Vertigo (1958)

In 2012 Sight & Sound magazine named Alfred Hitchcock’s “Vertigo” as the greatest film ever made. I though, no, “Strangers on a Train” is better, even just for Hitchcock. Then I re-watched this detective tale again and just got fully sucked in. I was hit with instant amnesia as I watched Saint Jimmy Stewart as cop John “Scottie” Ferguson near fall to his death catching a suspect, quit the force in fear, and then fall, romantically so, for the likely mentally unstable and suicidal wife (Kim Novak) of a college pal (Tom Helmore). The case has Scottie following the woman through San Francisco out to an ancient forest and then a monastery. It ends badly. One hour to go. It’s gorgeously shot and paced, and carried by hits of failed rom-com for Scotttie, sexual tension, and the absolute best film score ever made, courtesy Bernard Herrmann. But what struck me this viewing: Watch the film, pause in awe, and then re-play it your mind from the viewpoint of Novak’s eyes, and witness every damn single scene explode in a new, thrilling light that swoons and slashes. This indeed is Hitchcock’s greatest film, the mind fuck supreme. Fall for it again. A+

Bullitt (1968)

Steve McQueen’s “Bullitt” is justifiably famous for its long, crazy car chase through the up-down-up hills of San Francisco. It’s a killer scene, even if the villain’s car pops hubcaps like the Hyrda grows heads. Best bit: Before the chase begins, the mafia getaway driver calmly buckles his seatbelt. Perfect detail. It sets the tension while making a literal joke of that line in “All About Eve.” But before all that begins, we start in Chicago as a man is hunted by assassins as truly ugly opening credits jump and ricochet on screen, rendering the action a visual mess. Small fault. We bounce to McQueen as SFPD detective Bullitt as he’s tasked with a court witness baby-sit job under order from a soulless DA (Robert Vaughn). The job is tied to the failed hit we just saw and the mob hits back successfully, leaving Bullitt racing to outwit the bad guys and heel Vaughn’s prick. “Bullitt” works wonders far more than the cars with its on-the-street Bay Area locales, foot chases through hospital corridors and a bustling airport, and McQueen’s perfectly dressed no-bullshit hero, the absolute of cool. Also tops: Pre-stardom’s Robert Duvall’s cabbie. A-

Dirty Harry (1971)

Forty years on “Dirty Harry” still packs a massive sucker punch with Clint Eastwood as Det. Harry Callahan tearing through San Francisco hunting down a serial killer named Scorpio, a bloody rip-off of the infamous real-life Zodiac killer. I can’t imagine the wake this film made when it landed, focusing on a policeman who shoots first, despises authority, and proudly stands as an equal opportunity offender. Yet, with Zodiac never caught, it must have served as cathartic fantasy. It still does. Directed by Don Siegel, the film’s anger at failed authorities, red tape laws that coddle criminals, and crime itself sure as hell resonates now. Every police thriller since has cribbed, stolen, and downloaded the attitude and violence of “Harry,” and every guy has at some point recited Eastwood’s “punk” speech as he stares down killers, bosses, the camera, and the audience alike. It’s one of the seminal performances of film, a modern day Western, with a sheriff who tosses his badge to lay down the law. Also classic: A rocket fast pace, an absolute refusal to show any story outside of the hero’s work, and a seriously frightening villain (Andy Robinson) with no motive other than to kill. A+