Wim Wenders may be struggling to land a gig these days, but this 1977 noir thriller was his big-screen breakthrough. Adapted from Patricia Highsmith's novel (and remade this month as Ripley's Game, see p145) it finds Dennis Hopper for once understated as art dealer Tom Ripley, who persuades dying Berliner Bruno Ganz to become a hitman.
John Milius' deeply personal take on the surf generation of the '60s is everything you'd expect from Hollywood's last great iconoclast. It's a sumptuous visual feast, an epic journey charting the testosterone-packed lives of three surfing buddies (Jan-Michael Vincent, William Katt and Gary Busey) and an unbelievably heavy-handed extended metaphor, as the ebb and flow of the tide is mirrored in our heroes' lives.
Riffing on early David Mamet or Neil LaBute, writer-director Patrick Stettner's superb three-hander anatomises the airless, amoral culture of top-rank executives. In a faceless airport hotel, high-flyer Stockard Channing plays sadistic sex-and-power games with young business rival Julia Stiles and corporate headhunter Frederick Weller. Sharp, astringent, and proof that complex ideas and strong performances transcend even minimal budgets.
