The mutable 'assemblage' of my current favourite films (the beautiful, beguiling, moving, charming ~ and occasionally hilarious) in the best order of preference that I could manage at the time.
Probably the most faithful and accomplished novel adaptation I've ever seen. Specifically, an insight into a moribund world, and more universally, a meditation on lost time and missed opportunities. Wonderfully subtle and emotionally resonant performances throughout; heart-breaking, elegant and infuriating.
Can't help but describe this film pretentiously: As is the more etymologically accurate usage of the word, this film is about national rather than temporal nostalgia. More painterly than traditionally cinematic, Tarkovsky prefers long, quiet shots - all of which are studied and beautiful. Admirable for the paradoxical fullness and economy of images and writing - nothing is trivial.
A great film for those of us, like me, that love everything solipsistic about art: self-referential, self-parodying and self-indulgent in the best possible way.
Toys inventively with the old cinematic ambiguity of psychology/supernature. A fine example of the indisputable (aesthetic) superiority of the horror genre in Asia compared to the cinema of the West.
I'd very scarcely say it of any film, but this sequel benefits greatly from the increased budget and production values. The sequence of Robert Carlyse's self-serving flight early on is probably the profoundest moral shock I've ever experienced in a horror film.