Ace in the Hole - MatthewHunt

pretty much perfected the art decades ago. The gag where the wall falls over him in this film
is one of the few moments in cinema that no one can ever fail to be impressed by. No one.
Ever.
The Sting
(George Roy Hill, 1973)
The combined star power of Robert Redford and Paul Newman conspires to relieve villainous
gangster Robert Shaw of his wealth via an elaborate scam. It's a story that could easily be
played out as grim and gritty, but Hill delivers all the twists and turns with an impressive light
touch - with Scott Joplin's jaunty theme accentuating the charm of the cast.
La Strada
(Federico Fellini, 1954)
Fellini's moving, Oscar-winning parable, set in a seedy travelling carnival, about a
simpleminded servile girl (Giulietta Masina) sold by her poor mother to a brutish strong man
(Quinn). He mistreats her, but she's unable to leave him for the gentle clown. A masterwork
on the vicissitudes of love, filmed with poetic simplicity.
Stranger Than Paradise
(Jim Jarmusch, 1984)
Dubbed by Jarmusch as "Yasujiro Ozu directs an episode of The Honeymooners", Stranger
From Paradise was shot on short ends donated by Wim Wender and is a series of blankly
deadpan single shots, as its jaded immigrant protagonists take a directionless road trip to
Lake Michigan. Cramped, wistful and oddly beautiful.
Strangers on a Train
(Alfred Hitchcock, 1951)
Robert Walker's suave psychopath approaches Farley Granger's pro-tennis star with a novel
approach to murder; Hitchcock, in easy command of his powers, unwinds the homoerotic
tension of Patricia Highsmith's novel. The obsessive psychological set-up constantly surfaces
in astute imagery and unleashes a sickening momentum, skidding along the edge of a moral
precipice.
Straw Dogs
(Sam Peckinpah, 1971)
Unfairly bracketed with gore-worshipping shockers of the period, Straw Dogs' stance on
violence is still undeniably slippery. As Cornish locals cosy up uncomfortably to Susan
George, wife of wimpy American academic Dustin Hoffman, Peckinpah uses the setting to
make his atavistic worldview even more palpable. The reckoning is brought home with
compelling force.
A Streetcar Named Desire
(Elia Kazan, 1951)
The elemental entity that was Marlon Brando got first acquainted with the public in this
electrifying adaptation of the Tennessee Williams play. Virile, sullen, thoughtful, brutish: his
performance is an instinctual artistic coup that dragged screen acting forward. The film - a
hothouse character study with beautifully embroidered lyrical flourishes - isn't bad either.
Strictly Ballroom
(Baz Luhrmann, 1992)
The story of an aspiring ballroom dancer who finds little success in competition with his flashy,
innovative technique sounds like a tale best left to the 1930s. But Luhrmann's exuberant take
adds enough comedy and romance to make this story work anywhere. Even in 1990s
Australia.
Sullivan's Travels
(Preston Sturges, 1941)
Sturges gave us his comic philosophy here, in one of his five comic masterpieces. A comedy