Downfall

#93 at time of writing.

This film is critically acclaimed, particularly for faithfully depicting the last days of the Third Reich from a lesser-known perspective (inside the Führerbunker), and for breaking the taboo of having a German actor portraying Hitler. Indeed, Bruno Ganz's much parodied performance is exceptional.

Some controversy was stirred by the perception that this movie renders Hitler as a fallible human being rather than an inhuman psychopath - although I agree with the critics who argue that such an interpretation is probably more realistic (after all, he was sufficiently charismatic to seduce a nation into barbarism), and it certainly doesn't go so far as to inspire sympathy for the man.

But beyond these worthy features, this films feels basically like a dramatised feature-length BBC-style documentary. Granted, a high quality and involving documentary, but it's hard to shake the feeling that you're sitting through a rather interesting lecture instead of an epic historical film.

Bernd Eichinger's script relies on several historical sources including Traudl Junge's autobiography (the film includes archive footage of an elderly Junge herself speaking about her stint as Hitler's secretary in the bunker); and Director Oliver Hirschbiegel made efforts to accurately reconstruct the look and feel of the bunker. So, you can expect a good dose of historical accuracy, although there are also notable omissions such as the widespread rape of German women by Soviet soldiers after the capture of Berlin.

A disturbing bit of trivia from IMDb: The button that Adolf Hitler removes from his jacket and gives to Magda Goebbels is a Gold Nazi Party badge, awarded to high-ranking party members who had constant membership from 1925. Hitler gave himself Badge No. 1 in 1933, even though he was not the first party member. The Soviets found the badge in the bunker and it was stored in a vault at the Lubyanka, the KGB headquarters. In 2005 the FSB, the Russian Federation successor to the Soviet KGB, put the badge on display. In November that year, it was stolen in a brazen smash-and-grab raid. The burglar escaped even though he triggered the display alarms. So far, it has not yet been recovered.

I worry about the mindset of whoever has that on display in their living room.

Some Like It Hot

#79 at time of writing.

This film must have been uproarious when it was released, a kind of Something About Mary of the Fifties, and it still has bucketloads of charm. With its classic plot and timeless slapstick humour, it's funny, sexy, and more than a little risqué (sufficiently so that it received a Condemned rating from the National Legion of Decency).

Jack Lemmon and Tony Curtis look like they're having a lot of fun wearing lacy frocks and high heels, and Marilyn Monroe steals the show with her boop-boop-a-doop style.

Some Like It Hot was released at the end of the repressive 1950s at a time when the advent of television was threatening, and the influence of the Production Code's censorship restrictions was weakening. Director-producer Billy Wilder challenged the system with this gender-bending comedy, filled with sexual innuendo, unembarrassed vulgarity, free love, spoofs of sexual stereotypes (bisexuality, transvestism, androgyny, homosexuality, transsexuality, lesbianism, and impotence), sexy costuming for the well-endowed, and a mix of serious themes including abuse, alcoholism, unemployment, gangsterism and murder.

Stories abound of Marilyn Monroe's erratic behaviour on set, often showing up several hours late and forgetting her lines. She suffered from stage fright and refused to leave her dressing room, or sometimes insisted numerous retakes of simple scenes until she was satisfied. She apparently required 47 takes to get "It's me, Sugar" correct. After take 30, Billy Wilder had the line written on a blackboard.

She disliked Tony Curtis after hearing that he had described their love scenes as "like kissing Hitler." In his 2008 autobiography, Curtis notes that he did make the statement to the film crew, but it was meant as a joke.

During filming, Monroe discovered that she was pregnant. She suffered another miscarriage in December 1958, as filming was completed. None of this troubled personal life comes through on screen, though; all we see is Marilyn's trademark sultry dumb-blonde magic.