Photo Credit (Freepik)

Holy Grail and Monty Python

It’s terrible that Holy Grail’s utter popularity has stripped it of part of its luster. Currently, when we hear the phrase “flesh wound,” a “ni! or “huge tracts of land,” our initial impression is frequently of having entire scenarios reenacted for us by naive, compulsive nerds. Or, as a naive, compulsive nerd, of showing them entire situations. However, if you attempt to remove yourself from the excess of the film and watch it again after a few years, you’ll discover new jokes that are just as funny and new as the ones we’ve all heard. Holy Grail is undoubtedly the best comedy film available on Netflix and the most jam-packed comedy in the Python canon. Considering its reputation, it’s remarkable how readily we forget that this film has so much humor. If this film has left you feeling completely and irrevocably burned out, watch it again with commentary and experience the second degree of appreciation that results from the creativity with which it was produced. It doesn’t appear to be a $400,000 film, and it’s fun to learn which of the jokes—like the coconut halves—were inspired by the necessity for low-budget solutions. Onscreen actor Terry Jones, who only seldom directed after Python split up, and lone American Terry Gilliam, who frequently adapted Python’s cinematic aesthetic into his own distinct brand of terrifying fantasy, co-direct for the first time with a bizarre efficiency. —Techler, Graham

2. She must have it.

This is a fantastic exception to Netflix’s dearth of excellent 1980s films. Shot like a documentary, She’s Gotta Have It is a levelheaded examination of a young black woman named Nola (Tracy Camilla Johns) who is trying to decide between her three male lovers while flirting with her apparent bisexuality. It was an explosively frank feature debut that immediately announced Lee’s brave, fresh new voice in American cinema. The main goal is to determine what makes her happy. The film is refreshing because Lee consistently raises the prospect that “none of the above” is a perfectly acceptable response for Nola and unmarried women, which was revolutionary in 1986. The film’s in-your-face reality is enhanced by the do-it-yourself independent grainy black-and-white photography. —Kozak, Oktay Ege

3. Clyde and Bonnie

Before the studios realized the lucrative potential of franchises like Jaws and Star Wars, which could pile on sequel after sequel, rake in merchandise proceeds, and ensure a steady stream of big money regardless of artistic merit, there was a brief period in American film history following the public’s apathy toward the cliched, cloying dramas and comedies of the 1960s. Studio bosses had nothing better to do in that strange small window of time than toss money at outstanding directors and hope for the best. The raw reality of films like Arthur Penn’s Bonnie and Clyde is as astute and shrewd as the French New Wave, but it is also infused with the free-spirited American spirit that hasn’t yet been suppressed by corporate agendas.—Shane Ryan

4. Terminator 2: Day of Judgment

James Cameron and co-writer William Wisher Jr. wrote an almost flawless action-movie script that turned the original on its head and made Ahnold the good guy in that rare sequel that outperforms its predecessor. But what really sets the movie apart is Linda Hamilton’s journey from damsel-in-distress to fierce hero. Why should the best action scenes belong to the guys? — Jackson, Josh

5. The Wind’s Other Side

The Other Side of the Wind screams with the force of its movement, whistling beyond its limitations yet being as garish and incomprehensible as its title. Orson Welles finds an organic melody—or rather, jazz—by channeling the wind through his self-inflicted and studio-induced torpor. They’ll Love Me When I’m Dead, the making of documentary Netflix released to accompany this film—the streaming behemoth’s best moment—shows Welles, huge and half-baked, talking about what he refers to as “divine accidents,” which led to some of the best details in his oeuvre (where God resides), such as the breaking of the egg in Touch of Evil; they were something he aimed to chase after (like chasing the wind) with this, his final project, which was released several decades after it was shot in order for Netflix to open the coffin in which the raw footage was locked. Frank Marshall and Peter Bogdanovich, his former co-stars on the picture, fulfill their longstanding pledge to their master to finish the movie for him, and by capturing the essence of the project, they produce a masterpiece that we hardly deserve. A divine mishap. In the role of Jake Hannaford, played by John Huston, who is really Orson Welles, Welles attempts to complete The Other Side of the Wind over several years without a substantial budget and by the seat of their trousers. The scene in the movie, on the other hand, is set up over the course of one evening and night, with Hannaford surrounded by peers and “disciples” who are invited to a party to view some of the footage of what the director hopes will be his greatest masterpiece in what Welles hoped would be his. With possibly the most obvious references to Zabriskie Point and Michelangelo Antonioni, the film within a film is a parody of art film. The house that Zabriskie destroyed is right next to Hannaford’s, demonstrating how life mimics art. The majority of the Hannaford movie, which is supposedly based on recovered footage from the film enthusiast Paparazzi, takes place in that residence, which is fitting. The intellect is ferocious, and the density is astounding. Regarding Welles’ filmography, it resembles the final act of Citizen Kane, which was stripped and gutted by F for Fake’s metapunk and felt up by Touch of Evil. While all works of art are influenced by their surroundings, The Other Side of the Wind is more so than others. Orson Welles is showcasing himself. committing suicide. —Chad Betz

6. Troopers on Starships

Paul Verhoeven’s Starship Troopers, a glistening agitprop after-school special and gross-ass bacchanalia, enjoys the ultraviolence it unleashes in hefty spurts, but then chastises itself for enjoying something so wicked. Verhoeven navigates the many tones of bellicose filmmaking, including hawkish propaganda, gritty action setpieces, and thrilling adventure sequences, all of which are accompanied by plenty of gut-churning computer-generated imagery (CGI) with giant space bugs and human heads exploding without shame, recourse, or respect for basic physics and human empathy. The story is about a group of extremely attractive upper-middle-class white teens (played by shiny adults Casper Van Dien, Denise Richards, Nina Meyers, Jake Busey, and Neil Patrick Harris) who have their cherries popped and then ground into hamburgers inside the abattoir of Interstellar War. Regardless of the point of view, the sci-fi spectacle always ends up at the same place: geeked out on some hardcore cinematic mayhem. It is as much a critique of Hollywood’s apathetic attitude toward violence and uniformly heroic depictions of the military as it is a bloodletting of Verhoeven’s childhood trauma, forged in the fascist mill of World War II Europe. -Dom Sinacola

7. Warmth

Those who initially viewed Michael Mann’s L.A. A criminal masterpiece should start with a blank slate and thereafter analyze it in great depth, breaking down each of its component parts to see how they ultimately came together to form such a complex narrative. Rarely would anything in the middle give this expansive (but tense) epic justice. Almost every crime drama has explored the idea of the cop and the robber on opposite sides of the same coin in one form or another, but Mann succeeds in creating the perfect example of this contradiction. Mann completes his previously condensed, purposefully styled work (Thief and Manhunter) by executing, with surgical precision, an amazingly pure vision of a vast, pompous, and larger-than-life crime thriller. It most likely marks the pinnacle of Mann’s constantly evolving career because of its eerily chilly cinematography, moody soundtrack, amazing performances by a number of iconic stars and character actors (Robert De Niro, Al Pacino, Val Kilmer), and—let’s not forget—the mother of all cinematic shoot-outs in its center. —Kozak, Oktay Ege

8. Dogs from Reservoirs

In addition to launching Quentin Tarantino’s career, Reservoir Dogs’ 1992 Sundance Film Festival premiere established an American indie genre distinguished by severe violence, foul language, nonlinear storytelling, and a carefully chosen soundtrack. Despite numerous attempts, none of Tarantino’s imitators have been able to replicate the visual and aural poetry found in his body of work, especially in his masterpiece Pulp Fiction, which was released in 1994. New fans returned to see the aftermath of Mr. Blonde, Mr. Blue, Mr. Brown, Mr. Orange, Mr. Pink, and Mr. White’s failed diamond heist (but not the heist itself). That’s where it started. —Annlee Ellingson

9. Brian from Monty Python’s Life

Life of Brian was essentially produced on George Harrison’s dime and is regarded as the legendary comedy troupe’s best film, even if it is apocryphal. This is likely because it is the closest they have come to a three-act story with clear “thematic concerns.” However, at the end of the 1970s, it was banned in many countries. Perhaps the most political film of its kind is Monty Python’s sequel to Holy Grail, which tells the Christ story of how Squealy Mama’s boy Brian (played by Graham Chapman) mistakenly becomes one of many messiah figures emerging in Judea under the shadow of Roman occupation (around 33 AD, on a Saturday afternoon-ish). In order to parody everything from extreme revolutionaries to religious organizations to government bureaucracy, the British group stripped the story’s foundation of any romanticism and nobility. They never went so far as to disparage Jesus or his compassionate teachings. Although Life of Brian isn’t the first movie about Jesus (or Jesus adjacent) to emphasize the human side of the supposed savior—Martin Scorsese’s version did so less than ten years later—it feels like the first to use human frailties to counter the ridiculousness of the Divine’s expectations. Rich in satire that focuses on everything from Spartacus to Franco Zeffirelli’s Jesus of Nazareth and supported by as many famous quotes as there are crucifixes supporting the film’s frames (as Brian’s equally squeaky mother yells to the crowds, “He’s not the messiah. He’s a very naughty boy!”), the film examines Jesus’s life by fixating on the background. Perhaps the term “virgin birth” was actually coined to hide the sexual transgressions of a Roman centurion. It’s possible that the only thing driving reality is chance (and class conflict). Perhaps there should be a slightly higher bar for what constitutes a miracle. Perhaps the one thing that has always been true throughout history is that foolish people will always follow foolish people, whistling all the way to our pointless demise. —Sinacola Dom

10. The idiot

Co-writer/star Steve Martin and director Carl Reiner demonstrate in the opening lines how willing they are to deviate from any conventional narrative convention in favor of any joke that stretches the bounds of irreverence and extreme stupidity. “I was born a poor black child.” From this point on, whatever episodic shenanigans Nevan—Martin’s tribute to painfully self-unaware idiots everywhere—finds himself in, these plot points serve only as justifications to string together as many dumb jokes as possible. This is the pale image of Steve Martin’s face, about to invite us into a melodramatic series of flashbacks concerning his character’s tragic life. It’s difficult to call The Jerk a parody because it doesn’t specifically mock a genre or a well-known film (Martin and Reiner left that to Dead Men Don’t Wear Plaid and The Man with Two Brains). However, its manic obsession with getting laughs out of any random situation, pushing the limits of exaggeration and then pushing it further, puts the tone squarely in the Zucker, Abrams, and Zucker camp, who were working to perfect that strategy with Airplane at the time of The Jerk’s release. Just watch the part where Nevan lashes out at his house, stealing random items out of retaliation. It pushes it even beyond, hitting a place beyond simple parody after reaching an extreme point of hilarious exaggeration. —Kozak, Oktay Ege

11. Groundhog Day

Bill Murray, director/co-writer Harold Ramis, and screenwriter Danny Rubin uncover unexpected depth in a Twilight Zone-style comedy premise: a self-centered weatherman becomes trapped experiencing February 2 repeatedly. In a more traditional movie, love would solve the chronological dilemma, but Phil (Murray), a TV celebrity, is left to become the best version of himself. Whether it’s a Hollywood comedy that challenges middle-class Americans to rise above their middle-class slumber or a reflection on our unachievable ideals of perfection, Groundhog Day moves audiences more profoundly than they ever anticipated. Some ardent fans, like one man who “calculated,” down to the day, how many decades Murray spent in February 2, are even inspired by the film. —Curt Holman

12. Rocky

As well-known as it is today, Sylvester Stallone’s portrayal of Rocky Balboa has to rank among the most iconic roles of the 1970s. Examining the original movie serves as a reminder of both the series’ modest and lo-fi beginnings as well as the spiritual and economic depression that Americans experienced in the years following Vietnam. An upbeat movie hero amid a depressing decade was Stallone’s endearing, silly bum with no serious prospects who is abruptly thrust into a million-dollar brawl with the world’s top champion. The classic clichés of trainer, opponent, and ring girlfriend are given new depth by Burt Young, Carl Weathers, and Talia Shire’s outstanding supporting performances, which bring crushing insecurity, sensitivity, and the underside of egotism beyond any stock portrayal. It’s safe to assume that Rocky’s spectacular ring failure at the time may be interpreted as a manifestation of American grandeur despite heartbreaking loss. Christina Newland

13. Arriving in America

This film would still rank among the best comedy of all time if it only included the barbershop sequences inside My-T-Sharp. Together with Blues Brothers director John Landis, Eddie Murphy and Arsenio Hall produced a timeless film. In order to avoid his scheduled marriage and discover true love (in Queens, of course), Murphy, playing Prince Akeem from the made-up African nation of Zamunda, journeys to the magnificent United States of America. Akeem experiences all of the marvels of black America, but the satirical twist is brilliant—the club scene, the barbershop, hip-hop culture, Soul Glo, the black preacher (portrayed by Hall as the unmatched Reverend Brown), and more. The Coming to America experience is elevated to a whole new level by cameos by performers such as Cuba Gooding Jr., Samuel L. Jackson, Louie Anderson, and co-stars Don Ameche and Ralph Bellamy from Murphy’s Trading Places. This tale of a prince who only wants to be loved is a must-see for everyone, even those of us who have already seen it. It is a fantastic comedy and a wonderful homage to New York City.—Shannon Houston

14. The Day Off of Ferris Bueller

In addition to announcing Matthew Broderick as a legitimate star, John Hughes’ zeitgeist-y, fourth-wall-busting hymn to wealthy, entitled suburban youth vs. killjoy authority provided us a terrifyingly foreboding look at Charlie Sheen’s future in an admittedly humorous minor role. Putting Breakfast Club aside, Bueller has arguably held up the best over Hughes’ ten years of teen-focused films set in the Chicago region, and without all the tormented pretentiousness.—Scott Wold

15. Brasco, Donnie

The gangster movie was invented by Mike Newell’s Donnie Brasco, who combined it with the undercover police film and centered on the Bonannos, one of the mafia’s Five Families of New York City in the 1970s. As the covert Donnie Brasco, Johnny Depp gives a compelling performance in the starring role, resolving a moral conundrum. David Roark

16. A Slap Shot

Unbelievably, there was a time when sports films had to be uninteresting monoliths that taught moral lessons and promoted trivial qualities. Paul Newman plays a washed-up player-coach on a minor league hockey club in Slap Shot, which doesn’t try to be anything but humorous and gritty. Ten thousand people may soon lose their jobs due to a closed mill in the poor town where the Charlestown Chiefs live. Upon the arrival of the Hanson Brothers, Reggie Dunlop (Newman) finds that he can unite the town, sell tickets, and win games by adopting a thug mindset that prioritizes violence above sportsmanship. It’s so topical that Lee turned the film into a Netflix series that debuted last year.—Garrett Martin This is the antithesis of the corny, feel-good plot we’re accustomed to from sports films, and it never ceases to be entertaining.

17. From the Heart, or Dil Se

Dil Se…, one of the parts that made Shah Rukh Khan famous, is a politically charged romance that centers on a radio journalist assigned to cover the insurgency in Assam, a state in northeastern India. He falls in love with a mystery woman there who has a hidden goal. The iconic Chaiyya Chaiyya song, whose music video will have you screaming for the roof of the nearest Amtrak, is included in the landmark Bollywood film Dil Se. —Menon Radhika

18. Magnolias made of steel

The relationships between a group of women in Louisiana are chronicled in this novel, which is based on a theater play by Robert Harling. It touches on the everyday (but profoundly impactful) dramas of friendship and love, marriage and parenthood, disease and lives cut short, and is prompted by the playwright’s sister’s death from problems related to diabetes. Although Sally Field’s performance is likely the most notable, Steel Magnolias, which stars Sally Field, Dolly Parton, Shirley MacLaine, Olympia Dukakis, Daryl Hannah, and Julia Roberts, is widely credited with launching Roberts into celebrity. Though not particularly sophisticated, the film is unquestionably sympathetic and offers a modest and gentle ode to the enduring strength of female friendship. —Amy Glynn

19. Gundam: Mobile Suit: Char’s Retaliation

With the weight of three seasons of TV behind it, Char’s Counterattack is the first Gundam movie to be released in theaters and the last installment in the original epic, which started in 1979 with the “Universal Century Timeline” of the Mobile Suit Gundam TV series. The film was directed and written by Gundam creator Yoshiyuki Tomino, who properly adapted his novel Hi-Streamer for the screen. Char’s Counterattack, widely regarded as the best Gundam movie, succeeds best in concluding the 14-year conflict between Neo-Zeon leader Char Aznable and Earth Federation “hero” Amuro Ray. Char’s Neo-Zeon force tries to launch an asteroid with nuclear weapons onto Earth in order to liberate the colonies from the oppression of their enemies, the Earth Federation, but in the process, they kill everyone on Earth. This is a classic Gundam problem. Like the finest Gundam stories, Tomino takes a hard sci-fi approach to the narrative, explaining the science behind concepts like “newtypes”—humans who have evolved to possess psychic abilities—and enormous mobile suits. To prevent the audience from picking a certain side, Tomino meticulously explains the motivations behind Char and Amuro’s fervor and animosities. Discussions regarding the atrocities of war and how humanity, despite its advances, never appears to be able to overcome its baser tendencies have always been open to Gundam series. Char’s Counterattack also makes an attempt at this, but its main goal is to end Amuro and Char’s feud, and it does it with great success. The film is unquestionably one of the highlights of the Gundam Universe, with its stunning, suspenseful space battle scenes, superb soundtrack by Shigeaki Saegusa, and some of the most praised Gundam designs in the franchise’s history. One drawback is that the plot may be unclear, and Char/Amuro’s finale may not have the same impact if you don’t have the time to watch hundreds of episodes of television with these characters. In any case, some thirty years later, Char’s Counterattack is still a significant event in the Gundam universe and is still worth seeing. Zeon, hail! —DeMarco, Jason

20. The Club for Breakfast

John Hughes’ classic high school drama is the only film that more accurately captured and enriched the adolescent experience of the 1980s, with all the positive and negative associations that may be evoked. The Breakfast Club’s charm is in its straightforward premise: It’s essentially a chamber piece in which every stereotypical member of a high school clique from an 80s movie is stranded in detention on a Saturday, forced to work out their differences and face their inner demons by gradually opening up to one another—but not before engaging in ridiculous teen comedy, such as the idea that smoking marijuana apparently gives one the ability to smash glass by screaming. As a result, some of the more general content might seem archaic, but the endearing performances by the future Brat Pack members, combined with Hughes’ perceptive prose in encapsulating the adolescent experience of the era, strike a delicate balance between a time capsule into the past and a contemporary analysis of adolescent issues. —Kozak, Oktay Ege

21. In Seattle, insomnia

In essence, Sleepless in Seattle is a massive ode to Nora Ephron’s 1957 film An Affair to Remember. Rita Wilson offers a tearful, unforgettable synopsis of the film, which Annie (Meg Ryan) sees before writing to Sam (Tom Hanks) to ask him to meet her on Valentine’s Day at the top of the Empire State Building, as Cary Grant and Deborah Kerr try to do in their film. The mood for anyone who likes good romantic comedies is created by the tune from An Affair to Remember, which swells when they finally meet on the observation deck. —Bonnie Stiernberg

22. Dune

Prior to Denis Villeneuve, the general perception of Frank Herbert’s classic science fiction book Dune was that it might not be suitable for film because the legendary David Lynch had attempted to do it in 1984, with varying degrees of success. Although admirers of Lynch’s filmography and cinematic aesthetes readily defend it, Lynch’s adaptation of Dune has not managed to preserve the finest reputation among mainstream moviegoers. Unquestionably, it has a grandiosity of visual style and panache, with amazing, extravagant set dressings and costumes that reflect the cosmic peacocking that is unquestionably there in Herbert’s book. The plot of Dune and its themes of the inevitable evils that come with attempting to use power, even with the best of intentions, are less accurately conveyed. Lynch’s picture lacks the time and space needed to truly explore these depths—a benefit Villeneuve now enjoys. The end product is a more traditional tale of retribution and redemption, but it still has all the peculiarities of production and acting that one would anticipate from Lynch’s body of work. The costumes alone are worth seeing today. —Jim Vorel

23. Graffiti in America

George Lucas created and directed a brilliant coming-of-age movie that brilliantly capitalizes on the power of nostalgia before he began narrating tales about other galaxies. The film, which is set in the 1950s and follows a group of recent high school graduates on their final night in town before heading off to college, portrays the dramatic moment of a life transition that almost everyone can identify with. This is a must-see for any youngster starting college, with heavyweights like Ron Howard, Richard Dreyfuss, Mackenzie Phillips, and Harrison Ford.—Brian Tremml

24. In Their Own League

Naturally, a movie about women’s baseball during World War II would have a stellar cast of players (Madonna, Rosie O’Donnell, and Geena Davis), but Tom Hanks was assigned the lead. One of the actor’s best performances, which solidified his reputation as the most likeable actor in American cinema, was his portrayal of a former baseball star attempting to win back respect (and kick the bottle). The well-known saying, “There’s no crying in baseball!” will never grow old—a standard that baseball pundits dismiss as if it were their fastball? —Shearer, Joe

25. The Kid Who Practices Karate

Both Pat Morita’s portrayal of Mr. Miyagi, the sensei who teaches martial arts to the harassed Daniel LaRusso, and Ralph Macchio’s crane-legged Karate Kid would go on to become iconic figures of the 1980s. Even if a lot of the sequences may seem a bit cliched and cliched, this is primarily because the movie has been imitated so frequently in the years after it was released. It must have sparked innumerable dojo openings and yellow belt ceremonies, and it was the kind of characteristic that characterized karate to a whole generation of young children. Additionally, it stars Sensei John Kreese, one of the greatest villains of 1980s movies, as the ruthless Cobra Kai coach. “Sweep the leg, Johnny.” —Josh Jackson