Films starting with the word the

В том, что смотреть фильмы на английском полезно для изучения языка, сомневаться не приходится, но если вы хотите обсудить кино с иностранным другом или почитать что-то о фильмах на англоязычных сайтах, придется освоить специальную лексику. Из этой подборки вы узнаете, как называются жанры кино на английском, общие термины, связанные с кинопроизводством, а также слова, которые пригодятся при обсуждении фильма.

Содержание:

• Жанры кино на английском языке.
• Кинопроизводство.
• Английские слова на тему «Кино»: общая лексика.

Слова и выражения о кино — это один из слоев лексики, в которые проникло много заимствований из других языков. Нередко их можно заменить русскоязычными аналогами, но этого не делают, особенно в профессиональной среде, для экономии времени и простоты выражения мыслей. Как известно, язык всегда стремится к простоте.

Например, вместо «сеттинг» можно сказать «место и время действия», но слово «сеттинг» просто короче. Некоторые слова иностранного происхождения уже прочно вошли в русский язык и не воспринимаются как иностранные, например: актер, монтаж, жанр, вестерн.

Жанры кино на английском языке

Ниже приведены общие названия жанров кино на английском языке. Эти слова не всегда используются в чистом виде. При описании фильмов могут встретиться также поджанры и смешанные жанры. Например, жанр action-adventure (приключенческий боевик) или поджанр фильмов о любви (romance) — романтическая комедия (romantic comedie).

genre	жанр
feature film	художественный фильм (полнометражный)
short film	короткометражный фильм
action	боевик
adventure	приключенческий фильм
comedy	комедия
drama	драма
crime	криминальный фильм
horror	фильм ужасов (хоррор)
fantasy	фэнтези
romance	фильм о любви
thriller	триллер
animation	анимационный фильм
family	семейный фильм
war	фильм о войне
documentary	документальный фильм
musical	мюзикл
biography	биографический фильм
sci-fi	научная фантастика
western	вестерн
post-apocalyptic	постапокалипсис

Скачать PDF

Кинопроизводство

Фильм — это результат долгой и слаженной работы большого коллектива профессионалов, производственный цикл фильма делится на основные этапы:

• Проектирование (development) — создается проект фильма, сценарий, согласуются основные финансовые вопросы.
• Предварительная подготовка (pre-production) — формируется съемочная группа, подбираются актеры, планируются съемки.
• Съемки (production) — собственно, снимается фильм.
• Пост-производство (post-production) — монтаж, звук, спецэффекты.
• Распространение (sale) — то, ради чего все и делается. Бывают случаи, когда именно на этом этапе из-за плохого маркетинга «запарывается» отличный проект.

Чаще всего говорят о этапах pre-production, production и postproduction. Хоть для этих терминов и есть русскоязычные эквиваленты «предварительная подготовка», «съемки» и «пост-производство», но довольно часто говорят просто «препродакшн», «продакшн» и «постпродакшн».

Подобная история со словами sequel, prequel, spin-off, которые можно перевести как предыстория, продолжение и ответвление, но чаще для простоты и удобства мы говорим «сиквел», «приквел» и «спин офф».

cast	актерский состав
crew	съемочная команда
actor	актер
actress	актриса
movie star	кинозвезда
director	режиссер
scriptwriter	сценарист
cameraman	оператор
stunt	каскадер
make up artist	гример
make up	грим
costume designer	художник по костюмам
film editor	монтажер
stunt coordinator	постановщик трюков
lighting technician	осветитель
stylist	стилист
choreographer	хореограф
music composer	композитор
soundtrack	саундтрэк
sound effect	звуковой эффект
visual effect	визуальный эффект
CGI (computer-generated imagery)	компьютерная графика
special effect	спецэффект
pre-production	предварительная подготовка фильма (препродакшн)
production	съемочный этап (продакшн)
post-production	пост-производство фильма (постпродакшн)
prequel	приквел
sequel	сиквел
spinn off	спин офф
remake	римейк

Скачать PDF

Английские слова на тему «Кино»: общая лексика

Эти слова и выражения пригодятся для обсуждения фильма. Особенно пригодится фраза «the film is set in», которая встречается в описании любого фильма. В данном случае фразовый глагол set in имеет значение «иметь местом и временем действия», например:

The film is set in the 1990s on a small tropical island. — Действие фильма происходит в 1990-х на маленьком тропическом острове.

Отсюда же и слово setting (сеттинг) — место и время действия.

movie (film)	фильм
television series (TV show)	телесериал
soap	мыльная опера
the show aired on the AMC	шоу (сериал) выходило в эфир на AMC
plot	сюжет
exposition	экспозиция
conflict	конфликт
rising action	развитие действия
climax	кульминация
resolution	развязка
plot twist	сюжетный поворот
cliffhanger	клиффхэнгер (худ. прием: обрыв повествование в напряженный момент, особенно часто в сериалах)
scene	сцена
episode	эпизод
season	сезон
dialogue	диалог
main character	главный герой
hero (heroine)	герой (героиня)
anti-hero	антигерой
superhero	супергерой
villain	злодей
the film is set in	действие фильма происходит в
setting	сеттинг
to shoot	снимать на камеру
the film came out in 2015	фильм вышел в 2015 году
subtitles	субтитры
the film is dubbed into Russian	фильм дублирован на русский язык
close-up	крупный план
long shot	общий план
big-budget film	высокобюджетный фильм
B-movie	низкобюджетный фильм (фильм категории «B»)
gag	шутка
suspense	саспенс (худож. прием: тревожное, напряженное ожидание)
narrator	рассказчик
slow motion	замедленное движение
time-lapse	ускоренное движение
voice-over	закадровый голос

Скачать PDF

Читайте также близкие по теме статьи:

• Как смотреть сериалы на английском?
• Puzzle Englsh — изучаем английский язык по сериалам.

---

Здравствуйте! Меня зовут Сергей Ним, я автор этого сайта, а также книг, курсов, видеоуроков по английскому языку.

Подпишитесь на мой Телеграм-канал, чтобы узнавать о новых видео, материалах по английскому языку.

У меня также есть канал на YouTube, где я регулярно публикую свои видео.

1 boring   2 gripping   3 confusing   4 moving

5 unnatural   6 funny   7 convincing   8 convincing

9 interesting   10 interesting   11 spectacular

12 unrealistic   13 interesting   14 interesting   15 scary 16 violent

Transcript

1

Liam   Did you enjoy the film, Emily?

Emily   Not very much. The plot was a bit boring. I expect a romantic comedy to be more exciting.

L   Oh, I thought the plot was really gripping. Did you like the ending?

E   No, I found it confusing.

L   Confusing? I thought it was really moving. I cried!

E   Well, it didn’t make sense to me. I think the problem was probably the script. It was so unnatural.

L   I thought the script was funny. And the acting was certainly convincing, but you expect that from big Hollywood stars.

E   Yes, I agree about the acting. Totally convincing. But not a great film.

L   Oh, I really enjoyed it.

2

Anna   Did you enjoy that film, David?

David   Yes, I did. The characters are often a bit boring in action films, but in this one, I thought they were very interesting.

A   I agree. And weren’t the special effects great? They were really spectacular.

D   Yes, but rather unrealistic, I thought.

A   But they often are, aren’t they? That’s why they’re special effects!

D   And the soundtrack was very interesting.

A   Yes, it was. It added to the suspense, didn’t it? Some of the scenes were very scary.

D   Yes, and very violent. I couldn’t look sometimes.

A   Yes, there was too much violence. But overall, it was great.

D   Yes, it was.

The Taking of Pelham 123

(Joseph H Sargent, 1974)
In Sargent’s ingenious, headlong thriller about a New York subway-train hijack, transit detective Walther Matthau handles things ably above ground, but the real attractions are down below: the gang of ruthless hijackers code-named, Reservoir Dogs-style, after colours, and led by the implacable Robert Shaw in one of his nastiest roles.

The Tale of the Fox

(Irene and Wladyslaw Starewicz, 1930)
The Starewiczs took ten years to complete their astounding puppet-animation fairy tale, Le Roman de la Renard. In essence, it’s a very European treatment of the adventures of a deceitful fox — ie, there are no cute moral lessons here. But it’s the stop-motion stuffed animals and other strange beasties that make this film so watchable; nothing made since even comes close.

The Talented Mr Ripley

(Anthony Minghella, 1999)
A psychological thriller with a touch of grown-up class: Anthony Minghella brought his formidable directorial intelligence to this disturbing story of a conman’s most dangerous weapon: a capacity, almost like that of a Method actor, for self-delusion. Jude Law is the handsome playboy, into whose affections the unstable young flatterer Ripley (Matt Damon) insinuates himself.

Tampopo
(Juzo Itami, 1985)
A Japanese one-off that speaks the international language of food and finds the richness of the world in a bowl of noodles. Ostensibly the comic tale of a widow’s quest for culinary distinction, this throws all manner of flavours into the mix — from erotic interludes to western parodies — but never over-eggs the pudding.

The Taste of Cherry

(Abbas Kiarostami, 1997)
Kiarostami produced his masterpiece with this elegant, spare, humanist work. A middle-aged man drives around the itinerant labour-markets of Tehran. What does he want? To commit suicide, and to efface himself utterly from the world. So needs a shovel-wielding labourer to fill in the shallow grave in which he will lie, after swallowing poison. An old man tries to talk him out of it, passionately praising the fruits of God’s bounty.

Taxi Driver
(Martin Scorsese, 1976)
All movie lunatics must be forever judged against Travis Bickle, whose nightly encounter with Gotham’s depravity spurs his deranged quest to save a young prostitute from the underworld. The mayhem comes with an ironic coda that almost makes you wonder if it was all a bad dream.

Team America: World Police

(Trey Parker, Matt Stone, 2004)
Magnificently funny, bad-taste puppet satire on American hubris, and a clever deconstruction of Hollywood action pictures to boot. Team America are the A-team of US foreign policy, kicking terrorist ass. Like the Thunderbirds, they move about in a funny head-bobbing way, but they can fight and have sex. The film has the greatest vomit scene in Hollywood history.

Tears of the Black Tiger
(Wisit Sasanatieng, 2000)
A recklessly inventive, vibrantly stylised Thai western that looks like it was made by someone who had never seen a real one. But what a beautiful concoction it is, with its saturated colours, ingenious gunfights, 1940s love songs and absurd extremes of melodrama. It’s both strange and familiar, like an acid trip at a village fete.

Ten Things I Hate About You

(Gil Junger, 1999)
Updated Shakespearean teen comedies were the staple of the late 90s, and this one fares well with the pivotal casting of an unknown Heath Ledger in the debut role of arrogant Patrick Verona, whose baiting of the phenomenally hostile Julia Stiles’ Kat is worthy homage to the sizzling chemistry between Taylor and Burton (who were paired in the 1967 version of Taming of the Shrew).

The Terminator

(James Cameron, 1983)
The movie that made Arnold Schwarzenegger an icon, in transition from body-builder beefcake to grade-A action star. He is the implacable cyborg sent from a totalitarian future to kill the mother of a future resistance fighter. James Cameron’s direction is virile and stylish and Arnie is magnificent with his absurd body, treacle-thick voice and an infinitesmal touch of drollery that none of his subsequent attempts at out-and-out comedy ever equalled.

Terminator 2: Judgment Day
(James Cameron, 1991)
He said he’d be back, and here he is: Arnold Schwarzenegger returns as the time-traveling cyborg in a rare sequel that tops the first, with bigger stunts, bigger effects and a bigger story. This time he’s been sent back to the 1990s to protect future saviour of humanity Edward Furlong and his long-suffering mum Linda Hamilton from Robert Patrick’s new shape-shifting Terminator model.

Tetsuo: The Iron Man
(Shinya Tsukamoto, 1989)
Industrial-strength metalhead film-making as a salaryman office drone becomes «infected» by bizarre mechanical growths after being involved in a hit and run incident. This short feature practically attacks the viewer with grotesque imagery and a screeching soundtrack, but it displays great imagination and ingenuity at every turn.

The Texas Chainsaw Massacre

(Tobe Hooper, 1974)
«Who Will Survive… and What Will Be Left of Them?» Hooper, in Hitchcock/Jaws style, holds his cannibalistic monsters back for a full 40 minutes of agonising build-up, and then unleashes them with sledgehammer suddenness (and with an actual sledgehammer, naturally). Notable for its lack of blood, its unnerving sound-design, and the best title ever.

Thelma & Louise
(Ridley Scott, 1991)
The ultimate chick-flick road-trip movie, this one has it all: feisty gun toting Southern women, murder, rape, armed robbery, a Thunderbird convertible on the open road, a killer soundtrack, a high speed car chase, and the world’s introduction to Brad Pitt’s torso. Teenage slumber parties couldn’t ask for a more complete package.

There’s Something About Mary

(Peter and Bobby Farrelly, 1998)
The Farrelly brothers made themselves the kings of the non-PC 1990s with their distinctive brand of outrageous and offensive comedy, which, apparently, they alone were allowed to perpetrate with impunity. A guy finds that he is still in love with a girl with whom he had a catastrophic prom date in high school. This is Mary, played by Cameron Diaz: whose beaming face, framed by a semen-encrusted hairstyle, became a classic image.

These Are the Damned
(Joseph Losey, 1963)
Unusually bleak sci-fi horror from Hammer studios with American director Losey on board — he, at the time, was living a life of self-imposed exile to avoid the McCarthy witch-hunt. Radioactive kids bring death to whoever the come into contact with. The downbeat ending is memorable as are the twisted Elisabeth Frink statues that populate the scenery.

They Live by Night
(Nicholas Ray, 1948)
The finest American directorial debut after Citizen Kane, Ray’s adaptation of Edward Anderson’s 1935 Bonnie-and-Clyde novel Thieves Like Us outlines the poetic humanism and romantic fatalism that would characterise nearly all of his later work. Farley Granger and Cathy O’Donnell are cinema’s most affecting doomed young lovers.

The Thief of Bagdad

(Ludwig Berger, Michael Powell, Tim Whelan, 1940)
An English production, with some shooting in Hollywood, this was the Korda Brothers’ view of the Arabian Nights. It has Sabu, Conrad Veidt, June Duprez and Rex Ingram as the mythical figures. But it’s the magic that touches you, and one of the magicians was Michael Powell.

The Thin Blue Line

(Errol Morris, 1988)
Morris’s riveting and groundbreaking documentary — it ignored all the then-prevalent rules of the form by using speculation and reconstructed sequences — secured the release of its incarcerated protagonist by pressuring the real killer to acknowledge his crimes. The injustice of it all will have you screaming with anger.

The Thing (From Another World)

(Christian Nyby, 1951)
It’s supposed that Howard Hawks directed some of this and Ben Hecht provided some uncredited rewrites; it certainly has some of their fingerprints on it. Snappy, overlapping dialogue fills the air as an isolated team of scientists battle a humanoid alien plant creature — «An intellectual carrot, whatever next?» One of the earliest and best alien invasion movies.

Things to Come
(William Cameron Menzies, 1936)
It has to be said that some of the actors here aren’t taking this as seriously as they should, which partly diminishes the impact HG Wells’ predictive science fiction. It’s often left to the stunning sets and special effects to carry the movie, a task they handle with great style.

The Third Man

(Carol Reed, 1949)

Still a contender for the finest British movie ever made, and a home-made film noir to measure up to the best of Hollywood (or France, for that matter) — even if it has American stars and was shot in Vienna. It’s filled with unforgettable movie moments — Anton Karas’ zither theme tune, Orson Welles’ emergence out of the shadows, his famous «cuckoo clock» speech on the Ferris wheel, the sewer chase, the closing funeral scene. Our hero, Joseph Cotten, a pulp western novelist, is repeatedly warned about mixing fact and fiction as he sifts through the rubble of postwar Vienna investigating the death of his old friend Harry Lime (Welles). As Cotten gradually pieces the story together, a very different picture of Lime starts to emerge, along with unpalatable political and economic truths. It’s a captivating mystery, soaked in atmosphere, filled with memorable characters and beautifully filmed in black and white. But beneath the surface, Graham Greene’s script engineers a multitude of confrontations: American optimism versus European fatalism; childhood versus adulthood; money versus humanity; friendship versus patriotism; fact versus fiction. Very few films bear so much weight so gracefully.

Steve Rose

The Thirty Nine Steps
(Alfred Hitchcock, 1935)
The classic Boy’s Own adventure from John Buchan’s novel rattles along at a furious pace. Robert Donat is the innocent murder suspect Richard Hannay, chased by the police from London to the Scottish Borders and back, while he pursues dastardly spies and dallies with Madeleine Carroll: a thriller brimming with wit and verve.

Thirty-Two Short Films About Glenn Gould
(François Girard, 1993)
Endlessly fertile bio-pic of the legendarily eccentric pianist, that takes its cue from Gould’s famous Goldberg Variations treatment. Canadian director Girard incorporates animation, radio, and straight recreation to tell Gould’s story; Colm Feore puts in a career-best performance in the title role.

This Is Spinal Tap
(Rob Reiner, 1984)
A gem which went almost unnoticed on its initial cinema release, but accumulated word-of-mouth cult status through video rental. Tap created the «mockumentary» genre with its wonderful homage to ageing Brit rockers in the US, a mix of the Rolling Stones, Black Sabbath and unknown exports like Foghat. Every frame, every line, is a joy.

This Sporting Life
(Lindsay Anderson, 1963)
Who needs Marlon Brando when you’ve got Richard Harris? Lindsay Anderson’s blistering adaptation of David Storey’s novel about a miner-turned-rugby league professional is galvanised by Harris’ extraordinary performance as Frank Machin. Harris combines brutality and machismo with an unexpected sensitivity, with excellent support from Rachel Roberts as the widow with whom he has such a destructive relationship.

The Thomas Crown Affair

(Norman Jewison, 1968)
Though he explored his rugged side in later movies, and his cooler side in earlier movies, Steve McQueen perhaps epitomised his reputation as Hollywood It-Guy in this of-the-moment, groovy 60s heist flick. As millionaire criminal Thomas Crown, he exudes playboy charm with a dangerous edge, seducing stone-faced insurance adjuster Vicki Anderson (Faye Dunaway) with the most famous chess game in film history.

Those Magnificent Men in Their Flying Machines
(Ken Annakin, 1965)
It’s chocks away for a squadron of international comedians in this barnstorming comedy about an aerial race from London to Paris in 1910. Robert Morley is the patriotic lord stumping up £10,000 prize money, hoping that dashing Englishman James Fox will win the dosh, and his daughter Sarah Miles’s hand. Fast, slapstick fun, from beginning to end.

Three Colours Trilogy
(Krzysztof Kieslowski, 1993-94)
In two short years, Kieslowski produced three haunting films that form the high water mark of old-style European arthouse cinema. His colour-coded trilogy explores liberty, equality and fraternity using overlapping destinies between characters as a leitmotif: in Blue, a woman (Juliette Binoche) grieves the loss of her family; in White, a Pole plots revenge against his French ex-wife (Delpy); in Red, a model (Irene Jacob) and a judge (Jean-Louis Trintignant) meet through a chance encounter.

Three Kings
(David O Russell, 1999)
Almost 10 years after the first Iraq war, and a couple of years before 9/11, this was a window of opportunity to make a thoroughly cynical, subversive movie about rascally American soldiers fighting in the Middle East. David Russell’s movie is about three dodgy adventurers — George Clooney, Mark Wahlberg, and Ice Cube — who set out to steal Kuwaiti gold. There are some daring comments about hypocrisy and torture: an interesting, underrated movie.

The Three Musketeers

(Richard Lester, 1973)
Of the many screen versions of the Dumas classic, Lester’s exuberant account is the most outright fun: a rousing mix of knockabout action and coarse-grained humour, performed with obvious merriment by a starry cast including Michael York as the artless D’Artagnan, Frank Finlay, Richard Chamberlain and glowering Oliver Reed his trusty trio.

Throne of Blood
(Akira Kurosawa, 1957)
So many big-screen Shakespeare adaptations are stilted and self-conscious but these aren’t charges that can be levelled at Kurosawa’s bloodcurdling Samurai-style reworking of Macbeth. The action is transferred to a foggy medieval Japan, and a brutal, arrowy death scene makes it an extraordinary finish.

Thunderball
(Terence Young, 1965)
Purists may argue over the greatest Bond movie, but the shadow this one cast over the series cannot be ignored. The handmade approach to this film means that sequences such as the fight between dozens of divers not only thrill in the context of the story, but amaze as feats of physical film-making.

THX 1138

(George Lucas, 1971)
The story may borrow rather heavily from George Orwell, but Lucas’ visuals are quite stunning. A sterile future world populated by drugged-out shaven-headed citizens and policed by robots, it has plenty of stark, interesting detail to engage the viewer — Walter Murch’s inventive collage soundtrack adds further layers.

Time of the Gypsies
(Emir Kusturica, 1988)
A combination of magical romance and down-to-earth realism, Kusturica’s epic, set in the former Yugoslavia, fills the screen with unfamiliar sights and sensations, and conjures some moments of cinematic awe. To call it lively is an understatement.

Time Out
(Laurent Cantet, 2001)
Detached yet emotional, this French drama that makes the ordinary world of employment look like an alien landscape, and captures the desperation and anxiety of economic identity. Aurelién Recoing plays a man too ashamed to reveal his joblessness to his family, and his pretence takes him further and further out of his depth.

Time Regained
(Raoul Ruiz, 1999)
Ruiz’s brilliant account of the final volume of Proust is a brilliant intuition of Proust’s passionate journey back into his past and the belle époque. Almost every French character actor was present, including Emmanuelle Béart as Gilberte, Catherine Deneuve as Odette, and Pascale Greggory as Robert Saint-Loup. Superbly atmospheric.

A Time to Live and a Time to Die

(Hou Hsiao-Hsien, 1985)
Arguably the masterwork of modern Taiwanese cinema, a loosely autobiographical account of the generation gap among a family of Chinese exiles from the mainland. Filmed with awe-inspiring humanity, and a luminous visual brilliance.

Timecode
(Mike Figgis, 2000)
With this boldly experimental picture, Figgis showed that the spirit of questioning, envelope-pushing, cerebral cinema is still alive in the UK. Using a split screen and digital video techniques, Figgis showed four different lives and different narratives unrolling in parallel and in real time, directing our attention from one to the other in the sound mix. They separate and overlap, and the effect is a little mind-fuddling, but fascinating.

The Tin Drum

(Volker Schlöndorff, 1979)
Allegorical epic set in interwar Germany, revolving around the unusually perspicacious son of a rural couple who receives a tin drum on his third birthday and decides not to grow any older. Schlöndorff’s award-winning adaptation of Grass’s novel is a savagely funny defiance of Nazism, personified by little drum-banging Oskar and his haunting ear-splitting scream.

Titanic
(James Cameron, 1997)
Triumphant director James Cameron declared at the Oscars that he was «king of the world!» And for a while he was, with this piece of spectacular hokum, starring Leonardo DiCaprio and Kate Winslet as star-crossed lovers aboard the sinking ship. Their story was deemed to have been the Gone With The Wind for a new generation.

To Be or Not to Be
(Ernst Lubitsch, 1942)
A brilliantly pointed comedy from Lubitsch, bringing the energy and fizz of the screwball genre to political satire. Carole Lombard and Jack Benny play two actors in a repertory company adrift in Warsaw during the Nazi invasion. Disguised as a Nazi, Jack Benny has the sensationally provocative line: «We do the concentrating and the Poles do the camping!» Lubitsch was criticised for this, but this devastatingly non-PC blast has more bite than any of the sentimental nonsense of Roberto Benigni’s Life Is Beautiful.

To Have and Have Not
(Howard Hawks, 1944)
No one doubts that the US fought the second world war with courage, zeal and even justice. But it says so much for the cheek and the cool of the country that the big war effort here is devoted to «You do know how to whistle, don’t you?» It’s taken from Hemingway, but what counts is Bogart and Bacall meeting under the camera’s gaze and following the inner script.

To Kill a Mockingbird
(Robert Mulligan, 1962)
From the Harper Lee novel, the story of how Atticus Finch (Gregory Peck) defends a black man in a southern, country court. Intensely liberal, beautifully written and played, the film is seen from a child’s point of view: fathers and daughters are especially passionate about it.

Together
(Lukas Moodysson, 2000)
Great Swedish feelgood movie. Moodysson’s acutely observed comic 70s period piece sees a commune through the young and wonderfully vulnerable eyes of Eva and Stefan. Hippy values are gently satirised while the vitriol is reserved for the hypocritical middle class neighbours. As Eva adeptly observes — all adults are idiots.

Tokyo Drifter
(Seijun Suzuki, 1966)
A stylised yakuza thriller swinging to the beat of Japan’s burgeoning youth culture. The story is mournful in tone — a hitman driven by loyalty; his gang bosses driven by money — but the sets are outlandish and colour saturates the screen. How many heroes could pull off a powder-blue suit?

Tokyo Story
(Yasujiro Ozu, 1953)
The great Japanese director’s masterpiece. Full of the quiet drama of family life, it follows an elderly couple who leave their quiet provincial home to visit their children in chaotic Tokyo, only to find that both their son and daughter are too busily self-centred to care for them: this is simplicity bordering on the magical.

Tom Jones
(Tony Richardson, 1963)
Henry Fielding’s bawdy, big-hearted 18th-century novel, joyously recreated for the swinging 1960s. Albert Finney is Tom, the foundling who undergoes a variety of picaresque and amorous adventures before finally wedding squire’s daughter Sophie (Susannah York); screenwriter John Osborne won one of the film’s four Oscars for his brilliant distillation of the massive book.

Tommy
(Ken Russell, 1975)
The Who’s deranged rock opera depicting a deaf, dumb and blind kid who sure plays a mean pinball. Don’t let the plot put you off: this is a peculiarly British acid trip (unsurprising with Russell at the helm). As well as the Who, there’s Jack Nicholson, Tina Turner, and Elton John to look out for in this strange tale.

Top Gun
(Tony Scott, 1986)
Testosterone-charged valentine to the macho world of fighter pilots, Tony Scott’s slick, bombastic blockbuster is pure 80s gold. Sporting leather flying jacket and aviators, little Tom Cruise grins and struts as he takes on rival hotshot Val Kilmer and romances teacher Kelly McGillis to classic power ballad Take My Breath Away.

El Topo

(Alejandro Jodorowsky, 1970)

The only way they could sell this hard-to-categorise movie to early 70s audiences was to promise them that they’d be seeing things that they wouldn’t see elsewhere. That’s a promise that’s still valid. Jodorowsky’s imagery is cryptic rather than just wilfully surreal, which is why this is still pored over today.

Touch of Evil
(Orson Welles, 1958)
Sex, drugs, violence, corruption, a lurid border town, a butch gang terrorising poor Janet Leigh, a walrus-sized police captain whose very flesh seems contaminated with vice. Welles’ final studio picture swarms with bright light and big sound; its every scene is sensational, onward from the famous first tracking shot.

A Touch of Zen

(King Hu, 1969)
It clocks in at a fearsome 3 hours 20 minutes and starts with a glacially paced ghost story, but this martial arts epic is worth the effort. Its action sequences have been picked over by later film-makers (notably Ang Lee, for the bamboo-forest fight in Crouching Tiger), and it is conceived and choreographed with a grand scope that builds to an awesome peak.

Touching the Void
(Kevin Macdonald, 2003)
A gripping true-life story about friendship, survival and the existence of God. Macdonald’s drama-documentary recreated Joe Simpson and Simon Yates’s climbing expedition in the Peruvian Andes in the 1980s. Simpson broke his leg in zero-visibility snow and wind; Yates, guessing he was dead, cut his rope and carried on alone. Simpson survived — and began crawling back to base camp.

Toy Story
(John Lasseter, 1995)
Genius computer effects are matched by a witty script and engaging characters in a sweet animated adventure. Tom Hanks is the voice of Woody, a pull-string cowboy who becomes jealous when flashy spaceman Buzz Lightyear supplants his position as top toy. As appealing for adults as it is for kids.

The Train
(John Frankenheimer, 1964)
Rousing war movie that still stirs the blood. Burt Lancaster is the crafty railway inspector who masterminds the Resistance’s plan to prevent the Nazis stealing the cream of France’s paintings before the Allies reach Paris.

Trainspotting
(Danny Boyle, 1996)
Shocking and funny by turns, this exhilarating trawl through Edinburgh’s junkie subculture opens with a pounding chase set to Iggy Pop’s Lust for Life and never lets up. Emaciated Ewan McGregor is sympathetic as amoral hero Renton, and there’s knockout support from all concerned.

The Treasure of the Sierra Madre

(John Huston, 1948)
On location in Mexico, it looks and feels rough as three men go hunting for gold — it’s Tim Holt (solid), Bogart (treacherous) and Walter Huston (the inspired old-timer who laughs like crazy as the gold goes blowing in the wind). Directed by Huston’s father, John.

Trees Lounge
(Steve Buscemi, 1996)
First-time director Buscemi ruminated on what might have been in this poignant, personal story about a barfly loser who learns some serious life lessons the hard way. Buscemi brings a lugubrious authenticity to the downtrodden Tommy, a serial quitter whose days in the boozy gloom of the local bar will resonate with anyone who’s ever stood on the brink of a lost weekend.

The Trial

(Orson Welles, 1962)
Listen for the sound of the typewriters. Orson Welles hired hundreds of typists and filled a factory with desks to convey the soullessness of the office life Josef K (Anthony Perkins) endured. Kafka has rarely been brought to the screen better. Welles described it as his most autobiographical movie. «I’ve had recurring nightmares of guilt all my life,» he claimed.

Triumph of the Will
(Leni Riefenstahl, 1935)
As much a triumph of Riefenstahl’s will as Hitler’s, as she had to overcome innumerable technical difficulties to film the 1934 Nuremberg rally. The purpose, she freely admitted, was «the glorification of the Fuhrer», and with all the Nazi crazy gang, plus legions of stormtroopers on show, it remains a potent, disturbing piece of propaganda.

Tron
(Steven Lisberger, 1982)
When the 80s weren’t sending android assassins back in time, they were sucking you into renegade computer mainframes. Disney’s 1982 technophobe spectacular foxed audiences who had barely got used to Pacman, but stands as a retro-futuristic wonder now, as Jeff Bridge’s hacker makes seamless digital love with the glorious wireframe backdrops.

Trop Belle Pour Toi
(Bertrand Blier, 1989)
Satirical romantic comedy about an affluent middle-aged car dealer (Gerard Depardieu) who develops an inexplicable passion for his sweet, frumpy secretary (Josiane Balasko), and cheats on his beautiful trophy wife (Carole Bouquet). Though not as provocative as Blier’s earlier films, the classic husband-wife-mistress triangle goes beyond the farce, laced with sombre-edged reflections on love.

Twelve Monkeys
(Terry Gilliam, 1995)
Is he a time traveller or suffering a psychotic episode? Gilliam manages to be both cohesive and cryptic with this expansion of Chris Marker’s La Jetee. As with most of Gilliam’s imaginative output, you can’t help feeling that this managed to slip through while the studio executives weren’t looking.

24 Hour Party People
(Michael Winterbottom, 2002)

Affectionate and evocative drama about the rise and fall of the Manchester music scene from the late 70s to the early 90s. Steve Coogan is enjoyably daft as self-styled music impresario Tony Wilson — a man universally despised by the volatile talent he champions, from Joy Division and New Order to the Happy Mondays.

Two Lane Blacktop
(Monte Hellman, 1971)
The Driver, the Mechanic, the Girl, GTO: the road-weary gear-heads and «smalltown car-freaks» of Hellman’s existential masterpiece (by way of Camus and photographer Robert Frank) are so profoundly alienated that they’ve drifted away from their own names, as they race for pink slips across the backroads of a vanishing America.

2001: A Space Odyssey
(Stanley Kubrick, 1968)
The ambition of Kubrick’s sci-fi picture is still breathtaking, and the movie holds up perfectly well, despite CGI advances. In fact, its sheer imaginative boldness towers over other space adventures. A journey into the far reaches of space becomes a parable for man’s evolutionary progression into a post-human, or super-human existence. Very few films really inspire awe, but this is one.