Christine (1983)

John Carpenter's superb adaptation of the classic Stephen King novel about a haunted car. It also functions as a teen drama.

It's scary, thanks to expert pacing and also Carpenter's ominous, exciting music. The film looks terrific, too, and is visually striking.

It's in love with America: a celebration of cars, cheerleaders, drive-ins, and rock 'n' roll.

As well as the horror element, it's a story about friendship and growing up. There's very strong characterisation. Keith Gordon plays Arnie Cunningham, the nerdy boy who buys the 1958 Plymouth Fury and is quickly possessed by her. John Stockwell plays his friend Dennis, and Alexandra Paul plays Leigh Cabot, a new girl at school that both Arnie and Dennis are drawn to. Harry Dean Stanton plays the investigating detective.

Alien (1979)

Ridley Scott’s sci-fi horror masterpiece still looks fantastic and is just as chilling as ever. 

Sigourney Weaver plays Ripley, a warrant officer on the cargo ship Nostromo. The ship picks up a signal from a moon, indicating unexpected life. While investigating, the crew accidentally adopt an alien creature that threatens not just all of them but humanity itself.

Weaver is great in the main role – tough but compassionate, and smart and intuitive in a way that her colleagues aren’t.

It works because it’s mostly about the suspense rather than the monsters, although what you do see of the aliens is terrifying enough.

A long line of sequels and prequels would follow as Alien developed into a franchise, but none of them came close to this original.

Paris, Texas (1984)

Emotional drama directed by Wim Wenders. 

A drifter named Travis (Harry Dean Stanton) walks out of the desert and appears unable to speak. His brother Walt (Dean Stockwell) travels from Los Angeles to collect him. We learn that he’s been wandering for four years without contact, presumed dead, and has clearly undergone some kind of psychological trauma. In L.A., he’s reunited with his son (Hunter Carson) and begins a sort of rehabilitation. But that recovery process cannot be completed without Travis facing up to – and finding – his estranged wife (Nastassja Kinski).

It’s a sort of road movie, and the landscape shots always look stunning. Ry Cooder’s iconic slide-guitar soundtrack helps to make it even more atmospheric. It’s a painful exploration of the characters’ feelings, and in some ways quite upsetting. The climactic scene towards the end doesn’t quite satisfy, however: it changes the pacing and feels self-consciously “theatrical” compared to what’s gone before. On the one hand that magnifies the impact, but on the other hand it jars slightly with what’s come before. 

That point aside, it’s a poignant story about families and the damage they can do to each other.

Cool Hand Luke (1967)

Extremely enjoyable and ultimately very moving prison drama starring Paul Newman as the ridiculously charismatic lead. Rarely will you see an actor with such presence on screen.

Locked up for a petty offence, war veteran Lucas “Luke” Jackson joins a road chain gang. He refuses to behave like the other men (including Harry Dean Stanton as Tramp), but slowly earns their respect with his liberated, nonconformist outlook. There’s a painful and emblematic scene in which he boxes against the leader of the men (George Kennedy as “Dragline”) and is repeatedly knocked down. But such is his strength of mind that he gets up again and again. Another remarkable interlude features the prisoners betting on whether Luke can eat 50 eggs in an hour and Luke then carrying out the challenge. It’s surreal and hilarious.

The second half of the film introduces a more serious tone. Luke tries to escape and the prison guards try to break his spirit. The narrative becomes richer and sadder as the essence of his personality – and even his humanity – is steadily eroded.

A remarkable soundtrack by Lalo Schifrin adds further depth to an extremely affecting story.

Pretty in Pink (1986)

John Hughes teen drama. The plot is simple: poor girl dates rich boy while social prejudice threatens to tear them apart. Molly Ringwald acts with her lower lip and is a curious mixture of mature and immature. She has three interesting relationships – with her depressed father (Harry Dean Stanton), with her supportive colleague at the Tracks record shop (Annie Potts) and with her nerdy friend “Duckie” who’s in love with her (Jon Cryer). The big flaw is that her central relationship – with preppy, well-off Blane (Andrew McCarthy) – just doesn’t convince. It’s not clear what, if anything, they have in common and this forms a vacuum at the centre of the film. And when they do finally end up together, the film seems to betray its own instincts. Weren’t we supposed to be rooting for Duckie, with his goofy underdog charm? In fact, the ending we see was reshot because the “truer” ending – in which she did wind up with the far more appealing Duckie – wasn’t popular with audiences. That commercial decision was the wrong choice aesthetically and means that the plot and motivations fail to ring true.

The soundtrack is omnipresent and brilliantly of its time (The Smiths, New Order, Psychedelic Furs), but that’s not enough to save the film. Having heard this raved about as a cult classic, I was very disappointed to finally see it.