It’s been a while since I did one of these. I was contemplating throughout the week about what I could do for the next one, and I kept honing in on specific directors. I came to a sudden realisation that an endless source of fascination for me is how famed and acclaimed directors can often release a film that slightly retreats into the shadows. We think about directors like Martin Scorsese and Alfred Hitchcock and our minds gravitate to films like Goodfellas and Psycho. What I wanted to highlight were those awkward in-betweens; the hidden gems of such proclaimed auteurs.
I wanted this list to consist of a handful of directors that near enough everybody knows that have at least one film that barely anyone pays much attention to. I realise that many of these films are more known amongst the avid film fanatics out there, but to the general public, these films are often forgotten about. To start this list off, I’m going back to one of the original masters of cinema, Alfred Hitchcock.
Alfred Hitchcock’s I Confess
I feel as though Hitchcock has faded into the realm of the niche. While he was once a household name, nowadays people only seem to remember Psycho, or even Vertigo. I’ve had a strong love for the director’s work since my college days, having a tutor that was vehemently passionate about Hitchcock’s career. This infectious drive led me to some fascinating films within his library. 1953’s I Confess, may have released during Hitchcock’s Golden Era, but there are few who still talk about it today.
Being centred on a priest that is subject to a confession by a man who has murdered another, his dedication to the cause prevents him from revealing this grizzly secret to the police. This priest is, himself, caught in his own web of secrets, having a romantic affair with a woman that would jeopardise his entire devotion. Tackling issues of religious faith during a time when the general public was almost entirely Christian or Catholic, this may’ve been considered quite daring.
Religion will always be a touchy subject no matter where you land on the religious scale, but the beauty of I Confess is just how universal it feels. Having grown up as a Catholic and denouncing my faith during my teenage years, any form of pro-religion can be a nagging problem, but this film manages to take a rather neutral stance on the matter. Conflicting melodrama and being forced to keep a deadly secret make for an inner struggle that anyone can understand. Even aside from the religious background, the film works as a brilliant murder-thriller, with an extra layer of gripping romance.
Hitchcock was frequently able to find this balance of tone, drawing in audiences with a heart-pumping story and a progressive build. I Confess goes into surprisingly darker corners than what you would expect. It openly criticises certain aspect of faith while also remained quite devout. It doesn’t take the same sharp turns that other Hitchcock films do, but it does manage to remain morally complex.
Stanley Kubrick’s Barry Lyndon
I was stuck wrestling with my own better judgement with this one. The avid film connoisseur will tell you that 1975’s Barry Lyndon is hardly that obscure. Many might even say that any film by Kubrick should hardly be consider as such. But amidst his more iconic films, the general public has had little interest in this 1750’s period drama. Released between Kubrick’s more legendary films, A Clockwork Orange and Full Metal Jacket, this film is worthy to stand amongst them. I understand that the words, “1750’s period drama” can be off-putting to many out there, but assure you this is well worth your time.
Focusing on a poverty-stricken man by the name of Redmond Barry, we watch as he climbs from his cesspool of downfalls into a more lavish lifestyle of lordship. Using his cunning tactics and his incessant will to live, Redmond Barry steals the name of the man he overthrows and cuts a path of narcissistic sociopathy. Complimenting this darkly twisted tale of control is a shocking sense of humour that only Kubrick could’ve mastered.
Kubrick was known for his Midas Touch, with every film he directed since the early sixties being a masterful piece of work, and that doesn’t ignore this very film. Barry Lyndon may be a period piece, but it tells the timeless tale of class divide and the path of destruction that this can cause. Lyndon is a fascinatingly horrible character, but you still find yourself begging for him to win. It’s almost like watching a slasher film and rooting for the killer; Lyndon certainly isn’t somebody you could like in real life. Even outside of that slightly worrying mindset, you do hate the vile things he does and sympathise with his wife and child.
It can be quite difficult to recommend such a film, especially with its three-hour runtime, but I assure you that every second is just as gripping as the last. I don’t typically care for period dramas set during this time and focusing on this particular class, but Kubrick’s genius elevates the story and characters far above any preconceived worries. Darkness consumes the film in an appealing way, and it never falters at any moment. Just when you think that Lyndon cannot sink lower than he has, he falls more despicably.
Francis Ford Coppola’s Tetro
Coppola: a source of great struggle for myself. I’ve wanted to talk about this director for so long, having a rather extensive relationship with the man’s works. Back in college, I was tasked with doing a research project on Coppola, learning way more about him than any other director I’ve poured hours and hours into. Outside of the obvious Godfather trilogy, ’93’s Dracula and Apocalypse Now, there is very little of his works that have stuck in the zeitgeist of timeless cinema, so I have a whole cornucopia to choose from. But there was only ever going to be one choice: 2009’s Tetro. Possible the only film in Coppola’s career that has managed to leave a profound impact on me.
This lesser known character study from Coppola focused on a young, aspiring writer who tracks down his allusive older brother to confront him on his disappearance. The titular Tetro lives a more solemn life in Argentina, away from his prosperous family. As talented as he was at writing, Tetro has grown bitter towards it, as he cannot separate his family’s vileness from it. When his younger brother tries to push him back into the world by telling his story, he becomes increasingly more frustrated and his true past begins to unravel.
I found myself comparing this to one of Coppola’s earlier films, Rumble Fish, as both focused on a dynamic between two brothers and one’s need to escape from their past, but Tetro brings with it a more personal identity. Coppola had shed his studio ties after Dracula, focusing more on independent stories, and Tetro is the shining example of how well this could’ve worked out. It’s full of allegorical points of artistic vision being skewed by one’s past. The black-and-white aesthetic draws more than another parallel to Rumble Fish, it also brings a melancholy image of lost time. There’s a subtle, dismal beauty to the film’s approach to familial trauma, being a great accompaniment to artistic expression.
I think it’s criminal that this film doesn’t get the attention it deserves, not only from the general public, but also from film enthusiasts as well. Years ago, when I did my research project on Coppola, I ignored this movie purely based on what appeared to be a rather bland premise and presentation. Having grown up and my taste in film being more refined, I can’t image a more personal film that Coppola has directed. It’s nowhere near the masterful quality of The Godfather or Apocalypse Now, but it has an independent voice that well resonate with the avid creatives of the world.
The Coen Brothers’ The Hudsucker Proxy
I may have to credit this as the most obscure film on the list, if not I Confess. The Coen Brothers are some of the greatest directors to grace cinema, and it’s thus difficult to consider any of their films ‘obscure.’ My mind circled around Barton Fink and Miller’s Crossing, but then a sudden burst of remembrance took charge and I knew I had to talk about 1994’s The Hudsucker Proxy. It’s what happens when you give two directors who have prided themselves on blending darkly subject matter with a dry sense of humour the chance to direct a more family-friendly romp. This isn’t quite Scorsese’s Hugo, but it does manage to work shockingly well.
A revisionist history tells the story of the inventor of the Hula Hoop, a witless oaf who manages to climb up in the ranks of a business after being chosen as a temporary fall guy for the company’s mistakes after the suicide of their former chairman. What they didn’t expect was for him to be such a savant. Blazing his way through the company with new ideas, and falling in love with the reporter tasked to exposing his idiocy, the film has a shocking amount of heart.
Don’t get me wrong, this film isn’t comparable to the Coens’ more infamous films, but it’s just so damn enjoyable. It has a constant, overly exaggerated tone that allows its actors to thrive. It throws conventional history out of the window in favour of giving us a fantastical view of the world and a discouraging tone towards the businessmen of the world. It still has much of that macabre humour that we’ve come to expect, but it’s done with a more childish delivery. Once you allow yourself to believe in the silly nature of the world, it becomes ten times more enjoyable.
David Fincher’s The Game
David Fincher is a director that will always remain firmly loved. With timelessly iconic films like Fight Club and Se7en, you’d be hard-pressed to find a film he hasn’t put his entire heart and soul into. One film of his I haven’t seen the same staying power of, however, is 1997’s The Game. This mystery-thriller was certainly well-received, but the gossip around it faded not to long after its release. I watched this film years ago, and I remember being encapsulated by its uncanny ability to capture simplicity and complexity in such a natural way.
A story that follows an arrogant businessman, he seems to lead a path of destruction that distances those who are close to him, including his own brother. Amidst his own issues, somebody begins playing a tormented game with him, inviting him to take part in a bizarre conspiracy that could see his death, if he is not careful. The audience is just confused as the lead as we are led down a path of mystery that never lets itself be explained. While not as viciously complex as Fincher’s other works, it does keep the audience in an entertaining loop of intrigue.
What appealed to me the most about this film was more the simple suspense of the story. We run into the same dead ends that the protagonist does and it never fails to shock and surprise you. Outside of that intrigue comes the age-old message of being more compassionate to others, as well as yourself. It torments the main character to endure such a perplexing string of almost catastrophic events. In a sense, there’s a sadistic pleasure you get from watching such an egotistical person go through hell. This film keeps up a more introspective idea with a thoroughly entertaining sequence of events that is so special to Fincher’s identity.
The Game isn’t an amazing film by any stretch, but it is thoroughly entertaining. I’ve never held Fincher to the same claim that others have, but I do tend to enjoy almost every one of his films. The Game has been one of the only films of his I’ve been passionate about because it’s so often neglected. I sat on this one alongside Panic Room for so long, with the latter being fresher in my memory, but The Game is so subtly ingenuous that it deserved the spotlight. Both are underrated gems.
Wes Anderson’s The Darjeeling Limited
I can almost regret putting any Wes Anderson film on this list. While the director may not be as household a name as the other directors I’ve mentioned, it’s hard to deny just how popular his films are. Most will agree that every one of his films are good, if not great. That is not to say that all of his films are instantly recognisable. 2007’s The Darjeeling Limited is one that I have scarcely seen mentioned. I’ve spoken of Wes Anderson in the past, even doing a list of my top five films of his, and on that list I placed this film.
Capturing the story of three brothers who have just lost their father, the estranged siblings decide to take a trip to India as a way to reconnect. These three drastically different personalities are practically forced to put their grievances aside to come to terms with their combined indifference towards their father’s fate. Aside from the nice landscapes and complete shift in environment than we’re used to, it’s a film that carries the weight of family and what defines convention.
Most Wes Anderson film can be boiled down to a regurgitated formula and atmosphere. Though I would typically complain over a director relying on the same tropes tell a story, Anderson manages to keep this fresh through his subject matter. The three brothers are all given such distinct personalities and outlooks on their family strife, but they’re all unified through their own moral quandary. Family is a concept rarely ever as simple as it’s advertised and brings with it an expectation of obligatory happiness. There’s a slightly twisted niceness in the way the brothers connect through their father’s death, but it is the strength of the film.
This isn’t as quirky or as subtly exciting as Anderson’s other films, but it does carry a lot of emotional weight. I think all these years after I wrote the Anderson list, my opinions on where the films were placed have shifted, causing this one to fall off the list entirely, but there’s still so much I love about it. Anderson provides some of the best “comfort food,” and Darjeeling is no exception. While it may not be The Grand Budapest Hotel, there is something special about it.
Happy Watching!
I sat upon many films for this list before I narrowed it down to the ones you’ve read about here. What we define as obscure or underrated can be slightly subjective, and I wasn’t sure how confident I would feel putting films that viewers like myself consider greats that general audiences may not have hear of. These are great films to start off with if you’re starting to experiment with more diverse types of movies. There’s a comfort that comes with the fame of the directors, but these films are not the ones you hear everyone talk about. I would love to come back at a later date with a list of independent directors that deserve more recognition, but for now, I hope this gave you a little more knowledge on what else is out there.
Written by Conor Johnson.