As I made this list, I wanted to give an overview of film history, honing in on pieces that are important in Western (especially American) cinema’s evolution. While the Koker Trilogy is undeniably great, its reach in shaping the broader cinematic medium, especially in the West, is limited (despite reflecting present-day leanings towards found footage and maximal realism). I have also chosen to avoid films I have not seen all the way through. I’ve seen the Odessa Steps segment in Battleship Potemkin and studied Eisenstein’s revolutionary editing techniques, but I could not recommend a film I have not seen as one of the best of all time no matter the expert consensus.

Another factor in my selection process was the overall trajectory of the filmmaker(s) involved to the best of my knowledge at the time of writing. While The Matrix is a great movie and highly regarded within its era, the Wachowskis’ later works have polarized audiences and critics considerably. It’s important to note that my list leans heavily male, reflecting both a historical bias in the industry and my personal gravitation towards directors who cater to male viewers. This list also restricts itself to feature-length films, ruling out shorts like the Lumiere brothers’ 50-second The Arrival of a Train. I also tried my best to include a variety of genres, otherwise this would devolve into a list of the 10 best crime films of all time.

With these considerations in mind, here are my selections for the 10 Best Films of All Time. You may have seen some, but I encourage you to watch those you haven’t, as they are sure to entertain and enlighten in various ways. These films are presented in no chronological order because ranking them is an impossible task, as they are each exceptional in their own right.

Follow me on X (Twitter) – @JacobFilmGuy

10. The Passion of Joan of Arc (1928)

Do you hate the idea of silent movies but are curious about giving one a try? Buster Keaton or Charlie Chaplin may be an easier starting point, as their comedic styles have a timeless appeal that resonates across generations. However, if you find yourself intrigued by the dramatic offerings of 1920s cinema, The Passion of Joan of Arc should be your first choice.

This film immerses viewers into Joan of Arc’s harrowing trial for heresy at the hands of English-aligned Frenchmen during the Hundred Years’ War, faithfully adapted from the event’s historical records. The director, Carl Theodor Dreyer, is hailed as one of the silent cinema’s maestros, standing tall among Europe’s early cinematic innovators.

As a silent film, it places emphasis on the visual aspects of film in a way that theater cannot replicate, showing the unique artistic power of cinema to put viewers right in the face of subjects. Renée Jeanne Falconetti’s portrayal perfectly conveys Joan’s torment and unwavering resolve. Dreyer’s directorial style is uniquely his own, blending techniques from various European cinematic movements to craft this masterwork.

Created on the cusp of the sound era, it may even be considered the pinnacle of the silent era, representing the apex of a crescendo that laid the foundation for the visual elements of the movies we know and love today.

9. Seven Samurai (1954)

Akira Kurosawa worked in many genres and eras, but is best remembered for his films about historical Japan. Rashomon and Yojimbo have stood the test of time, but Seven Samurai is undoubtedly his greatest work. It’s a simple story of a ragtag group of warriors who come together to defend a village from bandits, told exceptionally well in a way only film can.

Seven Samurai may be the breeziest three-hour film of all time, with not a moment wasted and excellent pacing to boot. The group’s interactions with each other and the villagers are what really make the film, and frequent Kurosawa collaborator Toshiro Mifune stands out for his attitude and posturing as a 16th century ronin. Kurosawa and cinematographer Asakazu Nakai’s talent as visual artists is shown in the stunningly composed shots that capture the Japanese countryside, intense action, and the good but complex nature of the film’s heroes.

The film also represents a cultural exchange between Western and Eastern cinema that will continue as long as those traditions exist – John Ford was an influence on Kurosawa whose films inspired directors like Sergio Leone, George Lucas, and the folks at Pixar who made A Bug’s Life… not to mention the film’s influence on the concept of team-ups in general.

No matter what type of film or genre you prefer, Seven Samurai and its influence is nearly inescapable within cinema.

Recommended for you: Akira Kurosawa, Toshiro Mifune: Cinema’s Greatest Collaborations

My parents nurtured my love, especially my mother whose knowledge of old movie stars seemed limitless. I started going to see movies in theaters around four years old when I saw Toy Story 2. My parents took me to see everything from Star Wars: Attack of the Clones to the Sam Raimi Spider-Man films. Nothing – not even an R rating – stopped me from watching a movie I wanted to see, and my parents quickly learned that parental controls on the TV were futile. When I was younger, my favorite movies were epic adventure movies from the late 90s and early 2000s. I went through an unfortunate Russell Crowe phase that involved repeated watches of Gladiator and Master and Commander. As I got older, I found my niche in literary adaptations, off-beat indies and the beautiful violence of Jane Campion.

In this list, you’ll find just a few of the movies that made me who I am. From fairy tales and Jane Austen to epic romances and animated classics. They are movies I watched during the formative years of my life, movies that influenced the kind of person I grew up to be. They’re movies I could watch a million times – and trust me, I have – and never, ever get bored. The movies on this list remind me of why I fell in love in the first place.

I don’t know if these are the best movies ever made, but they certainly made me. These are the 10 Best Films of all Time.

Follow me on X (Twitter) – @ManicMezzo

10. Star Wars: The Last Jedi (2017)

“We are what they grow beyond. That is the burden of all masters.”

Star Wars: The Last Jedi Review

Star Wars has been a part of my life for a long time – for as long as I can remember. My fourth birthday was Star Wars-themed and my godmother dressed up as Darth Vader for the occasion, much to my horror. I was obviously thrilled when The Force Awakens was announced, but I left the theater feeling empty. It wasn’t exactly what I wanted, and I couldn’t quite put my finger on why it bothered me so much. It was just missing something.

The Last Jedi has divided fans and critics for years, but for me the film is the only recent Star Wars film or television show that has made me feel something. That has made me remember why I even liked Star Wars to begin with. Rian Johnson made a film that didn’t solely rely on nostalgia, a film that wasn’t so heavily, painfully self-referential. It was trying to pave the way for the future of the franchise, not just hide in its past. The Last Jedi doesn’t do it perfectly, but I admire the effort. I admire the risk it took.

I also really love Mark Hamill’s performance in this film. I think it’s one of the best performances of his career. He was famously unhappy with Luke’s arc in this movie, and as someone who’s played his character for decades his initial feelings are understandable. But he didn’t let them affect his performance. He really gave it his all and it shows. It’s such a beautiful send-off for him and for Luke. I will always take this movie and his performance over the robotic, deepfake Luke of ‘The Mandalorian’. I will always love The Last Jedi because it gave me something real.

I’ll never get over my disappointment with how the sequel trilogy ended, but The Last Jedi will always be a reminder to me of what we could have had.

Recommended for you: Star Wars Live-Action Movies Ranked

9. Ever After (1998)

“A bird may love a fish, Signore, but where would they live?”

“Then I shall just have to build you wings!”

Ever After, starring Drew Barrymore, is a retelling of “Cinderella”, set in 16th-century France and featuring actual historical figures like King Francis and Leonardo da Vinci. It’s the kind of film you watch when you’re sad and you need something to believe in. It’s lush, romantic and funny. Ever After is on this list because it’s a love story and those have always been my favorite.

I grew up during the early 2000s when the ‘not like other girls trope’ was running rampant in media. I remember being ashamed that my favorite stories were love stories, and that I shouldn’t want to explore them. After all, girls were made for more than love and I felt like I should want more for myself.

Luckily, I grew out of that phase and now I revel, without shame, in all things romance. Ever After holds a special place in my heart because it has everything I could ever want in that department and I think it’s one of the best fairy tale adaptations of all time. There’s a sense of innate justice in Ever After, that good things happen to good people and bad people eventually get what’s coming to them, which makes me cling to this movie. Real life isn’t like this, real life is messy and unfair. But with Ever After, I can leave the real world for a bit and spend some time in a fairy tale.

The Godfather (1972)
Director: Francis Ford Coppola
Screenwriter: Mario Puzo, Francis Ford Coppola
Starring: Marlon Brando, Al Pacino, James Caan, Robert Duvall, Lenny Montana

The Godfather is one of the most significant films in the history of American cinema. The film was popular both critically and commercially, winning three out of ten Oscars at the 45th Academy awards including Best Picture. It tells the story of the Corleones, a New York mob family who follow the old ways of Sicily. Michael Corleone is on the outside of his family – following his time in college, Michael served in World War II. What follows is the tragic downfall of Michael as he slowly rises to the head of the family.

The production process of The Godfather wasn’t entirely smooth. Director Francis Ford Coppola was notoriously difficult to work with, but there’s no question that he was the right man for the job. He adapted the screenplay with the author of the original novel, was essential to getting Marlon Brando on board as the Godfather, Vito Corleone, and brought in family members, illustrating a personal touch. At the same time, he feuded with Paramount, and was forced to work within boundaries he wasn’t used to as a more independent filmmaker. He didn’t receive permission to edit his final cut, and the film became a romanticization of gangsters, a celebration of violence – albeit an endlessly entertaining one. One reason The Godfather Part II is so highly praised is because Coppola got to tell the story his way, all due to the success of The Godfather.

Marlon Brando won Best Actor for this 1972 release, though he declined to accept the award, and was represented by Sacheen Littlefeather, an Apache actress who spoke about the negative treatment of Native Americans in the film industry and American society. Brando is the stand-out performer, famous for making offers people can’t refuse. He shows a range from menacing mobster to playful grandfather, and embodies his character through every stage of the story. Vito is tightly intertwined with the opening wedding scenes, as they provide opportunities for him to show his different sides. He’s a family man who cares for his community, but he’s also a brutal mobster who hangs around with made men like Luca Brasi (Lenny Montana).

Al Pacino, Robert Duvall, and James Caan were each nominated for Best Supporting Actor at the Academy Awards in 1973, but none won. They play Vito’s three sons, Michael, Tom Hagen, and Sonny respectively. Pacino was the star as Michael, and his transformation across the film is played to perfection. Michael’s pivotal scene takes place in the first half of the film, when Michael moves his father’s hospital bed to prevent further attempts against his life. He gets a local baker to stand outside and act as if they’re guards watching over the Don. In those moments, he becomes involved in his family despite trying to stay out of their operations. Tom is the family’s attorney. In one sequence, he’s sent to represent Vito’s interests in California to get a godson a leading role in a Hollywood war movie. The director awakens to find a horse head in his bed when he doesn’t comply, and the godson, Johnny, ends up with the role. Sonny is the hot head of the family. Caan was actually initially hired to play Michael, but this was something Coppola didn’t want. Caan was quoted saying “…he had it in his mind that Michael was the Sicilian-looking one and Sonny was the Americanized version.” Throughout the film, Sonny’s demeanor is exploited, and his story ends when he’s shot in a toll booth, an example of the excessive violence featured in the film.

But the violence is what makes The Godfather so entertaining. If you’re going to glorify violence, the least you can do is incorporate tragedy and character development, and Coppola does so here. It is arguable that scenes like “leave the gun, take the cannoli” are too much, but for the most part the violence is meaningful beyond the spectacle of blood and explosions.

It is notable that the list of female characters is sparse. They’re often shunted to the background, a representation of an archetype rather than an actual character. Vito’s patriarchal perspective reigns supreme, and stands as a symbol of respectability. He’s doing criminal activity the right way, and we’re implored to contrast Vito’s anti-drug ways with Sollozzo’s pro-drug aspirations. This is something Part II improves upon at least a bit, giving Kay (Michael’s partner played by Diane Keaton) an actual amount of intelligence and agency compared to the first film.

The Godfather probably doesn’t have the same social relevance as it once did, but it is a film that many film lovers care about because of its historical relevance. The only thing stopping it from being the first blockbuster is that is came out in March, but it is not so much the film’s success that keeps it relevant as much as it is the success of an American independent auteur. Coppola’s earlier and subsequent films were spaces for him to express creative freedom, in whichever form that took; he pushed the boundaries of what cinema is and could be, and made each film personal to himself. He put the auteur movement into the consciousness of mainstream cinema, and he continues to finance and re-present his own works to this day. The Godfather, like Psycho or The Searchers, is a film that has staying power in the cinephile zeitgeist, and that will maintain its position as one of the greatest American films of all time.

21/24

In this Movie List from The Film Magazine, we’re looking at why this early 2000s film has held up for younger viewers, in this: 5 Reasons Elf Is a Gen Z Christmas Classic.

Follow @thefilmagazine on Twitter.

1. Elf’s Use of Absurd Humor

Popular memes often dabble in some form of absurdist humor, which makes Elf’s use of it more relevant than outdated for a movie that is almost 20 years old. From the claymation animals to Buddy’s first experiences of New York, Elf illustrates the absurdity of the mundane.

On his trek from the North Pole to New York, Buddy encounters a raccoon, which he assumes will be as friendly as the claymation Arctic animals he’s used to. He is instead attacked by it. When he sees a diner with a sign that reads “World’s Best Cup of Coffee,” Buddy doesn’t hesitate to run in and enthusiastically congratulate them for the honor, to the bewilderment of customers and staff. 

From the spaghetti with maple syrup scene to Buddy’s getting drunk and breakdancing in the Empire State Building mail room, Elf is full of absurd moments that make for a hilarious and memorable movie.

2. Elf’s Quotability

In the era of TikTok “acting” and viral fancams of memorable scenes from films and TV shows, quotability is king. In my own town, a local boutique has a sign out front which reads “Six inch ribbon curls, honey. Six. Inches.”

While some films can fall victim to sacrificing plot for quotability, Elf’s plot is instead carried along by quotes like “You smell like beef and cheese. You don’t smell like Santa.” In the aforementioned case, the quote prompts Buddy to rip the fake beard from a mall Santa’s face and proceed to get into a fight with the imposter. This incident gets Buddy “fired” from his job at Gimbels, but drives him to seek out his younger half-brother, Michael (Daniel Tay), who ends up being one of Buddy’s biggest advocates through the film, especially to their dad Walter (James Caan) and Jovie. 

Recommended for you: 10 Best Home Alone Moments

Elf (2003)
Director: Jon Favreau
Screenwriter: David Berenbaum
Starring: Will Ferrell, James Caan, Bob Newhart, Zooey Deschanel, Ed Asner, Mary Steenburgen

Heart-warming, joyful and kind, Elf has become a timeless Christmas classic. The premise of a fully grown man dressed as an elf wandering around New York City in search of his birth father is one that could have made for a grotesque film, and yet thanks to the shared vision and unbridled devotion of its creators, this 2003 film remains as identifiable and rewatchable as ever. 

Written by David Berenbaum and directed by Jon Favreau, Elf earned $223.3million from a $33million budget, making it a certifiable box office hit. It is now considered one of the best Christmas films ever made. There are several reasons for this.

First and foremost, its star… 

Buddy was Will Ferrell’s breakout role and remains one of his most iconic performances. This was a star-making turn and led to Ferrell going from being an SNL cast member to one of the most beloved comedy actors in Hollywood. Vitally, to both Ferrell and 21st century comedy, Buddy has proven to be an outstanding and lasting protagonist. 

Without any context regarding his comedy background, Will Ferrell could easily look like any businessman. He looks average in the best way possible, and at first glance is the last person who would seem suited to playing an elf. And this makes sense: the whole point of the film, and his character’s reason for travelling to NYC, is that he doesn’t fit in with other elves and wants to find his biological family. Even when he loses the costume, Buddy the elf never disappears – he shines brightly against deeply cynical backgrounds such as grimy cafes and depressing offices. Ferrell never falters, he is equally as entertaining in a suit as he is in an elf costume.

Elf is, at its heart, about rediscovering your inner child to find happiness, and this starts with Will Ferrell treating New York like his own personal playground. From interacting with clueless people in the street (yes, the guy in the white beard and red track suit Buddy refers to as Santa was not an actor), to playing with a revolving door until he throws up, Buddy’s energy is immediately contagious.

While Will Ferrell’s star power makes the film, Jon Favreau’s visionary direction is responsible for the film’s timeless quality. Favreau had the hindsight to avoid relying on computer effects, instead employing the use of forced perspective to make Buddy appear bigger than the rest of the elves for each scene set in the North Pole. While CGI continuously improves and gets more realistic, to the point that films that are only five years old already look dated, forced perspective will always remain effective – practical effects that tricked the eye almost twenty years ago cannot age. The strength of this vision and effectiveness of this technique is even more impressive considering that this is Favreau’s sophomore film as a director (following Made). To this day, Jon Favreau’s talents as a filmmaker continue to shape the history of blockbuster cinema, with 2008’s Iron Man launching the MCU, a multi-billion-dollar franchise, and his recent work on Disney live-action remakes altering big studio release slates forever.

From costumes to set design, Elf is instantly recognisable. Favreau and Berenbaum both cite Rankin/Bass’ animated specials as a leading influence: while the writer was inspired by the animation’s innocence in his childhood, the director decided that this would also influence the look of the film. The most obvious influence comes in Elf’s stop motion animation scenes, each of which serve a vital purpose regarding Buddy’s characterisation, setting the tone for him being a memorable, charming and unusual protagonist. Leading strongly with this influence also smartly taps into the nostalgia of older audience members. Films are, after all, a communal art. Whenever a film can play on the nostalgia of a generation while being creative, it yields great results.

The heart of this film lies beyond the quality of its lead performance and the creativity of those behind the scenes however, instead settling squarely on the father and son journey – one inspired by Berenbaum’s own grief. In Elf as in life, the idea of a parent rejecting a child is a powerful one, especially when facing a character as innocent as Buddy. Yet Buddy is not jaded by the rejection of his father; he embraces him and continues to love him unconditionally throughout the film. While this, of course, leads to some hilarious scenes, it also causes heart-breaking confrontations. Much of the effectiveness of this narrative strand comes from actor James Caan, best known for his role as Sonny Corleone in The Godfather, who plays to his strengths by offering a jaded and importantly intimidating presence. He is both a stand-in for the more cynical members of the audience and a noteworthy oppositional force for Buddy to bounce off. As a result of this passion, talented writing and overall quality of performance, Buddy’s father’s final acceptance of his son remains stirring to this day.

The supporting roles were also impeccably cast. Zooey Deschanel is able to strike a chord as a disenchanted worker who slowly rediscovers the magic of Christmas, while Bob Newhart brings his trademark dry humour to the character Papa Elf, balancing Buddy’s instincts as his level-headed father figure. Perhaps most crucially Ed Asner, who played Santa Claus a total of eight times in his career, is a wonderfully comforting presence in the film, radiating the same warmth we all expect of a globe-trotting gift giver.

Thanks to the shared vision of its creators and a star-making lead performance, Elf is a modern classic. Against many a stumbling block in the creative process, this strange premise for a Christmas story has ultimately made for one of the most perfect examples of a timeless Christmas favourite.

24/24

Written by Elisabetta Pulcini

You can support the author of this article, Elisabetta Pulcini, by following them and visiting their website:

Twitter – @ElisabettaPul
Website – elisabettapulcini

Bottle Rocket (1996)
Director: Wes Anderson
Screenwriters: Wes Anderson, Owen Wilson
Starring: Luke Wilson, Owen Wilson, Robert Musgrave, James Caan, Lumi Cavazos

Wes Anderson’s films have become something of a cultural phenomenon over the past two decades, with his distinctively colourful palettes spawning a series of imitators (and Instagram fan pages) and his quirky, distinctive tone and blend of humour and drama winning fans across the globe. Heavily influenced by the French New Wave of the 1950s and 60s, Anderson has channelled his influences into a unique, idiosyncratic style. Three of his films – The Grand Budapest Hotel, Moonrise Kingdom and The Royal Tenenbaums – made it into the BBC’s poll of the Top 100 Films of the 21st Century in 2016. Prior to the turn of the century, Anderson made two features, his debut coming in 1996 with Bottle Rocket, a feature adaptation of his short film of the same name.

Bottle Rocket sees the first feature collaboration between Wes Anderson and the Wilson brothers (Luke and Owen – both making their film debuts). It is, additionally, a first screenplay collaboration between Owen Wilson and Wes Anderson – the pair have also co-written Rushmore and The Royal Tenenbaums. Bottle Rocket received positive reviews upon its release and has continued to be well received within Anderson’s canon of work in the years since.

Martin Scorsese labelled Bottle Rocket as one of his favourite films of the 1990s. In a four star review for Empire, Kim Newman remarked that it is “A smart little first feature from Wes Anderson […] In an era not exactly short of quirky bungled heist movies, Anderson and Wilson take an interesting tack – coming in late on lifelong relationships, and showing us the pay-offs to friendships and resentments that have been simmering for years”.

Bottle Rocket focuses on childhood friends Dignan (Owen Wilson) and Anthony (Luke Wilson) as they scrape a living through a series of botched heists. Dignan is constantly planning a score larger than the last and is keen on pursuing a criminal life whereas Anthony is the far more reluctant of the two, tied to Dignan by years of friendship. The pair’s relationship is front and centre, and truly the film’s heartbeat, though it comes under strain when Anthony begins to fall for Inez (Lumi Cavazos), a cleaner at the hotel in which the group stay.

The Wilson brothers bounce off each other brilliantly and have strong chemistry in their contrasting roles, offering the first glimpse at the collaborative talents that would of course be revisited in The Royal Tenenbaums (2001). In addition to the Wilson brothers and co-star Robert Musgrave, there is fine support from Lumi Cavazos and the great James Caan (The Godfather; Thief).

While elements of Anderson’s individualistic brand of humour and dialogue are apparent, this is perhaps the most traditional genre film in his catalogue. Bottle Rocket is a heist film first and foremost, and more structured than a lot of the director’s other work, offering a more traditional narrative focus. The Wilson brothers therefore become key to delivering the more Anderson moments of the film, while the language barrier between Anthony and Inez delivers on the comedy front. Bottle Rocket gives us our first glimpse at Anderson’s knack for perfectly timed needle drops too, with the music of The Proclaimers and The Rolling Stones being used to wonderful effect.

Bottle Rocket may not be the most ground-breaking of Wes Anderson’s films, but it certainly offers many of the filmmaker traits that would become discernible from Rushmore (1998) onwards. This 1996 release is in this way vital to understanding Anderson as a filmmaker, as its glimpse at a more straightforward type of Anderson film is critical to recognising the development of his style and some of the collaborations that have become so important to his career. Fans who have arrived to the Anderson party late will perhaps be a little disappointed by Bottle Rocket’s genre-specific intentions and the lack of now typical Andersonisms, but it is a film worth seeking to see how one of modern cinema’s most unique voices began honing his craft. An imaginative debut.

19/24

From Carrie (1976) to Doctor Sleep (2019), dozens of directors have been inspired by King’s weird and terrifying stories. In this Top List, we have delved into the deep back catalogue of King film adaptations to select the Top 5 Scariest Stephen King Adaptations of All Time.

Because this is a scariest and not a best list, much celebrated King adaptations like The Shawshank Redemption and The Green Mile will not be included.

Let us know your thoughts in the comments, and be sure to follow us on Twitter.

5. 1922 (2017)

Dir. Zak Hilditch

Coming in at number five on this list is a good old fashioned haunting story, based on King’s novella of the same name published in the collection “Full Dark, No Stars” in 2010. This unnerving story, released by Netflix, follows Wilf (Thomas Jane) as he plans to get his son, Henry, involved in the murder of his wife Arlette over her wanting to sell their farm. The murder goes well, but the men start to grow apart as Henry attempts to start a new life with his girlfriend and Wilf spirals into insanity, plagued by the rats that are feeding on his wife’s corpse.

The slow-burning nature of this film builds tension, and despite the fate of Wilf being almost inevitable from the start, his spiral makes it almost impossible to look away.

With King’s signature subtle supernatural flare, this film makes for an incredibly creepy watch.

4. Misery (1990)

Dir. Rob Reiner

As Stephen King adaptations became increasingly popular throughout the 80s, it was clear that when the author published “Misery” in 1987, it wouldn’t take long for it to be made into a film.

This Columbia Pictures adaptation centres on famed writer Paul Sheldon (James Caan); best known for his novels about a character named “Misery Chastain”. After writing the final instalment of his series, he crashes his car on the way back to New York and is taken in by a nurse called Annie (Kathy Bates). He is bedridden, and Annie, who claims to be his number one fan, nurses him back to health. He allows her to read the new book and after she finds out the ending, she begins to show how easily obsession can become insanity.

What sets this film apart from the others on this list and many of Stephen King’s stories is that it doesn’t involve so much as a hint of the supernatural. This is a very real story of something that could viably happen to anyone if they were in the wrong place at the wrong time, making this not only one of the most iconic King adaptations ever made but possibly the most realistically scary film on this list.

Recommended for you: 10 Best Horror Movies of the 90s

For his 2003 film, Dogville, Danish director Lars von Trier tried something new. A filmmaker with a history of vile male characters, von Trier decided to give his next one a conscience. That man is Tom Edison (Paul Bettany), and the film is an indictment of American classism, presenting a town that’s kindness towards a stranger is predicated on exploitation. The film famously takes after Bertolt Brecht’s theater, with a lack of physical sets, chalk markings on the ground denoting typical props like “gooseberry bushes,” “house,” and “dog.” Actors mime opening doors and snow falls from nonexistent clouds, but after a certain point it’s hardly noticeable. That’s the beauty of the minimalist design, the way it vanishes to present the naked truth of performance. Tom, however, does not blend into the background. He is the linchpin that makes Dogville an infuriating narrative, and a masterful parable on human nature.

The other residents of the titular township are eccentric and archetypal: there’s Vera, mother of four and wife to Chuck, a farmer; there’s Ben the mechanic (Zeljko Ivanek); Ma Ginger the store owner (Lauren Bacall), and; Tom Edison, the self-aware philosopher who sucks at his job. Dogville only has about twenty residents, and most of them have functions designed to support the town. When Chuck picks apples, others benefit. When he doesn’t, they go hungry; but what do Tom’s gifts bring to the town? His knack for theory and writing takes shape in weekly town hall lectures, but a philosopher must aim for more than occasional moral tales if they wish to see their ideas take hold. He needs an illustration. In his quest to help Dogville see outside itself, he offers sanctuary to a stranger on the run from her father, a gangster, confident Dogville will provide her refuge. His vote of confidence isn’t enough to convince the town however, so Tom suggests a two-week trial period, at the end of which all will determine whether the stranger, Grace (Nicole Kidman), can remain in Dogville. A victim in need is the perfect opportunity for Tom, and he doesn’t miss his chance to utilize Grace as an illustration. Consequently, he fails to see her as a human in need, blinded by desire to connect theory and reality, and thus establish himself as a serious philosophical voice. For Tom, the correct choice is the one that best helps him achieve greatness, even though on the surface it appears to be the morally correct choice.

His first idea to win the town to Grace’s side is for her to offer manual labour. It makes sense when Tom proposes it: Dogville has given you something, now you give it something back. Grace says that this sounds like a game, when really, it’s her life at stake, to which Tom replies, “Isn’t saving your life worth a little game?”

Of course, Dogville has only “given” Grace the bare minimum, allowing her to stay and not be returned to the gangsters who will presumably kill her, but Tom is already detached from Grace as a person, so his cold reading of her concern is no surprise. She begins to work for the town, and finds there isn’t much that needs to be done. The people are fairly kind, accommodating her needs, and honest if not entirely polite. But that changes as the town realizes the labour benefits of Grace’s vulnerable position, and before long, her days are filled with work; she even receives a paycheck. Tom’s illustration is working, as the townspeople grow accustomed to Grace and reward her, but even now, before their treatment becomes truly vile, the citizens aren’t offering from their hearts, but from a desire to exploit. As is made abundantly clear, there is no need for Grace’s labour, so why shouldn’t she be welcomed in? Like most capitalists, Dogvillians believe labour to be the true test of character, that is, when it’s not being used to increase their own capital. Grace cannot reason with them, as she is a refugee. The labour she performs is meant to cement her citizenship, but all it does is create a loop of broken promises and increased labour, benefiting the town while demoralizing Grace.

Dogville needs a voice of reason. Tom’s father, Thomas Edison Sr. (Philip Baker Hall), is the obvious candidate, but his status as a doctor is built on a mix of superiority and hypochondria, by which no other citizen can question his fabricated ailments. So it is Tom Edison Jr., the aspiring novelist, who must balance the town’s prejudices. Before Grace arrives, a narrator (John Hurt) tells the audience that the town is not particularly keen on Tom’s many lectures. This tells the audience that Dogville is more deceptive than its homely appearance and, more importantly, that Tom isn’t necessarily a good philosopher. Hurt has it out for him as the film goes on, reminding the audience of the “young” philosopher and his “confusion” in making decisions, but Tom does just fine to explain himself without outside commentary. After a man from the nearby town nails a Wanted poster with Grace’s name on it to the Dogville church door, the town becomes skittish. Those who were reluctant to welcome Grace have their fears confirmed, and those who did trust her are silent, fearing retribution. What is Tom’s solution? Grace’s “Wanted” label has heightened her potential risk to the town, easily fixed by increasing Grace’s workload to justify the risk she brings. He is suggesting a more dangerous quid pro quo, which Grace remarks to be something a gangster would say, but Tom is convinced it will work. Grace will earn her keep twofold, and who in Dogville won’t reward a job well done? 

Grace begins by playing checkers with Bill (Jeremy Davis), or filling blind Mr. McKay’s (Ben Gazzara’s) lonely hours with conversation, but as the town quickly realizes, there’s a lot not being done that could use doing. Ma Ginger needs the bushes weeded, Chuck (Stellan Skargård) could use a hand in the fields, and Martha (Siobhan Fallon Hogan) is in desperate need of emotional support. They use Grace’s inevitable failure to meet their demands as justification for her mistreatment and abuse, some of the worst behaviour coming from the children; as should be obvious to the resident philosopher, this could have been prevented. Grace is saint-like and wants to help, but is suffering from an overloaded schedule, something Tom suggested to get the town on her side. Can you see the conflict? Either Tom acknowledges the self-destructing labour loop he has created for Grace, effectively knocking his status, or he continues to shift the blame. Grace routinely vents to Tom that she is tired, to which he replies, “Let me think,” effectively siding with the town by refusing to lighten, or remove, Grace’s load. For someone concerned with helping others see outside themselves, Tom is surprisingly self-serving. If it’s a choice between self-criticism and maintaining the status-quo, Tom’s decision is already made.

As the months roll on and fewer cars ride up the mountain pass into Dogville, Grace’s duties become greater and more convoluted. After several major failures in the town’s eyes, including an attempted escape, Grace is punished with a collar around her neck chained to an iron wheel. Her duties persist at double the rate and half the pay, while the men rape her at night. Tom responds just as one would expect: when Grace is treated with some dignity by the townsfolk, such as opening a door or providing a meager shelter, he sees their momentary favor as a reflection of the general mood, not as the town’s proven method of manipulation. It is better for Grace if the town gives her an extra crust of bread for dinner, but this is no sign of improving relations. Rather, it’s a symptom of the town becoming intelligent, using their charm and Grace’s vulnerability as a means of extracting more labour. They dangle acceptance, but what they really want is a mule. Unable to decide between the town and Grace, Tom chooses those who accepted him unconditionally. He never fully turns on her, but just like the town, he promises affection in the hope of using her as an illustration. His flimsy romance with Grace quickly devolves into a need for sex, something every other man in Dogville has had with her, and he’s the one who ends up calling her father to take her away. His illustration has lost its pomp, and it’s time to let it end.

This will be obvious for anyone watching the film, but Tom is a colossal prick. He’s not an idiot, but an opportunist quickly losing the point of his illustration, if there ever was one to begin with. 

The film’s ending can be summed up by Grace’s understanding of the game Tom has asked her to play. Author Jan Simons writes in “Playing the Waves”, “Grace persists in seeing the quid pro quo relationship she has with the villagers as a ‘game’ played for symbolic stakes,” an exchange of labour for inclusion, to which the only ending can be a symbolic one. In a last act of cowardice, Tom has called Grace’s father using a business card he told Grace he burned, expecting him to take her away and rid Dogville of her influence. He arrives, and in a heady conversation with Grace, convinces her to punish the residents of Dogville with his considerable means. The illustrative game Tom suggested has always had real stakes, and Grace has finally come to terms with them. Upon her orders, gangsters gun down the entire town, effectively demolishing society, but Grace hears Moses, the chalk outline of a dog, barking as they exit. She looks at the outline, and a gangster asks if they should shoot it. “No”, she says, “He’s just angry because someone’s took his bone.”

One of the only ways to end a discriminatory, capitalist status quo is to remove the incentive. Moses is only following his nature, and can still be taught, but Dogville has proven their inability to do anything other than manipulate Grace for their gain. They have learned malice, and there’s no saving that. Tom should have known better, but his humanity was hamstrung the moment he asked Grace to prove she deserved safety. In the face of death, he confesses to Grace, “Your illustration, it beat the hell out of mine… frightening, but clear.” For someone like Tom, death is just a part of the game.

Written by Cole Clark

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