When I’m discussing film with any given unfortunate, I often get the question ‘Who is your favorite director?’. ‘Great,’ I’m sure my conversational victim is thinking, ‘a softball that will make him stop saying things like “I heard Kingdom of the Planet of the Apes is going to make Rise of the Planet of the Apes look like Dawn of the Planet of the Apes”’. Unfortunately, they have just added a new, possibly worse element to the conversation: my own awkward insecurity. You see, I simply do not know enough about film to answer such a monumental, earth-shaking question as ‘Who is your favorite director?’.
It’s just not possible. Pick one? Pick one! Well, there are many directors whose films I like, but vanishingly few of which I’ve actually seen every single film in their extended works. How can I say Park Chan-wook is my favorite director, just because Oldboy is one of ten perfect movies in existence and everyone would be very impressed with me, if I have not seen Sympathy for Mr. Vengeance? And that’s not even touching the early work. The Moon Is…The Sun’s Dream? Might as well be a dream to me, because I don’t even know what it’s about.
And thus, when asked the Dreadful Question, I say, pathetically, Stanley Kubrick. I degrade myself, I inform the person I’m talking with that despite their view of me as the World’s Smartest Film Guy, I am in fact the World’s Generic-est Film Guy. “Yeah, he likes Stanley Kubrick,” they are undoubtedly saying to their friends, “I bet his favorite band is Beethoven and his favorite celestial body is the sun”. It’s Ceres by the way, because it, like me, gets no damn respect. I once told a film major I had just met at a party that my favorite director was Stanley Kubrick, and then expressed my worry that saying such a thing was pedestrian pablum the likes of which had scarcely been seen before in the hallowed halls we stood in (a townhouse), and she responded with such humiliatingly friendly soothing that I might just as well have been a small child who told her I threw up. Awwww, big guy, it’s okay!
Anyway, Stanley Kubrick is my favorite director because he has directed many of my favorite films and has a unique and clean visual style and a level of control of his craft that is beyond amazing. Here is my ranking of every single filmed work he ever directed.
#16: Fear and Desire (1952)
Rating: 3 out of 10 with no flowers.
Christ this movie sucks. People stick up for it all the time, maybe, in my head, but it is just completely unwatchable. The vibe I would most say it emulates would have to be 2020’s Jiu Jitsu, because Fear and Desire is one of those movies that is primarily just actors running around in the forest as the budget didn’t allow for locations. Jiu Jitsu had Nicolas Cage for a brief moment though, and I think he was someone’s father? Well, no one is anyone’s father in this movie, the plot is unremarkable, and the images are only slightly elevated (there is a great shot with some fog and a boat at the very end there, proving that Kubrick’s photographic edge is still present), but in all this leaves a bad taste. It’s only saving grace is probably that you can watch it free on YouTube, but this is the rare film that I would suggest might pair best with a very distracting iPhone game.
#15: Day of the Fight (1951)
Rating: Unratable with no flowers.
Once, for his first directing foray, Kubrick made a nine minute short about boxing. I have never seen any other shorts about boxing from the fifties, but this one makes complete sense and gets every point across it is trying to make. My favorite boxing movies are Rocky, The Battling Butler, and Rocky IV. What about you?
#14: Flying Padre (1951)
Rating: Unratable with no flowers.
Similar to Day of the Fight, Kubrick’s second film is a documentary short, this time about a padre who flies (a priest who visits his scattered parish in a beautiful old mono-plane). The subject itself has some juice, though the nine minute length leaves you wanting a little bit more. That’s the great peril of documentarianism, of course: sometimes you film something and it becomes one of those documentaries where they were filming something relatively normal and then something dramatic happens to the subject (ala Icarus), and sometimes instead it is one of those documentaries where everything stayed pretty straightforward and the subject was just reasonably interesting (ala a Tom Scott video). Flying Padre is the latter.
#13: Killer’s Kiss (1955)
Rating: 4 out of 10 with no flowers.
The last of Kubrick’s filmography that is honestly only notable in any way because of it’s auteur, Killer’s Kiss is a movie I found fairly boring and unmemorable, though I know this one has its defenders. Some sequences, including the film’s most iconic image, a full out brawl in an abandoned mannequin factory, show a level of care and interest that makes Kubrick great, but the rest of its sub-70 minutes runtime fails to take off. The tagline on the poster, however, is “Her Soft Mouth Was the Road to Sin-Smeared Violence!”, which besides not exactly rolling off the tongue, also toes a fascinating line between kind of disgusting and kind of genius in its pure audacious promise of being a much different movie.
#12: Lolita (1962)
Rating: 4 out of 10 with no flowers.
Lolita is an infamously difficult and usually misunderstood property, however how I feel about this movie has nearly nothing to do with the treatment of the source material, so I feel safe in arrogantly proclaiming that any whiff of sympathy one detects for Humbert Humbert in this film is a just miscalculation on the movie’s part, borne out of a misreading of what the audience is supposed to understand about the whole thing. In short, maybe I don’t get it because I never read the book.
That all said, Lolita is a sluggish movie with extreme tonal confusion. I’ve heard rumors that this film had a difficult production, and what one must remember is that Lolita was the number one book in America! A sensation, in fact! And so, while Stanley Kubrick probably set out to direct Nabokov’s complex portrait of a disgusting predator who lionizes himself through the text, the whole thing was prodded by the studio until the end product plays like a comedy that isn’t funny. You never feel tense during the movie because it’s hard to stay interested in what is going on, and I simply need Peter Sellers to stop doing everything he’s doing because he is playing a second, even more loathsome child predator, not Pistachio Disguisey!
#11: The Seafarers (1953)
Rating: Unratable with flowers.
Yeah, all you Kubrickians (Stan stans, not movies directed by guys who made people do a lot of takes) were probably thinking I had forgot this one. This is a half hour long, extremely functionality-based documentary about the Seafarers International Union and I am here to tell you it is not only better than three of Kubrick’s full (-ish) length feature films, but also that you should go watch it! Now!
The Seafarers, besides being a beautiful portrait of a bygone age of unions and a propaganda film/advertisement that literally works on me, is also astoundingly made. Kubrick takes the camera zooming through the crowd of seafarers, lets the technical processes of name and number taking resonate in their efficient complexity in a way that echoes his emphasis on technology in 2001: A Space Odyssey, and overall crafts the show in such a way that you are 100% convinced being a sailor in this union would be awesome. This little historical artifact might even hold the insight into what makes Kubrick magic. Like The Seafarers, his great films all have a complete sense of reality, which is possibly what makes his forays into science fiction, horror, and the psychological so arresting. When Kubrick shoots it, what is on the screen is absolute truth, and in part that’s because he invented so much of film language.
#10: The Killing (1956)
Rating: 7 out of 10 with flowers.
As you have probably detected by the palpable jump in enthusiasm from The Seafarers onward, we are officially in ‘movies I’m genuinely enthused to tell you about’ territory. The Killing is a noir-like crime drama, Kubrick’s second after Killer’s Kiss, as well as being one of his top three films with “The” in the title.
The Killing centers around a frankly ludicrous crime plot involving a racetrack, a sniper, a burly chess-loving Eastern European brawler, and a lot of driving around finding and talking to these people. What impresses me most about this movie, however, is the ending. If someone were to ask me to name a peak ‘dominoes falling’ or ‘things innocuously spinning out of control’ movie, this and Danny Boyle’s Sunshine would take first billing. From the rather chewy setup I just mentioned, the concatenations of circumstance that result in the most utterly cathartic failure of a protagonist, ever, will take your breath away. One thing leads to another in The Killing, and it all ends with our hero’s hopes and dreams quite literally blowing away in the wind.
#9: Spartacus (1960)
Rating: 8 out of 10 with flowers.
Spartacus, as I understand it, is very much in the mold of the classic sword-and-sandals epic of the era, but what a mold it is! This movie is the epitome of swashbuckling, with Kirk Douglas’ slab-like, inhumanely magnetic face providing the central thesis to a movie about cruelty, injustice, and solidarity that has one of our country’s great bittersweet endings.
The scope and craft of Spartacus would be repeated in multi-fold splendidness by Kubrick’s later Barry Lyndon (and, in my estimation, far exceeded in its own time by Ben-Hur), yet this movie has a kind of gritty pomp that makes its’ images iconic. Though Ridley Scott’s Gladiator seems to be more beloved in many circles, for me it will always be a pale imitation seeped in sickly nostalgia compared to Kubrick's solemn gravitas.
There is something about even the quieter moments of this movie, the deep performances by world class supporting actors playing various potentates climbing the cursus honorum that can do nothing but scream Rome. These scenes are what inform the images and feel of what I imagine the Roman Empire to have been at its most Roman-y.
Author’s disclosure: It should be noted that the first time the author saw this movie, it was his birthday and he was in the middle of having his first encounter with Duck Donut’s famous bacon donut, a heart palpitatingly delicious calorie-bomb whose sweet, meaty taste he still associates with a movie that is frankly both sweet and meaty. The point that the author may have been biased by this experience need not be labored.
#8: Paths of Glory (1957)
Rating: 8 out of 10 with flowers.
The second of Kubrick’s “Kirk Douglas goes to war” duology, and the first in his “War is Bad” duology (because let’s be honest, Spartacus is a brutal film but the fighting is just so righteous), Paths of Glory follows French soldiers on the front in World War I who have been blamed by their superiors (in rank and social class alone) for a failed offensive push. Uniquely among careers, failure in the military can mean death, much like nuclear engineering, being a lion tamer at a circus, and playing professional sports in the Aztec Empire, and much unlike being a market research consultant (though my clients have tried). Though perhaps hard to conceptualize for us civvies, Kubrick brings the stakes and injustice of military order home, and reveals war as an existentially terrifying, unknowing machine that can only output death. It is truly fascinating to watch a deconstruction of what came quite naturally to people of that time, namely that a human emotion such as cowardice should be met with swift execution—even if, for the sake of the audience’s post-war sympathies, the incident of cowardice is murky and muddled for those facing down the gun. The quiet, understated ending of this film will give you chills such that you will be walking around like a ghost for a week.
#7: A Clockwork Orange (1971)
Rating: 8 out of 10 with flowers.
Is is strange that I don’t have a take on this movie? I mean, it’s an absolute cherry bomb tossed with malice into our conceptions of justice, not unlike Paths of Glory. But that part has never actually excited me all that much. It is complicated, an almost epic tale that’s told with sound and fury, yet the world and themes have only ever made a passing impression on me, an unabashed world and themes guy.
What I like about A Clockwork Orange, though, are the scenes. What I mean is that this movie is where I see Kubrick’s craft start shining through to reveal what a complete madman he is. This movie and every other movie for the rest of this list makes me look at our current masters and say, lovingly, what the hell is your problem? There is absolutely nothing like Malcolm McDowell’s Alex pushing his fellow droog into the water, ‘Ludwig Van’ playing at a roar. I have never seen anything like that, and so many other shots and framings and angles in this movie compare only to the absolute pinnacles of cinema history. And this is the movie I have put seventh! So, if I don’t mention it below, this artistry is also present in the rest of these movies. But I will mention it.
#6: Dr. Strangelove or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb (1964)
Rating: 8 out of 10 with flowers.
So, here’s something about me: I’m an International Politics major with a world view deeply shaped (scarred) by the realist theory of international relations. The first time I watched Dr. Strangelove was for class, right before I got really into movies in the spring of 2020, and I must say that this movie is a “for class” movie for a reason. There are few popular movies that are so proudly vehicles for relevant political messages, in truth Dr. Strangelove is more like a very special but still satirical PSA episode from your favorite low brow comedy show than a sweeping epic in the mold of Spartacus. What that means is that this movie is practically sui generis in how unique it feels. I could talk about the themes behind Dr. Strangelove for hours, and perhaps I will, but in this short snippet I will simply say that the comedic stylings of Peter Sellers, razor sharp script, atmosphere of chaos behind which there is a creeping unease, and incredibly witty ending make this an undeniable classic.
#5: Eyes Wide Shut (1999)
Rating: 9 out of 10 with flowers.
Current Placement on my Top 50 of All Time: #32
Eyes Wide Shut became one of my favorite movies of all time the second time I watched it. The first time, I think I was a little confused. What made this, the final Kubrick film, good again? But then, upon reflection, reading about the production and the craft, and a second rewatch, I realized what I had been missing: Eyes Wide Shut is the best Christmas movie ever made!
Or, at least, the best movie about seasonal depression and/or holiday anxiety.
The holidays in my city look pretty much like the holidays in the New York streets Tom Cruise stalks through for the better part of this movie, and something about the sets, the people, and the look on Cruise’s face truly resonate with my own experience. I’m not talking about Christmas Day, when I’m far away back home having a completely separate experience. I’m talking about the holidays, that late November through December 22nd feeling where things are incredibly off, in a way. People are out and around but the streets and public places feel strangely empty. There are bright lights and even, sometimes, a little bit of Christmas joy, but most of the time you look at it with bleary, tired eyes and think “I’ll enjoy that next week, but right now it’s an affront”. Something hangs over you. An anxiety (for Tom Cruise, about something literally terrifying). You walk around, through the streets, and feel real but not real. I think the best thing to call it would be knowledge of the final stage of the year’s decay, a sense of things coming to a close, perhaps too soon or very suddenly. Then, somehow, your problems resolve themselves, because they had to before the year began again, and maybe it’s alright, or maybe it’s just another year.
#4: 2001: A Space Odyssey (1968)
Rating: 9 out of 10 with flowers.
If there’s a point to be made about AI development and this movie that has not already been made (which I doubt), I can not find it, so let’s skip that and go right into how terrifying space is.
Now, I don’t know if you’ve thought about this before, but space, it turns out, is out there all around us. It’s actually infinite, and in most of it there is no light! We don’t think we are in space, but once you start remembering it you can’t really stop! This is the thought process Kubrick banks on when he crafts some of the quietest, most sublime depictions of outer space ever put to film. Watching a ship attempt to dock, in all its precision and understated glory, is put into perspective by the yawning abyss it moves through. Planets seem planet-size in a way they never do in fun sci-fi Guardians of the Galaxy action movies.
And then, of course, come the extraterrestrials. Through one of the most daring and iconic experimental sequences ever put to film, we are made to have a truly alien experience alongside Keir Dullea’s Dr. David Bowman, and this, too, is a reflection of the enormity and absurdity of space. We will never, ever, be able to understand a truly alien mind, as our own consciousness banks on experience and context and all the things that make us un-alien. The end sequence is something I can barely watch, I feel like I’m standing on a ledge or staring into the sun, it’s simply too much. In a word, this film leaves you starstruck.
#3: The Shining (1980)
Rating: 9 out of 10 with flowers.
Current Placement on my Top 50 of All Time: #31
There are a few horror movies out there better than The Shining, but not many. Let’s all be honest: if you have seen this movie or read this book, you thought about Jack Torrance a good couple of times during the pandemic. In fact, my friends and I watched it, over Zoom, all together but very much alone. We all know what it’s like to be metaphorically snowed in now, and we understand how it’s enough to make anyone a little crazy. That’s what the best and most unique horror always traffics in, a real and palpable fear taken to new heights by the film, and in that way The Shining is scarier now than it has ever been.
The Shining shines in its atmosphere, that feeling of reality we’ve been discussing throughout this list, the infamously meticulous shots. This film, more than any other, is why Kubrick has his reputation for complete control, and if that kind of thing interests you do yourself a favor and watch Room 237, a masterwork in explaining the funny ways humans react to truly interesting art. The Shining lives and breathes the precise tracking shot, the cold, enclosed, and scientific zooms, the angles and mathematics of film all working to unsettle you thoroughly. And what could be better than that?
#2: Barry Lyndon (1975)
Rating: 9 out of 10 with flowers.
Current Placement on my Top 50 of All Time: #20
Barry Lyndon is a movie that you really must see to believe. This is the height of imagemaking in film, and when someone compares a scene in a movie to a classical painting they really mean Barry Lyndon. This movie is quite long, its story is entertaining and interesting in a New Yorker profile sort of way, but where it can’t help but shine are the visuals.
Barry, whose luck ebbs and flows throughout the movie, stands framed against one of the great little hills of Ireland, loaded gun at the ready pointed at some British bastard. The figures are precisely placed such that you believe it is where they would stand in chaotic reality. They fire, they move, but the spell is never broken. Barry Lyndon is a snow globe, a peephole into the past, a knobby old hand implement in the hands of its original hard-working owner. This is the true reality, filmed, and Stanley Kubrick just happens to have decided to film the somewhat amusing escapades of a 18th century European cad.
#1: Full Metal Jacket (1987)
Rating: The highest 9 out of 10 with flowers I can award.
Current Placement on my Top 50 of All Time: #13
I don’t pretend that this is either the most conventional nor the most original pick for Stanley Kubrick’s greatest film, but for me, it’s the most personal. I’ll tell it to you straight: I’m obsessed with Vietnam War movies. Something about them, the futility and the foreshadowing of American decline and the way that everything that can go wrong will go wrong, speaks to me on a very fundamental level. I have extolled every one of these films (that I liked) with glowing praise, but I find myself reaching my favorite and simply thinking…I have an attachment to Full Metal Jacket that doesn’t compare to any aesthetic appreciation or resonance that I find in other Kubrick films. In short, I just like this movie! It is like asking me why Rocky or Ang Lee’s Life of Pi are both in my top ten movies of all time: when it comes to art, there is simply nothing that beats the thing you are connected to.
To be clear, however, Full Metal Jacket is not Life of Pi. Infamously split up into two very different parts (and I am, as far as I can tell, one of the rare people who is probably more into the second part than the first), Full Metal Jacket deals in themes of systems and the individuals who crash against them. Much like Path of Glory, Kubrick turns his reality lens towards the machine of war, but this time it is all too close for comfort. The American boys are dehumanized in boot camp; they go and dehumanize impoverished people from an impoverished country. We see the crumbling of a soul with the story of Pvt. Pyle; by the end, Pvt. Joker is no better. Larger, brutaler men than Joker rule each of these two worlds; only in the second, war-spawned world, brutality is expressed through true contempt towards life instead of creative insults.
Full Metal Jacket brings the viewer inexorably towards its peak of America’s accepted and encouraged human depravity as our heroes stomp through a burning city. And this, I contend, is the real theme of Stanley Kubrick’s filmography, if you had to choose just one. The Shining is more personal, Spartacus more societal; Eyes Wide Shut is more fantastical, Barry Lyndon more relatable for you or I. But all of these films attempt to express a darker side in contention with the personal or broader light of “civilization”, either by demonstrating what underpins that civilization (regularly cruel men one step away from a killing spree, Roman-era cruelty and oppression, the dark circles of the elite, the socially acceptable urge to climb and consume everything around you), or, as in Full Metal Jacket, showing that civilization’s consequences.
And that is why Stanley Kubrick is my favorite director.