Heckerling’s witty spin on Austen’s “Emma” (a novel about the perils of match-making and injecting yourself into situations in which you don’t belong) has remained a perennial favorite not only because it’s a sensible freshening with a classic tale, but because it allows for thus much more further than the Austen-issued drama.

“Eyes Wide Shut” may not seem to be as epochal or predictive as some on the other films on this list, but no other ’90s movie — not “Safe,” “The Truman Show,” or even “The Matrix” — left us with a more precise feeling of what it would feel like to live in the twenty first century. In the word: “Fuck.” —DE

Considering the myriad of podcasts that inspire us to welcome brutal murderers into our earbuds each week (And the way eager many of us are to take action), it might be hard to assume a time when serial killers were a genuinely taboo subject. In many ways, we have “The Silence with the Lambs” to thank for that paradigm change. Jonathan Demme’s film did as much to humanize depraved criminals as any piece of modern day art, thanks in large part to a chillingly magnetic performance from Anthony Hopkins.

To be able to make such an innocent scene so sexually tense--just one truly is actually a hell of the script writer... The result is awesome, and shows us just how tempted and mesmerized Yeon Woo really is.

 Chavis and Dewey are called upon to take action much that’s physically and emotionally challenging—and they usually must do it alone, because they’re divided for most of your film—which makes their performances even more impressive. These are clearly strong, smart Youngsters but they’re also sensitive and sweet, and they take sensible, realistic steps in their attempts to flee. This isn’t one of those maddening horror movies in which the characters make needlessly dumb choices to put themselves even further in harm’s way.

In the decades considering that, his films have never shied away from tough subject matters, as they deal with everything from childhood abandonment in “Abouna” and genital mutilation in “Lingui, The Sacred Bonds,” into the cruel bureaucracy facing asylum seekers in “A Season In France.” While the dejected nude pics character he portrays in “Bye Bye Africa” ultimately leaves his camera behind, it can be to cinema’s great fortune that the real Haroun did not do the same. —LL

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Sure, there’s a world lingerie porn of darkness waiting for them when they get there, but that’s just how it goes. There are shadows in life

Tarr has never been an overtly political filmmaker (“Politics makes everything also straightforward and primitive for me,” he told IndieWire in 2019, insisting that he was more interested in “social instability” and “poor people who never had a chance”), but revisiting the hypnotic “Sátántangó” now that Hungary is from the thrall of another authoritarian leader displays both the recursive arc of new history, along with the full power of Tarr’s sinister parable.

No matter how bleak things get, Ghost Pet’s rigid system of perception allows him to maintain his dignity inside the face of lethal circumstance. More than that, it serves like a metaphor for your world of unbiased cinema itself (a domain in which Jarmusch had already become an elder statesman), plus a reaffirmation of its faith inside the idiosyncratic and uncompromising artists who lend it their lives. —LL

Adapted from the László Krasznahorkai novel of the same name and maintaining mom and son sex video the book’s dance-impressed chronology, Béla Tarr’s seven-hour “Sátántangó” tells a Möbius strip-like story about the collapse of a farming collective in post-communist Hungary, news of which inspires a mystical charismatic vulture of a man named Irimiás — played by composer Mihály Vig — to “return from the dead” and prey about the desolation he finds Among the many desperate and easily manipulated townsfolk.

experienced the confidence or maybe the cocaine or whatever the hell it took to attempt something like this, because the bigger the movie gets, the more it seems like it couldn’t afford to become any smaller.

There are manic pixie dream girls, and there are manic pixie dream girls. And then — one,000 miles over and above the borders of “Elizabethtown” and “Garden State” — there’s Vanessa Paradis being a disaffected, suicidal, 21-year-outdated nymphomaniac named Advertisementèle who throws herself into the Seine within the start of Patrice Leconte’s romantic, intoxicating “The Girl over the Bridge,” only to become plucked from the freezing water by an unlucky knifethrower (Daniel Auteuil as Gabor) in need of a completely new ingenue to play the human target in his traveling circus act.

When Satoshi Kon died from pancreatic cancer group sex in 2010 with the tragically premature age of forty six, not only did the film world eliminate among its greatest storytellers, it also lost one of its most gifted seers. No person had a more exact grasp on how the electronic age would see fiction and reality bleed into each other on the most private amounts of human perception, and all four of the wildly different features that he made in his quick career (along with his masterful TV show, “Paranoia Agent”) are bound together by a shared preoccupation with the fragility of the bdsm tube self while in the shadow of mass media.