The latest edition of the British magazine Sight & Sound‘s decennial poll of the greatest movies of all-time is due to be announced about 12 hours from when this posts.  In a field overflowing with Best Of lists and Top Tens and AFI DVD-selling ploys, the Sight & Sound poll stands out as the most prestigious, most long-running canon-defining survey we have.  Every ten years since 1952, they’ve polled critics from around the world (this year’s edition sought out “more than 1,000 critics, programmers, academics, distributors, writers and other cinephiles” according to editor Nick James) to come up with a consensus Top Ten Greatest Movies of All-Time.  The winner in ’52 was Vittorio De Sica’s Bicycle Thieves, and every year since the list has been topped by Citizen Kane, which is one of the main reasons that film has held the unofficial title of Best Movie Ever for so long.

My own history with the list goes back to the mid-90s, when, as a nascent cinephile working at a video store in Spokane, I would copy titles from the yearly lists that Roger Ebert printed in an appendix to one of his books and scour every video store in town looking for them.  Many of the films listed were unavailable in Spokane in those pre-DVD, pre-internet video, VHS desert days, but I made sure to see them as soon as I could (and when I finally moved to Seattle, I did finally get to see most of them: there are two I haven’t yet: 1962’s #9 La terra trema and 1992’s #6 Pather Panchali).  This is, of course, the main function of Greatest Whatever lists.  It’s not just that they’re fun to make and argue about, it’s that in creating a reasonable version of a canon, they form a roadmap, a concise set of suggested paths to take for those who want to explore the movie world beyond the overexposed ubiquity of new releases.

There’s never been a Sight & Sound poll that matches my tastes exactly and it’d be extremely weird and creepy if there were.  Generally, the poll tends to celebrate my second or third favorite films of some of my favorite directors (Kane over Touch of Evil,  Tokyo Story over Late Spring, L’avventura over L’eclisse, The General over Sherlock Jr) alongside personal favorites (The Searchers, The Rules of the Game, Seven Samurai, Sunrise) and the occasional movie I like but don’t really love (The Godfathers, Battleship Potemkin).  There’s never been a Top Ten film I’ve out-and-out hated; Bicycle Thieves is probably my least favorite.  My favorite film, Seven Samurai, has only made the poll once, in 1982, and it’s either that poll or 2002’s that most closely resembles my own idea of the Top Ten.  I make Best of Lists every year here at The End (last year I did a Top 1000), and the Sight & Sound films tend to do fairly well (the lowest ranked of 2002’s Top Ten on my list last year was Potemkin, at #503).  I tend to rate comedies more highly than the poll does, but that’s probably just a side effect of the collective process: comedies tend to be more idiosyncratic and generational in appeal than dramas, so maybe its a bit harder to form a consensus around them.

Now, my prediction for this year’s Sight & Sound Top Ten Critics Poll:

1. Vertigo
2. 2001: A Space Odyssey
3. Citizen Kane
4. Rio Bravo
5. Singin’ in the Rain
6. Sunrise
7. Ran
8. The Rules of the Game
9. In the Mood for Love
10. 8 1/2

I’m predicting the triumphant return of the director of my favorite movie to the list, but with my second or third favorite of his films (Akira Kurosawa with Ran), along with my third favorite Wong Kar-wai film (In the Mood for Love instead of Chungking Express or 2046).  I think the Western genre will return to the list, but with Howard Hawks and Rio Bravo a decade after John Ford’s The Searchers fell out of the Top Ten.  I suspect Stanley Kubrick will continue his march to the top with 2001: A Space Odyssey, moving past longtime list veterans Singin’ in the Rain, Sunrise, The Rules of the Game and 8 1/2, but he’ll be held out of the #1 spot by Alfred Hitchcock and Vertigo, which I predict will become the third #1 film in the polls history, finally knocking Citizen Kane of its lofty perch.  Finally, I predict that no longer burdened with Greatest Movie of All-Time status, a new generation of movie-goers will begin to appreciate Citizen Kane for the wildly entertaining film it really is.

Sailors, Beware! – 16, 1927

An Autumn Afternoon – 1, 1962
A Woman Under the Influence – 3, 1974

My Neighbor Totoro – 6, 1988
Iron Man 2 – 62, 2010
Damsels in Distress – 2, 2011
Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy – 8, 2011

This week, I was happy once again to join the They Shot Pictures podcast for a discussion of the great Japanese filmmaker Yasujiro Ozu.  We focused on three films (Tokyo Chorus, Early Summer, An Autumn Afternoon) but covered a lot more.  Check it out over at Sound on Sight or download via iTunes.

The boys’ ninth film of 1927, released barely two weeks after Sugar Daddies, finds them on an ocean liner.  Hardy is the ship’s purser, enamored of the ladies but pretty much sidelined for most of the film.  Laurel plays a taxi driver who finds himself mistakenly aboard ship (his parked cab is loaded on the liner while he’s attempting to put out a cigarette fire in the backseat) and forced by the captain to work as a steward.  The villains are a thief and her husband, a dwarf (Harry Earles) who dresses like a baby to help with the crimes.  Most of the film chronicles Laurel’s fights with Earles: the two become antagonists after Laurel loses five dollars to him playing craps with what he later discovers are loaded dice.  Earles is particularly hilarious, you probably know him best as Hans in Tod Browning’s classic Freaks where he is victimized by an evil trapeze artist.  His baby-as-grifter is performed beautifully and the times when he one-ups Laurel leading to the now-trademark “weeping face” provide a clever contrast: one grown man dressed like an adult but acting like a baby, one grown man dressed like a baby but acting like an adult.

Laurel’s character is more sharply edged here than in any of the previous films.  He’s a bit smarter and a bit meaner.  One great little sequence finds him at the ship’s pool where a fancy rich lady walks up to him and haughtily gives him the cold shoulder.  In turn, he calmly pushes her into the water.  Her indignant boyfriend rushes up to him shouting, and he pushes him in too.  This kind of chaotic malevolence is new for the Laurel character, who in most of the previous films has been more of a naive rube.  The capper to the scene provides Hardy’s best moment: after Laurel runs away, he bumps into Hardy and tells him the girl in the pool wants to see him.  Hardy rushes to the pool only to be doused with buckets of water.  In response, he looks directly at the camera, wearily sighing.  This is the first instance I can recall of this kind of fourth wall-breaking aside, but I suspect it won’t be the last.

The film as a whole doesn’t really hang together all that well.  In the opening we see a feuding rich couple (one of whom is played by Lupe Velez) who disappear from the rest of the film, and Hardy really isn’t given much to work with (the horniness of his character as established in the opening never pays off, so to speak).  But the individual gags are pretty great, and I don’t know, if you don’t think Harry Earles smoking a cigar dressed as a baby is funny, or the thought of Stan Laurel pushing said baby in his cart down a grand staircase in a gleeful moment of Eisensteinian destruction doesn’t make you laugh, then this film probably isn’t for you.

Here are a few shots from Yasujiro Ozu’s An Autumn Afternoon, notice anything strange?

In the first shot, the wife walks off-screen towards the camera:

The second shot continues her action, now seen from a perpendicular angle, with her husband lying on the floor in the foreground:

Note the position of the low table and the red, white and blue salt shakers (or whatever they are) in each shot.

Here they are again a few minutes later, in a reverse of the second shot:

They’re in a different order in each shot: red, blue, white; blue, red, white; white, red, blue.  Not by magic, it’s a trick of depth (or rather, of the flatness of the image) and the way they’re arranged on the table, not in an even line, but in some kind of weird triangle (a more mathematically minded person than I am could probably graph it easily).  It’s a neat little joke, rhyming with the film’s overall playfulness in its color scheme (almost every shot in the movie contains each red, white and blue).

Days of Youth – 7, 1929
Tokyo Chorus – 6, 1931
The Lady and the Beard – 12, 1931
Where Now are the Dreams of Youth – 7, 1932

Early Summer – 1, 1951
Tokyo Twilight – 9, 1957

In the Cut – 11, 2003

Best Picture:

Douglas Fairbanks in Robin Hood – 6, 1922
I Flunked, But. . . – 12, 1930
Baby Face – 10, 1933

Celine & Julie Go Boating – 1, 1974
Death Race 2000 – 9, 1975

Good Men, Good Women – 2, 1995
We Need to Talk About Kevin – 5, 2011