What is a Great Movie These Days Anyway?
A critique of Sight and Sound's recent release of the 20 greatest movies of all time

‘What is the greatest movie ever made?’ It’s a hard question to answer, yet everyone has their own opinion. Films like The Godfather, The Wizard of Oz, Raiders of the Lost Ark or even The Dark Knight (and Kelly’s Heroes — that’s for one subscriber out there) probably come to mind, proclaimed the best movie ever by casual moviegoers and even critics — at least once upon a time.
There is no official or correct response to the question, but nevertheless, critics associated with Sight and Sound magazine recently released their updated list of the 20 greatest films of all time. For decades, Orson Welles’ Citizen Kane held the glorified title, until a decade ago when Alfred Hitchcock’s Vertigo climbed to the top spot. However, Vertigo’s reign was short-lived, falling to number two behind Jeanne Dielman, 23 quai du Commerce, 1080 Bruxelles.
If you’re asking yourself, what is that? — you’re not alone. More likely than not, most people reading this have probably never heard of it. This author would also bet no one who subscribes to this newsletter has actually seen it either — or seen it referenced in anything else.
Granted, the Belgian movie could be good. It literally could be the greatest movie ever made but has been floating under the radar since the 1970s. However, its nab of Sight and Sound’s highest distinction begs several questions: what actually makes a great movie and why is there a disconnect between critics and the masses?
To the first question, what determines a good movie can be seen through a practical lens: the plot is structurally sound (i.e. is it followable); the performances are believable and relatable; the cinematography, art direction, and music inform the audience on character emotions, themes, and (this should go without saying) are pointed at the ‘action’ the film needs to show. (You won’t believe how many terrible movies fail to do the last one)
Now the elevation from being a good to a great movie is a difficult hill to climb — but generally, a great movie is exceptional in one or all of the aforementioned criteria. For instance, replace George C. Scott’s portrayal of Gen. George Patton in the biographical, Academy Award winning movie with another performer, and the film — most likely — doesn’t have the same impact. Or reorganize the editing in Star Wars: A New Hope — is the movie still electrifyingly tense as Luke Skywalker barrels down the trench to destroy the Death Star? Remove John Williams’ music from any film frankly — does the movie still evoke a singular emotional response and, concurrently, become an ear worm? Replace William Wyler’s cinematic vision from Ben Hur — does the film, in the hands of another director, still go on to win 11 Academy Awards?
So then, a great movie can be defined as a film in which every element is elevated beyond the audience’s expectations — to the point it becomes ingrained and, in perpetuity, affects the ongoing cinematic language. In most circumstances, great films become cultural touchstones, woven into the fabric of the public consciousness — even beyond cinema’s landscape. Think of lines like “Here’s looking at you kid” or “You’re going to need a bigger boat,” just two examples — now how many other movies, shows, writers, and so on have referenced those? Great films become a shorthand and even unifying culturally, the latter which hardly, and sadly, seldom occurs anymore.
Ultimately, to be great, a film has a relevancy beyond its release, beyond time. The movie has a legacy, whether you can see it (for instance, like Seven Samurai influencing A Bug’s Life or Magnificent Seven) or not like Citizen Kane’s technical wizardry.
Now to the second question: why is there a disconnect between the audience and critics?
A gulf has been widening certainly since the New Hollywood of the late 1960s and 1970s, with several alignments here and there (i.e. Titanic and Lord of the Rings: Return of the King being the most notable); but if the Academy Awards are any indication, the critics and regular moviegoers don’t watch films on the same plane anymore. A critical darling like Nomadland or Coda will win Best Picture — but is it really on the same level as say Gone With the Wind? The Sound of Music? Heck, even Dances With Wolves? Will anyone be discussing those films ten, twenty, thirty or even a century from now, beyond them being a trivia answer?
That’s not to say they’re unworthy of being called great. But, in prior years, there was more of a consensus between critics and audiences that no longer exists. There is an underlying illness festering in American culture — or lack thereof — pitting elites versus the masses. And the advent of streaming has only accelerated the issue. This gulf has created a quasi-hostility between the two groups, nowhere more demonstrative than in Critic and Audience scores on RottenTomatoes. Are critics a small, pretentious group of writers looking down at the plebs from their ivory towers? Have the masses been conditioned to accept only theatrical, amusement-park ride movies (as Martin Scorsese once described Marvel movies)?
Then there is Hollywood’s creative bankruptcy and decadence, which only throws fuel on the proverbial bonfire — but that discussion is for another post.
Regardless, while the remedy is beyond this author’s feeble comprehension, a cure needs to be administered pronto. For nearly a century, Hollywood has been one of, if not the greatest exporter of American and Western culture. It needs to be healthy by having an eye toward producing enriching, timeless stories rather than drowning in political presentism. Perhaps then the divide between critics and audiences will shrink.
Sight and Sound’s list, however, is the latest indication that critics appear comfortable in the ivory towers, selecting movies that show they — and only they — are above the mental capacities of those dwelling below. If they were truly honest, this list would be different and reflect more of greatest movies of all time — the ones that united us.
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Below is the full top 20 list. Maybe one day I’ll develop my own — but there is no way The Godfather should be number 12.
Jeanne Dielman, 23, quai du Commerce, 1080 Bruxelles (Chantal Akerman, 1975)
Vertigo (Alfred Hitchcock, 1958)
Citizen Kane (Orson Welles, 1941)
Tokyo Story (Yasujiro Ozu, 1953)
In the Mood for Love (Wong Kar-wai, 2001)
2001: A Space Odyssey (Stanley Kubrick, 1968)
Beau travail (Claire Denis, 1998)
Mulholland Dr. (David Lynch, 2001)
Man with a Movie Camera (Dziga Vertov,1929)
Singin’ in the Rain (Stanley Donen and Gene Kelly, 1951)
Sunrise: A Song of Two Humans (F.W. Murnau, 1927)
The Godfather (Francis Ford Coppola, 1972)
La Règle du jeu (Jean Renoir, 1939)
Cléo from 5 to 7 (Agnès Varda, 1962)
The Searchers (John Ford, 1956)
Meshes of the Afternoon (Maya Deren and Alexander Hammid, 1943)
Close-Up (Abbas Kiarostami, 1989)
Persona (Ingmar Bergman, 1966)
Apocalypse Now (Francis Ford Coppola, 1979)
Seven Samurai (Akira Kurosawa, 1954)
Excellent comment on the "Sight and Sound" debacle. I wrote about this too, but I think your version is better because it articulates what makes a movie good, or great, and gets at the elitism inherent in the whole enterprise. https://www.thecollegefix.com/academics-hijacked-a-famous-best-of-the-movies-list/