It seems Joel never had any other plans than film. As a youngster, he saved up for a Super 8 so that he and Ethan could remake the films they enjoyed on the television. Joel went on to study film at university, while Ethan’s path was slightly less direct, choosing a Philosophy degree instead. This combination goes some way to explaining the philosophical ponderings that pepper the brother’s films.

The stories the Coens concoct are convoluted, with a whole host of unusual and memorable characters. Like many famous directors, they have a regular cohort of actors – Frances McDormand, George Clooney, Tim Blake Nelson, and Josh Brolin all have more than one Coen Brothers film under their belt.

The brothers’ body of work is so varied it’s hard to offer suggestions for similar directors. Their comedies could be likened to Wes Anderson or Martin McDonagh, their historical sagas could be by Paul Thomas Anderson, and their deft handling of the crime genre could see them listed among the greats. The fact that they are able to jump so effectively from genre to genre has increased their chances of being both commercially and critically successful. Having broken down the Coen’s vast and varied filmography, here is The Film Magazine’s guide on Where to Start With The Coen Brothers.

1. Fargo (1996)

Fargo Review

Fargo is frequently listed as the best Coen Brothers film, so it is an extremely good place to start.

The film’s focus is on Jerry Lundegaard (William H Macy), a car salesman whose bad decisions drive the plot. It’s easy to think because Jerry is the protagonist, he is the good guy, but Jerry should go down in history as one of cinema’s greatest villains.

Fargo concentrates on greed and want as Jerry’s deep dissatisfaction with his lot is punished. Crime and punishment is a theme that the Coen Brothers will return to in their subsequent films, continuing their years’ long love affair with the crime genre.

Part of the Coen’s strength is their ability to make their characters’ stupidity believable. Gallows humour takes hold as desperation drives Jerry, but there is nothing cartoonish here. While it may be ridiculous, Jerry’s actions are nothing but sinister.

Frances McDormand’s incredible Oscar-winning portrayal of Marge Gunderson, the chipper police chief investigating the kidnap of Jerry’s wife, allows for the themes of power and order to be explored.

2. No Country for Old Men (2007)

No Country for Old Men is an adaptation of Cormac McCarthy’s novel of the same name. It is one of those rare films with the accolade of being better than the book it’s based on.

Set in Texas, the Coen brothers – back working with Fargo’s cinematographer Roger Deakins – return to a similarly bleak and expansive landscape. Here, they replace the ice and snow of Fargo with wide open skies, shifting sand and disorientating heat shimmers.

Llewelyn Moss (Josh Brolin) is a working class man who discovers a large amount of money in the desert. Javier Bardem earned an Oscar as the deranged Anton Chigurh, a hitman in pursuit of the money. Tommy Lee Jones is outstanding as Sheriff Bell trying to untangle the webs the other two men are creating.

All those themes commonly associated with a Coen Brothers movie come into play; power, borders, transience, duality, chaos, inevitability and greed. Unlike in Fargo, the protagonist Llewelyn is not a villain, even if some of his decisions are terrible. Llewelyn doesn’t need to be a villain, with Anton doing such a good job.

No Country for Old Men steps away from the Coen Brothers’ darkly humorous style and is a much more serious endeavour. It still blurs genres though. Is it a Western? A Crime-noir? A literary look into the plight of working-class men in landscapes not built for them? Or all of the above?

3. Hail, Caesar! (2016)

Hail, Caesar! was not so critically revered as Fargo and No Country for Old Men, and it did not smash the box office in quite the same way. However, it was far from a flop and arguably underrated. Hail, Caesar! is an accessible, less challengingly funny gateway into what the Coens have to offer. It still utilises their trademark ability to take a million seemingly unrelated tangents and weave them expertly together, but lacks some of the darker themes that may have put some viewers off delving into their more serious work.

Like Fargo, Hail, Caesar! began with a kernel of truth. It is a fictional tale about the real Hollywood fixer, Eddie Mannix (Josh Brolin). A fixer was someone hired by movie studios to cover up scandals their actors could not help but embroil themselves in. Like when unmarried actresses get pregnant (this is the 50s remember).

When the studio’s star, Baird Whitlock (George Clooney) is drugged and kidnapped during the filming of the eponymous Roman epic, ‘Hail Caesar’, it is up to Eddie to fix it. While many of the Coen’s films are bleak or bittersweet, there is always a seed of hope planted. Hail, Caesar! is the opposite, a hopeful comedy with a seed of something more ominous lurking just off the screen.

Recommended for you: Where to Start with David Lynch

The interesting thing about the Coen Brothers’ work is that it is not confined by genre. Their projects include book adaptations, historical sagas, crime noirs, romantic comedies, and westerns. From The Big Lebowski (1998) to Intolerable Cruelty (2003), there is something for everyone.

As eclectic as their stories seem to be, there are recurrent themes woven throughout their work. One common theme that spans their films is Americanness, often looked at through a filter of quirk and marginalisation. The portrayal of working-class men also plays a huge role (much more than women), as does power and morality. Their ability to find dark humour in the gloomiest of settings also sets them apart from their peers.

And yet it was not without its burdens. The considerable side-effects of growing up in the spotlight reached a disturbing crescendo by the time Foster started undergrad at Yale in 1980, where she was obsessively stalked by John Hinckley Jr., the Travis Bickle wannabe who would go on to shoot Ronald Reagan. Amazingly, Foster continued to act in films between semesters until she graduated in 1985—although few of them managed to garner critical or commercial success. That trend continued in the years following as Foster struggled to redefine herself as an actress. She had displayed such strength and graceful resilience on-screen and in her life: it was about time her adult roles reflected that. 

That much-needed spark came with 1988’s The Accused, in which Foster plays a rape survivor fighting to bring her assailants to justice, and 1991’s The Silence of the Lambs, which saw her embody the now-iconic FBI trainee Clarice Starling alongside Anthony Hopkins’ legendary Hannibal Lecter. Foster won an Academy Award for each film, and she carried on the momentum through the 90s with celebrated performances in films such as Nell (1994) and Contact (1997), and even made her directorial debut with Little Man Tate (1991). Foster’s pedigree amongst her peers and audiences was undoubtedly cemented by the time she was invited to head the jury at the 2001 Cannes Film Festival, a position from which she ultimately stepped down to star in David Fincher’s suspenseful cat-and-mouse thriller Panic Room (2002). 

Through the 2000s, Foster’s turn as the villainous Madeleine White in Spike Lee’s Inside Man (2006) and her well-documented but ultimately ill-fated effort to direct and star in a biopic about the notorious, if technically brilliant, Nazi propagandist Leni Riefenstahl made convincing counterpoints to dissenting criticisms accusing Foster of “sanctifying herself as an old-fashioned heroine [rather than] taking on dramatically risky roles.” Such criticisms arguably neglected to acknowledge the fact that Foster has been taking risks since she was a child, but they also failed to appreciate the deeply affecting vulnerability Foster brings to even the most competent and resolute of characters. 

And, while Foster has been famously—and understandably—reticent about her personal life aside from her devastating 1982 Esquire essay “Why Me?,” which recounted her experience as a public figure up to the John Hinckley incident, and her 2011 Golden Globes speech which vaguely alluded to speculation surrounding her sexuality, this vulnerability has come to define her career. Jodie Foster is not only simply good at her job, much like many of the women she has played, but she also clearly brings a piece of herself to every role. Now, after a long stint working primarily as a director, she seems to be turning a new chapter—one that sees the celebrated actress return to form with projects such as the upcoming ‘True Detective: Night Country’ (2024), and get personal in films like 2023’s Nyad. 

In 2021, Foster told the New York Times: “I am a solitary, internal person in an extroverted, external job. I don’t think I will ever not feel lonely. It’s a theme in my life. It’s not such a bad thing. I don’t need to be known by everyone.” Perhaps the reluctant movie star would rather her work speak for itself, as it does in these 3 Career-Defining Performances. 

1. Taxi Driver (1976)

Taxi Driver Review

Any evaluation of Jodie Foster’s career would be incomplete without mention of her revelatory turn as Iris Steensma in Martin Scorsese’s early-career masterpiece. Hers is widely considered to be one of the best child performances of all time and earned her the first Oscar nomination of her career at the age of 13. Already an acclaimed child star for her work in films such as Disney’s Napoleon and Samantha (1972) and the 1973 adaptation Tom Sawyer, Foster seemed destined to become a defining performer of her generation. If Taxi Driver taught us anything, it’s that she already was. 

Martin Scorsese must have sensed it, too. Foster had previously appeared in the auteur’s 1974 film Alice Doesn’t Live Here Anymore, so by the time she was cast in Taxi Driver, she and Scorsese had already established a working relationship. Still, then-12-year-old Foster’s casting as a child prostitute opposite Robert De Niro’s antisocial weirdo Travis Bickle raised more than a few eyebrows. Abundant cautionary measures were taken to ensure Foster’s—and her mother’s—comfort while performing, including regular psychiatric check-ups, constant accompaniment by a social worker on set, and the substitution of Foster with her older sister Connie for a few particularly suggestive scenes. 

Foster herself, though, seemed unfazed by her role’s apparent ethical grayness: “To me it was another role, and I understood the difference between making movies and actually being a person. So it wasn’t really impactful for me. I don’t think I was confused by the sexuality in the film,” she recalled. It might be an overstatement to assume that Foster had a complete and clear-eyed understanding of the film’s thematic material at the time, but she embodied this character with such fearlessness and emotional candor that she elucidates it all the same. 

Her character does not get significant screen time until the film’s third act, when the increasingly unstable Bickle takes it upon himself to facilitate her liberation—and yet Iris is not merely the object of Bickle’s crusade but also the film’s beating heart. Upon their first meeting, or in the iconic diner scene, the sociopathic Bickle is baffled by Iris’s naive buoyancy. She’s a victim of a perverse society, undoubtedly more so than Bickle, and yet her sense of indignation seems far less than that which he feels on her—and his—behalf. By the time Bickle goes on his rampage, the textually rich interactions between he and Iris have called into question any notion that his actions are driven by anything other than a need to placate his violent urges in the name of righteous justice. Still, Iris represents the sort of injured humanity that no doubt wrestles for control inside Bickle. The kids aren’t alright, and neither is he. This layered diagnosis of the many diseases plaguing American society after the Vietnam war (and which are just as prescient today) would have been simply incomplete without Foster’s acutely intelligent and affecting performance. 

While Foster would go on to bolster her early-career resume with starring roles in tentpole films like Freaky Friday (1976) and Bugsy Malone (1976), it was undoubtedly Taxi Driver that would come to define this stage of her career; not only for its revered status, but also for what was undoubtedly her coronation as a performer well ahead of her time—and meant for much more than Disney originals. Robert De Niro famously took Foster under his wing while filming, which, it could be reasonably assumed, only refined her enormous talent. “He really helped me understand improvisation and building a character in a way that was almost nonverbal,” Foster said of the experience. With one of the most prolific actor-filmmaker tandems of all time attesting to her skills, Jodie Foster was clearly bound to play with the big kids. 

2. The Silence of the Lambs (1991)

The Silence of the Lambs Review

Foster won her second Oscar for her role as Clarice Starling, the industrious young FBI investigator opposite Anthony Hopkins’ cerebral and chillingly polite Hannibal Lecter, an incarcerated cannibal Starling is tasked with gleaning psychological insight from to help catch a serial killer. Fresh off her first win for her role in 1998’s The Accused, Foster was in a new prime—and while her performance in that film could just as well represent this stage of her career, it is her turn as Starling that has since been immortalized. 

Despite her newfound acclaim in adult roles, Foster had to wait behind industry fixtures such as Michelle Pfeiffer, Meg Ryan, and Laura Dern for the role—all three declined the part due to film’s disturbing themes and Foster, having expressed enthusiasm for the part since she read the 1988 novel, got her shot. 

The film has since reached classic-status—despite controversy surrounding its polarizing treatment of themes related to transgenderism and sexuality—thanks in no small part to Foster’s performance. Foster’s Starling, small in stature, nonetheless consumes every scene she’s in, transcending even Sir Anthony Hopkins, who is also at the top of his game. Director Jonathan Demme frequently frames Clarice in close-ups, which feels like a deliberate rendering of the inescapable male gaze that follows her everywhere, and Foster, with her aptitude for the subdued and unspoken, shines. She convincingly embodies a woman who is simultaneously unwavering and deeply vulnerable in the face of Lecter’s psychological ambushes. It’s the type of thing that separates run-of-the-mill crime thrillers from timeless innovations of the genre—and Foster’s performance is timeless in its own right. 

Would it be going too far to say her role in Silence was one of Foster’s most personal? Perhaps not, since Foster reportedly tried to option the novel even before Demme was attached, and since the film offers compelling reflections on gender politics and the experience of being watched. Foster was, unfortunately, no stranger to such themes in her real life, so it makes sense that she approached the role with profound honesty and vulnerability. Clarice is tough; she’s “the woman that saves the women.” And yet she exists in a discomfiting reality that most women know all too well. 

The tension between these elements illuminates a theme that would come to define the roles Foster took on. If not lambs, then Foster’s unusual life experiences nonetheless scream through her work. From “Why Me?”: “There were things to be done, secrets to keep. I was supposed to be ‘tough,’ like cowboys, like diplomats, like ‘unaffected actresses’—not because anyone asked me to but because I wanted to show them (God knows who) that I was strong. I wanted to show them all that Jodie was so uniquely ‘normal’ and ‘well-adjusted’ that nothing could make her fall. I think I believed all this, my subconscious propaganda.”

3. Contact (1997)

By 1997, Jodie Foster was a bonafide movie star. Suddenly, she found herself being sought after for bigger and bigger projects—which would result in a string of genre star vehicles around the turn of the millennium. The actress would go on to work with the likes of David Fincher and Spike Lee, but it was perhaps her collaboration with Robert Zemeckis in his sci-fi melodrama Contact (1997) that bore the most memorable performance from this period in her career. 

The film, an adaptation of Carl Sagan’s 1988 novel, was a box office success and has largely held up over time despite mixed reviews upon its release. Foster’s performance is far and away the best part of the film, as her character Dr. Ellie Arroway becomes more than a generic sci-fi protagonist in her quest to establish contact with extraterrestrial beings. Foster, with her trademark rugged sensitivity, largely embodies the tension between faith and science and the messy convergence of the two. Like the film’s screenplay, Foster’s performance is interesting because it cleverly subverts easy clichés in favor of a more grounded, humanistic exploration of its otherwise schmaltzy premise. She’s no Ellen Ripley, but she’s just as heroic. 

A film of cosmic ambition, Contact works precisely because of Foster’s ability to bring depth and sincerity to her character. As Dr. Arroway gets swept up in the frenzied worldwide response to her discovery of an otherworldly radio transmission—a flagrant confirmation of the existence of extraterrestrial life—her character nonetheless feels honest and believable, which makes her ultimate journey into space all the more compelling. Zemeckis understands this and rarely separates the audience from Foster even as the film’s scale expands dramatically. 

In Foster’s own words: “I think, more than any character that I’ve ever played, Ellie Arroway is the most like me or at least the most like how I think I should be seen — how I see myself or something.” The lonely astronomer might not be the first of Foster’s characters to feel like a de facto analogue for Foster herself, but her sci-fi milieu only confirms that Foster has the chops to tackle any kind of material. 

Whether she’s surrounded by blue screens or rubbing elbows with other iconic performers, Jodie Foster consistently delivers performances capable of moving even the most cynical viewer. Her filmography boasts a pantheon of strong-willed heroines, precocious youngsters, and complicated women—and her prolific directorial career is nothing to thumb your nose at. With more to come from the legendary actress as she enters her 60s, now is as good a time as ever to appreciate her storied career. 

Written by Connell Oberman

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Becoming known for his portrayal of Count Dracula in the 1927 Broadway adaptation of Bram Stoker’s novel, Lugosi found himself in a slew of Universal’s monster movies (and Hammer’s The Mystery of the Marie Celeste, only their second film, and their oldest surviving), often alongside Boris Karloff, Glenn Strange, and Lon Chaney Jr. By the late 1930s, he had begun to develop health issues as a result of his wounds sustained during the war. Leading roles declined, his efforts to get out of a typecast role never truly happened. He struggled to perform without morphine and, when coupled with his alcoholism, the work began to dry up. His final appearance was in the much-panned Plan 9 From Outer Space, posthumously. He passed on August 16th 1956, having gone upstairs for a nap and never woken up. He’d married five times, had one son, and was buried in Los Angeles at the age of 73.

Lugosi was a giant of the screen, and remains so to this day. Once seen and heard, never forgotten, much like Vincent Price or Christopher Lee would be in later years. His is a presence that transcends the films he starred in, goes beyond his horror staples, and is still adored by millions to this day. If you’re wondering where to start with Bela Lugosi, here are some suggestions for you.

1. Dracula (1931)

The role that brought Bela Lugosi to the United States remains his most iconic, important, and influential.

When Carl Laemmle Jr of Universal took on Dracula to develop their first talking horror picture, it was Lugosi they asked to reprise his role after trying for several other actors. Stepping back into the Count’s shoes wouldn’t be too strange; the film was based on the stage play adaptation he had starred in, and Edward Van Sloan (who had played Van Helsing on stage alongside Lugosi) also returned to face off against his nemesis.

With his thick, stilted English, Lugosi’s Dracula is a vast departure from the novel, where it is stressed that the Count tried as much as possible to speak fluent English (a take that Christopher Lee would adopt when Hammer Films made their version in 1958). Yet despite this, it is Lugosi’s voice we think of when we think of the character, and of vampires in general. When we act out Dracula as kids, or grown-up kids, we all do Lugosi’s accent. His floating mannerisms, almost gliding across the floor with his cloak spread out like bat’s wings, bring the audience into his world. His piercing stare holds you captive. Anyone else pronouncing some of Dracula’s lines would have failed to make quite the impression on the public consciousness. “Listen to them. Children of the Night. What music they make.” Would it sound as menacing, as chilling, in any other voice than Lugosi’s? Others have tried, and they have all failed.

His opening remark in the film – “I am… Dracula” – came to define his entire career. When he passed away, his family decided to bury him in his Dracula cloak. The vampire made him famous, but it shadowed his entire life and legacy. His performance might not have had any blood or fangs, but the vampire fed on him throughout. This character, if nothing else, will ensure he lives forever, but it doomed its hero in other ways, being both a blessing and a curse. If that isn’t a potent-enough metaphor in the film industry, nothing is.

2. White Zombie (1932)

The very next year, Lugosi would unwillingly play his role in cementing another legendary monster on the screen: the zombie. Back in those days, zombies were still very much a tradition of voodooism, an import on the slave ships from African nations, now often depicted in places such as Haiti (see Wes Craven’s The Serpent and The Rainbow from 1988 for a more violent depiction), and it would take films like 1967’s Plague of the Zombies (which itself was inspired by the vampires of Richard Matheson’s novel “I Am Legend”) to give Romero the impetus to really define the modern zombie in 68’s Night of the Living Dead. In 1932, however, zombies were still a fairly new concept to western audiences. They were people brought back to life by magic to do the summoner’s will, and in this case, it’s Lugosi wanting them to turn the mills and work as slave labour.

Often regarded as the first feature-length zombie film, White Zombie plays very simply as an allegory for black slavery. A white aristocrat forces black men to work the land for the profit of the landowner. And the film is, for better or for worse, not remembered for much other than Lugosi’s powerful, mesmerising stare. There hasn’t been a pair of eyes quite like them since, transfixing the viewer without trying very hard. When he puts in the malice, it shows.

Up in his castle, Lugosi’s Murder Legendre (yes, that’s really the character’s name) is a scheming, plotting spider of a man, twisting the love of the central characters for each other into murder. He is the whisperer in the ear, not too far removed from Ann Radcliffe’s evil monk Schedoni in her classic gothic novel “The Italian” (1795). He might not have liked being typecast into sinister, evil characters, but when he really put his heart and soul into it, he outshone everyone and everything around him. Some of the other acting isn’t great in White Zombie, but its air of malice is achieved by some decent directing and Lugosi’s impossible presence.

3. Ninotchka (1939)

Lugosi was cast as so many sinister villains in horror and science fiction (his role in the influential 1939 serial ‘The Phantom Creeps’ is one of his best) that it is unfortunate he didn’t get the chance to spread his wings further. Despite fourth billing in the end credits of Ninotchka, a romantic comedy following Greta Garbo’s Comrade Ninotchka as she falls in love with Melvyn Douglas in Paris against her loyalties to communist Russia, Lugosi only appears in one scene near the end, and only for three minutes or so. There are other characters that appear pretty much throughout the entirety of the film that are underneath Lugosi’s name. In Ninotchka, he was on the very verge of breaking out from his typecast role and into the mainstream.

With only a few moments of screentime, it is clear to see what Lugosi could have been if he had been given the chance to properly go for it. That is not to say that his roles in films such as Son of Frankenstein and The Wolf Man aren’t great, but in three minutes he brings class, presence, and power to a simple scene. His Commissar Razinin is relaxed yet stern, completely in control of the scene. His eyes still hold menace, his stance still holds power. Hollywood star Greta Garbo trembles before him. Even this small glimpse of him as something other than a horror bit-part shows what a talented actor he was.

This was his chance, a break that never came to be. Despite the film receiving four Oscar nominations (Best Picture, Best Actress, Best Original Story, and Best Screenplay), it did nothing for his career. Under a decade later he was reprising his role as Dracula in Abbot and Costello Meet Frankenstein, a fun spoof by Universal of their own films. One wonders what might have happened to Lugosi’s career if more people had taken notice of this scene-stealer and stretched it out over an entire film, or even a string of them. Horror was grateful to have him, but for the rest of the world it’s a tragedy they never got him.

Born into an Irish-British family, Lansbury grew up around actors: her mother was Moyna McGill (born in Belfast), a regular in West End shows and sometimes film. She later stated that cinema, television and books were her way of ‘self-education’. This ‘education’ led to her becoming besotted with cinema, eventually landing her first stage role in a school production of Maxwell Anderson’s “Mary of Scotland”.

Her film career began three years after she graduated from the Feagin School of Drama and Radio. In Gaslight (George Cukor’s 1944 film based upon the Patrick Hamilton 1938 play), she amassed high praise for her performance, earning an Academy Award nomination for Best Supporting Actress. Several instances of her early film work gained her accolades such as this, highlighting her flair for dramatic roles as much as comedic ones.

Angela Lansbury kept us glued to the screen and always invested in the trajectory of her character, regardless of whether she took a supporting or leading role in a project. From her highly nuanced performances of individualist upper-class dames such as “Mame” (for which she originated the role on Broadway in 1966) and quick-witted sleuthing detective Jessica Fletcher in Murder, She Wrote, her evident acting flair always led us to become engrossed in her performances on stage and on the screen.

The performances mentioned below only skim the surface of her extensive filmography, which houses multiple gems and intergenerational classics. While there is much of Angela Lansbury’s work to discover and enjoy, these are Angela Lansbury’s 3 Career-Defining Performances.

1. The Picture of Dorian Gray (1945)

Angela Lansbury’s contribution to Albert Lewin’s adaptation of Oscar Wilde’s classic novel “The Picture of Dorian Gray” marks the first of her turns at the heart of many book-turned-film pieces. She plays tavern singer Sibyl Vane who falls for – and is briefly engaged to – the titular protagonist Dorian Gray (Hurd Hatfield). The movie itself is shot in black-and-white, with an interesting use of Technicolour to indicate the handsome, or degenerate, portrait of Dorian. It gained 6 nominations in total, most notably a Golden Globe win for Angela Lansbury (detailed below), and an Oscars Best Cinematography win for Harry Stradling. Interestingly, both Wilde (who penned the novel) and Lewin (the film’s director) posthumously won the 1996 Hugo Award, a literary award for Best Dramatic Presentation.

Despite being just eighteen years old, Angela Lansbury holds her own amongst her co-stars. In one particular instance, she watches Dorian playing Chopin’s “Prelude No. 24” at his piano. She enters the room wordlessly and has minimal dialogue with Dorian after he has finished playing. Her posture and intense but deeply thoughtful gaze immediately convey the chemistry she has with him, indicating a slew of unspoken thoughts. Another moment of note is when she sings “Goodbye Little Yellow Bird” – Lansbury’s classical vocal training and sweet vocal tone shine through here. This musical moment encapsulates her enigmatic performance.

It is easy to see how Angela Lansbury earned the 1945 Golden Globe Award for Best Supporting Actress for her turn in this film. She also got nominated for the 1945 Oscar for the same category but lost to Anne Revere (National Velvet). Her mature and assured command of the screen in this role led the pathway to her highly acclaimed career.

2. The Reluctant Debutante (1958)

The Reluctant Debutante was directed by Vicente Minnelli and the screenplay was written by William Douglas-Home (who also wrote the 1955 play). It was not nominated for any awards, but it came in at number 12 on the British Box Office’s Most Popular Film for 1959. Angela plays Mabel Claremont, Sheila Broadbent’s (Kay Kendall’s) chatty friend. The cast also includes Rex Harrison as Jimmy Broadbent and Sandra Dee as Jane Broadbent. The film was remade in 2003 under the title What a Girl Wants, with Amanda Bynes as Daphne Reynolds (the updated version of Sandra Dee’s character) and Colin Firth as Henry Dashwood (a modern version of Rex Harrison’s character).

In The Reluctant Debutante, the role of Mabel particularly showcases Lansbury’s impeccable comedic timing. The scenes in which she schemes alongside the Broadbent couple are deliciously funny; her lines are delivered with an utterly charming smoothness that keeps you endlessly curious about how she will end up strong-arming the outcome of her daughter’s fate. A highlight of Lansbury’s performance in this film is one of her earlier scenes when she and her daughter meet Jane Broadbent for the first time. Angela carries an eccentric bravado with this character that leaves you open-mouthed in a state of shocked awe. The way she commands the driver to move her bags so that everyone can ‘squeeze together’ in the same car is so slick that it leaves you out of breath just watching it.

Something significant to note with this entry is that it marks the actor’s move from being typecast as the ingenue to a more motherly and mature figure. Lansbury’s performances within adapted films act as bookmarks to her acting development. Blue Hawaii (1961) serves as another example of this, as it sees her playing mother to the iconic Elvis Presley and donning a southern accent with tremendous comedic beats. Her roles in films of this type showcase her ability for levity alongside her well-shown dramatic acting talents. This goes to show that throughout her life, and subsequently through her performances, Lansbury highlights different nuances within different characters to make them jump off of the page and onto the screen.

3. Beauty and the Beast (1991)

Beauty and the Beast Review

The final film in this Career-Defining Performances list is an all-time animated classic. Directed by Gary Trousdale and Kirk Wise, amazingly in their directorial debuts, with songs penned by the legendary Howard Ashman and Alan Menken, Beauty and the Beast won multiple awards, including both the Academy Award and the Golden Globe for Best Score. It also became the first animated film to ever be nominated for the Academy Award for Best Picture. Angela Lansbury plays the iconic wisecracking, heart-on-her-sleeve Mrs Potts. In other words, the perfect maternal character archetype.

Throughout Beauty and the Beast, Lansbury infuses charm and motherly warmth into the character of Mrs Potts through her nuanced vocal delivery. Additionally, her singing elevates this, which in turn has gifted us a beautiful Disney love ballad. To wax lyrical (excuse the pun, à la Lumière!) on the origins of this ballad for a moment, it is widely known that Angela delivered “Tale as Old as Time” in just one take. Unbelievably, she did not think that she was fit to sing a romantic ballad as it was not within her usual vocal repertoire. Thank goodness she was convinced otherwise, as that one-take-wonder is what is seen on screen. Throughout the film, whilst both singing and speaking, with her effortless yet grounded performance, she breathes life into a teapot – a feat that only she could make possible.

The trajectory of Angela Lansbury’s career progressed from ingenue (with Sybil in The Picture of Dorian Gray) to maternal figure (see the description of her work in The Reluctant Debutante) to grandmother-type roles. This final archetype, in many ways, has crystallized the legacy of her standout characters. Lansbury herself remarked that these roles “pulled her out of the abyss” following her husband’s death in 2003. It is easy to see why as, within the context of these films, her characterisations have maintained levity and emotional grounding to audiences in the decades that have followed. Some examples of these are Dowager Empress Marie Feodorovna Romanov (Anastasia’s grandmother) in Anastasia (1997) and the withdrawn-but-ultimately-nurturing Eglantine Price in another classic Disney flick, Bedknobs and Broomsticks (1971).

It is arguable that this role in Beauty and the Beast cemented her legacy. With her contribution to this picture, she introduced her acting feats to a new generation of film-watchers who had never before been exposed to her work. Due to the mark that this carved on not only her career, but on Disney’s history and the trajectory of the roles she played, Angela Lansbury is and will be forever synonymous with this part which will eternally gain new legions of fans in all stages of their lives.

Recommended for you: Marilyn Monroe: 3 Career-Defining Performances

During her 96-year life, Angela Lansbury chalked up 122 acting credits to her name. The discussion of the three above performances, as well as the allusion to several more, evidently serves as a summary of her career: the performances are incredibly varied and efficiently delivered by a master of her craft, wherein that delivery subsequently lives on beyond her life. To quote the master herself, “actors are not made, they are born.”

Written by Alannah Purslow

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His performance as Morpheus is what Laurence Fishburne will be eternally remembered for but, in all his other years as an actor, Fishburne has tended to play interesting and thought-provoking characters. Fans of the Francis Ford Coppola war film Apocalypse Now (1979) will surely remember a fresh-faced Fishburne appearing as the cocky but charming Tyrone Miller aka Mr. Clean. Determined at a young age to break into the film industry, a then 14-year-old Fishburne lied about his age to get the part in the legendary project – how different his life could have been if this mischievous decision blew up in the young man’s face.

Francis Ford Coppola’s film should have been the catalyst for a rapid rise to stardom, and yet Fishburne’s career trajectory wasn’t as comfortable as one might think. The early part of the 1980s led the actor down a path of minor television and stage appearances, while working as a bouncer in the New York club scene. Such a resolute figure wasn’t deterred though, and it was Coppola once again that gave the actor another break with a supporting role in The Cotton Club (1984), before he popped up in Steven Spielberg’s critically acclaimed film The Color Purple (1985). The 80s were an important part of Fishburne’s apprenticeship, opening the door to the most successful and important decade of his career: the 1990s.

The 90s is the decade that will forever define Laurence Fishburne as a screen presence, and it is in these 10 years that his three career-defining performances are found. What began with King of New York in 1990, ended with his role as Morpheus in The Matrix in 1999. The decade turned him into a bona fide star, one with incredible talent and diversity, and led to formidable success in the new millennium in franchises such as John Wick and ‘Hannibal’. We at The Film Magazine are here for something in particular though, so let’s delve into the three performances that have cultivated an impressive and often underappreciated career.

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1. Boyz n the Hood (1991)

1991 was the year that Larry Fishburne (the name he went by up until 1993) got his first major iconic role in the late John Singleton’s legendary Boyz n the Hood. The film’s undeniable legacy was cemented from the beginning, and it hasn’t waned since.

The film depicts life on the mean streets of South Central Los Angeles through the eyes of the young Jason “Tre” Styles 111 (Cuba Gooding Jr.), and his friends Ricky Baker (Morris Chestnut) and Darrin “Doughboy” Baker (Ice Cube), the latter now being a fully-fledged member of the Crips gang after his release from prison. The film’s grittiness and authentic representation of such violent streets is what propelled it into the public eye, but it was the teachings and the wisdom of Fishburne’s character, Jason “Furious” Styles Jr., that made the biggest impact.

Fishburne is tremendous in this authoritative role as the former soldier and current community activist fighting for what he believes and guiding his impressionable son into the light. His various speeches throughout the film – whether a discreet talk with his son or his preaching on the side of the road – are some of Boyz n the Hood’s most intelligent and powerful moments. Boyz n the Hood is etched into black history; furious is the man who knows all too well about the racism and discrimination that his people have faced and continue to experience. And yet, instead of violence, this monk-like figure relies on education, inspiration, and enlightenment to help his brothers and sisters in the fight against the system and the people that enforce it.

The South Central streets are ruthless. They will chew you up and spit you out. Fishburne’s Furious knows this, and his parental instincts go into overdrive when Trey moves in with him. The connection that the two characters develop is meaningful; Trey not only has a caring father figure in his life to keep him on the straight and narrow, but he has an actual father, something that the other boys in the area do not. Fishburne’s interpretation of the character is majestic; his mannerisms, his use of intelligent thought and reasoning, is what separates the character from the rest, and it is this that makes him truly memorable.

A lack of award nominations can’t even derail the impact that Furious Styles had on the future of black cinema, and we’ve seen multiple amalgamations of this character in cinema ever since – you could say that Morpheus is just another design of the same character, teaching the same ideologies for a better and more fruitful future. Fishburne really knocked it out of the park in Boyz n the Hood, and his success in the role is what allowed him to step it up a notch for his next gigantic performance in 1993.

2. What’s Love Got to Do with It (1993)

Brian Gibson’s What’s Love Got to Do with It is a film that needs little introduction. This interpretation of the life and career of the legendary Tina Tuner and her abusive relationship with Ike Tuner is one of the greatest biopics of all time – it never shies away from the violence of their relationship and is as brutal as it is magnificent. Ike and Turner: the band, the relationship, the… romance? Their venomous relationship shrouded an incredibly successful musical partnership that had the pair headlining arenas with the likes of The Rolling Stones and Otis Redding before it all fell apart because of Ike’s self-destructive ego and his cowardly violent streak.

The film’s success couldn’t have been what it was without two monumental performances leading the way, and that’s exactly what it had. Reunited so soon after both appeared in Boyz n the Hood (Bassett portrayed the ex-wife of Fishburne’s character in the 1991 film), Angela Bassett portrays Tina and Laurence Fishburne plays Ike; an incredibly formidable on-screen partnership that led to the pair receiving nominations at that year’s Oscars. What’s Love Got to Do with It begins very softly by exploring the origins of Tina Turner, real name Anna Mae Bullock. The future star’s love of music, her incredible singing voice, and how she fell in love with her soon-to-be husband and eventual nemesis. Even though it’s Tina’s singing voice you hear in the film, Bassett’s perfect lip syncing and expertly performed mannerisms through months of endless mimicking make you think that it truly is her, but it is Fishburne’s performance that ends up being the most iconic.

Laurence Fishburne’s iteration of Ike is the devil incarnate. It is the complete opposite representation of a man than his performance as Furious Styles – to swing so far right with this character is a testament to Fishburne’s diverse acting palette. The film was known as not being absolute gospel, but the material given by Tina herself (from her autobiography “I Tina”), which was then merged with Kate Lanier’s exquisite screenplay, allowed Fishburne to create his version of the man that very much existed in one form or another. The manipulation that began with niceties but was really a form of grooming is truly shocking and vicious, and Fishburne nails this.

It says a lot about Laurence Fishburne’s performance that the man himself, the real-life Ike Turner, praised Fishburne for the role in his own autobiography “Takin’ Back My Name”, even if he did claim the film ruined his reputation – it seems as if you did an awful lot of that yourself, Mr. Turner. Some of the scenes were said to be so tough to film, mentally and physically, that it becomes slightly poignant when you understand that Fishburne was incredibly attentive towards Bassett during these scenes, always wanting her to feel comfortable and at ease. Not only is the man a terrific actor but he’s a genuinely nice guy it seems as well, which only adds to the magnitude of this performance.

Two iconic roles in two years though, it doesn’t get much better than that, does it? If only he knew where these two performances would eventually lead him – to a dystopian future with monstrous acclaim.

3. The Matrix (1999)

For an actor to end the most critically acclaimed decade of their career, as well as wrap up the millennium, with a film like The Matrix is almost unheard of. It could have been very different though, if Will Smith accepted the role of Neo and Sean Connery (yes, you read that right) didn’t choose Entrapment instead – although, let your mind wander for a bit and just imagine that possibility. It was everyone else’s gain though because, looking back, Laurence Fishburne and Keanu Reeves were perfectly cast in The Wachowski’s science fiction epic. With a script and premise that hardly any of the cast and crew understood (apart from Fishburne of course… or at least so he claims), and with the schedule packed with fighting choreography, wire-training, special effects, and managing injuries, it was doomed to fail. Thankfully, it did not.

After Thomas Anderson, “Neo”, begins to accept that things aren’t all as they seem to be in his world of computer hacking, a mysterious woman called Trinity (Carrie-Anne Moss) explains that a man named Morpheus (Fishburne) has all the answers Neo needs. The wheels of thought in Neo’s brain begin to move, and it’s not long before he meets the mysterious Morpheus who preaches his now infamous red pill, blue pill speech to him, thus beginning a journey of awakening. Morpheus is captain of a ship in the real world, but also acts as the preacher and mentor to the others in his search for “The One”, something he thinks he has found in Neo.

Morpheus is like an amalgamation of several of Laurence Fishburne’s previous characters; the deep-thinking attitude of Furious, the often over confidence of Ike Turner, and the caring nature of Fishburne himself. His portrayal of Morpheus is one of the most recognizable performances in modern cinema; whether it’s the tiny black sunglasses or the long leather coat, Morpheus is as big and important to the franchise as Neo is.

His character has the best dialogue in the series too. Quotes such as “Have you ever had a dream, Neo, that you were so sure was real?”, and “Don’t think you are. Know you are,” as he proceeds to beat Neo black and blue in the now famous dojo scene, are particular standouts. Morpheus is Yoda, he is Gandalf; an all-powerful figure that always has the good of the world in his mind.

Fishburne couldn’t have played the role any better than he did. Without him, The Matrix was a guaranteed bust – that might be brutally honest, but everyone knows it to be true. Say what you like about the sequels – they do run hot and cold – but Morpheus is one of the shining lights in both. The dynamic that Reeves and Fishburne have is undeniable; they are magnetic and propel each other to new heights in each scene they share – an even greater chemistry than the one Fishburne had with Bassett.

It feels almost poetic that Laurence Fishburne would end the decade with a character of such note. After struggling for years for a role of any significance, for him to then enter the 2000s as this iconic figure is a dream so real it becomes truth. Where do you go from success like this though? It’s a task of immense pressure to keep up with appearances, for most people that is, but one that Laurence Fishburne grabbed with both hands and drove forward.

Recommended for you: Where to Start with Keanu Reeves

In the years since The Matrix, Fishburne has found considerable success. Along with his role as Jack Crawford opposite Mads Mikkelsen and his reunion with Reeves in John Wick, Fishburne has also appeared in both the Marvel Cinematic Universe and DC Universe. Whatever future success Fishburne achieves, it will be because of that special decade of the 90s that changed his life forever, and as fans of cinema and the man himself, we wouldn’t want it any other way.

Written by John McDonald

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In addition to his live-action roles, Reeves has lent his voice to numerous animated works, including Toy Story 4, and even appeared as himself in The Spongebob Movie: Sponge on the Run. In the 1990s, Reeves also played bass guitar in the alternative rock band Dogstar.

Despite his impressive body of work, a common refrain from critics and audiences repeated throughout the years is that Reeves is actually a bad actor, who can’t play anybody but himself. That he’s stiff and awkward and even dumb. Though Reeves has certainly missed the mark a few times in his career, most notably with his role as Jonathan Harker in Francis Ford Coppola’s Dracula, to dismiss his entire filmography would be a waste of an incredibly talented and versatile actor who has proven himself time and time again.

So where are you supposed to start with an actor like Keanu Reeves? We at The Film Magazine have put together a shortlist of three particularly special films that best showcase Reeves’ strengths and his range as an actor, as well as his creative evolution over the years. This is Where to Start with Keanu Reeves.

1. My Own Private Idaho (1991)

Released the same year as Point Break, which laid the groundwork for Reeves’ eventual ascent to action stardom, Gus Van Sant’s My Own Private Idaho introduced Keanu Reeves to adult audiences. The film, partly based upon Shakespeare’s plays about Henry IV and Henry V, stars the late River Phoenix as Mike Waters, a street hustler who suffers from narcolepsy, searching for love and purpose in Portland, Oregon. Reeves plays his best friend Scott Favor, a fellow street hustler and prodigal son of Portland’s mayor, who accompanies Waters on a cross-country road trip in search of his mother.

In My Own Private Idaho, Reeves is cocky, arrogant, elusive, and endlessly charming. He rides a motorcycle, wears a leather jacket. He doesn’t have to try to be cool – he just is. He’s the kind of guy who will never love you as much as you love him, the kind of guy you’d follow around forever if you could. While Phoenix gives an incredibly vulnerable and heartbreaking performance, it’s worth noting that Reeves is the one who has the burden of spouting Shakespeare, something he does really well. It’s over the top and theatrical, and it’s in those moments that you can really see Reeves’ versatility.

His onscreen partnership with Phoenix, someone he was close friends with in real life, adds to the authenticity of both their performances. Acting is, fundamentally, about reacting, and that’s something Reeves does particularly well. This is perhaps best showcased in the campfire scene in which Mike confesses his love for Scott. It’s a really vulnerable scene and relies almost entirely on Reeves’ ability to listen to his scene partner. You can see the wheels in his mind turning, the way his eyes, alight with fire, watch Mike intently. Reeves doesn’t have to say anything. You know how he feels just by looking at him.

My Own Private Idaho is a really wonderful entry in Reeves’s early career and it’s a great choice if you’re looking for something quiet, poignant, and haunting.

2. Speed (1994)

Keanu Reeves was not the first choice to play bomb disposal specialist Jack Tavern in Jan de Bont’s Speed (1994). According to Esquire, the studio first asked Stephen Baldwin of all people. Fox even went through several other actors before finally settling on Reeves, who hadn’t yet become a household name. It would be six years before he’d star in the groundbreaking dystopian sci-fi The Matrix, and his then-recent performances in the costume dramas Dracula and Much Ado About Nothing weren’t well received by critics. But Speed was a turning point for Reeves. Aside from becoming a huge summer blockbuster, the film made him into an action superstar and a bona fide leading man.

With Speed, Keanu Reeves changed what it meant to be a Hollywood action star. “Unlike the impossibly ripped celluloid supermen of the ‘80s like Schwarzenegger and Stallone, Reeves looked human, vulnerable, and life-size,” wrote Chris Nashawaty.

Jack Tavern is badass and heroic and it’s really easy to see why Sandra Bullock’s Annie falls in love with him by the end. His presence is comforting and steady, and he’s never patronizing even when Annie struggles to maintain control of a bus that will blow up if it goes below 50 miles per hour. Speed is as slick and action-packed as it is romantic, and Reeves sells every moment of it.

3. John Wick (2014)

If Speed was a turning point for the career of Keanu Reeves, 2014’s John Wick was his unofficial comeback.

More than a decade after Matrix: Revolutions was released, and following a string of critical and commercial disappointments, Reeves reclaimed his rightful place in Hollywood, reminding us all of what a true movie star looks like.

In the first instalment of this sleek action series, Reeves stars as the titular assassin, who, after a peaceful retirement, is dragged back into the underworld of crime after a group of Russian gangsters, led by Losef Tarasov (Alfie Allen), kill his dog and steal his car. Motivated by revenge and still grieving the death of his wife, Wick embarks on a pulse-pounding, action-packed quest for retribution. The film is often credited with revitalizing the genre and has since grown into an immensely successful franchise.

John Wick is a man of few words. He speaks with his body. The action in the film feels grounded and weighty. When John is wounded, when his gun jams, when he takes a life, we feel it. And it’s all because of how much control Reeves has over his physicality, how in tune he is with his body. Even as the series goes on and action sequences become more elaborate with each new chapter, Reeves makes it all feel real.

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As an actor, Keanu Reeves can transform seamlessly into everything from lovable idiot to cocky playboy, action hero to romantic leading man with a simple raise of an eyebrow or the turn of a phrase. He is vulnerable and human. He’s a generous scene partner, always listening and always watching. More than anything, Keanu Reeves represents the best of what cinema can be, and even though his skills are often overlooked he nevertheless continues to captivate. Critic Angelica Bastien said it best, “… Keanu is more powerful than actors who rely on physical transformation as shorthand for depth, because he taps into something much more primal and elusive: the truth.”

Van Sant worked his way up the ranks of filmmaking by acting as a production assistant to producer Ken Shapiro before creating his first film Alice in Hollywood, a feature that was never released. In these early days, he began to observe the cultures around him, with one of his favourite people-watching posts being downtown Hollywood where the surroundings differed far from the neighbouring Beverly Hills. Inspired by the marginalised communities that populated the area, Van Sant once again returned to the director’s chair, making Mala Noche (1986), a love story entwined with themes of immigration and urban poverty. While the film remains primarily unrecognised against Van Sant’s mighty filmography, Mala Noche is where Van Sant’s distinct style began.

Following Van Sant’s introduction to film festivals and premieres, big-name studios such as Universal Pictures began to take note of the upcoming creator. The kinship eventually sizzled out after Van Sant pitched a handful of unsuccessful ideas, yet ironically the rejected pitches would become cinematic staples, including Drugstore Cowboy (1989) and My Own Private Idaho (1991). Fast forward to the immensely successful release of both of these films, Van Sant began to rub shoulders with the mainstream market, making beloved films such as Good Will Hunting (1997), Elephant (2003), Milk (2008), and Don’t Worry, He Won’t Get Far on Foot (2018). 

Despite his career flourishing and his work expanding to the masses, not once has his quintessential methodology changed; every single one of his films is confrontational, exploring drug use, mental illness, gun violence, hate crime and suicide with a relentlessly heavy hand. To help navigate his dense filmography is The Film Magazine’s official guide on Where to Start with Gus Van Sant. 

1. My Own Private Idaho (1991)

The early days of Gus Van Sant’s career saw him create a film steeped in allegories concerning the everlasting polarisation of society. It is about the outsider looking in, the inherent conflicts that consistently arise concerning class and queer love. 

My Own Private Idaho follows best friends Mike (River Phoenix) and Scott (Keanu Reeves) as they venture to find Mike’s distant mother. Van Sant ingrains the aesthetics with a level of intimacy that contrasts and compliments the vast landscapes that the film traverses, with the centrality always adhering to the bond between Mike and Scott no matter the boundless road movie scenery. They never become swallowed by the detailed landscapes they travel across; instead, Van Sant locates focus on the incredibly emotional voyage that the two young men go on. 

Van Sant consistently infuses elements of individuality into his work, with My Own Private Idaho being no exception. The film is loosely based on the Shakespearean tales “Henry IV, Part I” and “Henry IV, Part II”, whose origins circulated in the late 1500s. These tragedies explored familial expectations and battles between freedom and self-expression, as seen in My Own Private Idaho; however, Van Sant’s gust of modernity coupled with the film’s dream-like quality amplifies the harsh truths that come with brooding introspection unlike ever before.

2. Good Will Hunting (1997)

5 Moments in Good Will Hunting That Will Give You Chills

Good Will Hunting has a place on nearly every list defining cinematic classics, and rightfully so.

Gus Van Sant takes us on a journey of self-discovery, as we see Will Hunting (Matt Damon), a janitor at MIT, form an unlikely but life-affirming friendship with psychology professor Sean Maguire (Robin Williams). 

The film is brimming with some of the most moving scenes in film history, whether that be lectures from Maguire or moments of heartfelt anger outbursts from Will as he struggles with his own fears of progression. Whilst Van Sant’s fantastic directing beautifully captures the sincerity of the narrative, the most impressive factor is how the director allows the film to speak for itself.

There is a purposeful lack of whimsy within the camera work, forgoing eccentricity in favour of letting the earnest dialogue take over, encouraging us to sit and become utterly engrossed in the profound venture that the characters go on. 

3. Elephant (2003)

Gus Van Sant has never one to shy away from the brutal truths of reality, Elephant being the filmmaker’s telling of a topic that has never seemed more relevant: a mass shooting.

Elephant follows a group of students, unaware that a mass shooting will soon occur. The film is partially based on the Columbine High School Massacre of 1999, taking heed of the tragedy and forming a film that does not sensationalise or create a spectacle but instead uses bleak monotony to root the narrative as a realist piece. The film acts as a challenge, not one that dares us to carry on watching as a play of twisted entertainment, but in the way that Van Sant portrays the acts of violence as authentic.

Rather than conjure a script with adolescent dialogue written by middle-aged writers, Van Sant created an ongoing script that formed concurrently to the filmmaking, where improvisation was encouraged. The result is a film that plays out with an uncomfortable level of validity.

Elephant’s execution was warmly received by critics and moviegoers alike, with much of the critical reception favouring the unforgiving way the narrative unfolded. Van Sant’s cold take on a matter so close to the hearts of many eventually won him the Palme d’Or at the 2003 Cannes Film Festival, outperforming the likes of Dogville, Swimming Pool and Mystic River.

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Gus Van Sant yields a specific power with the camera, with every one of his films encroaching upon the real and infecting the screen with a potent ferocity that fails to quit. From sweeping melodramas to gut-wrenchingly confrontational slices of life, Gus Van Sant’s filmography is both rare and more than worthwhile to explore. 

The creation of film stock (also known as celluloid) in the late 1880s made filmmaking possible due to the relative ease of capturing the moving image thanks to the stock’s ability to capture transmitted light, compared to previous methods in which the ‘stock’ was made of delicate paper rolls. Digital cinematography updated this procedure using image sensors to record the action and has, across the first two decades of the 21st century, surpassed stock’s popularity to become the dominating method within filmmaking worldwide.

Contemporary filmmaking commonly employs digital film to create vivid and immersive pictures. But, despite the ongoing use of digital within the modern age, many film creators insist on creatively traversing back in time and using traditional stock to photograph incredible images with stunningly unique textures. Diving deep into this ongoing debate, The Film Magazine introduces this guide on film stock vs digital. 

Follow @thefilmagazine on Twitter.

Film Stock

Celluloid was at the heart of cinema’s creative and popular booms: it was the choice of the Lumière Brothers when they made history by bringing cinema to the masses, it witnessed the Golden Age of Hollywood, it oversaw the transition from black and white to colour for the first time. The method even photographed Orson Welles’ Citizen Kane (1941), a film widely considered to be the most important ever made. Much of the contemporary love for film derives from celluloid’s groundbreaking essence that was there from the birth of cinema. Whilst nostalgia plays a prominent role in the appreciation of stock to this day, the medium stands on its own two feet as an interesting, meaningful and enjoyable storytelling approach. 

The sheer technicalities of film stock provide a stunning image, with a captivating and diluted level of visual grain that adds an air of authenticity, a niche pleasure for the eye that infuses a degree of realism. Dramas become embellished with a gritty quality that enhances the dreary atmosphere, horror becomes more gothic, and noir films become coated in a cryptic aura. Further intensifying the look is film’s visual warmness that softens the edges. It has roll-off, meaning that the distinctions between highlights and shadows, borders and lines, are gradually defined rather than sharply and harshly established; think of the film No Country for Old Men (2007) or the more recent Babylon (2022). Or, to further reminiscence on the beauty of the film, take a look at Quentin Tarantino’s entire filmography. 

Tarantino is a filmmaker vehemently devoted to film stock, often going on record to spew his disdain over digital screening. At a Cannes press conference for an anniversary screening of Pulp Fiction (1994), the director stated, “As far as I’m concerned, digital projection is the death of cinema”. While many may raise an eyebrow at the level of contempt, there is evidence that the burgeoning desire for an analogue-like image can sometimes surpass the appeal of digital filmmaking. Many recent films were shot on film stock, such as Inception (2010) and The Lighthouse (2019), while some modern digital films including Lady Bird (2017) and Call Me by Your Name (2017) were shot digitally but used particular cameras such as an Arri Alexa (which has an electronically-produced grain on the sensor) in an attempt to mimic film stock’s ‘lived in’ effect. 

Digital

Digital filmmaking, on the other hand, has a number of quirks that make it a strong contender in the battle between traditional and contemporary methods. Digital came to fruition in the 1990s, slowly becoming the primary method after a decade-or-so of growing in the market. In the 2010s, digital was the dominant method, making it increasingly rare to see a purely analogue film. The change to digital has altered the course of cinema, with the hyper-realistic mode of aesthetics and the brutally sharp definition arguably aiding in the influx of fast-paced, action-fantasy-based films; particularly that from the various comic book universes. 

How the technology projects the frame rate makes for that now-classic Ultra HD 4K look that so many of us crave when it comes to films with a kaleidoscope of colours and tones to explore. Movies such as Everything Everywhere All at Once (2022) and the John Wick series are electrically charged with fierce visuals at the hands of digitisation. You feel like you are wearing 3D goggles without the blue-red hues overtaking the screen. Digital has transformed the industry, both on a visual and a commercial level. 

Logistics

Film stock is costly, with films opting to shoot on the likes of 35mm, 70mm and IMAX, all costing thousands upon thousands more than their digital counterparts (per day), with the editing process far more extensive due to the stock often needing to be converted to digital to make necessary adjustments. The entire process from start to finish is tedious, but it is still an art form. Whilst total respect must be paid to the beauty of celluloid methods, an essential factor of the popularity of digital methods is its means of accessibility. 

Cinema can be a cruel industry, with films costing copious amounts of money to produce. Whilst the market is still incredibly cutthroat, digital production allows nearly anyone with access to a recording device the ability to make a film.

Nineties classic The Blair Witch Project (1999) was mainly shot on a relatively attainable camcorder. Taking this independent approach even further is the recent use of phone technology to film entire movies, such as Tangerine (2015).

Advancing the logistics of digital methods is how they can withhold footage for an infinite amount of time. Film stock, by comparison, requires dust-free, sunlight-free environments kept at a steady low temperature to maintain its quality. The storage of film stock is therefore costly, and there have been countless dreaded horror stories of how entire sections of footage have been lost or destroyed when captured on stock even when it has been maintained correctly, largely due to the lack of insurance that the material withholds. Tod Browning’s London After Midnight (1927) became an infamous lost film after a vault fire in 1965 at MGM Studios caused the stock to be demolished. In contrast, digitised cinema has the permanence to be treasured for an eternity should it be archived with the appropriate equipment capable of playing it. 

On Set

Celluloid has a unique, irreplicable quality where every shot, scene, and still, must be deliberate. Once something has been recorded, it must be meticulously developed and processed before anyone can view it. To see whether your day of filming has achieved the required results, the director and producers must await dailies that often aren’t available until the next morning. In digital film, the image is there immediately, ready for the director to watch on set and then adjust as necessary, or go ahead with retakes. Every movement is carefully selected with film stock, and devotion to nailing the scene is vital. Digital empowers improvisation and especially thrives in post-production, which is valuable to the many films relying on post-production effects to conjure entire sequences. Whether or not some digital films can capture the same aesthetics seen on stock is an argument that is continuously batted back and forth within this discourse, yet one undeniable aspect is that celluloid filmmaking ensures more control for the filmmakers on set.

Film does not suit every project; imagine Bullet Train (2022) without the neon-lit ferocity that digital methods provide, or take the visuals of The Revenant (2015) without the razor-sharp definition that aids its unforgiving realism. Great modern cinematographers like three-time Oscar winner Emmanuel Lubezki have long embraced the freedom of movement that having lighter digital cameras offers, and his work alongside Terrence Malick and Alejandro G. Iñárritu has been some of the most visually resplendent in US cinema over the past several decades.

Likewise, digital is not the perfect choice for every film. Christopher Nolan and cinematographer Hoyte van Hoytema were able to capture the timelessness of war-time footage and the classic war movies of generations gone by when they filmed Dunkirk (2017). Meanwhile, J.J. Abrams and Lucasfilm were able to use a return to film stock as a promotional method for their seventh Star Wars film The Force Awakens (2015), promising fans who were critical of the fully-digital prequels Attack of the Clones (2002) and Revenge of the Sith (2005) that they would offer a visual experience more akin to the classic trilogy released between 1977 and 1983.

Despite the quality of film stock being so high that 4K versions of classic films can still be released on home video to this day, there will never be a concise answer to the question of which method looks best. The market will, however, dictate which one maintains or establishes dominance. In recent years, there has been an influx of films pouring into the mainstream movie market that benefit from digital methods, such as Avatar The Way of Water (2022) and Indiana Jones and the Dial of Destiny (2023). And, with the risk versus reward of every tentpole studio release topping hundreds of millions of dollars, it is likely that studios will continue to prefer digital filmmaking as it is both cheaper and offers them more insurance regarding the quality of the footage attained.

The most important takeaway from this ongoing debate is not which style is best, but how we can ensure the continuity of both as viable options in mainstream and independent filmmaking. Film stock’s prior dominance does not mean automatic championship, nor do digitalisation practices reign in this debate due to their contemporary popularity. All that matters is that filmmakers are allowed to choose whichever method is appropriate for the film. By keeping film stock alive and well, the chance for filmmaking fluidity remains possible.

Over 35 years, Wong has shown a fascination with themes of time, love and human connection, exploring them with visual pizzazz, temporally-shifting storytelling and fascinatingly complex characters. His love stories sweep you along and pull at your heartstrings, but they are rarely straightforward, My Blueberry Nights being the closest he has ever come to a rom-com and the darker, more contentious tale of romance Happy Together being a rare and therefore provocative East Asian queer relationship film. 

Frequently collaborating with charismatic performers like Tony Leung (Ashes of Time, Chungking Express, Happy Together, In the Mood for Love, 2046 and The Grandmaster), Maggie Cheung (Days of Being Wild, Ashes of Time, In the Mood for Love and 2046) and Leslie Cheung (Days of Being Wild, Ashes of Time and Happy Together), and talented craftspeople like his loyal director of photography Christopher Doyle (with whom he has partnered on seven films including Chungking Express and In the Mood for Love), Wong has built many a strong and long-running creative partnership over his career.

Few directors are as inextricably associated with one city, but Wong’s filmography is inseparable from his home of Hong Kong, its ever-moving people and the drastic changes to its political and cultural landscape over the decades. Though he is well-respected as among the greatest filmmakers of his generation worldwide, it is no wonder that the accolades he has received from the Hong Kong Film Awards vastly outnumbers those from other bodies. 

With ten films made over four different decades and – for the English-speaking world at least – lots of titles that don’t tell you an awful lot about what you’re about to watch, Wong Kar-Wai can seem like a difficult sell, but he is a filmmaker very easy to fall in love with if you get over that hurdle. Are you a romantic, a thinker, or just someone who appreciates good-looking and aloof people captured beautifully on camera? Wong Kar-Wai is the director for you.

Any of Wong’s films from his first decade in the business would be fine entry points, but a larger spread over multiple decades might be more fruitful, so here is The Film Magazine’s guide on Where to Start with Wong Kar-Wai.

1. Chungking Express (1994)

Two parallel stories are told of melancholic police officers in love with unattainable women in a bustling mid-90s Hong Kong.

Chungking Express was Wong Kar-Wai’s attempt at self-therapy after his draining and not entirely successful experience making Ashes of Time (1994). Making a smaller, looser and more personal story was just the thing he needed to refocus and find his footing again.

People in Wong’s movies are a dramatic lot. Cop 223 (Takeshi Kaneshiro) is still reeling from a recent breakup. He processes his pain by running to sweat out all his tears and by buying and eating a tin of pineapple due to expire on the one month anniversary of his heartbreak, becoming momentarily distracted by a mysterious drug trafficker (Brigitte Lin) on the run. Cop 663 (Tony Leung) is, on the other hand, in a state of deep depression after his flight attendant girlfriend left him and continues to frequent the snack bar they visited throughout their relationship. The shy Faye (Faye Wong), a new employee at said snack bar, begins to sneak into Cop 663’s apartment and improve his life in small but crucial ways.

This film probably best sums up Wong’s unmistakable and compelling visual style. Wong worked with Australian expatriate cinematographer Christopher Doyle seven times over two decades and it is perhaps this film that best showcases their aesthetic. The dynamic, hypnotic cinematography that blurs people, light and their environment together stands in for the sensory overload of life in a city that never sleeps and for the director’s frequent preoccupation with time misbehaving when we fall in and out of love.

The project began as a scrapbook of ideas for anthology love stories, and those that didn’t make the cut or were prohibitively expensive to film eventually became the basis for the likewise Hong Kong-made Fallen Angels (1995) and Wong’s only English-language (and overall least successful) project to date, My Blueberry Nights (2007).

Martin Scorsese, Quentin Tarantino and James Gunn are considered the kings of movie needle-drops, but Wong Kar-Wai is well-versed in the art as well, at picking just the right track for the moment to intensify emotions. Few who have seen Chungking Express will not be thinking of Faye Wong bopping along at the snack bar whenever “California Dreaming” plays, nor will they be able to get her Cantonese cover version of The Cranberries’ “Dreams” out of their head for a long time.

Wong’s protagonists are complicated creatures, developed over the course of filming and through the on-the-day interactions between scene partners. Cop 223/He Qiwu is probably the most well-developed and also probably the least interesting character here, while we know next to nothing about the Woman in the Blonde Wig but she is still mesmerising. Cop 663 is a sad-sack and Faye is in no uncertain terms a stalker, and yet we are invested in them getting together. Wong has never been one for neat resolutions in his storytelling, working things out on the fly and preferring to leave us and his characters on a hopeful ellipsis, and what a cliffhanger worthy of the soap operas he began his career writing he leaves us with here.

2. In the Mood for Love (2000)

A story about two neighbours in a cramped apartment block in separate unhappy marriages to cheating spouses, meant for each other from first sight but fighting to keep their desires at bay for the sake of propriety.

Unattainable love stories are always the hardest-hitting and In the Mood for Love is truly one of the great bittersweet romances of the modern age. 

Wong isn’t out to explain or even rationalise love and the things we do for and because of it, simply stating quite rightly in dialogue that “Feelings can creep up just like that”.

At least one of our protagonists, secretary Mrs Chan (Maggie Chung) or aspiring writer Mr Chow (Tony Leung), are in every scene in the film. The other parties in these marriages, Mr Chan and Mrs Chow, are always kept offscreen. The latter are transitory, unknowable figures only fleetingly heard and more often than not only talked about in their absence by their nosy neighbours and increasingly despairing other halves. This is not their story. We still get a sense of them by the negative space their absence leaves and from the inhabitants of the neighbouring apartments gossiping, and this all adds to the lived-in richness of this film world. 

This is a film of little details, from the costume design to physical tics and micro-expressions determinable on the faces of our central pairing, everything matters. As Mrs Chan puts it, “You notice things if you pay attention”. The somewhat rundown apartment block the majority of the film’s scenes take place in and around becomes another living, breathing character in itself.

In the Mood for Love is one of Wong’s less visually flashy films, but it’s a classically handsome one with immaculate cinematography shot through with searing desaturated colours. You could probably write a feature on each scene’s most dominant colour and what it symbolises. You’d have a very strong case to argue that Chung and Leung are the best-looking and sexiest couple in the history of romance cinema, and it’s all done through stolen glances, almost touching, and discussing what might happen between them. It also doesn’t hurt that both look great in early 60s fashion and spend a lot of time brooding in dramatic rainfall.

The film is also a great example of Wong’s preferred loose, semi-improvisational way of crafting a film. The playful manner in which Mrs Chan and Mr Chow imagine and act out how their spouse’s relationship started out, and how they toy with beginning their own extramarital relationship to redress the balance, would work wonderfully on stage and lets both actors show off their considerable range.

Wong clearly did not want to let this particular pair go after a much-truncated 1 hour 40 minutes final runtime, making a sequel half a decade later, 2046, which picked up Mr Chow’s life years later as he processes his regret over letting the love of his life slip away through writing an increasingly convoluted sci-fi story.

3. The Grandmaster (2013)

A heavily fictionalised historical action film inspired by the life of the famed martial artist Ip Man (Tony Leung), telling specifically of his rivalry with the masters of segregated North and South regional styles of kung-fu in China and with particular emphasis on his time as an impoverished teacher in post-war Hong Kong.

Wong Kar-Wai processes the trauma of his country’s past in an incredibly poetic way, the impact of a quote being carried with this portrayal of Ip Man and how his life is upended by the horrors of war: “If life has four sessions, we went from spring straight to winter”.

The Grandmaster is far from perfect, being both more abstract than a lot of martial arts fans might enjoy and so fantastical it makes the already OTT Ip Man series starring Donnie Yen look like a documentary in comparison. But it does show WKW’s range as an artist, even working loosely in a genre he tends to avoid.

This is a high melodrama with dreamlike, balletic fight scenes only one man could capture with such painterly style. Wong began writing and directing romances in order to stand out from his successful countrymen who had, for the most part, made exclusively action cinema. Indifferent though he may have been to the kinds of films people like John Woo had made such massive hits in Hong Kong, Wong shows that between this and Ashes of Time he does have a talent for a certain kind of action film; the most beautiful, evocative action films around. 

More important than the floaty, wuxia-inflected fights is the many years-spanning forbidden love affair. Leung’s Ip Man is devoted to his wife and children and is torn from them far before time by foreign occupation and post-war chaos (interestingly the same thing happened to Wong and his brothers, forcibly separated from each other by an ocean when the China/Hong Kong border closed). His real kindred spirit is another formidable martial artist, Gong Ruo Mei (House of Flying Daggers‘ Zhang Ziyi), the daughter of the Northern grandmaster. As stunning as the Ip Man vs Everyone fight in the rain that opens the film is, or Gong’s duel to the death with her father’s murderer veiled in coal smoke from a train is, it’s the playful, poised “precision” fight between two equals, two soulmates, midway through the film that stays with you and makes both characters’ eventual arcs so vivid.

While not as critically acclaimed as Wong’s earlier work in the West, The Grandmaster went on to become his biggest box office hit by some distance and it received a record-breaking 12 prizes at the Hong Kong Film Awards. Even if it cares little for accurately portraying the man who would eventually train Bruce Lee, its spirit and philosophy is one that any devotee of martial arts would appreciate.  

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Fans of romance, existentialism and hypnotic visuals could hardly find a more worthwhile auteur’s career to get stuck into than Wong Kar-Wai’s. If you enjoyed the 3 recommendations above, then Fallen Angels makes for a fine companion piece to Chungking Express, 2046 uses In the Mood for Love as the launch point for a far stranger story, and Happy Together is up there with the master’s very best. 

Although her career is most memorable for her work and confrontations with iconic director Stanley Kubrick, Shelley Duvall’s film career was shaped the most by her frequent collaborations with award-winning director Robert Altman. From 1970 to 1980, Duvall featured in seven of Altman’s films, even making her acting debut in the director’s 1970 film Brewster McCloud after some of the crewmembers working on the film discovered her at a party and were amused by her selling artwork made by her then-husband Bernard Sampson. They convinced her to bring some of the paintings along to an “art patron” they knew – which turned out to be an audition with Robert Altman and his producer, Lou Adler.

Duvall continued acting for 30 years, going on to host and produce ‘Shelley Duvall’s Faerie Tale Theatre’, which ran from 1982 to 1987 and retold classic fairy tales for kids. In 2002, however, Duvall made what was to be her final performance in Manna from Heaven, around which time she announced her retirement from acting and moved back to her home state of Texas. Not much was heard from her for around 20 years, until she made her return to acting in 2023 horror film The Forest Hills.

Although she took such a large break from acting, her impact as a performer can still be felt: Duvall’s filmography offers some of cinema’s greats, and her influence is still evident across the performances fronting Hollywood films to this day. She gave something real to the films she was in, her large eyes filling the screen, lending an innocence to each of her characters and endearing us to her. She has been celebrated for iconic fashion and incredible performances, her diversity and range proving her incredible talent as a performer. These are the three performances that best define her career, Shelley Duvall’s most significant contributions to cinema.

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1. 3 Women (1977)

Inspired by a dream that director Robert Altman had, 3 Women follows the lives of three very different women who become mixed up in each other’s lives (and personalities). Pinkie Rose (Sissy Spacek) becomes strangely fascinated with her co-worker turned roommate, Millie Lammoreaux (Shelley Duvall), adapting her mannerisms and attempting to become her. The film was influenced by Ingmar Bergman’s Persona (1966), and explores themes of identity and the ways that women lend and borrow such personal things from one another. Although there is conflict between these women, and they don’t ever seem to find a comfortable meeting point, this film is ultimately about what unites them.

Shelley Duvall’s performance as Millie Lammoreaux borrowed a lot from her own identity. Duvall was responsible for writing all of Millie’s diary entries, as well as decorating her apartment and selecting the food – key components of Millie’s character. She is vain, so often focused on her appearance and trying to impress people, and yet she remains endearing. Duvall’s slender frame, doe eyes, long lashes, and perfectly styled bob give her character a sense of perfection that Duvall seemed to radiate. 

She carries herself as if she doesn’t notice her coworkers ignoring her, as if she is a polished, perfect, and happy person. But it’s that shiny demeanour that makes us feel sad for her. Millie walks out of work each day with two other women, and chats to them all about the recipes she has saved and written down. She’s so tall that she peers over the two women, but her words fall on deaf ears. Duvall has a way of focusing her body language towards them, as if they’re also engaged in the conversation. She’s desperate to earn their attention, to share as many quips and titbits as she can before she parts ways and heads to her car, never fully turning her head away even as she is walking away. It’s almost as if she doesn’t realise people find her annoying. Her smile never seems to falter, even as people are rude to her face. Millie appears to have everything, but really she lives a very lonely life.  

It is only when Pinkie becomes more integrated into Millie’s life that Millie’s shiny exterior begins to crack. Pinkie’s clumsiness makes her the perfect scapegoat for Millie’s misfortune and she begins to snap at her. Duvall plays a very subtle kind of cruel, in her narrowed eyes and pointed tone. Her patience visibly wears thin, and builds to a crescendo at the climax of the film, Duvall shaking and screaming with a level of rage that didn’t seem possible at the beginning of the film. 

Shelley Duvall won the award for Best Actress at Cannes Film Festival in 1977 for her performance in 3 Women. It was not only her first time winning an award, but also her first time being nominated. It was her performance in this film that caught the eye of Stanley Kubrick, director of The Shining, who rang her on the phone and told her she was great at crying – and consequently offered her the role of Wendy Torrance.

2. The Shining (1980)

The Shining Review

Adapted from Stephen King’s novel of the same name, Stanley Kubrick’s The Shining is a masterpiece of modern horror. The iconic imagery of the Grady sisters stood at the end of the hall, Jack Nicholson’s psychotic performance, and the eerie Overlook Hotel are familiar to most film fans. But what really drives the horror within each frame of The Shining is Shelley Duvall’s performance.

Duvall plays Wendy Torrance, wife of Jack Nicholson’s Jack Torrance, the latter of whom has just taken a job as caretaker of the isolated Overlook Hotel whilst it’s closed for the winter. The couple travels there with their son, Danny (Danny Lloyd), to stay in the vast hotel by themselves. As the snow blocks the roads and isolates the family, they descend into madness and begin to turn on each other as the evil of the hotel takes over. 

The Shining is famous for director Stanley Kubrick’s treatment of his cast, particularly Shelley Duvall. Kubrick insisted on doing numerous takes for his scenes, expressing disappointment when the actors appeared not to know their lines properly. The infamous staircase scene, in which Jack threatens to bash Wendy’s brains in whilst she cries and swings a bat at him, was apparently shot 127 times. Whilst this number has been disputed in recent years (Steadicam operator Garrett Brown states the number of takes was between 35 and 45), it doesn’t detract from the fact that the actors were still being forced to repeat the scene to the point of exhaustion. Duvall is said to have cried so much during filming that she was no longer able to produce tears, and had to rehydrate between takes.

The result of this repetition, whilst unfair, was a more accurate depiction of insanity. Shelley Duvall’s Wendy has often been described as ‘over-the-top’, but how else should she be reacting when her husband is threatening to kill her? This is what makes her portrayal so brilliant, so personal, and so interesting to watch. There are moments where her eyes almost pop out of her head, where she’s shaking in fear. Her screams feel real. But there are also moments where the fear is lying just under her breath, just in the slightest change of her gaze.

There are two versions of The Shining – Kubrick cut 31 minutes of material from the film after its initial release in the US. However, in the original 144 minute version, there is a scene in which Wendy is speaking to a doctor about her son, and discloses her husband’s alcoholism. Shelley Duvall plays this moment with incredible composition, presenting the gravity of the information not in her words, but in her nervous smiles and shifting eyes. It is in this moment early on in the film, which contains no elevators of blood or decaying bodies, that Duvall presents a sort of domestic horror, the kind of horror that happens behind closed doors and doesn’t get spoken about.

Alex Essoe, who played Wendy as an almost exact copy of Duvall in Doctor Sleep (2019), with the same loose black ponytail and fringe, said of the part: “It is very big shoes to fill. I think that Shelley Duvall’s performance in (The Shining) is the closest thing to a perfect performance in something.”

Shelley Duvall’s performance is beyond iconic, her dedication to the role allowing for one of the greatest and most recognisable performances in horror cinema. 

3. Popeye (1980)

The final of seven collaborations between Shelley Duvall and Robert Altman, Popeye (1980) was a movie musical adaptation of the ‘Popeye’ cartoons, which originated as a comic strip. Popeye made his first appearance in the Thimble Theatre comics in 1929, and came to life as an animated cartoon that ran from 1933-1957. The film (which began shooting in January of 1980, and was released in December of the same year) starred Robin Williams as the titular Popeye, and Shelley Duvall as the self-described “femme fatale”, Olive Oyl. Lively, sweet, and full of comic humour, Popeye is everything you could ask for from a live-action cartoon adaptation. 

When Popeye turns up in the seaside town of Sweethaven and lodges with the Oyl family, he meets the daughter of the family, Olive Oyl. Olive doesn’t seem keen on Popeye, or anything else for that matter (she can’t seem to find a nice hat for her engagement party to town brute Bluto), but she finds herself growing fond of him after they take in an abandoned baby together and name him Swee’pea. 

Duvall offers an extraordinary caricature of a cartoon character. She moves like she has been animated, bouncing up the stairs and peering around corners with just the right amount of exaggeration. Her constant exclamations of “oh!”, and her fiery jabs at Popeye, are funny and characteristically endearing, showing us the kind of strong woman she is without making her unlikeable. It’s a different Duvall than we’ve seen before – she’s playful, witty and sharp. 

Popeye served as not only a wonderful conclusion to Duvall’s work with Robert Altman, but also as a brilliantly colourful movie musical about family and standing up for yourself. Popeye stands the test of time, and is a wonderfully accessible film for those who grew up with the character on TV, as well as those who are just meeting him for the first time. Shelley Duvall’s southern twang and expressive face bring Olive Oyl to life, creating an unforgettable performance. It was on the set of Popeye that she came up with the idea for her ‘Faerie Tale Theatre’ show, as she was reading ‘The Frog Prince’ and had asked Robin Williams for his opinion. He later appeared in the series, in the ‘Frog Prince’ episode.

Popeye is the first and only time that there has been a live-action adaptation of the comic book character. Shelley Duvall and Robin Williams bounce off each other brilliantly, especially with this being Williams’ feature film debut. Popeye received two thumbs up from Gene Siskel and Roger Ebert, a shining seal of approval from the two iconic film critics. In an interview with Roger Ebert, Shelley Duvall said of playing Olive Oyl: “I’ve never before been allowed to play a woman of any strength, of depth. And although Olive Oyl is a cartoon character, I think she does have depth. All of the other characters I’ve played in the movies, to me, they never really broke the surface. But Olive Oyl is 101 percent woman! She’s not Popeye’s ‘girlfriend’ I see her as a real femme fatale.”

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Across just twenty years, Shelley Duvall managed to deliver some of the era’s most memorable and celebrated performances. She showed incredible range and diversity, bringing elements of herself into her performances in ways that are not always easy. In the three films referenced, and several more for which she deserves commendation, Shelley Duvall brings an incredible sense of power, portraying deep, layered, strong, and capable women.

Written by Holly Carter

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