EVERYONE loves a list. Right? Especially a TOP-TEN list.
That's because we all have an opinion on what we think is the best in any given category, be it books, movies, music, sports, or what have you. And we love to compare our list against someone else's. But with movies it's sometimes hard to sort them into preferential order. Oh sure, maybe two or three come to mind as absolute favorites, but after that, well in all fairness we could all name fifty movies that we are willing to watch again and again.
So with that being said, here's my TOP-TEN list of favorite films, starting with number 20:
20: THE 7th VOYAGE OF SINBAD (Columbia Pictures, 1958, color, 88 minutes, poster art by Studio Brini). Jason and the Argonauts was Ray Harryhausen’s own favorite from among the films that featured his unique "Dynamation" process. Actor Tom Hanks regarded Jason and the Argonauts as “the greatest film of all time.” So why choose The 7th Voyage of Sinbad over Jason? Two reasons: the character Sinbad himself, the coolest captain to ever command a ship (he always got the girl, and that was years before Captain Kirk became famous for it), and Kerwin Mathews, the most convincing actor to ever play the titular hero and the most handsome, even weathering Guy Williams who came later. None of the other Sinbad actors could measure up to the swashbuckling Mathews either; not Douglas Fairbanks Jr., not Dale Robertson, not John Phillip Law, not Robert Malcolm, not Patrick Wayne, not Manu Bennett, not Patrick Muldoon, and especially not Lou Ferrigno (though as bad cinema his Sinbad of the Seven Seas is pretty darn epic).
19: PATHFINDER aka OFELAS (Carolco Pictures, 1987, color, 86 minutes, poster designer unknown). Pathfinder is a veracious historical adventure film about a young man's heroic and violent rite of passage in the year 1000 A.D. in northern Scandinavia. The story is based on the legend of The Pathfinder, an ancient folktale of the indigenous Sami people of Lapland. I saw this movie first on VHS, then DVD, but never in a theater. But because every celluloid frame is filled with stunning snow-scapes, remarkable action sequences, authentic period detail and distinctive actors and extras, I can’t wait for it to have an art-house revival. I consider it superior film-making on almost every level. I think you will you too!
18: MYSTERIOUS ISLAND (Columbia Pictures, 1961, color, 101 minutes, poster artist unknown). A Civil-War era prison breakout; a fraut, storm-driven balloon ride across the Atlantic ocean; a harrowing crash-landing on a fantastic desert island; a volcano that's threatening to explode; an incredible looking atomic submarine commanded by an eccentric captain whose name literally means "no one"; beautiful Beth 'YOWSA' Rogan; and yes... some really really GIANT-ASS creatures! Okay, now that I've got your attention I need to be honest with you; Mysterious Island is not all that great. It barely rises above two stars and its opening scenes look cheap, jittery, and poorly edited. But when you're a ten-year-old kid seeing Mysterious Island on the big screen for the very first time it's about as great as great can be. And that's why it made this list.
17: THE HAUNTING (Metro Goldwyn Mayer, 1963, b&w, 114 minutes, poster designer unknown). When I was a kid I thought Julie Harris' performance as the psychologically fragile Eleanor was so over the top that it ruined The Haunting, even compromising Claire Bloom's captivating presence. But seeing things through adult eyes can alter ones opinion. Now I am convinced Harris is actually the film's greatest asset, notwithstanding its good direction, good cinematography, good special effects, good cast (Claire Bloom, yeah!), and good script adapted from Shirley Jackson's classic 1959 horror novel, The Haunting of Hill House.
16: THE WIZARD OF OZ (MGM, 1939, color and b&w, 101 minutes, poster art by Al Hirschfeld). According to the Library of Congress, The Wizard of Oz is the most seen film in movie history. Ironically, the book that the Oz was based on has only been read by a small percentage of the people who have seen the film. "Over the Rainbow", Oz's signature song, was recently inducted into the National Recording Registry by the Library of Congress for being "culturally, historically, and aesthetically significant", and although more than 1,350 musicians have recorded it I think we can all agree that Judy Garland's version will always be the one we admire the most. But what I find really amazing about all the facts, figures and suppositions that surround The Wizard of Oz like its green curtain is that since it was made Hollywood has struggled to make an equivalent of Oz, that is, a really good live-action fantasy film, or one that the public has universally embraced. Go ahead, try and name five fantasy films
that you would be willing to watch more than once. Not so easy is it?
15: CURSE OF THE DEMON (Columbia Pictures, 1957, b&w, 82 minutes, poster artist unknown). I've always loved this supernatural flick more than any other supernatural flick. Curse of the Demon has so many special moments that to mention even one would constitute a spoiler. However, it should be noted that the producer and director were split on whether to have an actual appearance of the demon during the finale, but the producer prevailed, hence the not very scary giant demon head floating in the air and on the poster. But what the producer didn't realize (though the director did), is that when telling a supernatural story less can actually amount to more.
14: CREATURE FROM THE BLACK LAGOON (Universal Pictures, 1954, b&w, 80 minutes, note: this particular poster art has been erroneously credited to Reynold Brown but it is actually a studio made synthesis). Question: would Creature From the Black Lagoon have been better off made in color? Yes, of course, but it is what it was, and even if someone were to remake it in color with computer generated effects it wouldn't necessarily be an improvement. Because, unlike CG effects, a man in a rubber monster suit is still very much a real three-dimensional thing. And besides, there are no actors today that can fill Richard Carlson's or Richard Denning's swimming trunks (or Julia Adams's for that matter!). But if they eliminated those annoying trumpet blasts every time the creature reared its big lips I would definitely be on board for a remake.
13: DERSU UZALA (Nihon Herald Eiga, 1975, color, 144 minutes, poster art by Averado Ciriello). I doubt if an audience today would be willing to sit thru a nearly 2 1/2 hour movie about a small group of Russian surveyors and their native Goldi guide battling hardships and danger in the rugged wilderness of Far East Russia. But back in the late 1970s I was game to, especially after my brother Jim insisted that Dersu Uzala was not only Akira Kurosawa’s best film (remember Seven Samurai?), but one of the best films ever made. And Jim was right. Just don’t expect to see the same scene that’s on the poster play out on the screen because the poster is a blatant exaggeration of events, yet one made with good intentions, which is to get your skeptical butt in the theater!
12: STAR WARS, Episodes IV, V, VI (20th Century Fox, 1977, 1980, 1983, color, 121 minutes, 124 minutes, 132 minutes, poster art in descending order by Tom Chantrell, Roger Kastel, and Kazuhiko Sanu). I saw Star Wars on opening day at a matinee with my brother Gary (Wednesday, May 25, 1977). When the end credits finally rolled we both turned and smiled, and then shrugged. Sure, we were impressed with what we had seen, but being serious SF guys, not with all of it. But Star Wars grew into something that neither of us could have predicted that afternoon--a motion picture phenomenon. We expected it to be a hit, but wow, we had no idea the impact it would have nationally or globally. The movie (and its sequels) turned more kids into SF fans than any movie that came before it, or for that matter any TV show, book, game or toy that came before it, including Star Trek. And while Star Wars, its sequels, and its millions of culturally significant fans, have not been able to prevent any real tyranny from occurring here on earth (and especially here in the U.S.), when George Lucas later subtitled Episode IV as “A New Hope,” he couldn’t have picked a better title even if he had had Harlan Ellison's help.
11: LOST HORIZON (Columbia Pictures, 1937, b&w, 132 minutes, poster art by James Montgomery Flagg). Cost overruns; filming delays; five separate shooting locations; excessive time spent recording even the shortest of scenes; black & white cinematography when color was warranted; a major cast member being replaced not once, not twice, but three times; 1.1 million feet of film shot; and a 3 1/2 half hour preview (cut from 6 hours) that had many audience members walking out and the rest laughing at sequences intended to be serious. All of that would have us think that Lost Horizon was destined to be a flop. So how did just the opposite happen and Lost Horizon become a cinematic classic? Well, for one, the source material, James Hilton’s magnificent adventure novel; and two, director Frank Capra himself, who made extensive cuts and reshot entire scenes to place more emphasis on "the growing desperation of the world situation at the time”; and three, studio head Harry Cohn, who intervened and edited the film personally, cutting it down even more to 132 minutes. This new, slimmed down version was met with immediate praise, one critic calling it one of the 10 best films of the year. I say it’s even better than that.
10: THE MOST DANGEROUS GAME (1932, RKO Pictures, b&w, 62 minutes, poster artist unknown). Does The Most Dangerous Game really represent American isolationist fears during the Great Depression, or is it nothing more than an entertaining adventure story about shipwreck survivors cast upon a remote island who become the unwilling sport for an evil hunter? I actually think it's a both, and that's one reason why I place so much value on it. The Most Dangerous Game is also meaningful to me on a personal level because I first saw it when I was a young child, and it is the one film besides the original King Kong that more than any other has set the tone for what I like most about movie entertainment.
9: ALIEN (20th Century Fox, 1979, color, 116 minutes, poster art by Philip Gips). I love the fact that Alien, despite its clever tagline ('In space no one can hear you scream'), and having the most unique visual design of any SF film made in the 20th century (thanks to the brilliant surrealist artist H. R. Giger), is really at heart just a "good old fashion horror movie." Boo!
8: ALIENS (20th Century Fox, 1986, color, 137 minutes, poster designer unknown). Aliens, the second film in the soon to be growing Alien franchise (no pun intended), proved that in the modern world (and future world) you don't have to be a man or have bulging biceps to be strong, resilient, resourceful, and a complete bad-ass!
7: RAIDERS OF THE LOST ARK (Paramount. 1981, color, 115 minutes, poster art by Richard Amsel). How do I love thee, Raiders of the Lost Ark? Let me count the ways: I love thee for thine idol and whip; I love thee for thine really really big rolling stone; I love thee for thine fear of snakes
; I love thee for stealing not from museums but for museums; I love thee for thine globe-trotting ways
; I love thee for thine visual geography
; I love thee for bringing a gun to a sword fight
; I love thee for thine exciting truck chase; I love thee for making things up as you go along; I love thee for saying “It’s not the years, honey. It’s the mileage.”; I love thee for sticking it to the Nazis the way we should be sticking it to fascists today
; I love thee for thine really really big warehouse; I love thee for thine romanticized view of a bygone era that never really existed
; I love thee for thine flawless pacing; I love thee for thine triumphant score; and finally, I love thee because you are perhaps the single most entertaining movie ever made.
6: THE ROAD WARRIOR aka Mad Max 2 (Warner Bros., 1982, color, 96 minutes, poster art by Commander). I saw The Road Warrior three times in the theater. It was the coolest movie I had ever seen up until then. Its star, Mel Gibson, was a major part of that coolness too, and he was about the same age as I was. It was easy to project myself behind the wheel of his GT Falcon, spinning dust all over the outback. Years later of course we found out that in real life Gibson wasn't so cool. Hell, he wasn't cool at all! That's why it's so important, especially with movies and TV shows, to separate the art from the artist, or more specifically, the performance from the performer. Otherwise there wouldn't be much left for us to watch that didn't leave us with disdain.
5: JAWS (Universal Pictures, 1975, color, 124 minutes, poster art by Roger Kastel). The first time I swam in the ocean was two summers after Jaws opened in theaters. My brother Gary and I went out beyond the kelp line, and then Gary, or me, or both of us at the same time, began chanting the film's ominous score: dun tunt dun tunt dun tunt... five minutes later, after completely unnerving ourselves, we made a frenzied swim for shore and I for one have not been in the water since (well, not over my knees anyway). Jaws, as incredibly awesome as it is, is not the "greatest monster movie" ever made, that label belongs to the original King Kong, but it is the "best monster movie" ever made. Period.
4: CASABLANCA (Warner Bros., 1942, b&w, 102 minutes, poster designer unknown). Casablanca premiered in November, 1942, but it was not expected to stand out among the films produced that year so its nationwide release was delayed until January of 1943, or at least that's my interpretation of events. Its initial run was less than stellar, yet it went on to win the Best Picture and Best Director awards at the 16th Academy Awards. Old folks like me are convinced it’s an enduring classic, but young folks might not agree, at least they don't seem much interested in black & white films anymore, so its legacy could be in danger, which is a shame because young folks are in effect denying themselves a chance to see what might be the most significant film ever made in Hollywood.
3: KING KONG (RKO Pictures, 1933, b&w, 100 minutes, poster artist unknown). Yes, I've read all about the supposed symbolism, metaphors, and hidden meanings that surround King Kong like the ominous clouds around Skull Island. It's been examined in considerable detail in any number of books including my favorite Kong tome, King Kong Cometh (Plexus, 2005, edited by Paul A. Woods). And it's all very fascinating, to be sure. But when the last reel ends and the lights come on King Kong is still just another monster movie. But that being said, it is, and always will be, the "Biggest Daddy Of Them All!"
2: THE THING (Universal Pictures, 1982, color, 109 minutes, poster art by Drew Struzan).
John Carpenter's 1982 remake of the Howard Hawk/Christian Nyby 1951 film The Thing From Another World drew its inspiration not from their popular movie, but from the original source material, the actual short story by John W. Campbell Jr. titled "Who Goes There?," which is one of the scariest short stories ever written, and a must read for everyone who considers themselves a reader. That, plus a great cast, great direction, great score, great location filming, and those shockingly wild special effects by the incredibly brilliant Rob Bottin, are why this Thing and not the original Thing should be in every moviegoer's Top-Ten list.
John Carpenter's 1982 remake of the Howard Hawk/Christian Nyby 1951 film The Thing From Another World drew its inspiration not from their popular movie, but from the original source material, the actual short story by John W. Campbell Jr. titled "Who Goes There?," which is one of the scariest short stories ever written, and a must read for everyone who considers themselves a reader. That, plus a great cast, great direction, great score, great location filming, and those shockingly wild special effects by the incredibly brilliant Rob Bottin, are why this Thing and not the original Thing should be in every moviegoer's Top-Ten list.
1: THE LAST OF THE MOHICANS (20th Century Fox, 1992, color, 112 minutes, poster designer unknown). Before Michael Mann released this version of The Last of the Mohicans, Hollywood seemed to struggle to recreate an accurate view of 18th century life in Eastern North America, whether it be before, during, and after the Revolutionary War. To be fair, it isn’t an easy period to visualize or audioize, and to do it right means not holding back on the lens of history: its rights and its wrongs, its beauty and its brutality. The original The Last of the Mohicans film (1936) is a boyhood favorite of mine, and while it has much too offer it is far from being great. Allegheny Uprising (1939) is a spirited affair but perhaps too spirited. Drums Along the Mohawk (1939) isn’t half bad, but then again it is half bad. I love Northwest Passage (1940), but it's more fantasy than anything else. Fort Ti (1953) can’t be saved even by the great George Montgomery. April Morning (1988) recreates the Battle of Lexington to great effect, and probably deserves far more credit than I’m willing to give it. Mann’s film changed everything though. It was like going back in a time machine to witness The French and Indian War first hand. Mann got all the particulars right too: story adaptation, period detail, outdoor settings, casting; acting, dialogue, choreography and music score. Since 1992, whenever I am asked what my favorite movie is, I've always said it's Mann's The Last of the Mohicans. I still see no reason to say otherwise.
[© April, 2026, Jeffersen]
