Quite apart from the blossoming of his distinctive aesthetic (developed in collaboration with his long-time cinematographer Robert Yeoman who rarely gets enough credit for it), RUSHMORE provides early insights into many of the deeper themes and preoccupations that would go on to define Wes Anderson’s work: a focus on class and social status particularly with regards to the hierarchy of positions within esoteric institutions; an eye for the outsider figure and the social outcast; a fascination with under the sea and the life aquatic. A story of a weird little guy told weirdly.

An interesting deconstruction of the masculinity inherent to film noir with a cop antagonist who is a bully, a prick, and a rapist presented alongside a be-gay-do-crimes queer femme fatale who is a confident badass and successful novelist. The toxic masculinity and violent machismo of the police as repressive state apparatus is expressed through Nick’s (Michael Douglas) character while Catherine (Sharon Stone) expresses the liberation of queerness, sexual experimentation, and literary creativity. Stone gives a terrific performance in the shadow of Anthony Hopkins’ Hannibal Lecter. The film’s genre subversion is fatally undermined however by a third act where Catherine seems to genuinely fall for this awful man resulting in a hugely disappointing final scene where we see her put down the icepick while in bed with him.

And then it’s twenty years later and you’re addicted to your nostalgia. You see ghosts of your own memories from the corner of your eyes on the streets you used to know and the songs you once knew so well are dim echoes that you can’t quite make out. You’re in dialogue with the past version of yourself, you’re a sequel to a person you once were, a person that you hate and love and want to be again and are scared of.

“You’re not getting any younger, Mark. The world is changing. Music’s changing, even drugs are changing.”

A film that’s not about heroin. It’s about being young and being addicted to being young and being just old enough to not actually be young anymore. About outgrowing your old friends and making mistakes and being worried that now you’re not young you’re going to be the same sad and broken person for the rest of your life. About being stuck in endlessly repeating patterns and trying desperately to break free while still being who you are.

More so than biological relationships or shared DNA, families are tapestries of histories and stories repeated again and again until they become legends. But each family member has a different perspective, a different understanding of the world and hence the family itself. Every family needs a black sheep, doesn’t it?

Sonic experimentation with sewing machines reveals the hidden gendered histories behind innovative clothing inventions.

A cosmic mix of the dramas of the ‘10s combined with the exploitation films of the ‘70s. There is constant surprise in how layered and postmodern the film is willing to get but it always keeps a sense of playfulness and joy in its use of ‘70s exploitation tropes and metafictional devices right up until the end. Despite its postmodern flourishes, LEONOR WILL NEVER DIE remains grounded through the central focus on its characters and the wonderful sense of coming to know someone through their work and through their love of movies. Almost moves to the beat of jazz.

WET HOT AMERICAN SUMMER works best when it’s leaning into its silliness which unfortunately it doesn’t do frequently enough: the going-to-town montage is great; the subplot with Ken Marino’s character trying to get back to camp is gold. But it often feels like the writers, Michael Showalter and David Wain, don’t quite have the confidence to lean into the absurdist comedy that clearly works best for them (which makes sense because it was earlier in their careers and they probably didn’t). I rolled straight into the prequel series on Netflix which, first impressions, works a lot better.

This film deserves the acclaim that ANCHORMAN has for some reason: undeniably up there with THE NAKED GUN and AIRPLANE! as a perfectly observed absurdist parody of its genre. The hit rate of the gags is incredibly high but I’m especially a sucker for any joke that makes the subtext into text like Joel’s (Paul Rudd) friends who each explicitly represent a distinct point of view on his romantic relationships or how his coffee shop idea is a metaphor for his commitment issues.

A horny fugue state of a film that adopts the novel’s epistolary format in a way that doesn’t really work on film. Despite that, it’s undeniable how bold the vision is. The sets may look a little ropey but the on-set filming allows Francis Ford Coppola so much control over the composition of shots that he produces some exquisite and singular images. Everything from the camera movements to the costumes to the colours and lighting are so controlled that you can’t help but admire the directorial boldness of more or less every decision. It makes for a camp extravaganza that goes big and encourages every actor in the ensemble to go as big as possible. Plus every film gets a whole extra star when it casts Tom Waits.