On March 18th, Jeff Nichols’ Midnight Special hits theaters. The film, which follows a boy with supernatural abilities getting hunted down by various groups eager to study or exploit him, is a major departure from the rest of Nichols’ filmography. With Shotgun Stories, Take Shelter, and Mud, Nichols showed an interest in small, modest-scaled dramas about internal (Take Shelter) and external (Shotgun Stories) battles in the Southern United States. Now, Nichols has elevated himself to a different, bigger stage: Midnight Special is a full-on, big-budget (compared to his earlier films, that is) sci-fi that has already received comparisons to Steven Spielberg’s work.

Nichols is far from the first director to make a film outside their perceived wheelhouse, and in anticipation of Midnight Special’s release, we decided to come up with our favorite examples of directors who made a successful shift into new, exciting territory. Read our eleven picks below, and let us know if you agree, disagree, or think we’re missing any directors who deserve to be on this list.

Favorite Directorial Left Turns

Babe: Pig in the City (George Miller)

Although respectable, George Miller’s post-Mad Max fare—such as The Witches of Eastwick and Lorenzo’s Oil—hardly built on the promise of his influential post-apocalyptic trilogy. In the mid-nineties, Miller’s career took an abrupt change of direction, co-writing and producing the surprise Best Picture nominee Babe (losing out to the far inferior Braveheart). The talking pig was a huge success, and a few years later Miller directed the sequel.

Babe: Pig in the City is far darker in tone than the cozy, bucolic original. Miller pulls out all the stops, creating a trippy atmosphere for his menagerie of chatty creatures, including mice, chimps, pelicans and Mickey Rooney. Ostensibly a family film, it has the bug-eyed intensity of his Nightmare at 20,000 Feet segment in Twilight Zone: The Movie and the baroque imagination of Mad Max: Fury Road. Miller’s lengthy excursion into family film continued with the hit Happy Feet and its sequel, featuring CGI dancing penguins. And just when the scorched landscape of “Mad” Max Rockatansky seemed a distant memory, Miller took another turn onto Fury Road. [Lee]

Bernie (Richard Linklater)

Richard Linklater has always been partial to his home state of Texas, but in his 2011 flick, Bernie, Linklater embraced the east Texas legend of Marjorie “Marge” Nugent’s murder. Linklater’s career is marked with a variety of genres from relatable dramas such as Boyhood and the Before Trilogy to airy comedies like Dazed and Confused, but Bernie served as his only venture into a crime-driven black comedy. Yet, Linklater’s expertise in the understanding of the human condition is manifested in his sympathetic portrayal of Bernie and the often insufferable Marge. Bernie combines many of the elements that make Linklater’s films so beloved, but the presentation is wildly unique. The film combines mockumentary with documentary and comedy with drama in a way that is coherent and captivating. And while Bernie stands out from the rest of Linklater’s work, the quirks present in Bernie are exaggerations of quirks from the rest of Linklater’s filmography, and that is what makes the film such a treat. It’s a departure from the Linklater status quo, but it also represents an artistic evolution and a love letter to rural Texas. [Tanner]

The Big Short (Adam McKay)

The ’60s had the Rat Pack, the ’80s had the Brat Pack, and the ’00s have the Frat Pack, with the likes of Will Ferrell, Vince Vaughn, and Steve Carell in its ranks. One of the key architects of the Frat Pack oeuvre is Adam McKay, writer/director of the Anchorman films, Step Brothers, Talladega Nights: The Ballad of Ricky Bobby, and The Other Guys. You see the pattern. Going off this previous directorial resume, McKay’s doesn’t suggest very much depth. But with his latest effort, The Big Short, he detours from the usual big-laughs-from-little-substance path and takes on material as dense as one can get for a major motion picture: the bursting of the US housing market bubble, and subsequent global economic crisis, that occurred in the mid-2000s. It’s dry, complicated stuff that is plagued by its own jargon-riddled language. McKay (who also co-wrote) presents his smartest humor to date, but also makes the material easy to understand, keeping the film moving at a brisk pace and making brilliant creative decisions—such as fourth wall-breaking and pop-up tutorials conducted by surprise celebrity cameos. The Big Short earned the accolades it received during awards season, and McKay has earned a spot on the list of directors to pay attention to for more than just silly comedies. [Michael]

Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban (Alfonso Cuarón)

Alfonso Cuarón wasn’t necessarily a stranger to children’s film when he took on the third Harry Potter franchise film, nor to Warner Brothers. He’d directed 1995’s A Little Princess, also a darker toned tale of a child orphan making their way in the world. So while Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban may not have felt like a left turn for him, for those who think of Y Tu Mamá También when they hear his name, the jump from a horny coming-of-age road trip film to a beloved magical series was jolting. But it isn’t really if one thinks about it. Picking up where Chris Columbus left off in the first two films, Cuarón picked the perfect film of the series to take on. This is where Harry’s journey gets remarkably dark, with his family’s past and secrets he was formerly too young to grasp finally get revealed. He has to choose to face the threats that heretofore came looking for him, AND turn 13. Scary stuff. Cuarón gave the film much needed relevancy, having characters wear modern clothing and letting them interact more with the non-magical world. He gave the Harry Potter series the backbone it lacked and a magic that felt more enticing, simultaneously pleasing book fans and pulling in those who’d previously written the series off as kid stuff. Cuarón knows how to get hearts pumping (Gravity) and feelings flowing (Children of Men), and his approach was a huge success for what is now among the top five film franchises in history. [Ananda]

Hugo (Martin Scorsese)

Roger Ebert opened his review of Martin Scorsese’s 2011 film with the line, “Hugo is unlike any other film Martin Scorsese has ever made.” As a director who’s known for his gritty gangster films (Goodfellas, The Departed, Gangs of New York), Scorsese threw a curveball at audiences by making a big-budget family film. In his extensive filmography, the director has only made a handful of PG-rated films, and none (that I can recall) featuring young children as lead characters. But the main reason why Hugo marked such a huge departure for Scorsese was that it was filmed in 3D, a medium often thought to be gimmicky, especially for a filmmaker who is such a strong advocate for preserving traditional film. But it’s easy to see why he made Hugo considering it’s a love letter to cinema, featuring storylines involving early pioneers of film like Georges Melies and the Lumiere brothers. Scorsese shows how those directors experimented with special effects during the early years of film, and it suddenly dawns on you why he decided to make Hugo in 3D. And to top it off, he adds a great message about the importance of preserving film. It’s rare that a filmmaker can make a film like this; one that’s so close to their heart, so much different than their previous work, and yet be easily accessible to every age group. Hugo is that film. [Dustin]

Li’l Quinquin (Bruno Dumont)

Early on in his career, Bruno Dumont was labelled as an enfant terrible for several reasons: showing unsimulated sex scenes in his films, using sudden, brutal violence, a rigid form that can drive people mad or put them to sleep, and an ability to generate provocative questions about hot button issues like religion and spirituality. Since 2011, after his underrated Hors Satan flopped with critics and audiences, he underwent a bit of a change. His follow-up, Camille Claudel 1915, starred Juliette Binoche, a surprise given his preference to work with unprofessional actors. But it wasn’t until 2014 that Dumont would make his biggest shift yet with Li’l Quinquin, a TV miniseries about detectives trying to find a serial killer in the French countryside. The series marks Dumont’s first attempt at making an outright comedy, and it works like gangbusters (some sequences in here are so unhinged it’s impossible not to choke from laughter). But the biggest surprise of all was that Li’l Quinquin turned out to be Dumont’s biggest success to date, smashing TV rating records in France and getting renewed for a second season. While it’s a definitely left turn for the director, it’s the furthest thing from a compromise, and Quinquin will hopefully mark the beginning of a new, more exciting phase in Dumont’s career. [C.J.]

Spring Breakers (Harmony Korine)

Before the release of the star-studded and fluidly structured Spring Breakers, Harmony Korine wasn’t well-known to general audiences. His filmography had been comprised of works like the deeply strange Gummo, the minimalist but bigger-budgeted Mr. Lonely and the chaotic, dadaist Trash Humpers. Korine wouldn’t go on to direct another film until almost half a decade later, and when he would, he wouldn’t be returning to execute Spring Breakers with the deceptively simple formal qualities of his previous three features. Instead, he hired Benoit Debie (primarily known for his collaborations with Gaspar Noé) as his cinematographer, gathered composer Cliff Martinez and popular dubstep artist Skrillex to work on the score, and cast household celebrities such as James Franco, Selena Gomez, Vanessa Hudgens & Ashley Benson to co-star alongside his wife, Rachel Korine. The end result is a pure sensory overload, constituted by a rich color palette, a free-flowing camera and editing style, and some of the sharpest social commentary to emerge from the American film scene in years, if not decades. [Eli]

The Straight Story (David Lynch)

David Lynch has cemented himself as one of the most idiosyncratic filmmakers of our time, tainting our eyeballs with visions of severed ears in the grass, people-sized rabbits doing chores, and Dennis Hopper spitting and spluttering like a loon. Lynch’s films are about as weird as they come, but when asked, the director called his G-rated 1999 heartland drama The Straight Story his “most experimental film.” While it sounds strange at first listen, in the context of the nightmarish sprawl that is his larger oeuvre, the assertation rings loud and true. Nearly every aspect of the film is antithetic to the core concepts of his other works: instead of smashing Americana to pieces, he celebrates it; rather than delivering shocks of violence and sex, the movie is squeaky clean and has no artsy tricks up its sleeve. Richard Farnsworth, in his Oscar-nominated final performance, plays Alvin Straight, an aging man who travels 320 miles from Iowa to Wisconsin on his John Deere (only in Lynchian context is this part bit considered “not weird”) to see his dying brother. Lynch’s broodiness is eschewed here, his visual flair instead working in support of a sweeping road story of love and devotion set along the cornfields and foothills of the good ol’ U.S. of A. Surprisingly, the film has Lynch’s fingerprints all over it despite the conventional tone and narrative. For a one-time affair, the wavy-haired madman plays it straight, and it works astonishingly well. [Bernard]

The Wind Rises (Hayao Miyazaki)

Hayao Miyazaki, the creator of films such as Spirited Away and My Neighbour Totoro, is best known for his beautiful depictions of fantasy and ability to bring imaginary worlds to life on screen. Therefore, The Wind Rises comes as an unusual project from the Japanese animator, acting as a realistic piece of fiction whilst enfolding historical events into its narrative. It’s a fictional biography of Jiro Horikoshi, the designer of the Japanese Zero fighter plane in World War II, and yet it focuses mostly on Jiro’s dreams of flying, rather than the grim realities of his creations. From its terrifying rendering of the Great Kanto earthquake in 1923 to its frequent references to Japan’s involvement in the Second World War, the film is never unaware of its exact place in history. However, The Wind Rises never allows this history to overshadow its message about inventions and possibilities. All the more interesting is the film’s place as Miyazaki’s final feature film, inevitably creating a parallel between himself and the young Jiro, both of whom are artists at their core; men with creative aspirations, but whose works are bound to be consumed in ways they did not intend. Reviews suggest that The Wind Rises is not critical enough of a man who designed machines for war, and yet Miyazaki’s films—often considered children’s tales—have always had a moral message. It seems his final film is a reminder that, once a creation leaves its author’s hands, its fate is as much our responsibility as it is theirs. [Pavi]

The Wrestler (Darren Aronofsky)

Prior to 2008, Darren Aronofsky had established a consistently heady, kaleidoscopic aesthetic in his work. From the Lynchian surrealism of Pi to the hyperkinetic chaos and visceral impact of Requiem for a Dream to the ambitious, centuries-spanning spiritual epic that was The Fountain, one might’ve thought they had him pegged down as a filmmaker. However, while The Wrestler certainly carries a few subtle hallmarks of Aronofsky’s style and thematic interests, it’s a more stripped-down, genuinely gritty picture than anything the director has attempted before (or since).

A tale of has-beens and former glory is concentrated in the figure of Randy “the Ram” Robinson, a once-famous professional wrestler who has fallen into obscurity. He lives in a trailer, works a menial, unfulfilling job and only finds consolation in his small-time weekend wrestling gigs or in the sympathetic arms of a similarly broken-down stripper. Such a familiar type of story is imbued with refreshing nuance by Mickey Rourke’s unflinching, honest performance and Aronofsky’s neorealist approach. If there was any doubt that the director could make a film expressing unglamorous realities and raw human truths without the stimulation of technical dazzle and flamboyant flourishes, this movie surely puts those concerns to rest. Despite it being a bit of an anomaly in Aronofsky’s career, The Wrestler might just be his greatest work to date. [Byron]

X-Men (Bryan Singer)

Since Jeff Nichols’ latest studio venture has inspired this feature, I’ve chosen another all-American director, who was also in his mid-30s when he made the quantum leap from small scales and modest budgets by hitting the sci-fi switch. Bryan Singer’s big break came with cult classic crime thriller The Usual Suspects in 1995 where an award-winning screenplay and unforgettable performances bolstered the director’s work enough for 20th Century Fox to have a meeting about it. The character-driven student-teacher Stephen King drama Apt Pupil came next in 1998, but Fox had reportedly already approached Singer for X-Men. He turned it down, made Apt Pupil instead, was courted again—this time by good friend Tom DeSanto—only to finally sign on and set the course for the modern film age of superhero dominance we’re currently (suffering) in.

For the first time in his career, Singer worked with special effects, a budget of $75 million, and in the Sci-Fi sandbox where comic book fandom reigns. And boy did he make it work. It’s near-impossible to measure the magnitude of the aftershock this movie created, after grossing over $200 million at the box-office. Hugh Jackman became a star, studios realized that comic book property was a gold mine they could finally tap into, and Singer made such a triumphantly left turn from chamber dramas to splashy blockbusters, he’s never hard to turn right again. By no means the best superhero film, X-Men is still a perfectly entertaining spectacle that turned its director into one of the best comic book helmers working today. I very much doubt Nichols will make the same impact. [Nik]

In the midst of Movember, there are a number of men doing their best to spread awareness of men’s health issues with their burgeoning bristles. We at Way Too Indie fully support this “mo”vement — especially if it means that we all get to bask in the glory of millions of moustaches walking around us every day for a whole month. Whether you’ve already got an illustrious comb or you’re just straining to sprout something from a few of your follicles, if you are among the bros striving to grow your own facial man stamp, here’s a list of some of the best moustaches in movie history to keep you in the mood to “mo.”

Groucho Marx, Duck Soup

Among the most famous of moustaches, no ‘Best Of’ list would be complete without Groucho Marx’s trademark broomstache. Shaded by two equally substantial eyebrows, Groucho’s (obviously fake) facial hair was the rimshot to his every fast-flowing joke. Indeed, all one has to do is pick up a pair of those trademark fake nose glasses with attached moustache and anyone can be just as funny as he was. Sort of. [Ananda]

Charlie Chaplin, Modern Times

So Hitler’s toothbrush moustache is a shining example of how one person can ruin a fashion trend (and for the record, even the people of his time hated his look calling it rotzbremse or “snot brake”), but anyone who’s anyone knows Charlie Chaplin had it first, and he made it adorable. Swishing his ‘stache like a broom, he swept up audience’s hearts. And never one to pass up on a comedic opportunity, he went on to parody Hitler in The Great Dictator shortly after. [Ananda]

Frederick Loren, House on Haunted Hill

Because it’s the classiest of classic moves to have at the heart of a haunted house flick a mustachioed and sinister host. Vincent Price combines his wonderful lip crown with a pair of incredibly expressive eyebrows to deliver this most delightful performance. It almost makes you giddy. Yes, even you. [Scarlet]

Rhett Butler, Gone With the Wind

You might have thought it was his sparkling eyes or his darling dimple. But, no, it was most obviously that clever little moustache that kept Scarlett hanging on. Maybe Clark Gable didn’t give a damn, but you wouldn’t think so with how much time and devotion he would need to have taken every morning to keep that well groomed look of his so, well, groomed. [Scarlet]

Sentenza, The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly

Ah, Angel Eyes. Nothing like a good twirly, villainous mustache to bring them out, too. Lee Van Cleef was proud of those beady eyes, his main moneymaker. But what better accessory to pair them with than this wonderful example of a mighty moustache? [Scarlet]

Don Vito Corleone, The Godfather 

Marlon Brando is proof positive that there is no need for a dude to be able to nurture a full fledged Yosemite Sam ‘stache in order to illicit the fear of god into those he may need to intimidate. For a good cause of course. Or, at least, family. [Scarlet]

Bandit, Smokey and the Bandit

There are few faces in this world that look downright wrong without their trademark manhandle, and Burt Reynolds is among those people. The Bandit’s smile wouldn’t seem so pearlescent without the accent of a big dark ‘stache. What happens when Burt tries to shave? Deliverance. Enough said. [Ananda]

Peter Mitchell, Three Men and A Baby

Yeah, they were all pretty manly, but there’s a reason Tom Selleck was the Alpha Male of this trio. That facial badge of his just gives him straight up authority among men and they all knew it. Even the baby. [Scarlet]

Hook, Hook

It’s hard to say which is more impressive about Dustin Hoffman’s thin and well-waxed moustache in Hook, the precise way it contrasts under his huge nose or the amazing ability Hoffman had to make it move like its own limb. Never in a movie has a close up on a ticking moustache been so sinister. We’re still getting chills. Good form, old man, good form. [Ananda]

Wyatt and Virgil Earp, Tombstone

Virgil’s moustache is definitely the huskier of the two, but it’s Kurt Russell’s clear blue eyes that would make anyone swoon. And making them pop with that glorious face trophy? It doesn’t help that it’s a perfect replica of something that actually existed in history. #heartbreaker [Scarlet]

The Stranger, The Big Lebowski

As the seminal narrator of The Big Lebowski, Sam Elliott gets very little actual screen time in the film as The Stranger. Which is why it’s even more impressive he made our list. His wisdom for The Dude is added very real depth by the measure of the walrus whiskers accenting his words. The grayness of it has the Gandalf effect of adding poise, even as he mutters such things as “the Dude abides” and “got any more of that good sarsaparilla?” [Ananda]

Bill “The Butcher” Cutting, Gangs of New York

There are villains, and then there are villains with truly impressive facial hair. Daniel Day-Lewis as Bill the Butcher was intimidating enough with his butcher knife and plaid pants, but he took it entirely next level by achieving that most rare of moustaches, what I call the full-bodied rounded point. Like a handlebar, but this version holds on to you. [Ananda]

Borat, Borat

While I would never really suggest anyone sitting through this movie, even for awareness’ sake, there is definitely something to be said for Sacha Baron Cohen’s heavy hitter of man-glory. This was a crowning achievement. How many words can I come up with for moustache? [Scarlet]

Jack, The Darjeeling Unlimited 

When it comes to hitting the facial follicle gene jackpot, Jason Schwartzman had all the right numbers. Jewish Italian pretty much guarantees him the ability to grow whatever kind of facial cover-up he desires. He may play the shortest and youngest of the three brothers, but his distinctive lip luggage gave him all the gravitas he needed.  [Ananda]

Walt Disney, Saving Mr. Banks

When it comes to thinner moustaches it’s (literally) a fine line between your John Waters pencil mark moustache, a pubescent boy’s first attempts at peach fuzz, and the charming subtlety of Walt Disney’s well-spaced bristle. But Tom Hanks definitely pulls it off (I mean, it’s Tom Hanks, he could probably pull off the toothbrush Hitler-look with his overabundance of radiating goodness). Maybe his magic came from the ‘stache? [Ananda]

Theodore, Her

We’re willing to give Joaquin Phoenix some credit and say that his piercing but sad eyes are what made his character so sympathizable in Her, but that common dude brostache added even more of a touch of the everyman. It’s only a shame the virtual Samantha never got to appreciate the comfort some solid lipholstery can bring.  [Ananda]

Charles Mortdecai, Mortdecai

And, coming in 2015, we will finally see Johnny Depp sporting the moustache he deserves.  As a redhead (can I say ginger?) no less.  But that’s your motivation for next year.  Stay strong, my friends. [Scarlet]

Want to contribute to the cause, or grow a ‘stache to support men’s health? Get involved and find details at the Movember website.

This Saturday, January 11th at San Francisco’s Castro Theater, there’s going to be an all-day, 100-Year Anniversary celebration of one of the most essential, irreplaceable, and beloved characters in the history of film, Charlie Chaplin’s “The Tramp”. The bumbling, infectiously good-hearted fellow has been a prototype for comic protagonists to this day, and anyone who’s familiar with him has fond memories of watching him evade the authorities with hilarious, cartoonish flair.

The program will include classic shorts and full-length features starring the comic idol set to live music accompaniment. There’s no better place to experience Chaplin in the Bay Area than the silent-era Castro Theater, and whether you’re a long-time Chaplin devotee or a silent film beginner, it’s sure to be a blast.

Here’s the program, via silentfilm.org :

Our Mutual Friend: Three Chaplin Shorts at 1PM 
Charlie Chaplain made some of his greatest comedies at the Mutual Film Corporation. Chaplin acknowledged his time at Mutual as the most inventive and liberating period of his career. Approximately 90 minutes total. The shorts program includes:

• The Vagabond (1916, with Chaplin, Edna Purviance, Eric Campbell). Charlie Chaplin plays is a musician who rescues a girl from a band of gypsies.
• The Cure (1917, with Chaplin, Edna Purviance, Eric Campbell, Henry Bergman). An inebriated Charlie Chaplin checks into a sanitarium to take the cure, but brings a cabinet of liquor with him.
• Easy Street (1917, with Chaplin, Edna Purviance, Eric Campbell). Blending comedy and social commentary Charlie Chaplin’s character goes from tramp to police constable.

Accompanied by Jon Mirsalis on piano.

THE KID at 4PM 
Chaplin’s Little Tramp character becomes a surrogate father to an abandoned child in this eloquent marriage of comedy and sentiment. One of his most personal films, Chaplin himself was placed in a home for destitute children at age seven, THE KID is considered by many to be his most perfect. Additionally, celebrate the centennial of with Kid Auto Races at Venice (1914), the first appearance of Chaplin’s Tramp character. Approximately 70 minutes total.
Accompanied by San Francisco Chamber Orchestra with Timothy Brock conducting Chaplin’s score. 

Preceding THE KID, there will be Charlie Chaplin Look-Alike contest. Come dressed as the Little Tramp and win a prize!

THE GOLD RUSH at 7:30PM 
Charlie Chaplin, inspired by images of the 1896 Klondike gold rush and the Donner Party disaster of 1846 (in which snowbound immigrants resorted to eating their shoes—and their dead companions—to survive), manages to turn a story of cold, hunger, and loneliness into a sublime comedy. The Little Tramp becomes a prospector who sets out for the Klondike to strike it rich, battling starvation, bears, and other prospectors along the way. THE GOLD RUSH contains some of the most iconic images in cinema, including the famous scene in which Charlie makes a gourmet feast of his boot! Georgia Hale plays the beautiful dance hall entertainer who steals Charlie’s heart. Approximately 80 minutes.
Accompanied by San Francisco Chamber Orchestra with Timothy Brock conducting Chaplin’s score. 

In the spirit of the San Francisco Silent Film Festival taking place this weekend, I thought I’d compile a list of titles that I believe are great gateways for those unacquainted with the wonderful world of silent film. The silent era is a glaring blind spot for many a cinephile (me included, up until just a few years ago), which is truly a shame. A lot of the greatest films of all time were created before sound was introduced (some of which are listed here), and approaching contemporary movies with a measure of knowledge about where their ideas and techniques came from enhances the experience tenfold.

These films aren’t necessarily the greatest of the silent era and perhaps not even the most influential. There are TONS of great silents to fall in love with. These selections are simply good spots in the giant pool of silent films for newcomers to dip their toes in. For those that think silent films are boring or dated, you’ll quickly see just how fun and entertaining these films are, even by today’s standards. If you or a friend or a group of friends have been reluctant to give silent films a try or never had the desire to, I encourage you to give one or more of these films a try. You’ll be pleasantly surprised.

The absolute best way to see a silent film is to see it at a theater with live music accompaniment, but that unfortunately isn’t an opportunity available to most of us. That’s what makes festivals like SFSFF so special. If you’re in the Bay Area, don’t miss the show! Check out our interview with Anita Monga, the festival’s artistic director.

City Lights (1931)—Charlie Chaplin

Of all the great characters in silent cinema, none are more iconic, touching, likable, or inviting to newcomers than Chaplin’s Tramp. City Lights is arguably the best representation of Chaplin’s style, a masterpiece of slapstick, immaculate staging, “Aw shucks” giddy romance, and graceful physical expression. It’s one of the most enchanting romances of the silent era, with the Tramp’s amorous gaze set on someone who can’t return it—a spunky blind girl played by the wonderful Virginia Cherrill. The Tramp also makes friends with an alcoholic millionaire (Harry Myers), with their unlikely bromance providing some of the funniest scenes in any Chaplin film. Interestingly enough, City Lights was made three years in to the talkie era. The decision to keep the dialogue muted was a masterstroke. Chaplin knew the Tramp didn’t need sound to express himself. Once you bear witness to Chaplin’s grace, physical prowess, and effortless storytelling, it’s hard not to give in to the film, turn off your iPhone, get cozy, and do exactly what Chaplin wanted us all to do—smile a big smile.

For Fans of: Johnny Depp, Disneyland, pratfalls, cartoons, having a wholesome good time

Watch City Lights clip:

City Lights is available on Hulu Plus

Sunrise: A Song of Two Humans (1927)—F.W. Murnau

If you see only one film on this list, make it this one. F.W. Murnau’s salty/sweet romance masterpiece stirs every bit of me each time I watch it. It’s about a man and woman whose marriage has hit rock bottom (that’s a huge understatement) and how they climb their way out of the depths of resentment to rediscover the love they’d lost. Sunrise can be buoyant, terrifying, spiritual, tragic, haunting, and joyous, often all at once. There’s so much emotion wrapped up in every gorgeous frame that it can be overwhelming, but in the best way possible. Murnau, the greatest German expressionist of the era, seemingly defies the laws of space and gravity with his camera, which glides impossibly over seemingly obstructed terrain. The film runs on the power of the dreamlike imagery, and though the plot may seem basic, its simplicity is necessary to convey the story’s enormous emotion. Sunrise changed the way I watch movies, and I hope it will for you as well.

For Fans of: Terrence Malick, Blue Valentine, fancy camerawork, Martin Scorsese, fucked up romance

Watch Sunrise clip:

A Trip to the Moon (1902)—Georges Melies

Made virtually the minute cinema exited the womb, Georges Melies’ A Trip to the Moon captured the minds and imaginations of everyone who saw it at the time. Some will say it’s a special effects movie that looks like a 1^st grader’s slapped together diorama compared to today’s computer vomited visual wonders. To them I’d contest that A Trip to the Moon is a supremely impressive work of art considering it’s OVER 110 FREAKING YEARS OLD! What makes it required viewing for every film buff is that it acts as a beacon for us to assess just how far we’ve come in terms of technology. It’s a lot of fun to imagine how awestruck audiences must have been in 1902 to see the group of astronauts visit that distant light in the night sky, but what resonates most about the film today is the spirit of Melies’ boundless imagination. The band Air provides the (fantastic) soundtrack for the restored hand-colored version of the film above.

For Fans of: Star Wars, Lord of the Rings, mushrooms, astronomy, video games

Watch A Trip to the Moon clip:

The General (1926)—Buster Keaton

Though I personally slightly prefer the zanily whimsical Sherlock Jr., The General is inarguably the paramount accomplishment of Buster Keaton’s career. A speedy adventure brimming with spectacle, it follows “The Great Stone Face” (a name given to Keaton referring to his perpetually deadpan countenance) as he single-handedly takes on an army while aboard the titular train, all for the sake of love. The stunts concocted here are breathtaking enough to captivate any moviegoer, with Keaton tumbling and daredevil-ing all over the locomotive like an acrobatic madman. The  creativity and inventiveness of the film is only rivaled by Chaplin, but Keaton’s work is less saccharine and jibes better with today’s dry, unsentimental brand of humor. My wife usually resigns to the bedroom when I start watching my “classic movies”, but she always seems to linger when I throw old Buster on.

For Fans of: Mel Brooks, Jackie Chan, Rube Goldberg machines, dry humor

Watch The General:

The Passion of Joan of Arc (1928)—Carl Dreyer

Carl Dreyer’s The Passion of Joan of Arc is said to contain the single greatest performance by an actor ever captured on camera, by an enigmatic woman known simply as “Falconetti” (in her only acting role.) Sound like hyperbole? Watch the film. Even if you don’t agree, you’ll have at least seen a wonderful film by one of the most visually powerful directors to ever live (if you’ve never heard of him, do yourself a huge favor and study up.) There’s something unsettling and a bit otherworldly about Joan of Arc, as if it exists outside time and space. It’s like an out of body experience, transporting you somewhere cold, dark, and unfamiliar. Falconetti’s full-screen face is so riveting and tangible it’ll make you shudder, perhaps even weep. Even the greatest actors of today can’t hold a candle.

For Fans of: Amazing freaking acting

Watch The Passion of Joan of Arc clip:

The Passion of Joan of Arc is available on Hulu Plus

The Cabinet of Dr. Calgari (1920)—Robert Wiene

German expressionist Robert Wiene’s The Cabinet of Dr. Calgari may be the first horror film ever made, and if so, it sure set the bar high. Visually, the film’s angular, twisted black and white style can be felt in countless modern films, in the works of Tim Burton and Guillermo del Toro, the animated films of Henry Selick, and countless horror flicks. The film’s visual style even helped birth film noir. What’s remarkable is that despite its age, Dr. Calgari stands head and shoulders above most of its descendants. The plot—a macabre murder mystery set in a small German town—isn’t particularly innovative, but it’s the film’s striking, dreamlike imagery that makes it so enduring. Several remakes, books, and even an opera have stemmed from the original film, and with good reason–Wiene was a trailblazer who created a timeless classic.

For Fans of: Tim Burton, set design, Darren Aronofsky, horror movies, punk rock, twist endings

Watch The Cabinet of Dr. Calgari:

Honorable Mentions

Metropolis (1927)—Fritz Lang

The Birth of a Nation (1915)—D.W. Griffith

Sherlock Jr. (1924)—Buster Keaton

Battleship Potemkin (1925)—Sergei M. Eisenstein

Nosferatu (1922)—F.W. Murnau

What was the first silent film that you fell in love with? Let us know in the comments!

Some of the greatest directors of all time—F.W. Murnau, Alfred Hitchcock, Charlie Chaplin, and Carl Dreyer, to name a few—thrived in the silent era, and the best directors of today constantly refer to their work for inspiration and guidance. Knowledge of the silent era is essential to every true cinephile and greatly enhances the pleasures of movie-watching. The problem is, the only way to truly experience a silent film is by seeing it in a theater with live musical accompaniment, which isn’t necessarily doable for most of us.

But fear not! If you’re in the San Francisco Bay Area this weekend, you’re in luck: From Thursday, July 18^th to Sunday, July 21^st at the Castro theater, the San Francisco Silent Film Festival is going to be presenting an amazing lineup of beautifully restored silent films accompanied by gorgeous live music. This is the only way to truly enjoy these classic movies, and the experience will be a treasure you’ll never forget.

Festival director Anita Monga sat with us to talk about the festival’s history, why silent film isn’t “boring”, Alexander Payne, Citizen Kane, her favorite silent comedy star, and much more.

For festival information and ticket info, visit silentfilm.org

Let’s talk a bit about the history of the festival. How long has it been going on?
The festival started 18 years ago as a one day event. Steve Salmons and Melissa Chittick invented it. It was a success from the beginning. It’s now grown into a four day event, and we have events year round also. It’s probably the biggest and most successful event of its kind in the Americas.

How long have you been involved in the festival personally?
I think this will be my fourth festival.

I assume one of the main goals of the festival is to get people excited about silent film. Over the past four years, have you seen a growth in enthusiasm from the community?
My major focus is to get people into the theater. I think when people think of silent film, they think it’s going to be boring or that it’s something their college professor thought would be good for them to complete their education. Consequently, a lot of people saw their only silent films done silently or with horrible accompaniment, at the wrong frame rate, or they’ve seen a horrible print. A lot of these films are amazingly modern and have a lot to say about modern audiences. We always take great care to pair [these films] with musical accompaniment, and we don’t dictate to the musicians, but we pick them carefully, ones that have to have respect for films. We work with them closely to pair them with films that we think they can bring to life.

With silent film, there’s this hump to get over. Like you said, a lot of people view silent film as boring or irrelevant. I had the same apprehensions, but when I saw Murnau’s Sunrise, it was a revelation. How do you get people over that hump and get them in the theater?
That is really, really difficult. You just keep hounding. Really, it’s word of mouth. People who have been [to the festival] realize how extraordinary it is. We kind of have a reputation of making things fun so that people are willing to take a little bit of a chance on us, and once they do, they see how beautiful it is. We started an initiative which we are not doing this year because we asked several people who are too busy, but we do this thing called “The Director’s Pick” which we’ve renamed “The Filmmaker’s Pick”. We’re trying to draw this connection between modern filmmakers and the silent era. Filmmakers are well aware of what happened in the silent era. People who work, particularly people who have a strong visual sense, are very cognizant of the amazing strides that were made from the birth of cinema to Sunrise. It was all there. It was a way of telling a story visually and you had to supply your own music. It was an amazing art form that led to everything that happens today.

We’ve had Alexander Payne, Terry Zwigoff, Phillip Kaufman, and Pete Doctor come to introduce a show and talk about the filmmaking, something about the direction or the acting that draws for our audience that this was something that inspired them. Audiences appreciate that from a craft-person’s point of view.

People talk about silent film like it’s this ancient thing, but it’s only 100 years old. The techniques Murnau, Chaplin, and Keaton were utilizing are still just as effective today.
They’re very effective and they’re very informative for people making films now. Shakespeare’s plays have something for modern audiences. Our festival is not what I like to call an “etched in amber” approach. We’re not trying to recreate a historical moment. What we’re trying to do is bring these movies to life. I programmed the Castro for many years, and at one point there was a restoration of Citizen Kane. I showed it for a week and people were coming up to the box office and saying, “Is this really a good movie?” I think the feeling that, “This is a classic! You must see this!” make people think, “Boring!” When you see Citizen Kane, it’s unbelievable. It deserves every accolade you could possibly give it, but it’s like when people are force-fed Ivanhoe in school. People think, “This is good for me. It must not be entertaining.”

San Francisco is a very film-friendly place. The audience is the best in the world. But for silent films, you can’t do this at home. You can’t. You can stream any number of films, but you can’t recreate what we’re doing with live music. It’s a one-of-a-kind experience.

You’ve got a great lineup for this year’s festival, a lot of excellent films.
They’re all so amazing, but one that I hope doesn’t get lost in the fray is The Weavers. It’s based on an incident that happened in the 1840’s, an uprising. They ran the manufacturer out of town, they smashed the factory. It was known as the Potemkin of Germany. Prix de Beuté is wonderful for Louise Brooks. It was always considered a lesser film, but it’s actually pretty great. It has one of cinema’s most famous endings, but I’m not going to give it away! [Brooks] is spectacular in it. It was her last starring role. We’ve got a beautiful print of The Golden Clown from Denmark. The Outlaw and his Wife is hot off the presses. The Swedish Film Institute just did its complete restoration. I don’t think anybody has seen it in the United States. It’s exquisite, with Victor Sjöström directing. The script is so beautiful.

Who’s performing the musical accompaniment for that one?
The Matti Bye Ensemble from Sweden. They’re also doing The Golden Clown and The Joyless Street. Everyone needs to see The Joyless Street! We’re also doing two restorations that we had a hand in—The Half Breed, a Douglass Fairbanks film that was thought lost for many years. The restoration just happened in collaboration with Cinemateque Francaise. We’re giving the Silent Film Festival Award to the Cinemateque. The second film we had a hand in the restoration of is The Last Edition, which was filmed in San Francisco. It has this amazing footage of San Francisco in 1925. It’s all along Market Street , the Civic Center, in the Chronicle building. It’s a lovely, action packed film.

Then, there’s a last minute addition that we’re going to show before The Weavers. I got an email from Ken Winokur of the LA Orchestra. He was traveling in the Ukraine and went to the Dovzhenko Centre where they showed him a Dziga Vertov trailer for The 11^th Year. He was so excited about it that he and Beth Custer created a score they’re going to be presenting the world premiere of. The trailer is animated in this insane way. You wouldn’t believe that it was made in 1928.

You’ve got Charlie Chaplin and Buster Keaton in your “Kings of Silent Comedy” shorts program and Harold Lloyd in Safety Last!, which is your closing night film. Can you rank them from best to worst?
Oh, that’s easy. Keaton, Chaplin, Lloyd, Chase.

Ah, Charlie Chase in last place?
Between Chase and Lloyd, I don’t know how to rank them. Keaton is tops. Chaplin is amazing.

What’s your favorite Keaton? Sherlock Jr. is mine.
It’s hard. There are so many wonderful things in all of them.

I think Keaton is one of the best ways to bait somebody into watching silent movies. It’s easy to appreciate his work.
His films are so modern. Knowing that he did all of his stunts is amazing. Nobody does better or more amazing stunts than he. I love the whole Rube Goldberg [feel.] I think he’s very observant of human nature. For me, Chaplin is amazing, but there’s a little sentimentality that I don’t love. But, I think he’s absolutely genius. Next year we’re going to be doing major Chaplin stuff because it’s the centennial of the Tramp character.

The image of Lloyd dangling on the minute hand of the clock in Safety Last! is one of the most enduring images in cinema, but very few people have actually seen the film.
It’s so wonderful. Those effects are pretty amazing. In the ’20s, people did these extraordinary stunts, and one of the big stunts in New York City was “The Human Fly.” These people would scale the sides of buildings, and that’s where Lloyd got the idea for the stunt.

I think a lot of the visual discipline that was so key to the silent era is lost in a lot of modern cinema.
The great filmmakers have all learned from the silents. Take Alexander Payne. His scripts are so much about the script and the dialog, but the reason I grew to see his incredible eye is because I saw him at a silent film event in Los Angeles. I was like, “Oh! He loves this!” When I contacted him, he was incredibly enthusiastic because he does go to silent film events.

Not every film made in the silent era was great. There are people working today who have that discipline. As technology makes it easier for people to make films, I think you get more and more people who may not understand what goes into a film. You can make an adequate film. Your first film might be ok, but your second film might not unless you’ve learned these skills. The really spectacular filmmakers of today are still doing what the filmmakers of the silent era did in terms of thinking about their stories in visual terms. What Hitchcock did pretty obsessively was storyboard his films within an inch of their lives.

You’ve got a couple animated features included in the program.
Well, we have the Winsor McCay show. John Canemaker is this great writer and showman, and he’s going to present the program. McCay’s most famous characters were Little Nemo and Gertie the Dinosaur. Filmmakers were always thinking about how to incorporate drawing into moving image. You see this trope in Tex Avery bits where the animator’s hand will be bringing something to life. In Gertie, there are a couple of live action tricks with the person on stage interacting with the character. John is going to be interacting with Gertie. Then, of course, there’s Felix the Cat. He’s going to be in our Kings of Silent Comedy program which might be the best entry point for newcomers to silent film.