I have a problem with books. I’ve always wanted tons of them. I want one of those stuffy Englishy libraries you see in movies with the spiral staircase that takes you up to the second floor of books.  I think that library needs a huge globe too.  Anyhow, my house doesn’t have a nice Englishy library, nor does it have an infinite amount of space, but that doesn’t hinder me (us, counting the BF who also has OCD-ish thrifting/collecting habits).

Here are some recent buys from the PCC swap meet, which happens the first Sunday of every month. It’s  less attended and therefore more manageable than the Rose Bowl swap meet, which is the weekend right after.  A lot of the same vendors appear at both swap meets too.  Besides, you have to pay to get into Rose Bowl, and on a hot summer day, the Rose Bowl and its miles of asphalt JUST SUCKS.  PCC swap is FREE, and is half outdoors, half inside a large parking structure, so you can escape the relentless sun while digging through boxes of records.

I’ve discovered now on the last few PCC runs that there is a rather handsome young bookseller who doesn’t have a booth. He just puts his books out on a huge blanket – and the books seem rather curated too, mostly history, art/photography, cookbooks, everything in good condition and not ridiculously priced either.  The last time I visited to this fine fellow I picked up a nice copy of Martha Stewart’s hors d’oeuvres book for $4.

Look for him next month!  He’s inside the parking structure.  Here are my last book grabs:

Buster photobombed this set up.

AND this one.

This book was a gift for the BF, who this year joined the Los Angeles Mycological Society.

Purchased almost completely because I’ve been playing waaaaay too much Assassin’s Creed 2 on the PS3, which is set in Renaissance Italy.  (Ending another blog post with an admission of dorkiness.)

If you like to “dig” and you live in a city, chances are your thrift stores are picked over. I feel that way in LA. There’s simply too many shoppers, too many eyes, too many hands, too many hipsters, trendoids, collectors & fashionistas working their way through the racks at Out of the Closets and Goodwills (although the one in Arcadia is pretty damn good).  In reaction to the dwindling pickings, BF and I have become estate sale people, or more simply put, weirdos who willingly go through the items of the extremely recently deceased seeking an insane bargain.  The world of the estate sale was recently profiled in Los Angeles Magazine, specifically, the estate sales of one rather persnickety lady named Cynthia Abernathy. We try to be on our best behavior at her sales, so as not to get banned or thrown out. We hit one of her sales recently in Altadena and I got some decent stuff I think. For just $9!

What’s in this little basket?
- a  potato ricer, with which to make awesome mashed potatoes ($2)
- garlic press
- 2 boxes of Dutch pancake mix (PANNEN KOEKEN!)
- 3 German beer glasses
- a glass doo-dad to put on top of a wine bottle so you can use the bottle as a candle holder! (BF was skeptical about the general usefulness of this item)
- 2 decorative tiles. The back of the floral one says it is from Greece. The little blue & white one is from Holland.
- Fannie Farmer cookbook, 1965 edition
- 2-CD set of Chopin nocturnes

A new potato ricer costs about $15 so I’m pretty happy about this little haul. Was it stuff I needed? Not terribly. But it’s not about the stuff. It’s a little bit about the voyeurism of the estate sale.  When I first started playing video games on my PC (games like Kings Quest), I used to hate how limited the game world felt — I suppose it was anticipatory longing for the open sandbox world of the GTA franchise.  I wanted to play a game where you could walk around inside of houses and just open the drawers and poke around, making assumptions about what kind of lives the occupants lived.  Guess what?!  That’s exactly what you feel when you hit these sales.  You might start to feel a little ghoulish peering into bathrooms and opening desk drawers…but I swear. It reminds me of what I wanted in a video game all those years ago.

And there you have it, the nerdiest justification you will ever hear for going to an estate sale.

(Try to get on Cynthia’s email list here)

Warning: spoiler-y territory ahead. Well, why haven’t you seen this yet? It’s your own fault for being too busy for movies.

Also yes, I know there’s more than 10 Crazy Jumbled Thoughts about Inception here. I lied, in order to gain your confidence, so I can deeper infiltrate your thoughts while you dream.

WHAT IFS
1. What if Charlie Kaufman wrote this movie? Would it be funnier, warmer? Messier? What if Inception had a baby with Synchedoche, New York? Wow, that made my head hurt.

1B. What if Michel Gondry directed it? (Answer: It would be waaaay more twee.)

1C. …and what if Christopher Nolan made a James Bond film? (Oooh.)

DON’T DO DRUGS AND SEE THIS MOVIE?
2. The BF feels there’s a relation between the slipperiness of film’s core concepts and the things you think/dream up while on hallucinogenics. I think the film is too workman-like, runs too much like a clock, to be terribly related to the wild worlds one encounters on psychedelics… although it paradoxically manages to be both surreal AND real.

SNOBBY REFERENCES
3. There is an insane amount of art and architecture references rippling through this film. A few minutes into this movie they make a Francis Bacon reference? What!? This is a summer blockbuster! Crazy!

M.C. Escher certainly makes an appearance. Los Angeles’ DWP building (pictured above) is quoted. Cobb & Ariadne walk across Paris’ Bir-Hakeim bridge. Cobb’s home looks and feels like a classic Greene & Greene California bungalow. Huge portions of the film’s surface are covered in those most modern of materials, glass, cold steel, and lots of mirrors.

OTHER FILMMAKERS
4. (Slightly spoiler-y) There’s something downright Citizen Kane-esque about Cillian Murphy’s big cathartic moment. This film’s Rosebud is again a simple object from childhood that grows grandiose in stature, fully imbued with serious emotional meaning.

4B. The Pont de Bir-Hakeim bridge sequence feels like another Welles’ reference, when Ariadne locks herself and Dom Cobb (Leonardo DiCaprio) in a Lady from Shanghai-esque hall of mirrors.

4C. Kubrick’s ghost also slips through the film – everything that waits for Fischer behind the safe’s door is a big visual reference to 2001. Whenever Kubrick’s influence pops up in a movie, it gives me the chills (imagine my fan girl glee sitting through There Will Be Blood).

THE LITTLE SPARROW
5. There’s a double dose of Piaf in this puppy – Piaf’s “Non, je ne regrette rien” echoes throughout the film, and Cotillard herself won her Oscar for bringing Piaf to life. Cotillard’s character Mal manages to be even more hysterical and frightening than the often volatile and larger than life Piaf herself. Mal is pure femme fatale, actually – her manipulative neediness has plenty in common with the spider women of film noir past. (And yes, I know that Malmeans bad in French. We get it, Christopher Nolan! She’s a bad lady!)

YES, VIDEO GAMES
6. Come on, you can’t tell me that 3rd level in the dream state (”the snow level”) wasn’t like something out of the Call of Duty video game franchise? Hell, the whole idea that there are “levels” to progress through, layered one on top of another, is a big reference to video game architecture itself. They could make a video game out of this movie, it would be a lot like Heavy Rain with action sequences. Although, it would be really frustrating to get stuck in one of those repeating stair-loops. (Press B! I *AM* pressing B. Keep pressing B, I guess.)

SALACIOUS THOUGHTS ABOUT BOYS
7. Oh I like that Tom Hardy fellow. I have a very woozy weakness for British action heroes. I hope I get a chance to see him shoot a gun again. I’ll have to check out his appearance as Heathcliff in Wuthering Heights in the meantime. Oh, that sounds just lovely.

7B. Nobody will ever remember that Fred Astaire walked on the ceiling first, now that Joseph Gordon Levitt has done it. The next time someone does ANYTHING on the ceiling, people will shout “poseur!” until their throats are sore.

7C. This is the first time I think I’ve taken DiCaprio seriously as a man-MAN. I know he’s considered quite the sex symbol, but for example, in the Aviator, I just didn’t think he felt old/experienced enough to play a character like Howard Hughes. I thought he still felt a bit baby-faced even in The Departed, or perhaps Matt Damon just made him seem younger in that film. But in Inception, I fully bought it that he was a man old enough to be haunted by his past.

MAYBE IT’S JUST ME, BUT –
8. I don’t like Hans Zimmer! The score was the most distracting part of this movie for me. The score was doing it’s Zimmer-y thing of going, HEY, don’t forget ABOUT ME back HERE with all these DRAMATIC! BOOMING! MOMENTS! It’s too much. Something more subtle could have worked just as well, but that’s just my taste preference.

MY FRIEND DAVE LEWIS WILL WANT ME TO SAY SOMETHING ABOUT ELLEN PAGE
9. Dave loves Ellen Page. When confronted with the choice, Cotillard or Page, DL doesn’t think it’s an easy question to answer. Page’s character in the movie was not as fleshed out as the others, so it’s not entirely her fault that I don’t find her appearance in this film extremely memorable. Still, she does manage to hold her own against the veterans and…um, her complexion is quite dewy in places. There, Dave, are you happy now?

WHO TAKES A KID TO INCEPTION?
10. After our screening, we watched a 10 year old little girl emerge from the theater with her father and brother. Right in front of us, with an anguished look on her face, she asked “WHAT HAPPENED?!” I feel like this movie could give a kid nightmares.

“Mommy…are we real?”

If you have crazy jumbled thoughts about Inception too, hit the Comments box.

We always, ALWAYS eat at Sloan’s on Highway 111 so we can have a Dutch baby pancake each time. A hearty breakfast and a Bloody Mary is the best way to start off a Coachella day.


How to make sure nobody’s trying to steal your guy at Coachella: hold onto his ass with your fingernails.


Having way too much fun?

Sorry I couldn’t be more helpful!

—

Just little moments frozen in time -

Day 1 High Points | #1 Grizzly Bear

The crowd was packed in tight – too tight -  in the Mojave tent, a bad venue choice for this band that clearly has a passionate following.  This year Goldenvoice sold 15,000 extra tickets, making seeing some of the bands in the tents downright miserable and impossible.

Edward Droste has one of the most beautiful vocals in indie rock today, and seeing this band again was worth sweating it out with the pack.

Day 1 High Points | #2 LCD Soundsystem

This is the 3rd and presumably last time I will see LCD Soundsystem in action as James Murphy has said the band’s most recent album could be their last. The first time I caught their show was at the El Rey, and I remember leaving that night feeling damp all over from the egregious amount of sweaty ass shaking I had just successfully executed.  So much cowbell, so much ecstatic feeling – these are the things that issue forth from this band.  Murphy also took the time to hilariously rail against a certain segment of the DJ population, shouting “You’re a fucking DJ, and you can’t carry some fucking records?!”

Day 1 High Points | #3 Jay-Z

LISTEN. I’m not a hater, I just was never the world’s most passionate advocate for Jay-Z. I’m West Coast, people.  They fed us Dr. Dre and  Tupac and Snoop with our Cheerios during our pleasant sun-drenched So-Cal youth!  Still, it’s hard not to be converted when Jay-Z just starts tearing through his many, many hits with veteran aplomb, even throwing in some fireworks for good measure.  And then, in one of those great magical Coachella moments, Jay-Z starts looking into the crowd and giving people individual shout-outs, including one “to the guy with no shirt on, lookin’ like The Situation” which cracked himself up.  There’s something utterly classy about a man that rich, that powerful, telling a rabid fan in a triangle bikini top “I see you, baby girl.”  Oh yeah, Beyonce was there too, wearing a little hipster girl fedora.  Her image on the big screen TV caused thousands to leap to their feet and start heading toward the stage.  Beyonce inspires standing, y’all!

Day 2 High Points | #1 Edward Sharpe & the Magnetic Zeros

I’ve had some kind of odd life revelation, and it’s because of this band.  Am I…a hippie?  Did…something happen to me?  Either I’ve fallen and hit my head along the way or I’ve eaten some kind of  brave new acid, but this was probably the happiest show I’ve seen at any Coachella I’ve attended, including that blissful Belle and Sebastian set from 2003.  ES&TMZ has an epic sound that reminds me of Arcade Fire, if Arcade Fire hung out in Joshua Tree a lot more and maybe eschewed every other shower.  Their anthems convey pure joy and delight, and often emphasize a sense of home, community, and friendship. You know, hippie stuff.  Folk rock that can stand out at a festival boasting hip hop impresarios and guitar gods is truly noteworthy.

Day 2 High Points | #2 DIE ANTWOORD

LISTEN I THINK IT’S SAFE TO SAY THIS ZEF-RAP STUFF IS REALLY GOING TO TAKE OFF. I’M TALKING AN ALL CAPS TAKE OFF.  Using less all-caps, I’m glad to report this band really delivers in the hip hop energy department and is destined to be bigger than just another internet viral video phenomenon.  Their appearance at Coachella was also their North American debut. Hopefully when we see them next they’ll get something longer than a 20 minute set!

Day 2 High Points | #3 DEVO

This show was as satisfying as last year’s X performance.  Seeing an act like Devo just makes all the bands in their tight pants, barely only one or two albums deep, look like real rubes and newbies.  And think about how many of today’s indie bands  wouldn’t exist if it hadn’t been for the conceptual and oddball influence of Devo.  My beloved Deerhoof probably wouldn’t exist!  Devo also gave festival-goers a chance to do the robot.  During their entire set.

Day 3 High Points | Planting My Lazy Ass at the Coachella Stage for Most of the Day

Yo La Tengo, Spoon, Pavement! Why bother moving? Oh that’s right, we have to head over to see Thom Yorke.  That’s the most we moved this day.

Yo La Tengo performs this one song that goes on for nearly 12 minutes or so, with the same drum pattern and bass line repeating throughout, like a meditation.  You can’t quite call it jam rock, although Ira Kaplan is improvising through out.  It’s a masterpiece performance and a study in concentration, that also manages to look effortless.  Solid stuff.

Spoon came on right afterward and brought back the pop.  All those *short* yet memorable little ditties from Ga Ga Ga Ga Ga are so good live when they have their entire horn section. Everytime I see Spoon I’m mostly reminded by the fact that they have a very female-centric fan base.  What can I say? We chicks like an opportunity to do a little dancing.

I skipped Phoenix, who I had already greatly enjoyed at the Wiltern last year, to stick around for the reunited Pavement show.  As Malkmus himself said after playing a string of old songs, “that was the 90s in a nutshell”.  Pavement was the perfect antidote to the overblown rock theatrics of Muse the night before – they still sound so lo-fi and outsider-y.

Those are big memories from this fest. This year was a tough year to enjoy. Goldenvoice did not plan accordingly for the swell in attendance, so trash piled up everywhere and smaller venues were easily and quickly swamped and overly packed.  By day 3, the ground was so littered with food refuse that sitting down on the grass became a rather sticky and disgusting enterprise.  I am hoping they hear the feedback and do better next year. Although I have this terrible dark feeling inside that Lady Gaga will be there next year.  Shudder. We’ll need 1,000 Pavements to cope with that nonsense.

As always, my Coachella wishlist still includes: Snoop Dog, David Bowie, Neil Young, Talking Heads reunion, and the B52s.  See you next year.

Coachella might be America’s premier desert music fest, but often I find myself so distracted from whatever MGMT thought they were doing (jeeze they were shockingly boring) because the people watching is top notch.  Here are some of the most memorable looks I captured at Coachella this year.  It looks like Coachella 2011 is going to be the year of the costume, since the trend seems to have started this year.

Behold, a guy dressed as a taco and a guy dressed as Pinocchio:

Pinocchio got a LOT of shout outs walking through the beer gardens. I saw that stuff in action.

We also have “serious guys wearing jumpsuits and ties” and a dude half-wearing a bear costume with a captain’s hat:

Now that I’ve confounded you, let’s go a few steps further?

SORRY! I should have warned you, I know.  This man was very proud of his underpants.

Just one more on the confounding front and we can move on:

You guys make the call on this guy, I can’t tell if he’s being ironic or not. I’m dead on the inside.

Alright, how about a few t-shirt palette cleansers?  I chased this guy down for a picture:

Turns out he’s the man who makes these t-shirts!  You can get this classic Sophia Loren/Jayne Mansfield moment on a shirt from shopelectrictangerine.com.  Good business acumen, dude!

I also liked this rather serious hipster fellow:

More from the dude fashion front…I think this next fellow is the Tom’s Shoes entrepreneur guy?  At least the women in the crowd around me thought so too (sorry I cut off his shoes – he was wearing a pair of red Tom’s shoes for sure).  He was there to check out Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros.

A nice combo of preppy with just a touch of hippie.

As usual though, the hipsters outnumbered the hippies and preppies.  I didn’t want to dedicate so much picture time to stuff you can laugh at over at the stellar latfh.com, so how about this guy instead.

Jeans, sneakers, white t shirt, classic. It looks great without any taxing effort.  Kind of like Mr. Statham in the VIP tent.

On to the lady looks.  I think Jade Castrinos of Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros was one of the top ten most fashionable women at Coachella for sure.

Only the chicks from The Dirty Projectors could give her a run for her money.

Once again, simplicity is best:

You could try the sequin thing, sure. It’s eye-catching, but are you comfortable?  Sequins from head to toe seems rather heavy for the desert:

White is graceful and classic – although do you basically spend all of Coachella standing? I wouldn’t want to get grass stains on my lovely white dress:

This next girl in her little printed dress really stood out from the rest of the pack on the side of the Outdoor stage VIP area:

This next lass’ look embodies the laid back spirit of Coachella. But I am SICK TO DEATH of these little straw hats everyone, and I mean, everyone, was wearing:

LOOK, even a baby was wearing one.

(Awww, a Coachella baby! There’s always one or two you spot every year, going deaf in their infancy).

And here it is, one of my favorite fashion snaps at Coachella 2010, this vintage vision:

Amongst the hos with their hip-bones a poppin’, bikini strings burning bad suntans into bronzed flesh – this girl was truly a stand out.

Stay frosty, folks. See you next year!  Ooof, there’s that hat again.

We braved a level 3 hipster clusterwank to get into last week’s American Cinematheque screening of the White Stripes rockumentary, Under the Great White Northern Lights.  I’d say it was well worth having to sit through the general skinny-guy whining and feathered-haircut chaos of a long line-up of a free movie screening.  Jack and Meg are in great form in the live concert footage in this doc.  They seem legitimately content to be touring their neighbors to the north (”We grew up across the street”, Jack says early in the film). In a genuine touch of respect for their fans, they put on a number of free shows between their venue shows, playing bowling alleys, pool halls, town squares and even inside a Winnipeg bus (you may have seen this footage on YouTube).  They meet with Native Canadian tribal elders in Nova Scotia, march around with kilted Highland soldiers in Halifax, and generally dazzle the locals with their well-dressed roadies and camera crew.

The documentary relies heavily on the live footage, which is shot in a very arty style, making the red, white and black of their stage performances really pop and sizzle your retinas.  The minutiae of their performances (the back of Meg’s drummer stool has her name on it, Jack’s picks are lined up in a row on top of a speaker) are captured lovingly.  I  wanted a bit more interview time with J & M, especially since Meg never says much.  In a few of those interview snippets, Jack reveals their recording style (fast and quick, to capitalize on inspiration) and how they feel about how the music press feels about them.  One of Jack’s favorite quotes about the band goes something like: “They are simultaneously the most fake and most REAL band you will ever hear.”  Jack underlines for us – nothing that they do on stage is fake, they don’t even have a set list, and what can be construed as “fake” is artistic thoughtfulness – the power of colors, the power of their two-some.

Meg floats throughout this doc like a bit of a lost, pale soul.  Jack always looks like a rock star, talks like a rock star. He exudes confidence even if it is a front for a more sensitive soul.  Meg follows him from gig to gig, smoking quietly, grinning to herself, looking out the window.  As much as we think we may know – or not know – about this band, they are still quite enigmatic to us.  On the one hand you have the schoolyard sweetness of “I Can Tell That We Are Going to Be Friends” and the electric spazzmatic bravado of “Icky Thump”. Who are these people?  The documentary doesn’t tell us, it just shows us.  It’s a must see for Stripes fans.

How many female filmmakers can you name off the top of your head?

Well, here’s my answer in no particular order:

Ida Lupino, Agnes Varda, Chantal Akerman, Lina Wurtmuller, Sofia Coppola, Catherine Breillat, Julie Dash, Penny Marshall, Claire Denis, Nora Ephron, Nancy Meyers, Deepa Mehta, Barbra Streisand, Mira Nair, Allison Anders — and now the only Best Director Oscar winner, Kathryn Bigelow.

We now officially live in a world where our little girls can aspire to grow up to win statues shaped like naked men!  But in all seriousness, Bigelow is now a stellar role model to a horde the next generation of female filmmakers who can now learn that being married to someone (and then not married) is not your sole definition, that you can indeed grow older and still be a powerful, beautiful woman that inspires crushes in your fellow directors, making potent works of art.

Happy International Women’s Day Everybody!

Saw this in Munky King on Melrose and HAD to have it.  We walked over after a show at the Groundlings because there was a little group congregated to see an exhibition by Martin Hsu and Andrew Brandou, riffing on the theme of the Year of the Tiger.  I re-watched Reservoir Dogs recently and it still stands up, every moment of it, from Quentin’s ponderous Madonna analysis, to every sashay in Michael Madsen’s ear-slicing dance routine.

Wanna see something else ludicrous I own relating to Reservoir Dogs?

Look at the size of that cabeza. And yes, it is sitting in my garage, near a faded reproduction poster of a Street Car Named Desire, a croquet set, and my fondue pot.  And yeah, we do have a food dehydrator, and no we haven’t used it recently.  What’s funny is people ran off with the lovely visages of Steve Buschemi and Harvey Keitel.  Nobody wanted dear old Q so now he live in my garage.  The Qee, however, lives inside with my other vinyl toys.

My friend Brian and I once toiled together behind the counters of Laser Blazer in the very very late 90s and into the aughts.  Both of us found working at the video store a badge of honor, being appreciators of strange, awesome, or terrible cinema.   Brian is easily one of the greatest cinephiles I have the pleasure to know and to be invited into his home for karaoke and video games is a personal delight.  And look what the hell he’s done, he’s picked his 100 favorite films of the fricken century (modeled after this guy’s post).  Not one to turn down a challenge, I’ll give it a shot too.

Personal Criteria:
- Unforgettable after one viewing
- Re-watchable and/or quotable, often belongs in my personal cinema vault
- Changed my perception of what cinema can be/do/say/convey
- In the case of some titles, told compelling, unique and inspiring “chick-centric” stories

1920s
1 — Cops (Buster Keaton, Edward F. Cline, 1922) (pictured)
2 — Safety Last! (Fred C. Newmeyer, Sam Taylor, 1923)
3 — Bronenosets Potyomkin (Sergei Eisenstein, 1925)
4 — Sunrise (F. W. Murnau, 1927)
5 — Un Chien Andalou (Luis Bunuel, 1929)

1930s
6 — Freaks (Tod Browning, 1932)
7 — Trouble in Paradise (Ernst Lubitsch, 1932)
8 — Duck Soup (Leo McCarey, 1933)
9 — The Gold Diggers of 1933 (Mervyn LeRoy/Busby Berkeley, 1933) (pictured)
10 — It’s a Gift (Norman Z. McLeod, 1934)
11 — My Man Godfrey (Gregory La Cava, 1936)
12 — La grande illusion (Jean Renoir, 1937)

1940s
13– The Philadelphia Story (George Cukor, 1940)
14 — Citizen Kane (Orson Welles, 1941)
15 — The Maltese Falcon (John Huston, 1941)
16 – The Magnificent Ambersons (Orson Welles, 1942)
17 — Sullivan’s Travels (Preson Sturges, 1942)
18 — Double Indemnity (Billy Wilder, 1944)
19 — Meet Me in St. Louis (Vincent Minnelli, 1944)
20 — Mildred Pierce (Michael Curtiz, 1945)
21 — The Third Man (Carol Reed, 1949)
22 — Ladri di Bicicletti (Vittorio De Sica, 1947)
23 — Black Narcissus (Michael Powell & Emeric Pressburger, 1947) (pictured)
24 — Kind Hearts and Coronets (Robert Hamer, 1949)

1950s
25 –  Gun Crazy (Joseph H. Lewis, 1950)
26 — Pickup on South Street (Samuel Fuller, 1953)
27 — Tôkyô monogatari (Yasujiro Ozu, 1953) (pictured)
28 — Pather Panchali (Satyajit Ray, 1955)
29 — Rebel Without a Cause (Nicholas Ray, 1955)
30 — Written on the Wind (Douglas Sirk, 1956)
31 — Auntie Mame (Morton DaCosta, 1958)
32 — Mon Oncle (Jacques Tati, 1958)
33 — Touch of Evil (Orson Welles, 1958)
34 — Vertigo (Alfred Hitchcock, 1958)
35 — Les quatre cents coups (Francois Truffaut, 1959)
36 — Pickpocket (Robert Bresson, 1959)
37 — North by Northwest (Alfred Hitchcock, 1959)

1960s
38 — À bout de souffle (Jean-Luc Godard, 1960)
39 — L’eclisse (Michelangelo Antonioni, 1962)
40 — Otto y Mezzo (Federico Fellini, 1963)
41 — Il gattopardo (Luchino Visconti, 1963)
42 — A Hard Day’s Night (Richard Lester, 1964)
43 — Faster, Pussycat! Kill! Kill! (Russ Meyer, 1965) (pictured)
44 — Dr. Strangelove or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb (Stanley Kubrick, 1964)
45 — Il buono, il brutto, il cattivo (Sergio Leone, 1966)
46 — Persona (Ingmar Bergman, 1966)
47 — Belle du Jour (Luis Bunuel, 1967)
48 — Koroshi no rakuin (Seijun Suzuki, 1967)
49 — La mariée était en noir (Francois Truffaut, 1968)
50– Rosemary’s Baby (Roman Polanski, 1968)

1970s
51 — Kes (Ken Loach, 1970)
52 — Harold and Maude (Hal Ashby, 1971)
53 — Two-Lane Blacktop (Monte Hellman, 1971)
54 — Aguirre, der Zorn Gottes (Werner Herzog, 1972)
55 — Le charme discret de la bourgeoisie (Luis Bunuel, 1972)
56 — Play It As It Lays (Frank Perry, 1972) (pictured)
57 — Badlands (Terrence Malick, 1973)
58 — The Long Goodbye (Robert Altman, 1973)
59 — Paper Moon (Peter Bogdanovich, 1973)
60 — California Split (Robert Altman, 1974)
61 — The Godfather: Part II (Francis Ford Coppola, 1974)
62 — Young Frankenstein (Mel Brooks, 1974)
63 — Female Trouble (John Waters, 1975)
64 — Jeanne Dielman, 23 Quai du Commerce, 1080 Bruxelles (Chantal Akerman, 1975)
65 — Sholay (Ramesh Sippy, 1975)
66 – Dona Flor e Seus Dois Maridos (Bruno Barreto, 1976)
67 — 3 Women (Robert Altman, 1977)
68 — Annie Hall (Woody Allen, 1977)
69 — Monty Python’s Life of Brian (Terry Jones, 1979)

1980s
70 — Coal Miner’s Daughter (Michael Apted, 1980)
71 — The Empire Strikes Back (Irvin Kershner, 1980)
72 — Fitzcarraldo (Werner Herzog, 1982)
73 — Amadeus (Milos Forman, 1984)
74 — Brazil (Terry Gilliam, 1985)
75 — The Breakfast Club (John Hughes, 1985)
76 — Back to the Future (Robert Zemeckis, 1985)
77 — Hannah and Her Sisters (Woody Allen, 1986)
78 — A Room with a View (James Ivory, 1986)
79 — Full Metal Jacket (Stanley Kubrick, 1987)
80 — Withnail & I (Bruce Robinson, 1987)
81 — Mujeres al borde de un ataque de nervios (Pedro Almodovar, 1988) (pictured)
82 — Camille Claudel (Bruno Nuytten, 1989)
83 — Do the Right Thing (Spike Lee, 1989)
84 — Mystery Train (Jim Jarmusch, 1989)

1990s
85 – Goodfellas (Martin Scorsese, 1990)
86 — Wild at Heart (David Lynch, 1990)
87 — Point Break (Kathryn Bigelow, 1991)
88 — Da hong deng long gao gao gua (Yimou Zhang, 1991)
89 — Howards End (James Ivory, 1992)
90 — The Last of the Mohicans (Michael Mann, 1992)
91 — Short Cuts (Robert Altman, 1993)
92 — Trois couleurs: Bleu — (Krzysztof Kieslowski, 1993)
93 — Chung Hing sam lam (Kar Wai Wong, 1994)
94 — Pulp Fiction (Quentin Tarantino, 1994)
95 –Dead Man (Jim Jarmusch, 1995)
96 — Safe (Todd Haynes, 1995)
97 — The Big Lebowski (Joel & Ethan Coen, 1998)
98 –Rushmore (Wes Anderson, 1998)
99 — Being John Malkovich (Spike Jonze, 1999)
100 — Sweet and Lowdown (Woody Allen, 1999)

Quirky Stats
Directors most represented – Luis Bunuel: 3, Orson Welles: 3, Woody Allen: 3, Robert Altman: 4
B & W to color ratio -  39: 100
Most represented actress: Sissy Spacek – 3 (Badlands, 3 Women, Coal Miner’s Daughter)
Number of films secretly added to this list just to anger/confound you: 3

If you take the 100 personal movies  of the last dang century challenge, please let me know!