Jordan
Stars: Stephen Rea, Forest Whitaker, Jaye Davidson, Miranda Richardson
Like Psycho or The Sixth Sense, The Crying Game was one of those movies that swore viewers into secrecy—they wouldn't reveal the twist, lest they ruin a breathtaking experience for others. That was the word around the film's release, anyway. Now, over 20 years removed from its theatrical debut, you should know that it doesn't really matter. If you've had the twist of this moving romance spoiled for you, and that knowledge has kept you from watching Irish director Neil Jordan's most famous flick, flip the script and go watch.
The winner of a Best Original Screenplay Oscar, The Crying Game opens with the kidnapping of a British solider, played by Forest Whitaker, by members of the IRA. Before he's killed, the British soldier bonds with Fergus, played by sad-eyed Stephen Rea, even though Fergus is supposed to execute the man. The solider tells Fergus about his girlfriend, Dil.
In the wake of the soldier's death, Fergus seeks out Dil, who sings at a nightclub. Fergus is entranced, watching Dil sing a song called "The Crying Game." But nothing is as it seems in Jordan's quiet film about relationships across seemingly impassible divides, including the film's reputation that the twist is as important as the human drama unfolding before the viewer's eyes. —RS
Dazed and Confused (1993)
Director: Richard Linklater
Stars: Jason London, Wiley Wiggins, Matthew McConaughey, Milla Jovovich, Anthony Rapp, Adam Goldberg, Ben Affleck, Jason O. Smith, Marissa Ribisi, Christine Harnos, Michell Burke, Sasha Jenson, Cole Hauser, Shawn Andrews, Joey Lauren Adams, Parker Posey, Nicky Katt, Renee Zellweger, Esteban Powell
Have you ever wondered what your parents were like back in their high school days? Hopefully not the "senior class tramp" and "the worst varsity athlete on campus." Chances are, if they've ever borrowed one of your Cypress Hill and/or Bob Marley CDs, mommy and daddy were much like the characters in Dazed And Confused, Richard Linklater's look at high school life in the hippie-laden '70s that captures a bygone time period about as authentically as any movie made twenty years after the fact ever could.
With its wide array of memorable characters, this multi-plot comedy never tries very hard to pull laughs from its audience-it simply follows interesting kids doing normal things, albeit hilariously. Dazed And Confused also works on a film geek level, showing the earliest, and ten times funnier, days of now-famous actors like Ben Affleck and Matthew McConaughey. After watching this, you'll hope that pops was a lot like the latter's character, Wooderson, the king of younger-tail-chasing Zen. —MB
Donnie Darko (2001)
Director: Richard Kelly
Stars: Jake Gyllenhaal, Jena Malone, Drew Barrymore, Noah Wyle, Mary McDonnell, James Duval, Patrick Swayze, Katharine Ross, Beth Grant, Holmes Osborne, Seth Rogen
By now, it's safe to call writer-director Richard Kelly a one-hit wonder, but, man, his only movie worth talking about is a knockout.
Catching critics and moviegoers totally off guard back in 2001, Donnie Darko, a then-26-year-old Kelly's feature debut, introduced a fearless young director who wore his geek stripes proudly. It's an '80s-set teen drama subverted, centering on a super-smart high school loner, Donnie Darko (a terrifically sardonic Jake Gyllenhaal), who hallucinates that a dude in a bunny suit warned him about the world's end and begins to accept time travel as a viable practice.
There's much more at stake than that, but we'll fall back from any further summarizing; it's best to experience Donnie Darko with as little pre-existing knowledge as possible. Kelly's feat is all the more remarkable when you realize that an unproven guy in his mid-20s was capable of conceiving such a large-scale, witty, and disturbing fever dream. It's just a damn shame that Kelly's talents aged more like unrefrigerated cheese than fine wine. —MB
Drugstore Cowboy (1989)
Director: Gus Van Sant
Stars: Matt Dillon, Kelly Lynch, James Le Gros, Heather Graham, Max Perlich, James Remar, William. S. Burroughs
High school and middle school teachers would be wise to show Drugstore Cowboy to their young, impressionable students on a yearly basis—so what if its adult themes and rough imagery aren't exactly what parents would call "classroom suitable"? It's no worse than that documentary video about aborted fetuses that regularly stain teens' brains in Catholic schools' religion programs.
Amongst other advantages, this one's far more stylish, compelling, and populated by talented actors giving superb performances (namely Matt Dillon). The film that launched director Gus Van Sant to the industry's filmmaking A-list, Drugstore Cowboy frankly shows what it's like to be a law-breaking, helpless junkie who's only goal in life is to score his or her next bit of smack. Consider it the art-house scene's answer to D.A.R.E. —MB
Easy Rider (1969)
Director: Dennis Hopper
Stars: Peter Fonda, Dennis Hopper, Jack Nicholson
Look, man, you wanna understand the '60s? Wanna know what it's like to feel so fucked up by a war that won't end and strong grass and the pressure of a thousand stiffs in suits demanding you cut your hair and join the workforce-army of capitalism? Wanna go looking for America on your bike and find out that it was all a big lie?
Don't think that you need to leave your crib for this trip, partner, no—just pop in Easy Rider, and let Dennis Hopper's road movie-cum-psychedelic acid drop take you back in time to America's rebellious adolescence. Summing up the story, or even believing that a story could lead you to progress is so bourgeois, man. Just watch. —RS
Eighth Grade (2018)
Director: Bo Burnham
Starring: Elsie Fisher, Emily Robinson, Josh Hamilton
The beauty of Eighth Grade, Bo Burnham’s Gen Z “coming of age” story, is that it’s not actually a coming-of-age story. It’s a story about the longing to come of age, about waiting for that magic moment where we stick our head out the car window during golden hour and everything feels alright. It’s about the agony we feel when that moment doesn’t come—and how hard we try to maintain faith that it will.
Kayla Day (Fisher) is, like so many of us, a contradiction of outward shyness and inner knowledge that we are, by all accounts, Normal and Cool. We see Kayla wrestle with this contradiction as she prepares to enter high school and attempts to figure out—and show everyone else—who she really is. Her relationship with social media, a central component of the film, is relatable even for those us who attended high school in the first half of this decade, proving that as much as we’ve tried to repress them, our uneasy middle school selves still live on.
The story delves into the mess that is adolescence, from the embarrassment of awkward crush interactions to the more serious trauma of sexual coercion, without ever being condescending. Burnham avoids the patronizing perspective of, “Haha, remember when we were teens and thought everything was a big deal?” and instead offers more empathetic, “13 is an incredibly vulnerable and formative age—everything was a big deal.” Eighth Grade is both heartbreaking and heartwarming, not unlike our own memories of that time. —CB
Eraserhead (1977)
Director: David Lynch
Stars: Jack Nance, Charlotte Stewart, Allen Joseph, Jeanne Bates
Happens all the time: Someone says to you, "Hey, what's David Lynch's Eraserhead about?" You can summarize the plot-as much as there is one—but you can't do it justice. Only the experience matters.
Starring Jack Nance, Eraserhead is about a guy who has a horribly deformed baby with a woman who soon leaves him to raise the thing on his own.
Misshapen and bizarre characters populate this dreamlike world as the movie moves from scene to scene with an approach that's closer to poetry and experimental cinema than anything in traditional narrative filmmaking.
It's not particularly violent or gruesome, but nearly every shot finds an open wound in the viewer's psyche to poke at, making for one of cinema's most unsettling and transcendent experiences. —JS
Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind (2004)
Director: Michel Gondry
Stars: Jim Carrey, Kate Winslet, Kirsten Dunst, Mark Ruffalo, Elijah Wood, Tom Wilkinson
Put director Michel Gondry (The Science of Sleep, Be Kind Rewind) and screenwriter Charlie Kaufman (Being John Malkovich, Adaptation.) together and bewildering, joyous eccentricities are guaranteed. Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, their 2004 romantic comedy subversion, isn't an exception. Fortunately, it's also not simply quirky for quirky's sake, and the Gondry/Kaufman tandem had much more on their mind than butterflies and sappiness.
With an excellently against-type Jim Carrey and the always solid Kate Winslet in the leads, Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind utilizes Gondry's visual inventiveness and Kaufman's narrative forward-thinking to tell a love story that's warm, tender, and raw. It's a heart-tugger perfectly suited for David Lynch acolytes. —MB
The Evil Dead (1981)
Director: Sam Raimi
Stars: Bruce Campbell, Ellen Sandweiss, Hal Delrich, Betsy Baker, Sarah York
Then-21-year-old filmmaker Sam Raimi's The Evil Dead isn't simply a rollercoaster ride of a movie-it's that flying-off-the-rails coaster from the beginning of Final Destination 3. Out of control from beginning to end, the future Spider-Man franchise director's (who's back in blockbuster form this month with Oz, the Great and Powerful) low-budget first effort is the purveyor of horror's "cabin in the woods" template.
A group of young, likable innocents head to a secluded, wooded crib, find an ancient evil text, and unleash plenty gory slapstick comedy. All, mind you, produced with barely $400,000. The Evil Dead is a glowing testament to the power of imagination over money. —MB
Friday the 13th (1980)
Director: Sean S. Cunningham
Stars: Betsy Palmer, Adrienne King, Harry Crosby, Jeannine Taylor, Laurie Bertram, Kevin Bacon, Mark Nelson, Robbi Morgan, Ari Lehman
It's the film that began the now 30-plus year legacy of Jason Voorhees, which, in turn, also makes it one of the horror genre's most improperly recollected classics. That's because, yes, the killer who offs the poor, horny teens working at Camp Crystal Lake isn't the hockey-masked ghoul unimaginative dudes dress up as on Halloween—it's his vengeful mother, hacking through nubile young bodies to make innocents pay for the accidental death of her son, Jason, when he was a pre-teen, disfigured, bullied camper.
Meaning, Friday the 13th ignited the '80s boom of slasher upon slasher flick by bravely making a woman its bloodthirsty antagonist. Feminists can also take pride in the fact that Mrs. Voorhees (Betsy Palmer) slices and dices her way through what's actually a creepy little stalk-and-kill exercise, one that's more akin to the works of Italian directorial maverick Mario Bava than any of its numerous sequels. —MB
Ghost Dog: The Way of the Samurai (1999)
Director: Jim Jarmusch
Stars: Forest Whitaker, John Tormey, Henry Silva, Cliff Gorman, Camille Winbush, Tricia Vessey, RZA
Jim Jarmusch is one of the most influential (and prolific) American directors in independent cinema. Jarmusch's films focus on fringe experiences in the United States; his camera surveys the country from a perspective that feels foreign, befuddled and amused by this place. Stranger Than Paradise, Dead Man, and Down By Law are all indicative of the director's deadpan style.
Ghost Dog: The Way of the Samurai, with its color cinematography and hip-hop soundtrack, feels like an outlier in Jarmusch's body of work, but take a closer look and you'll see that it fits right in. The protagonist is Ghost Dog (forest Whitaker), a hitman who observes the ode of the samurai. By playing with the conventions of the gangster film and unpacking issues of race and urban spaces, Jarmusch makes something that feels, oddly enough, American. —RS
Gummo (1997)
Director: Harmony Korine
Stars: Max Perlich, Linda Manz, Chloe Sevigny, Jacob Reynolds
Two years after giving Larry Clark the screenplay for Kids (also included here), Harmony Korine directed his first feature. Gummo, set in Xenia, Ohio, is a grotesque parade of Americana: a breast tumor is discovered during backseat necking; roaches scuttle from behind picture frames in living rooms; two teens hunt and kill cats; a man pimps his sister, who has Down's.
There's little connecting the vignettes, nothing more than a warped idea of America. But you can't forget what Korine shows you. —RS
Happiness (1998)
Director: Todd Solondz
Stars: Dylan Baker, Jane Adams, Philip Seymour Hoffman, Jon Lovitz, Jared Harris, Elizabeth Ashley, Ben Gazzara, Louise Lasser, Camryn Manhem, Rufus Reed, Cynthia Stevenson
There's no better film out there that paints us a portrait of suburbia gone wrong than Todd Solondz's twisted drama Happiness. In it, Dylan Baker plays a pedophile psychiatrist named Bill Maplewood who rapes two of his son's classmates during the movie's first act. But instead of filming this movie like a horror flick or a thriller, Solondz presents it all in a way that is reminiscent of a '50s sitcom with its sweeping music, tucked-in shirts, and heart-to-heart conversations between a father and son about penis size. Hell, daddy dearest even offers to measure his son's for him.
The conversation ends with Bill tussling his son's hair as he goes back to happily reading his magazine. The repressed psyches of all of these characters is what is really disturbing as the picture-perfect middle-class suburban life falls under the microscope of a director who seems hell-bent on showing off society's seedy underbelly. —JS
In the Company of Men (1997)
Director: Neil LaBute
Stars: Aaron Eckhart, Matt Malloy, Stacy Edwards
Like many films improperly labeled as "misogynistic," Neil LaBute's polarizing In the Company of Men deals with outright misogynists but isn't worthy of such description itself. Also similar to other movies on this list, it requires efforts on behalf of its viewers to look beyond what's addressed in the IMDb page's plot synopsis, which, in this case, states that In the Company of Men is about two corporate jerks who strategically try to destroy a deaf female co-worker's spirits. Although, the efforts to dissect LaBute's script seem minimal compared to, say Antichrist.
Aside from being a very well-written character, Chad (Aaron Eckhart) is an easy one to decipher: He hates both men and women with equal vigor, and his excitement in mentally assaulting Christine (Stacy Edwards) is always heightened by how he manipulates Howard (Matt Malloy) in the process. To him, Christine is just a pawn in a much bigger chess game. Chad loathes mankind's vulnerable tendencies, so when Howard talks about the ways he chases after his girlfriend, Chad sees his colleague-in-misogyny as a puny weakling. What kind of man would call his girl three times in a row just to make her call him back? One who deserves to be crushed.
In the end, Howard gets it much worse than Christine, and, moreover, Chad's awful characteristics are made abundantly clear. In the Company of Men leaves Christine as the obvious answer to the question of, "Who would you rather be?" —MB
Kids (1995)
Director: Larry Clark
Stars: Leo Fitzpatrick, Justin Pierce, Chloe Sevigny, Harmony Korine
L'enfant terrible Harmony Korine was 22 when he penned the screenplay for Kids at the behest of photographer-turned-filmmaker Larry Clark, whose work has always fixated on youth in the raw. They met in Washington Square Park, where Korine was skating.
The park appears in the film, when Telly and Casper, the main male characters, wander through for drugs, skateboarding, and a fight. Telly is 16 and HIV positive.
The film takes no stabs at analysis, it only documents the teens as they go about their business in Manhattan, getting high, having sex, talking, and in Telly's case, spreading HIV. The matter-of-fact attitude may be too cold for some (not to mention ethically questionable), but there's no question of the film's power, or of the comfort of Clark behind the camera. —RS
Killer of Sheep (1977)
Director: Charles Burnett
Stars: Henry G. Sanders, Kaycee Moore, Charles Bracy, Angela Burnett
For 30 years, Charles Burnett's debut was a ghost. Though the first-time director shot Killer of Sheep in his childhood home of Watts in the '70s, finally finishing in 1977, it went unreleased because Burnett didn't have the rights to the music used. In 2007, the rights were finally purchased for $150,000, roughly 15 times the film's budget. For the first time, Burnett's masterpiece received a proper release.
Killer of Sheep's center is Watts; the plot is barely there, with little narrative connecting the haunting black-and-white images of the Los Angeles neighborhood. Stan (Henry Gayle Sanders), the titular character, works at a slaughterhouse. The money supports his family, his wife (Kaycee Moore) and their two children. The monotonous hours of slaughter are killing him. There's little life left in his eyes.
And yet life doesn't stop. Burnett captures that life, making for unforgettable shot after unforgettable shot (Mos Def used one for the cover of his album The Ecstatic). That the film went unseen by so many for so long is a bitter shame. —RS
The Last House on the Left (1972)
Director: Wes Craven
Stars: Sandra Cassel, Lucy Grantham, Dvaid Hess, Fred Lincoln, Jeramie Rain, Marc Sheffler
Based loosely on Ingmar Bergman's The Virgin Spring, The Last House on the Left is an exploitation horror film that is notorious for the rape/torture scenes that fill out the film's second act. In fact, the movie was found to be so sadistic and unseemly that it was banned in Great Britain for a while because of the unrestrained violence and sexual humiliation that run rampant throughout.
There's one scene in particular that should have men everywhere reaching for the Pepto Bismol, when, in a twisted act of revenge, the mother of the rape victim proceeds to orally remove the manhood of the perpetrator that killed her daughter. This revenge-fantasy was Wes Craven's first feature-length directing gig, and it went on to redefine the horror genre. Don't bother with the recent remake; if you want to be truly disturbed, go for the raw, deplorable original. —JS
Lost in Translation (2003)
Director: Sofia Coppola
Stars: Bill Murray, Scarlett Johansson, Giovanni Ribisi, Anna Faris
First off, how can you not love Bill Murray? The comedy legend could do a mime routine and still leave us in stitches, thanks to his uncanny ability to derive laughs out of stares, raised eyebrows, and indifference.
Which all plays greatly into Sofia Coppola's unconventional romantic comedy Lost in Translation, starring Murray as a disenchanted actor making ends meet by working in Japanese commercials. His disillusionment its matched by that of an unhappily married, younger woman (Scarlett Johansson) he meets at a hotel bar.
Budding butterfly-in-stomach feelings emerge, but Coppola, who also wrote the script, steers clear of cheesy sentiments, instead grounding the hypnotic Lost In Translation in fine-tuned subtlety. —MB
Mean Streets (1973)
Director: Martin Scorsese
Stars: Robert De Niro, Harvey Keitel, David Proval, Amy Robinson, Richard Romanus, Cesare Danova
A hand held over a flame, flesh tested by fire: The image begins Scorsese's Mean Streets. It's a beautiful, concise visual metaphor for the Catholic guilt at the film's heart.
Scorsese's third feature, the one that garnered him the most acclaim in the early days of his career, follows a group of friends as they fuck themselves out of already dim futures in and around Little Italy and NoLita. Many of the most memorable scenes occur at Volpe, a bar owned by one of the characters, which is situated at the border of NoLita and Soho. That the casual violence Scorsese is known for goes down where plenty now take lunch breaks adds a layer of dismal comedy to the proceedings.
In Scorsese's universe, you can pull your hand back from the fire, but there will always be some force dragging your balled fist back to blacken and smolder. You can't escape. —RS
Memento (2000)
Director: Christopher Nolan
Stars: Guy Pearce, Joe Pantoliano, Carrie-Anne Moss, Mark Boone Junior, Stephen Tobolowsky, Thomas Lennon, Callum Keith Rennie
The film that cemented Christopher Nolan as an international talent was a very low budget operation that succeeded on the strength of its conceit. Memento's about a man, Leonard Shelby, who's lost the ability to create new memories. This makes it very difficult to find and catch the men who raped and killed his wife, so he uses a complex system of notes and tattoos to remind himself of his goal.
The film moves against time, unfolding in reverse chronological order. It builds to a devastating climax about coping that will leave the viewer shook long after the film has ended. —GT
Metropolitan (1990)
Director: Whit Stillman
Stars: Carolyn Farina, Edward Clements, Taylor Nichols, Allison Parisi, Dylan Hundley
Whit Stillman's Metropolitan oscillates uneasily between loving and hating the group of young bourgeois at the film's center. They attend lavish parties and exchange witty dialogue in gorgeous UES apartments. At every turn, the film claims to be documenting a dying breed, but twenty-somethings in New York would beg to differ. Though most of us don't see many tuxes with tails or debutante balls these days, the socio-economic navel gazing and pseudo-intellectual statements like, "You don't have to read a book to have an opinion on it," will feel familiar to anyone who's been dragged to a hip Williamsburg rooftop party. But the film's hesitant approach to satire complicates what would otherwise be a standard comedy about the rich WASPS we all love to hate. —BG
My Own Private Idaho (1991)
Director: Gus Van Sant
Stars: River Phoenix, Keanu Reeves
It's pretty clear that the '90s were all about Keanu Reeves: The Matrix, The Devil's Advocate, Bram Stoker's Dracula, you name it. Yet again, he does not let anyone down in My Own Private Idaho alongside the very talented River Phoenix. Gus van Sant, another film icon of the nineties, tells the story of two teenagers on the road to self-discovery and, because van Sant is merciless, they seem to never discover anything.
But like most of van Sant's projects, everything is up to interpretation. The film is not as confrontational as his other films, but that does not mean that it is the kind of movie you would want to watch on your first date, unless you're that kind of guy. My Own Private Idaho tries to grasp the feeling of change, or lack thereof, in a raw and symbolic way that makes you think about the movie for weeks after having watched it. —VC
Night of the Living Dead (1968)
Director: George A. Romero
Stars: Duane Jones, Judith O'Dea, Karl Hardman, Marilyn Eastman, Keith Wayne, Judith Ridley, Bill Cardille, Kyra Schon
George A. Romero's Night of the Living Dead is a national treasure; shot on a shoestring budget in and around Evans City, Pennsylvania, the zombie classic stands as a crucial milestone for independent cinema, an untouchable gem amongst horror purists, and an intelligent, thought-provoking time capsule from the Civil Rights era. Not bad for a movie about corpses devouring humans.
Ask The Walking Dead creator Robert Kirkman or original series showrunner Frank Darabont-George A. Romero's genre-defining Night of the Living Dead is the most important zombie movie of all time. It's also one of the most important horror movies of all time.
The set-up is basic: Seven random people barricade themselves inside a nondescript farmhouse as flesh-eating corpses stalk around outside. Independently made back in 1968, Night Of The Living Dead pushed horror's boundaries with extraordinarily graphic scenes of cannibalism and the ballsy choice to have a black leading man during the Civil Rights era.
Above all else, though, it's still scary as hell. —MB
Pi (1998)
Director: Darren Aronofsky
Stars: Sean Gulette, Mark Margolis, Ben Shenkman, Samia Shoaib
Before the powerfully depressing Requiem for a Dream, Mickey Rourke's comeback-vehicle The Wrestler, and Natalie Portman's Oscar-winning psycho-horror flick Black Swan, Oscar-nominated director Darren Aronofsky was a struggling first-time filmmaker with little money and huge ideas.
The result of his pre-fame hunger is Pi, a black-and-white mind-warp about an unstable math whiz (Sean Gullette) whose obsessive work gains unwanted attention from Hasidic extremists, Wall Street players, and his own insanity.
For bleak, hypnotic atmosphere, Pi is tough to beat. —MB
Primer (2004)
Director: Shane Carruth
Stars: Shane Carruth, David Sullivan, Casey Goodsen, Anand Upadhyaya, Carrie Crawford
This might sound like a diss, but here goes: Primer should be watched with two fresh aspirin pills nearby. Brainy and structurally irregular, independent filmmaker Shane Carruth's dense feature debut requires a great deal of attention and thought from its viewers; in that sense, it's evidence that Carruth is someone who believes that his audience is predominantly intelligent; though we're sure a few dimwits have seen Primer with their more astute friends, it's still admirable of Carruth to not have dumbed things down.
Greed and scientific possibilities are the major themes in Primer, a short but cerebral movie about four yuppie entrepreneurs who discover a way to use time travel to fatten their wallets. Pretty much all of the dialogue consists of scientific jargon, and the non-sequential order of scenes moves like a wilder version of Christopher Nolan's Memento at times. If you're willing to give the old noodle some massaging, Primer will reward you with an inimitable mind fucking. —MB
Reservoir Dogs (1992)
Director: Quentin Tarantino
Stars: Harvey Keitel, Tim Roth, Steve Buscemi, Michael Madsen, Quentin Tarantino, Lawrence Tierney, Chris Penn
There's no way critics at the 1992 Sundance Film Festival could've anticipated what was about to happen. Written and directed by a young, unknown former video store employee named Quentin Tarantino, Reservoir Dogs upended everything the film community knew about independent cinema.
All of its components would become touchstones in Tarantino's universe: snappy pop-culture references (forever marring Madonna's "Like a Virgin"), foul language, a shuffled chronology, and criminals simultaneously acting hilariously and violently.
In the film's wake, a string of wannabe Tarantinos emerged, mostly at the behest of rival studios hoping to ride the coattails of Harvey and Bob Weinstein's new golden goose, who went on to make the superior Pulp Fiction. But never forget that it all started with Reservoir Dogs. —MB
Requiem for a Dream (2000)
Director: Darren Aronofsky
Stars: Jared Leto, Jennifer Connelly, Ellen Burstyn, Marlon Wayans
It's not a slight to label Requiem for a Dream one of the most depressing movies ever made-a film about the destruction of four addicts isn't supposed to be uplifting. At every turn, director Darren Aronofsky puts the film's downbeat tone on front street, no more so than during Requiem's dizzying and relentless final act. With an alarming franticness, Aronofsky employs all kinds of camera tricks to disorient the viewer beyond belief, showing all four characters' ends in one roiling boil of images.
After its release, the film became the drug film par excellence, unseating Trainspotting in dorm rooms everywhere. It's also one of the most successful film adaptations of a novel ever. Of course, it must've helped that novelist Hubert Selby, Jr. closely collaborated with Aronofsky during the process. —MB
Safe (1995)
Director: Todd Haynes
Stars: Julianne Moore, Peter Friedman, Xander Berkeley
One of independent film's best sub-genres is the woman-losing-her-mind psychological thriller. Back in 1965, there was Roman Polanski's Repulsion; in 2011, Martha Marcy May Marlene found breakout star Elizabeth Olsen pissing her bed and weirdly skinny-dipping in response to years spent living with a malevolent cult; and last year, the underrated horror flick Lovely Molly showed what happens when demons mess around with recovering drug addicts.
Todd Haynes' moody, at times trippy character study Safe belongs in that same conversation. Starring Julianne Moore (at her most powerful), it uses a mysterious physical ailment to slowly dissipate its main character's psyche. Sudden nose bleeds and coughing attacks worry her to the point of fleeing to a secluded retreat overseen by an untrustworthy leader (Peter Friedman) who promotes positivity and self-acceptance. And that's when things get really unsettling. —MB
Sex, Lies, and Videotape (1989)
Director: Steven Soderbergh
Stars: James Spader, Andie MacDowel, Peter Gallagher, Laura San Giacomo
In 1989, American independent cinema got the boost it needed to create such works as Pulp Fiction and The Shawshank Redemption. The boost came in the form of sex, lies, and videotape, Steven Soderbergh's Palme d'Or winner at the 1989 Cannes Film Festival. From there, all the major studios wanted in. Independent movies as we know them today-especially as a kind of genre, with a specific style and tropes-came into being.
Truthfully, sex, lies, and videotape feels tame today. Which makes it all the more important to see. It follows Ann, (Andie MacDowell) a woman in a bloodless marriage with John (Peter Gallagher). When John's old college buddy (James Spader) comes to town with a video camera and rocks to get off, everything changes. —RS
Shadows (1959)
Director: John Cassavetes
Stars: Ben Carruthers, Lelia Goldoni, Hugh Hurd, Anthony Ray
It only cost John Cassavetes a mere $40,000-which equals pennies in terms of film budgets-to revolutionize the independent movie business. A wholly engaging blend of improv-style acting performances and the writer-director's signature facial close-ups, the black-and-white romantic drama Shadows invigorated critics and art-house moviegoers alike with its experimental nature and assured presentation.
Plot wise, it's fairly straightforward, following the love connection shared by a black woman and a white man as he starts meeting the members of her disapproving family. Thematically, however, the New York City-set Shadows-shot run-and-gun with a 16mm handheld camera-was a landmark achievement for its time, tackling the then-unapproachable subject of interracial love with a stern confidence.
And just like that, Cassavetes established himself as a powerful and necessary voice in indie cinema. —MB
She's Gotta Have It (1986)
Director: Spike Lee
Stars: Tracy Camilla Johns, Tommy Redmond Hicks, Spike Lee, Raye Dowell, John Canada Terrell
In 1986, when Spike Lee brought African American cinema into the mainstream with his lo-fi romantic comedy She's Gotta Have It, the general presentation of black people in cinema wasn't the most flattering-more often than not, they were pimps and other undesirable types. And even if they managed to get a complicated, non-stereotypical role, it wouldn't be a leading role. Lee's independently made debut, however, handles its characters with intelligence and sophistication, depicting a go-getting woman's (Tracy Camilla Johns) struggles in pleasing three boyfriends, one of whom is Lee's beloved Mars Blackmon alter-ego.
Granted, the film is not without its problems—see bell hooks on the film' "Whose pussy is this?" scene—but it's still a work of such talent, it holds up in many other ways. —MB
Shivers (1975)
Director: David Cronenberg
Stars: Fred Doederlin, Lynn Lowry, Barbara Steele, Paul Hampton
David Cronenberg's legacy is, in a word, singular. Before his more recent forays into less-weird mainstream flicks (A History of Violence, Eastern Promises, A Dangerous Method), the king of Canadian genre filmmaking was the go-to guy for all things body horror, from The Brood to Scanners and into The Fly. It all started, though, with the audacious 1975 shocker Shivers, a wicked amalgamation of eccentric exploitation and deeply perverted sexual imagery.
In a massive, trendy apartment complex, a parasite works its way into the orifices of various tenants, turning them into overly horny lunatics. Shivers is a zombie movie by way of Viagra and Love Potion No. 9—and it's even crazier, plus more entertaining, than that sounds. —MB
Short Cuts (1993)
Director: Robert Altman
Stars: Matthew Modine, Tim Robbins, Julianne Moore, Fred Ward, Anne Archer, Buck Henry, Lily Tomlin, Tom Waits, Robert Downey, Jr., Chris Penn, Jennifer Jason Leigh, Frances McDormand, Bruce Davison, Jack Lemmon, Lyle Lovett, Peter Gallagher
There's a certain kind of short story, maybe you've read it? They're about lower-class white folks, there's usually more drinking and staring at walls than talking, couples fighting and lots of blank space on the page. Blank space because the sentences are clipped and curt, like stabs of words. Ray Carver is the writer most associated with this style, and it's his work that Robert Altman adapted for his ensemble film Short Cuts.
The kind of crisscrossing Los Angeles epic that many shitty films have aspired to be, Short Cuts is long and frequently mean. There's no lesson about racial harmony here, no moral instruction. There are only many lives, some of them tangled in families, unfolding in the familiar ways: people argue, jobs suck, friends gather together for security, but nothing goes as planned. A fishing trip uncovers a body. A dinner party becomes a clown show.
Working with a cast of incredible talent, Altman's crowning achievement is a movie you live inside. —RS
Sweet Sweetback's Baadasssss Song (1971)
Director: Melvin Van Peebles
Stars: Melvin Van Peebles, "The Black Community"
Over 19 days in 1971, Melvin Van Peebles directed, produced and starred in Sweet Sweetback's Baadasssss Song, the indie film he also scored (played by Earth, Wind & Fire) and wrote. The year before, Van Peebles had made Watermelon Man for Columbia, a comedy about a white bigot who wakes up black. For his follow-up, Van Peebles wanted to make something even more antagonistic, a rough tale about a bad motherfucker bucking white authority. Columbia was gutless; Van Peebles would have to go it alone.
Melvin Van Peebles made his movie about his bad motherfucker, Sweet Sweetback, he of the long dick and no fucks given, and thank god he did. For the samples alone, Sweet Sweetback's Baadasssss Song is worth its weight in vinyl (in particular Madlib has sought out choice moments of the dialogue for many of his projects). Beyond rap, Song is largely credited with starting the Blaxploitation genre. It inspired scores of black filmmakers, including Spike Lee. —RS
Swingers (1996)
Director: Doug Liman
Stars: Jon Favreau, Vince Vaughn, Ron Livingston, Alex Desert, Patrick Van Horn, Heather Graham
The Hollywood fame-seekers in Swingers don't seem all that relatable, at first. Not all men talk in dangerously obnoxious slang ("You're so money, baby!"), dress like Los Angeles douchebags, and spend every single evening inside swanky lounges and nightclubs, though most wouldn't mind having that life. Yet, Swingers (written by star, and future Iron Man director, Jon Favreau) hits home for any guy who's man enough to cop to his deepest faults and insecurities.
With its flawed yet likable characters, Swingers works best as a case study into the psyche of inadequate men who struggle with accepting their inefficiencies. One scene, in particular, exemplifies the movie's honesty: In one of the squirmiest dude moments ever filmed, Favreau's character repeatedly fails while nervously trying to leave a message on a woman's answering machine. If that's never been you in real life, consider yourself lucky. —MB
The Terminator (1984)
Director: James Cameron
Stars: Arnold Schwarzenegger, Linda Hamilton, Michael Biehn, Paul Winfield
One viewing of Arnold Schwarzenegger's recent "comeback" action pic The Last Stand is all you need to revisit The Terminator (or seek it out for the first time). Because at one point, the recent Governator was just a former Mr. Olympia with minimal acting chops, but then writer-director James Cameron changed all of that.
Casting Schwarzenegger as this film's titular villain (a time-traveling cyborg focused on killing), Cameron accentuated the Austrian muscleman's strengths: a hulking presence, brute physicality, and the ability to nail simple, blunt one-liners like "I'll be back." Schwarzenegger is legitimately frightening in The Terminator, upgrading an already superb and hardcore sci-fi thriller into certified genre classic. —MB
The Texas Chainsaw Massacre (1974)
Director: Tobe Hooper
Stars: Marilyn Burns, Paul A. Partain, Edwin Neal, Jim Siedow, Gunnar Hansen
The two most important horror movies in light of the current state of the genre are Halloween and The Texas Chainsaw Massacre. Halloween is the prototypical slasher flick. The Texas Chainsaw Massacre is a slasher, too, but it stands out from Halloween because of its extreme grit. Watching Tobe Hooper's 1974 film, even today, is too much like watching a snuff film.
It is one of the only films this writer has ever seen that, when the killer first appeared, triggered a horrible looping thought of: "I don't want to watch this I don't want to watch this I don't want to watch this." And the writer has seen many horror movies. But there's something so—it seems silly to use a meaningless word like "real." There isn't a word for this. It's just terrifying.
The film, on paper, is patently ridiculous. Family of cannibals. Van of kids. Death. But truly, this movie is scary. Too scary. —RS
This Is Spinal Tap (1984)
Director: Rob Reiner
Stars: Christopher Guest, Michael McKean, Harry Shearer, Rob Reiner, Fran Drescher, Bruno Kirby
You don't have to be an undying Mötley Crüe fan to appreciate This Is Spinal Tap, director Rob Reiner's (When Harry Met Sally..., A Few Good Men) hilarious and sharp send-up of the music industry, particularly the hair metal culture of the 1980s.
Presented as a "real" documentary, it's a work of committed brilliance; as the self-centered, at times delusional, members of the fictional heavy metal group Spinal Tap, actors Christopher Guest, Michael McKean, and Harry Shearer deliver every ridiculous bit of dialogue and perform each exaggerated song with such all-in vigor that This Is Spinal Tap feels like the funniest episode of Behind The Music ever made. —MB
THX 1138 (1971)
Director: George Lucas
Stars: Robert Duvall, Donald Pleasance, Don Pedro Colley, Maggie McOmie, Ian Wolfe
With all of the permanent residue stuck on pop culture thanks to his Star Wars, it's easy to forget that George Lucas has actually made some movies without any characters named Skywalker. His most overlooked non-Star Wars flick is THX 1138, an eye-grabbing feature film debut that Michael Bay blatantly ripped off in his 2005 slog The Island.
A young Robert Duvall plays a factory worker, named THX 1138, living in a society in which emotion-blocking drugs are mandatory and android fuzz constantly patrol the streets. After feeling sexual attraction for the first time, a big no-no to higher-ups who've worked so hard to suppress such feelings, THX goes H.A.M. while on the lam.
While nowhere near as fun as his Star Wars flicks, THX 1138 works on a visionary level, presenting a faux reality that's mapped out well and seeped in science fiction appreciation. —MB
Two-Lane Blacktop (1971)
Director: Monte Hellman
Stars: James Taylor, Warren Oates, Laurie Bird, Dennis Wilson
Despite its minimal budget and lack of Vin Diesel's cool-guy demeanor, Monte Hellman's cult classic Two-Lane Blacktop is indeed the forefather to the Fast & Furious franchise. Does that mean the millions of rabid fans who'd let Paul Walker ride shotgun any day should seek it out? Absolutely, though they shouldn't expect absurd action, snappy one-liners, random Reggaeton jams, or Vinny Diesel flying through the air catch a woman in the air.
In other words, Two-Lane Blacktop is the nitty-gritty version of the car chase film. Pushing vintage muscle cars (e.g., 1955 Chevy and a 1970 GTO), the actors race down open Southwestern roads without any enhanced pyrotechnics, yet Two-Lane Blacktop is an effectively quiet, subdued experience.
To their credit, Hellman and his screenwriters placed as much emphasis on the enigmatically named The Driver's (James Taylor) romance with the also simply named Girl (Laurie Bird) as they did the automotive eye candy. Because what tough guy geared doesn't love the ladies as much as his vehicles? Creepy ones, actually. —MB
The Usual Suspects (1995)
Director: Bryan Singer
Stars: Gabriel Byrne, Kevin Spacey, Stephen Baldwin, Benicio Del Toro, Chazz Palmintieri, Kevin Pollak, Pete Postlethwaite
On the surface, The Usual Suspects sounds like a hybrid of Reservoir Dogs and Rashomon, with its exploration of an elaborate criminalistic plot gone wrong, as recounted by its seemingly untrustworthy lone survivor. And, truth be told, that's exactly how director Bryan Singer's twisty thriller plays out. Except that, well, it's much more complicated than that.
Without divulging too much of the film's enigmatic pleasures, The Usual Suspects takes the traditional thieves-gone-wild premise and, like Tarantino's aforementioned Reservoir Dogs, totally subverts it with a large dose of Agatha Christie-level intrigue.
Who is Keyser Soze? Why would these loser deviants sign up for what's so clearly a suicide mission? And how in the hell were Singer and screenwriter Christopher McQuarrie able to pull the imaginary rug out from under viewers with a final reveal that should be obvious but is nonetheless a mind-scrambler? —MB