#a matter of life and death

[evie-da-bad-bitch]

Need a lil piggy to suck on em toes🥰🥰😈😈

[lady-arryn]

2025 MOVIE DIARY

A MATTER OF LIFE AND DEATH (1946) dir. Michael Powell & Emeric Pressburger

[alabasterpickles]

@lotusquil brought it to my attention that I can add illustrations to my “A Matter of Life and Death” chapters! So that might be a thing that happens from here on out (schedule willing 🤞) though I’m not promising anything too complex, just some sketches for visual interest

Anyway! I don’t really listen to Chappell Roan?? BUT Good Luck, Babe! Came up on the radio and it reminds me a lot of the dynamic between these characters so I drew this out between finals this week to the song!

[captainfantasticalright]

A Matter of Life and Death- is Good Omens

According to Douglas Mackinnon: “Michael's character's voice [Aziraphale] is based on David Niven in A Matter of Life and Death. I think he'd say that himself, that it's a huge influence at least, if not based on.”

“There's one particular scene where he definitely went all the way into David Niven, in the pub scene. You know, that's there.”

What’s particularly interesting is that Powell and Pressburger were not that visibly apparent until season 2 of Good Omens, yet there were bits already intermingled in season 1.

“A matter of life and Death”happens to be Michael Sheen’s favorite film,

In which his favorite romantic scene happens to be one where mostly talking is involved:

And knowing that his speech was greatly influenced by David Niven and thus part of it incorporated into Aziraphale, what can we say about Crowley, whose hairstyle when they first ever meet is inspired on Kim Hunter?

In a way, they have always been embodying this love story from A Matter of Life and Death. Perhaps not exactly the characters, but indeed the love between them. Not to mention the countless references to the film that seeped into Good Omens 2.

There is no doubt as to the ending of these two. “Nothing is stronger than the law in the universe, but on Earth, nothing is stronger than love." Ultimately, it is love that ties Good Omens together.

[classicfilmblr]

Marius Goring as Conductor 71 A Matter of Life and Death (1946) dir. Emeric Pressburger, Michael Powell

[fervi-g]

A Matter of Life and Death (1946) dir. Michael Powell, Emeric Pressburger

[youryurigoddess]

Thy Kingdom Airways

Attention all passengers, please fasten your seatbelts. We are preparing for take-off. This time our analytic journey will revolve around planes as a recurring motif in Good Omens 2 and possibly Good Omens 3. Since a part of this post will add some new crumbs of information about the ongoing production to the discourse, please make sure to spoiler tag your replies accordingly.

We’re starting literally at the beginning, AND YES, I’m painfully aware that this is my third time breaking apart this particular scene from the new title sequence (Peter Anderson, I’m in your walls). We’re witnesses to the Second Coming brought to us via Thy Kingdom Airways.

And this big silver plane is actually a part of some good old — literally 20-year-old — spoilers from the never published Good Omens sequel:

Director Douglas Mackinnon personally chose the poster for A Matter of Life and Death / Stairway to Heaven (1946) to appear here as well. The movie itself is referenced multiple times in both seasons of the show, but what interests us here is the fact that its MC is a British pilot who dies in a plane crash.

He gets another chance at life due to an angel’s error and eventually must argue for his life before a celestial court, hoping to prolong his fledgling romance with a radio operator who shared his last moments on Earth over the airwaves.

Douglas is also responsible for the movie playing in the background of The Resurrectionist pub scene in S02E06 — The Spirit of St. Louis (1957), a biopic of Charles Lindbergh, the pilot who made the first nonstop solo flight from New York to Paris.

To finish the transatlantic flight, Lindbergh has to stay awake for 33 hours (33 happens to be biblically significant, i.a. as the age of the crucified Jesus). He succeeds by talking to a fly that had buzzed into the cockpit and reminiscing to it about his life (via flashbacks).

Once an accident, twice a coincidence, three times a pattern, right? So there’s a plane. And a character traveling through time and space to navigate some dangerous circumstances. Looking for help or… clues? The danger is either their own feelings or something more ominous here.

Flash-forward to 2025. It might be completely off, but considering the overall panic I think it’s worth mentioning that I found some crumbs of information suggesting a Good Omens film shoot with a certain amount of angels at an airport right now.

I was casually screening the extras’ profiles for Good Omens 3 the other day, as one does to learn that e.g., one of them is a professional contortionist (really!) and after a while, it came to my attention that a few of the profiles repeated mentions of “angels”, “2nd unit angels”, and “airport” across a few days in late February. Interestingly, some of them also listed sword fighting skills and law enforcement background underneath.

The implications seem obvious to anyone familiar with the plot of the unpublished Good Omens sequel and what I just shared above: please take a minute of your time to consider Aziraphale in a new suit, new hairstyle, a headset, and surrounded by at least one unit of angelic bodyguards in dark glasses.

Now, the filming dates in question consist of days and months only, so technically could also refer to their Good Omens 2 work since some (not all) of the extras were also employed by the show at the time. And Heaven’s corridors scenes could be shot at an airport instead of a studio, right? But the thing is, the background angels seen on screen in S2… don’t seem to match the profiles I found.

A perfunctory social media screening revealed one mention of Boeing 737 interior scenes filmed this month in the area, at Dunsfold Aerodrome. Is this connected? No idea, but if at least some of my speculations are correct, a follow-up exterior shoot at an airport would make sense.

Another interesting crumb that may or may not be related in some way is this photograph from the set shared by Guy Spangler, a professional dressing props specialist and armourer on Good Omens 3. Not quite the big silver plane of Thy Kingdom Airways we’re waiting for, but still!

[cineemaa]

a matter of life and death (1946) directed by michael powell & emeric pressburger

"a weak mind isn't strong enough to hurt itself. stupidity has saved many a man from going mad."

[d4leah26]

[deathwords334]

Turner Classic just posted a video of Michael talking about A Matter of Life and Death! It’s so nice hearing him talk about it~ I’m sure he thinks about it a lot while working on Good Omens… especially given the parallels between the two 🥹

[evie-da-bad-bitch]

Bet your little pecker could fit between my toes🥜😈🔞😌

[enthuzimuzzyme]

A Matter of Life and Death

A Disneyfied Retelling of the Famous Underworld Love Story

Introduction:

There once was a lonely king...

Who was tasked to eternally watch over the deceased and the damned under the earth. Sounds familiar, right? We've all heard that story told a million times before, in a million different ways. But, despite all the misfortune that befell him, Hades remains, to this day, a living testament to the power of love.

How? How could a grumpy, ill-tempered death god really represent the power of love, you might ask. Well, I'm about to tell you– in about twenty chapters.

This is a story about how the bitter Lord of the Underworld came to meet his much beloved Queen, and the controversy their unlikely union has stirred up over the millennia.

Chapter One:

New Beginnings Meet Old Endings

     Spring. Hades thought bitterly. Again.

      The Lord of the Underworld watched with glowing eyes as a single flower petal bobbed slowly passed his nose. Snatching it out of the air in one swift motion, Hades reduced the leaflet to embers in a small violet puff of smoke. Hermes, who’d been relaxing on the bow of an olive tree nearby, eyed him discomfitly from his perch.

     “The appeal continues to escape me.” Hades jeered, flicking flakes of stiff gray ash away from his fingers.

     Hades was on one of his semi-regular reconnaissance missions, gathering any salvageable blackmail material he could on his brothers. Since his retrieval from Tartarus, he’d been under close observation by his Olympian constituents. They couldn’t risk another titanic fiasco.

     Poor Hermes had even (begrudgingly) been assigned his not-so-temporary chaperone. How hard could it be? Zeus had mused. Report any suspicious behavior back to me. Which had sounded simple enough at the time, but everything Hades did seemed suspicious and keeping him out of trouble proved more difficult than Hermes could’ve imagined. Especially when it was a slow day in the Underworld.

     Suddenly, a faint orange glow—like a loose beam of sunlight—caught Hades’s attention from some distance away.

     “Who is that?” Hades whistled.  Hermes turned to see what could possibly be interesting enough to distract him from grousing about Spring.

     The messenger god squinted through his spectacles and caught a glimpse of her.

     Across the field from them, standing under an apricot tree, was a woman. Only, Hades judged by the way she glowed, and the way she was able to simply poof! fruit out thin air,  that she couldn’t possibly have been mortal.

     The pair of deities were close enough to this mystery goddess that the hankering God of the Dead could just make out how lovely she was; long copper curls, gentle, focused green eyes. Even from this distance, her benign disposition washed them both in a warm, comfortable sense of ease — the kind that Spring was known for. It was almost as if she herself was the season incarnate.

      One by one, the goddess continued plucking fruits lazily from the branches and dropping them into a basket at her feet.

     Hermes adjusted his spectacles, just barely catching an eager Hades by the neck of his chiton with the arc of his caduceus.

     “Whoa, whoa— cool it, Ace. That one’s off limits.”

     Hades tossed his hands down at his sides in frustration and rolled his eyes.

     “What’s the big deal? Geez, it’s like you topsiders are committed to keeping me from having a love life, like honestly.”

     The messenger deity wafted around Hades with ease, tossing a thumb over his shoulder toward the mystery goddess.

     “You know who that is, don’t you? That’s Demeter’s kid, man. Hustling her is a huge no-no.”

     “Hustle? Please — who said anything about hustling? I’m just trying to get the gal’s name.”

     Hermes tilted his little purple spectacles down with a skeptical look. The Lord of the Underworld ignored him.

     “So, you know her?” Hades had an all-too-familiar and unsettling gleam in his eye. The Lord of the Dead threw an arm around Hermes’s shoulders and offered him an impish grin.

     “What’s her name, huh? Hermes, babe —throw a death god a bone, will ya?”

     Hermes looked about ready to protest when all the bells went off in his head at once. Ding! Ding! Ding! —  maybe he was onto something here.

      With Hades distracted — and happy —chasing a wife around like a love-struck puppy dog, he and the rest of the Olympians could take a load off. No more half-baked schemes or hostile takeover attempts. No more pointless intrusions or aggressive come-ons. And most importantly, Hermes wouldn’t have to take time out of his already overbooked schedule to babysit. They’d be sitting pretty for the rest of eternity. It was perfect.

      At the poor gal’s expense, He thought only slightly ruefully. Or not, maybe by some miracle she’ll actually like him.

     They’ll work it out, a desperate Hermes concluded mentally, waving his hand in the air, trying to ease his slightly guilty conscience.

     “What are you asking me for? You should ask her yourself, you know— the old-fashioned way.” The messenger god shrugged nonchalantly with a smile teetering on sly, tapping his caduceus in his open palm.

     Hades fluffed out his chiton and smoothed back his smoldering coiffure.

     “Sit tight, flyboy, and watch the master at work—”

     Now, it would have been difficult to miss Hades’s broad physique looming above her like a black cloud, blocking her strip of sun, but if she knew he was standing there beside the trunk she didn’t acknowledge him. The beautiful mystery goddess simply continued to pick tiny golden fruits off the tree and drop them into her already overfilled basket.

     Hades cleared his throat after a few moments, and she looked up at him only briefly.

     “Look— harvest complaints are Demeter’s department.” She said, a pinch sourly, “I just work here.”

     “If you have a problem with this year’s crop, take it up with her.”

     Hades blinked.

     “Seriously? That’s what you think I’m doing?”

     She eyed him for a moment. He waited for her to show some sign of recognition, but the goddess didn’t even flinch. Hades gestured toward her with outstretched hands.

     “No offense, but your Ma was the last thing on my mind when I saw you standing over here— I mean, c’mon, really? Pretty little thing like you, all by yourself? I’da been a fool to pass up the opportunity to introduce myself.”

     He thrust out his long skeletal fingers in greeting as if to shake her hand.

     “Hey, how ya doin’? Hades, Lord of the Dead, Reaper of Souls, yada yada. You get it.”

     She chuckled softly and swept bronze curls over her shoulder, her tenor lightening some. She manifested another perfectly ripe apricot on a low hanging branch.

     “Oh, I’m familiar.”

     Hades pursed his lips and steepled his fingers with a smirk.

     “I see my reputation precedes me— what am I, some kinda celebrity up there on the roof of the world?”

     “More like a felon,” She retorted with a dry smile, turning back to her work. Charmed by her repartee, Hades appeared on the other side of the tree and leaned forward onto the trunk.

     “That’s cute— you’re cute— Well, you know, beggars can’t be choosers I guess but, hey— I saw you standing over here, all by your lonesome and thought you could use some company. What’s your name, chickadee?”

     The mystery goddess popped out a hip and rooted her palm to it. Hermes watched Hades’s desperate flirtations, amused, and slightly hopeful, from a safe distance. He’d half expected the almost entirely anti-social Persephone to brush Hades off immediately and was pleasantly surprised that—somehow— the God of the Dead had held his ground.

     Hermes crossed his fingers behind his back. Home stretch— here’s hoping he doesn’t blow it.

     “Take a wild guess.” She replied. Hades’s reputation for hitting on nearly every unattended goddess in the Pantheon wasn’t lost on her, but she was bored, and this beat the hours she’d otherwise be spending listening to her mother wax poetic over a tablet of annual crop output.

     He rubbed his hands together and grinned.

     “Oh, Ho Ho— you’re not going to make this easy on me, are you? Let’s see, let’s see…”

     The Lord of the Underworld slumped coolly against the trunk, scratching his chin thoughtfully. He studied her with a bold and scrupulous eye. Hades wasn’t one to back off in the face of a challenge, and for someone who lacked patience in pretty much every capacity, he had a knack for getting himself mixed up in long-term plots.

     “Judging by your accoutre— very lovely, by the way, really brings out the green in your eyes— you’re some… kinda… nature goddess, am I right?”

     “You’re getting warmer.” She tapped the tip of her nose, tickled.

     “Something springy— like uh, Juniper? Nah. Jennifer maybe? Josephine, Jacqueline?”

     The goddess rolled her eyes, and he could tell he was beginning to get under her skin, “What were you the god of again? Annoying people to death? You aren’t even going alphabetically.”

      “What can I say? I like to start in the middle and work my way out,”

     Hades walked two fingers up the ridge of her shoulder where she swatted them away casually with the back of her hand. Unbothered by her annoyance, Hades smirked. Sensing he was finally starting to wear her down, the death god dug his heels in and leaned closer to her.

     “You know what, I think I’ve got it— Jane right? Maybe it’s Julia? Johanna? Listen babe, I can do this all day.”

     “That’s it—you’re impossible.” She threw up her hands with an airy, exasperated sigh and bent to gather her spoils.

     Hades chuckled, reached around her and stole one of her apricots. The goddess lifted a brow and pursed her lips.

     “You know babe, I’m pretty sure this is the longest any goddess has tolerated me, like ever, I’m starting to think I’m growing on you...” He wiggled his brows at his own pun, rolling the fruit back and forth in his palm as it shriveled into a wrinkly, indistinct lump, decaying nearly instantly at his touch. She let out an exaggerated groan of disapproval.

     “Unbelievable. He makes jokes now.”

     Hades wiped his hands clean on his chiton of the rotted apricot juice and gave a defensive shrug, gesturing animatedly at her person.

     “What? That was some of my best material. C’mon, seriously, Petals— can I call you Petals? — what’s a guy gotta do to get a girl’s name huh? You want me to dance a jig? I’ll do it, don’t tempt me,”

     The goddess set her closed fists on her waist and sighed wearily.

     “You really aren’t going to leave me alone until I tell you, huh?”

     Hades examined his fingernails and gave her an obstinate shake of his head.

     “Persephone,” she said finally, extending out her hand to him. “Goddess of Spring.”

     Hades’s face lit up with a smug look of satisfaction. Using her outstretched hand as leverage, he pulled her in just close enough that she could feel his breath on her face.

     “Charmed,” He hummed, pressing a loud kiss to the back of her hand.

     “So, Persy—"

     “Persephone—"

     “Yeah, yeah— right, right— Persy,”

      Before Hades could finish his thought, Persephone carefully pulled her hand away from him with a pleasantly bemused smile. Stepping backward, she bumped the heel of her sandal against her basket of apricots.

     “Sorry— Hades, this has been fun, but I know for a fact I’m not supposed to be talking to you and I’m sure you don’t want to get caught wandering around up here, so….” Persephone tossed her hand up in a parting gesture before collecting her fruit basket and leaning it expertly against her hip. Judging he had maybe a matter of seconds before she left and never came back, Hades lifted his hands haltingly.

     “Yeah— and if you know anything about me, then I’m sure you know I don’t follow the rules very well.” He insisted, following closely beside her.

     Persephone quirked a brow.

     “Hold on— listen, listen,”

     Hades floated around her silently like an early morning fog rolling off the Aegean. It might have bothered Persephone how quiet and quick he moved had she not already seen him do it once before. He plucked a freshly opened apricot blossom off the branch closest to them and delicately pinned back her hair with it.

     “You’re alone— I’m alone, what say we be alone together, huh?” He clasped his fingers together, “You look like you could use a break, and I could use some feminine company,”

     He expected immediate rejection. Every moment she spent not turning her nose up at him was, in his mind, a tiny victory. He figured it was now or never — cast in his line and see what he caught.

      “You mean, like a date?”

     “Yes! Exactly like a date, you read my mind,”

     She seemed to consider his request. Which to him was a good sign. Hades felt a long-buried part of himself begin to feel hopeful. What were the odds he might find himself so close to success? About as unlikely as you’d think.

     “As tempting as that sounds, we just met and—" Persephone smiled, delicately unpinning the blossom and placing it in his open palm, “I’m on duty,”

     “Semantics. C’mon, the world’s not gonna end if you play hookie for a day. What are you, miss-goodie-two-sandals or somethin’? Don’t you ever cut loose?” Hades crossed his index finger over his heart, “I promise I’m a better time than I look—"

     When she still didn’t seem convinced, Hades began to feel defeated. Across the field, the messenger god hovered.

     That’s my cue.

     Hermes appeared beside Hades before he could protest further and whispered behind his hand into the Lord of the Underworld’s ear,

     “Tell her you’ll bring your dog— chicks dig dogs, works like a charm.”

     Hermes grinned at the shrewd Persephone innocently. Hades straightened out the clasp on his chiton, cleared his throat and folded his hands once again.

     “Listen— I’ll bring my dog.”

     “Cerberus—?”

     Hades nodded. Her eyes glittered.

     Eagerly, and with considerably less hesitation than either visiting deity expected, Persephone yanked forward on Hades’s sleeve and blurted out an excited,

     “Deal!”

[alabasterpickles]

I woke up this morning to a bunch of new notes on those Persephone and Hades drawings from 2023 so it’s probably be a good time to announce that I will be (hopefully! Fingers crossed school isn’t crazy 🤞) posting the first chapter of my little Underworld fan fiction, “A Matter of Life and Death”, on the 14th to celebrate Valentine’s Day!

I’ve been chipping away at it for a while and I’ve got waaaay more material than I need to start, so after a final round of edits, I’ll begin the publishing process!

This might be ambitious but I’d also like to have a finished piece drawn to go with it, stay tuned!!

So, in the mean time —

Have this rough concept of my Dread Persephone design, which will make a brief but necessary appearance much, much later in the fic!

I headcanon that once she’s settled into her role as Queen of the Underworld, her “Dread” form is more polished, but for the purpose of this story I want her to look feral.

I’m still working it out, but for everyone who has enjoyed/supported my work for this AU so far, here’s a little something extra for your kindness and patience! ✨

[nmolesofadrenaline]

[fuckyeahgoodomens]

Hello! It’s not a question but I thought you might find this interesting. You may want to fact check it, but I read somewhere that Micheal Sheen’s fav movie is “A Matter of Life or Death”. Heaven in this film looks VERY MUCH like the one in Good Omens. Just a thing. Thank you so much for you blog.

Hiya! :) Ooh, thank you! :) I found this article:

And guess what! This is the American poster:

And!

Michael's favourite movie's poster is in the S2 Opening Titles! 👀🥰❤

[891movies]

Top 25 films (of the second 250 I watched for this project)

Around two years ago I posted a top 25 list of the first 250 films I watched for this project. Since I have now watched another 250 films and discovered many new favorites, the time has come for a second top 25!

Without further ado, I present them in chronological order (because if I actually had to rank them this list would never get out of the editing stage):

The Adventures of Robin Hood (1938, dir. Michael Curtiz, William Keighley)

This movie is a storybook adventure come to life, charming, entertaining and beautiful to look at (I miss you, technicolor!). Errol Flynn has an unmatched energy as the titular character and Olivia de Havilland is the picture perfect leading lady, with the exact right mixture of grace and fire. This is may not be a particularly complex or groundbreaking film but it does what it does perfectly and taps into that childlike sense of wonder that few films manage so well.

A Matter of Life and Death (1946, dir. Emeric Pressburger, Michael Powell)

One of my most delightful discoveries since starting this project have been the films of Powell and Pressburger - I'm not sure what other directors could boast releasing three of the greatest films of all time in three consecutive years (those being A Matter of Life and Death, Black Narcissus and The Red Shoes). This film mixes a deeply moving love story with a metaphysical court room drama to great success and this strange mixture is mirrored in the film's form, with some experimental but mostly conventional cinematography.

Ace in the Hole (1951, dir. Billy Wilder)

As grim and cynical as it is sharp, this movie plays out like a feverish nightmare. I was honestly shocked at how dark this movie got, considering the time and place in which it was made, but that is absolutely what the story needed and I'm glad Wilder got to tell it this way.

A Star Is Born (1954, dir. George Cukor)

Has there ever been another star to reach the heights of emotional intensity that Judy Garland did in her time? I was lucky enough to see this movie on the big screen and I can't imagine watching it at home, because Garland is so larger than life, I can't see how a smaller screen could contain her. That's not to take anything away from James Mason, who gives a tragic and intense performance for the ages.

Johnny Guitar (1954, dir. Nicholas Ray)

Joan Crawford in your butch black shirt save me! Save me, Joan Crawford in your butch black shirt!

Bigger Than Life (1956, dir. Nicholas Ray)

Surprise, it's another Nicholas Ray melodrama! Ray had this habit of creating highly emotional stories that hid some sharp social commentary, but the commentary is barely hidden this time and it is shockingly subversive. Mason gives another intense performance but here it tilts fully into unhinged territory and he is terrifying to watch. The ending feels a little slapped on but it also feels like the only way Ray could get away with everything that came before.

Mon Oncle (1958, dir. Jacques Tati)

This movie feels like a precursor to Playtime, one of my all-time favorite films (incredibly novel opinion, I know). The sets are meticulously designed and a delight to behold, and Tati's performance as Monsieur Hulot (the titular uncle) is charming as always. I especially adore the contrast between the traditional and modern Paris, as well as the unconventional sound mixing that refuses to privilege dialogue, leaning into cinema's strengths as a visual medium.

Jules and Jim (1962, dir. François Truffaut)

This is by far my most recent watch on this list and it's still kind of percolating in my head but I loved it when I watched it and my fondness for it has been growing daily. It has that charming, youthful irreverence that the French New Wave is so known for, as well as one of the most complex depictions of a female character I've seen in french cinema.

What Ever Happened to Baby Jane? (1962, dir. Robert Aldrich)

Bette Davis is one of my all time favorite actresses and this is one of my all time favorite performances. She puts everything into this role and the rest of the film compliments her perfectly; it's funny and dark, tragic and absolutely unhinged. And Joan Crawford is good too, I guess.

Tokyo Olympiad (1965, dir. Kon Ichikawa)

This blew my mind when I first watched it, seeing what incredible feats documentary filmmakers were capable of so early on in the genre's history. It is also the perfect counterpoint to Riefenstahl's earlier documentaries about the Olympic games; where she emphasized nationalism and feats of strength, Tokyo Olympiad focuses on the humanity of it and the power this event has to bring us together. Probably my favorite section of the film focuses on an athlete who was the sole representative of his newly independent country and who did not qualify for the finals in his field (unfortunately I don't remember the country or the sport). But just the fact that he made it to the Olympics, that he got to represent his country on the world stage, is an incredible feat in and of itself, and the film recognizes this.

The Wild Bunch (1969, dir. Sam Peckinpah)

This movie is everything a western should be - exciting, violent, and deeply critical of the ugly history it is depicting. The characters are not good people but they are compelling and incredibly fun to watch.

Woodstock (1970, dir. Michael Wadleigh)

Another mindblowing documentary that pushes the ability of the medium to its limits. It captures a unique moment in time, a spirit of rebellion and hope for the future that unfortunately feels worlds away from our current cultural landscape. It is also an incredible display of the emotional power of music. I cried during Janis Joplin's performance and it felt impossible to match, but then it is immediately followed by Jimi Hendrix and I could feel my soul descend to a higher plane of existence. It is my life's goal to see this film in the theater.

In the Realm of the Senses (1976, dir. Nagisa Ōshima)

Everything is sex, except sex, which is love and beauty and death all intertwined and impossible to separate.

Atlantic City (1980, dir. Louis Malle)

Rarely has a setting felt so integral to a film. Everything from the story, to themes, to the characters revolves around and is subservient to the setting of a declining Atlantic City whose glory days are far behind it. It is also a microcosm of American society at large, at least as people were experiencing it in 1980 (although it's pretty relevant today, I would say).

Gallipoli (1981, dir. Peter Weir)

This is the movie that definitively convinced me that anti-war films are indeed possible to make, just not in Hollywood (Come and See had me thinking this, but Gallipoli proved to me that it wasn't a unique feat of just one film). We barely see the war in this movie but it is all about the incredible tragedy of it.

Koyaanisqatsi (1982, dir. Godfrey Reggio)

I was completely expecting this movie to put me to sleep and instead, it was one of the most viscerally intense and haunting viewing experiences of my life. It is hypnotic in the very best way and somehow captures the ennui of modern life without a single word being spoken.

Paris, Texas (1984, dir. Wim Wenders)

This film is an intoxicating mixture of tenderness and brutality, and a deeply moving depiction of our longing to reach out and connect to one another. This is the other film on the list I got to see in the theater and the cinematography was absolutely breathtaking on the big screen.

Trust (1990, dir. Hal Hartley)

This is such a delightfully strange film, almost but not quite set in our reality. The strangeness makes the gentleness of the love story all the more touching; this is one of those movies that makes me happy to be alive.

Safe (1995, dir. Todd Haynes)

I have been kind of obsessed with this movie since I saw it, so much so that it will actually be a focal point in my master's thesis. Everything in the film, from the cinematography to the soundtrack to, especially, Julianne Moore's performance, builds to this overwhelming sense of anxiety and dread, and Haynes' refusal to give an easy answer (or any answers at all) makes it all the more unsettling.

Scream (1996, dir. Wes Craven)

I do like scary movies, yes. I especially like movies that are scary, funny, and feature a bloody final girl and (more than) a touch of homoeroticism.

The Blair Witch Project (1999, dir. Daniel Myrick, Eduardo Sánchez)

Look at that, another scary movie! I am probably more susceptible to this movie's attempts at scares than most viewers, because I've only very recently started to build any kind of tolerance for horror, but it got me so good. The simplicity just makes it better; it may only do one thing but it does it very, very well.

Dancer in the Dark (2000, dir. Lars von Trier)

I'm always kind of hoping when I watch a new Lars von Trier movie that maybe I won't like this one, because I don't know what it says about me that I enjoy his films so much but I know that it can't be good. But this movie belongs just as much to Björk, who gives an incredible acting performance and an all-time great vocal performance. I was left a sobbing wreck; to this day, just humming 'The next to last song' to myself brings a tear to my eye.

Volver (2006, dir. Pedro Almodóvar)

Penélope Cruz is a revolution in this movie, my god. She brings the emotional sincerity that the film needs to keep its elaborate plot grounded. As always, I appreciate Almodóvar's clear love for strong and complicated women, as well as the often messy relationships between them.

Phantom Thread (2017, dir. Paul Thomas Anderson)

I love a good twisted love story and it is beautifully told here. Form also compliments function to a tee; a story about an obsessive compulsion to create perfect art is mirrored in the absolutely meticulous cinematography and costuming. Daniel Day-Lewis gives the performance of a lifetime here and while I do miss seeing him in the theater, what a film to end on!

Roma (2018, dir. Alfonso Cuarón)

This is one of those movies where nothing happens, in that there isn't a traditional plot (events still take place, obviously), because it's about life, man. It's a type of film that needs a deft hand and a filmmaker with something to say, and Cuarón has both in spades. Funnily enough, this movie reminds me a lot of Paris, Texas; it has that same mix of tenderness and harshness that compliment each other.