Edgar Wright

Edgar Wright

Shaun of the Dead; Hot Fuzz
UK
Voted in the directors poll

Voted for:

2001: A Space Odyssey 1968 Stanley Kubrick
American Werewolf in London, An 1981 John Landis
Carrie 1976 Brian de Palma
Dames 1934 Busby Berkeley
Don't Look Now 1973 Nicolas Roeg
Duck Soup 1933 Leo McCarey
Psycho 1960 Alfred Hitchcock
Raising Arizona 1987 Joel & Ethan Coen
Taxi Driver 1976 Martin Scorsese
Wild Bunch, The 1969 Sam Peckinpah

Comments

2001 is the closest I come to a religious experience with cinema. I don’t necessarily believe in God or intelligent design, but I, like Kubrick, want to believe in symmetry. The image of all the planets in our solar system aligning with a black rectangle asks as many questions as it answers – and is all the more glorious for it.

Many films have married two genres, but none get the recipe as right as John Landis’s 1981 passion project An American Werewolf in London. That it not only straddles so many tones, but also nails them all, is sheer alchemy. A postmodern classic that continues to roar.

In Carrie, Brian De Palma takes Stephen King’s horror of adolescence and turns it into a full-blown and full-blooded teenage pop opera. They didn’t need to turn it into a musical. It already was one.

Busby Berkeley lifted the musical into the stratosphere with his oft imitated but never equalled set pieces. By taking dance out of the confines of the proscenium arch, he created sequences that are beyond dazzling in their construction. He’s only responsible for about 30 minutes of Dames, but what a half-hour of geometric heaven it is.

Don’t Look Now is the most affecting and shattering horror film ever made. The brutal beauty of its self-fulfilling prophecy is brilliantly constructed by Nicholas Roeg. Its montage has never been bettered.

Duck Soup is a movie that isn’t just irreverent about politics, war and economic crisis, but seems infectiously flippant about the filmmaking process itself. The Marx Brothers create the anarchic feeling of tearing down the conventions of film as they were still being built.

Whether it’s playing at 109 minutes or 24 hours, Psycho is a work of art. That this gleeful subversion of conventions was both a creative triumph and an enormous box-office hit is quite extraordinary. He may not have won an Oscar, but this film canonised Hitchcock as one of the greatest filmmakers and most evil of puppetmasters.

Raising Arizona is not just structurally perfect, not just brilliantly written, but enormously funny. The Coens took verbose screwball and thick-ear slapstick and married them in high style. Comedy perfection.

A film so vivid, hypnotic and corrosive that it feels forever seared onto your eyeballs, Taxi Driver turns a city, a time and a state of mind into a waking nightmare that’s somehow both horribly real and utterly dreamlike.

The shock of the new erupts in a film about the death of the Old West. The Wild Bunch blurs the traditional black and white hats into an avant-garde explosion of red, with a startling, head-on collision between old values and new cynicism, classic traditions and utter rebellion.