by Matt Campbell, Contributor

“The ’70s was the first time that a kind of age restriction was lifted, and young people were able to come in with all their naiveté and their wisdom and all the privileges of youth. It was an avalanche of brave new ideas, which is why the ’70s was such a watershed.” —Steven Spielberg

New Hollywood, sometimes referred to as the American New Wave, refers to the period of American filmmaking from approximately 1967 to 1980. A new generation of filmmakers sought to sound the death knell of the commerce-driven studio system that had dominated Hollywood in the first half the century, to remake the industry to center on the artists (editors, writers, directors, cinematographers, et al.) making cinema, not on those selling it. For those on the vanguard of the movement, cinema was not only a common language, but nothing short of a secular religion.

The Academy Awards for Best Picture in 1968 and 1969 highlight the changes that were happening in the transition from “Old” to “New”: Oliver!’s win was followed the next year by Midnight Cowboy’s. New Yorker film critic Pauline Kael, in discussing the musical’s win, said, “[Oliver!’s] not an innovative work or a disturbing work, it does not advance the art of film, but if we don’t admire the real thing in fine big-studio methods, then we probably can’t conceive what is new in movie art, either.” In the preceding decade, the big-studio movies would be the innovative American New Wave, at least until the birth of the modern blockbuster, which New Hollywood personalities Steven Spielberg and George Lucas helped create.

Bonnie and Clyde (dir. Arthur Penn, 1967)

Along with its cohort The Graduate, which was part of the same Oscar season, Bonnie and Clyde is often credited as heralding the arrival of New Hollywood. Producer and star Warren Beatty and director Arthur Penn draw a direct line between the Depression-era outlaws of the Barrow Gang and the disillusioned youth movement of the late ’60s. The movie is also subversive in its use of violence. A modern viewer over 50 years later may not even blink at the violence in the movie, but at times the violence is seemingly glorified, along with its perpetrators, which at the time was controversial.

While the film is fairly frank in its portrayal of sex, this was toned down from the initial script. Beatty’s Clyde Barrow is portrayed as heterosexual and impotent, as opposed to the originally intended/alluded-to queerness. That being said, Clyde can be read as closeted, with his focus on traditional masculinity and his pursuit of Bonnie being somewhat for show. Faye Dunaway’s Bonnie Parsons also exists at the crossroads of gender performance. In his 1967 review of the film, Roger Ebert wrote: “A milestone in the history of American movies, a work of truth and brilliance. It is also pitilessly cruel, filled with sympathy, nauseating, funny, heartbreaking, and astonishingly beautiful. If it does not seem that those words should be strung together, perhaps that is because movies do not very often reflect the full range of human life.”

That, for better or worse, is what New Hollywood represents: an interest in a wider range of human life, albeit one that usually trends more masculine.

Midnight Cowboy (dir. John Schlesinger, 1969)

Midnight Cowboy’s Oscar legacy, at least as far as trivia goes, is that it’s the only X-rated movie to win Best Picture at the Academy Awards. What isn’t as widely known is that the film originally earned an R rating but was upgraded to X after executives at United Artists asked for it, citing fears the film’s content could negatively impact youth and lead them to homosexuality. Not great, Bob!

Directed by John Schlesinger and based upon the novel by James Leo Herlihy, Midnight Cowboy examines the growing relationship between two hustlers, played by Jon Voight and Dustin Hoffman—one, a naive man from Texas seeking a new life as a stud sex worker in New York; the other, an ailing con man. Both men are looking for escape, for companionship, for community, for understanding, for love, running away from the things they don’t want to or can’t face. What will they find? The anti-American dream. The marginalized, the forgotten, the abandoned. Then what?

Note how New York is shot, in contrast to its portrayal in later, glossier modern films. Also pay special attention to the editing and how the flashbacks are portrayed.

Wanda (dir. Barbara Loden, 1970)

Wanda—written, directed, and starring Barbra Loden—stands in contrast to many other films of the New Hollywood era. It’s not the writer-director’s exploration of the full range of human life of a man, but of a woman. Wanda is perhaps the bleakest film on this list, which, admittedly, is full of bleak films. Wanda, self-produced for just over $100,000, explores the ways in which the titular character is stuck, trapped by the expectations put upon her by her upbringing and wider society. Despite trying to exercise her agency, to make choices that change her social and material conditions, she remains pushed into the same patterns that prevent her from truly freeing herself. Wanda is a film about how you can be on the movie, but society forces you to remain in the same place it has prescribed you.

Five Easy Pieces (dir. Bob Rafelson, 1970)

Founded by Bob Rafelson, Bert Schneider, and Stephen Blauner, BBS Productions was on the vanguard of New Hollywood, producing such significant films as Easy Rider and The Last Picture Show, two staples of the late ’60s and early ’70s. One of BBS’s most enduring Hollywood legacies is its help in launching Jack Nicholson into the public consciousness, as he absolutely steals every one of his scenes in Easy Rider.

For Bob Rafelson’s second directorial outing, Five Easy Pieces, he directed Nicholson in one of the actor’s first lead roles. Nicholson’s Bobby Duprea is a forerunner to Mad Men’s Don Draper, a man who, when confronted with something he finds comfortable, seeks to run away—from family, his talents, and ultimately himself. When discussing New Hollywood, it’s important to look to BBS, and while you can’t go wrong with Easy Rider or The Last Picture Show, you can do a lot worse than Five Easy Pieces.

The Heartbreak Kid (dir. Elaine May)

Written by Neil Simon and directed by Elaine May, The Heartbreak Kid is the second woman-helmed film on this list and its only comedy. Simply put, Elaine May is a genius. She broke into fame a decade earlier as one half of Nichols and May, her comedy duo with The Graduate director Mike Nichols. To make comedy work, one must have a keen sense of humanity, and May has that in spades. She grounds this dark comedy in character and uses its subtle humor to reflect back to the audience the social norms and mores and how they intersect with identity. The Heartbreak Kid is praised as part of the New York Jewish humor movement that changed comedy forever. Without it and others in the movement, we wouldn’t have gotten Seinfeld 20 years later.

Matt Campbell is a film enthusiast, podcaster and recovering excessive tweeter (@mattyhugh) based in Edmonton, Alberta.