Welcome to MovieJawn’s first ever Sound & Vision Poll, where our writers share why they love their 10 favorite movies of all time!

by Billie Anderson, Staff Writer

This list in no way reflects an all-time favorites list. There is one film that I refuse to let leave my favorites out of principle (Coraline) but this list just reflects where I am in my life, in this particular moment. I’m known to switch my favorites around based on the time of year, who I’m talking to, and where I am in my life. I tried to include a little bit of everything for this write-up to make it more dynamic, but a lot of my reasoning comes down to: this movie makes me feel something good and affected me at a time in my life when I was easily shaped by the media (all the time). Also, I often find that “favorite film” lists have a lot of classics or obscure films, and mine does not, so if you read this maybe you’ve seen them all and it will be a little treat. 

1.     Coraline (dir. Henry Selick, 2009)

 If this list was chronological, this would always sit at number one. Every first of November is Coraline day. I sit down and watch the movie without any distractions every year on the day after Halloween. It doesn’t quite feel like a Halloween movie, but it also isn’t meant to be watched any other time of year, so November 1st feels like the perfect Coraline experience. Coraline fits into that caricature of a child that always felt like a representation of me on screen. Stubborn, flawed, and obnoxious, but with a voracious imagination and a keen sense of intellectual curiosity (I think this last bit is the only thing that got me into a Ph.D. program). You see this in other characters like Leslie from Bridge to Terabithia, Matilda, Violet Baudelaire, or Lyra from His Dark Materials—all characters I still feel best represent me even into adulthood. Beyond how stunning the film is, how fantastic the score is, or how special this film’s story feels, it has always been Coraline herself that has brought me back to the film year after year. 

2.     Knives Out (dir. Rian Johnson, 2019)

I’ve always felt deeply connected to Rian Johnson. I think it’s because his popularity first stemmed from The Last Jedi, which was so widely despised online, and I am happy to admit it is my favorite Star Wars movie. It’s always felt like Rian Johnson is just messing around, as though he enjoys nothing more than making people angry that his films exist. By challenging the whole ethos of the Force in The Last Jedi and using every murder mystery cliché in Knives Out, Rian Johnson is clearly just having fun, which is exactly what I want to do when I’m at the theatre. More than that, Johnson understands that one of the pleasures of mystery stories is how they turn viewers into detectives, eager amateur sleuths who also sift through clues, false or not. This is even more evident in Glass Onion (TIFF viewing—no spoilers). Watching his work in a packed theater gives you a communal viewing experience that makes watching films feel even better. After I saw it for the second time on Christmas Eve, I turned to my mother to mention that I noticed so many new things on my second watch and she casually replied, “I think I got it all.” So, watch out Rian, my mom is on to you. 

3.     Rear Window (dir. Alfred Hitchcock, 1954)

Rear Window was my first Hitchcock movie. I watched it sitting on the floor of my school’s theater space in grade twelve drama. When asked what my favorite films are, I’m always aware that most of my favorite movies came out after 2000, but this one always makes the list. While this film obviously garnered its popularity from being a meta-narrative on film watching itself, it also brings in my favorite hobby—people watching. The idea that an entire film can take place by simply looking inside other’s windows is such a riveting plot, one that hit even harder with a rewatch during Canada’s never-ending lockdowns in 2020-2021. My apartment is adjacent to a wealthy neighborhood in Toronto, a neighborhood that loves its open windows to show its wealth. The plights of Hitchcock’s characters feel more visceral to me now than when people-watching was reserved for mall food courts and public parks. 

4.     Mad Max: Fury Road (dir. George Miller, 2015)

I didn’t see Fury Road until after it swept at the Oscars in 2016, bringing in six awards and being nominated in four additional categories. Even then, it felt like just another action film. It didn’t crack my favorites list until I rewatched it in 2019 to write about it for my master’s thesis. While Fury Road is consistently praised for its central themes of vengeance, solidarity, and strong feminist themes, it is often ignored for its contrasting depiction of disability. I owe a lot of credit to this film for guiding me to look outside of traditional disability genres like drama, comedies, or romance films for disability representation. While I have now landed on horror and body genres, this film spurred my love of action and post-apocalyptic films that I once overlooked. When people ask me for my recommendations on films to watch that do disability representation right, I always point them to Fury Road. Also, can you believe this film exists? It’s wild that something this incredible was made.  

5.     Kiki's Delivery Service (dir. Hayao Miyazaki, 1989)

If you don’t have at least one Miyazaki film on your favorites list, you’re probably doing something wrong. This one was a hard choice for me because so many of them feel so special. I landed on Kiki’s Delivery Service for a couple of reasons. More than anything and this may sound cringe, I really do love what this film teaches its audience. Kiki teaches us that failure is an inevitable part of living, and—most importantly—is always temporary. She shows us that if we stop having fun, the magic will slip away. And when we feel like we've lost our magic, we must trust in ourselves, recharge, and find our own inspiration. The film is about being young, vulnerable, and full of self-doubt. I’m in the middle of my Ph.D. right now, which is a time of major self-doubt, vulnerability, and questioning, and this message really feels like it gets more targeted every year. Another reason I love this movie is because of Kiki’s hot older friend Ursula. Something about being an artist in the forest who befriends crows is very compelling to me, but this reason doesn’t bode well when trying to pitch this movie to people who haven’t seen it.

6.     Punch-Drunk Love (dir. Paul Thomas Anderson, 2002) 

I grew up watching Adam Sandler movies with my dad. You know the ones dad’s love, Happy Gilmore, Billy Madison, even 50 First Dates and The Wedding Singer. To me, Adam Sandler was like my dad, goofy, cringey, and lovable. It wasn’t until I saw Punch-Drunk Love later in my teen years that I saw something else in him. I think you grow up being familiar with actors that just do dumb comedy roles and make bank and move on to the next dumb comedy, so it was cool to me that someone I had categorized in this dumb way can do something like this film. It was even cooler to me that a director like Paul Thomas Anderson saw something in an actor like Sandler to put him in a role like this. This happens time and time again, and every time it feels so special: Pattinson as The Batman, Carrey in Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, or Seth Rogen in The Fabelmans among many others. I have a lot of cringe admissions in this write-up, but here’s another one: this was the first movie I saw that showed me the potential of storytelling through film. To have the lead be someone I loved from films I saw with my dad made it all the more special. 

7.     School of Rock (dir. Richard Linklater, 2003)

I feel like this film doesn’t even need an explanation. Anyone who has seen this movie loves it. It sits in the perfect category of film I love: nothing serious goes wrong and everyone has a fun time. No conflict, major resolution. It sounds vaguely ludicrous on paper, especially considering how many categories School of Rock easily classifies under musical, comedy, coming-of-age drama, offbeat underdog story, ode to rock ‘n’ roll, inspirational feel-good family film, that one movie everyone forgot was directed by Richard Linklater. As a child, I obviously resonated with the children learning when to fit in, when to stand out, and when to have fun. As an adult, however, the film becomes even more touching. Something about watching a man who was probably around the age that I am now learning how to hold onto his hobbies and interests while integrating into an adulthood that isn’t life-sucking and depressing really resonates. It’s not the typical “everybody is special in their own way for no real reason” spiel that we usually hear in family films. It’s an even better message: “Finding something you love makes you special. Being good at it makes you special.” And obviously, Joan Cusack puts on the performance of a lifetime. 

8.     Gremlins (dir. Joe Dante, 1984)

I grew up in a family that always went all out for Christmas (and still does). Lots of decorations and gifts. Big dinners and big family gatherings, Christmas traditions. Now that I am an adult with a job that doesn’t allow me to take the whole month of December off, and an adult that lives 3k kilometers (sorry, Canadian) away from my family, a lot of the things I loved about Christmas are shortened to a week’s worth of celebrating. I loved this movie as a kid because it had little guys in it—anything that could be made a plushie was A+ in my books. But now, I love it because it is a non-Christmas Christmas movie. Gremlins has everything you would expect in a Christmas movie including snow, music, carolers, decorations, and toys. However, the movie—and the Gremlins themselves—represents the opposite of the many “Christmasy” movies that force holiday cheer down your throat. It’s ok to be upset and realize that not every Christmas can be perfect. It’s also ok if you don’t feel the joy of the season. Gremlins reminds us that not all people experience Christmas in the same way and that any form of celebration with the people you love is a good celebration. With the holidays coming up, Christmas decorations going up before the end of Halloween, and my sister sending a constantly updating joint Anderson Family Christmas Wishlist, Gremlins reminds us that Christmas can be whatever you make it, so make it a good one. 

9.     Hereditary (dir. Ari Aster, 2018)

The scariest thing of all is being yelled at by your mom. I’ve started to develop a strong fondness for horror movies that depict situations in which the characters have no control. I have been watching horror movies since I was far too young (thank you mom and dad for not censoring my media) and not a lot seems to scare me anymore. When filmmakers can create moments of horror that are impossible to escape, that’s what scares me. There is not a single instance in this film where you can blame a single character for the actions that they take. There is no “don’t go in there!” or, “I wouldn’t have done that” moments in Hereditary. This film is so tightly wound up in instances of mundane terror and absolute hellish nightmares. The dinner table scene is almost scarier than the beheading scene, which shows that Aster is just as masterful at writing dialogue as he is at creating horror. Horror films don't tend to garner much in the way of Oscar consideration, but Toni Collette not being nominated for her performance in Hereditary is as blasphemous as the plot of the movie itself—I wear my Super Yaki “Nominate Toni Collette You Cowards” shirt loud and proud all year round. Watch out Academy, you’re on my hitlist. 

10.  The Elephant Man (dir. David Lynch, 1980)

Modern stories resembling characters with visible differences are often overly sentimental and patronizing. Given that this is my field of expertise, it can get a little exhausting to have friends suggest movies that have disability representation and for me to have to break the news that the film does a terrible job at authentically representing disability. The Elephant Man is the one rare instance where I can tell people who have seen it that it holds a special place in the history of disability in cinema. It can be said that the release of The Elephant Man was a necessary and critical display of social attitudes towards disability, challenging the social standard for compassion. Lynch’s exploration of hypocrisy still rings true, with his depiction of exploitation under the guise of kindness as a barrier to total liberation and independence for disabled people. Despite the film’s flawed theme exploration, which has only become glaring due to societal progression, Lynch’s The Elephant Man paints a devastating portrait of a man with so much to offer and a heart that never stopped loving. It’s worth watching with the awareness that society has hopefully progressed majorly in the inclusion of disabled people, but it’s also worth watching because it’s a beautiful film.