Late Spring (Yasujiro Ozu, 1949)

To my mind, the quintessential Ozu film (even moreso than Tokyo Story), and possibly the greatest Japanese film ever made. And to think I only paid $3 to see it, as part of the Wexner Center's "Secret Cinema" series...

Dogville (Lars von Trier, 2003)

People are bad. Even the good ones.

Drifting Clouds (Aki Kaurismäki, 1996)

A couple struggles with loss, poverty, anger, and fear, yet their love sustains them throughout. Sounds maudlin, I know, but under the witty and humanistic direction of the Finn, you can rest assured this is no sappy Lifetime made-for-TV movie.

Playtime (Jacques Tati, 1967)

It's a science fiction slapstick comedy set in Paris during the Swinging 60s that's for all intents and purposes a silent (pracically no dialogue, but lots of diegetic sound). Quite possibly the spiritual air of Modern Times, I think only Tati could make a cautionary tale about the dehumanizing potential of the modern technological society so light and fun, but at the same time so scary.

A Man Escaped (Robert Bresson, 1956)

Someone said once that Bresson, more than any other director, was able to present "the thingness of things", and this film is possibly the most insinuatingly physical and tactile work of cinema I've ever seen. From the opening shot of the prisoner's hands it draws you in and never lets you out of its grasp. Endlessly rewatchable as a simultaneously patriotic, humanist, and spiritual experience.

The Return (Andrei Zvyagintsev, 2003)

Eerie, disturbing, and beautiful, Zvyagintsev's debut film shows that Russian cinema has a new master, and it's not Sokurov.

Ocean's 12 (Steven Soderbergh, 2004)

Hardly a film at all, but some sort of humorous postmodern treatise on what film can do, populated with big stars and set in Amsterdam, Rome, and Lake Como. What's not to love?

The Five Obstructions (Jørgen Leth and Lars von Trier, 2003)

Von Trier puts his former teacher and mentor through the artistic ringer, and, much to von Trier's chagrin, his 'adversary' wins every round. Well played by all.

Elephant (Gus van Sant, 2003)

Last year's Palme d'Or winner was somewhat dissapointing (they all are these days), but van Sant's Tarr-inspired meditation on adolescent anomie and violence was engaging and creepy enough to suck you in and spit you back out.