"Born to Kill" (1947)

The French have a phrase for it, 'amour fou', a kind of insane obsessive love, one that in most film noir almost always ends in tragedy. Bad for the characters, good for us...because it's such fun to watch. Here, Claire Trevor and Lawrence Tierney play two nasty lovers so cold and venal you can't decide if they're gonna kiss or kill each other. He's a ne'er-do-well grifter after her sister's millions; she knows he's a murderer but with his looks who cares? Even the private detective who's hot on their trail (Walter Slezak) is a slimeball, selling his services to the highest bidder. The whole hard-boiled stew is served up with a deft hand by director Robert Wise. A cult film must-watch. 

"Paper Moon" (1973)

"Paper Moon" (1973) If you took a Walker Evans photograph or an Edward Hopper painting, made them come to life and added laughs, you'd have this nearly perfect film. It's the Great Depression and a wandering con man and his (maybe) 8 year old daughter scam, scheme, and grift their way across the hardscrabbly flat midwest. Little whiskey voiced Tatum O'Neal is so dead-on right it's scary, no wonder she's the youngest actor to ever win an Oscar (she peaked here and was never better). Blessedly free of corny sentimentality and shot in glorious black and white, I can think of no picture that equally captures the essence of that period. DO. NOT. MISS. THIS. ONE. 

"Women's Prison" (1955)

High camp B-movie heaven. This one has it all: wisecrackin' broads and dames behind bars, a goon squad of hatchet faced prison guards, a vulpine Ida Lupino as the viciously sadistic warden, and for the finale, a plot by the inmates to take over the whole joint. Add in Howard Duff as the kindly prison doctor who wants to help these wayward ladies and some howlingly good/bad dialogue and you've got an even better "Orange is the New Black"...only in black and white. 

"Rain" (1932)

In the 80 years since this flop was released, time has been good to it. The message of religious zealotry run amok and the damage it's hypocrisy can cause have never been more timely. Joan Crawford is the cheap floozy prostitute Sadie Thompson who runs headlong into confrontation with priggish missionary Walter Huston on a South Seas island during the incessant rainy season. And boy, is there rain...symbolically cleansing a lot of souls but not before they're painfully laid bare. This is Joan at her best (she was always good when she played 'bad') and the direction by director Lewis Milestone looks fresher than ever. The sparks fly despite all that deluge. 

"Love Story" (1970)

Not to fault "The Fault in Our Stars" but THIS is the weepy cancer romance to beat them all. After the tumultuous '60s--three political assassinations, Vietnam, race riots, Manson, Altamont--the country needed a big collective cry. And this soapy bathos served the bill, thank you very much. Two impossibly attractive Harvard students (she's working class, he's super wealthy), meet and fall in love until, DA DUM, the Big C harshes everyone's mellow. That's about it but it really works because the leads had beaucoup chemistry in some memorable romantic moments--touch football in the snow!--a syrupy love theme, and oh, and don't forget one of the most famous lines in film history. Added points for some great wardrobe styling...McGraw's knit caps and preppy skirts hold up and i'd kill for O'Neals shearling coat. 

"Jeremiah Johnson" (1972)

With a full beard,  perfectly coiffed straw blonde locks (did anyone in movies ever have better hair?), and boho chic western garb, Robert Redford would be right at home on the streets of Bushwick, but he's an 1840's mountain man in this laconic western. All he wants is to be left alone to wander and hunt, trapping animals for pelts to trade--he's the Greta Garbo of the Old West. But it isn't meant to be, both the white man and the Indian encroach on his edenic wishes. Slow and rambley, see it for the stunning widescreen vistas shot mostly on national parkland (thank God for preservation), and oh, that hair…

"Drive a Crooked Road" (1954)

The late Mickey Rooney is firmly ensconced in the public's mind as either the "hey let's put on a show!" pal of Judy Garland or the execrable Mr. Yunioshi from "Breakfast at Tiffany's". This small somber noir is evidence he deserves a reassessment. He's a lonely, friendless auto mechanic with pipe dreams of becoming a bigtime race car driver, but ends up the patsy to a suave gang of bank robbers who need him to drive their getaway car. They use their sultry moll, Dianne Foster as bait. Rooney gives a very fine performance, maybe his best. Heartbreaking and downbeat...but isn't that what noir is all about?