Posts by Anthony Kim18

hiddensailor14 said:Every single actor out there... they always wear dress shoes. Sneakers just don't exist in their world. And whenever the lead—whether he's a detective or some monster hunter—is trying to sneak around, you can always hear that rhythmic *clack, clack, clack, clack* of footsteps echoing everywhere. Interestingly enough, the villain is always conveniently deaf to it all.😕

When someone is trapped in some building or wandering through a sewer filled with monsters and psychopaths, the second they hear a tiny noise, they just have to go investigate it. 😲
Usually, that's when someone jumps out from behind them to scare them, and half the time, it turns out to be that injured or missing friend who just suddenly reappears out of nowhere...

In police chases, the cruisers always end up slamming into other cars, while the suspect cruises right through red lights at intersections... and somehow, nothing ever happens.🙄

Oh, and 🤣 apparently, if you want to protect yourself from high-caliber military rifle fire, all you need to do is duck behind a car door, a flipped table, or basically any random object whatsoever.🙏

Steven Seagal, Chuck Norris, Sylvester Stallone, and Arnold Schwarzenegger could probably take out half an entire army by themselves. Individually, of course.

...

What’s even weirder to me is how during high-speed chases through downtown plazas, open-air markets, or sidewalk cafes, nobody ever dies? Everyone escapes by a hair, yet crates of fruit, veggies, meat, fish, pastries, half-carcasses, chairs, and tables go flying everywhere...

Scott Hayes6 said:Yes, in North Korea and Cambodia.

Cambodia? 😕

Jerry Martin19 said:My favorite part is always the bomb detonation 😍

that 1-5 second window while James Bond is busy stopping everything at 007 😍
...

I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve actually tried counting along with those timers on screen.
But honestly? They’re never accurate.
The seconds always seem to drag out just to build tension—they basically stretch the time whenever the plot needs it.

Sarah Wood8 said:It’s always the same thing in these movies. Some fragile girl or some idiot guy realizes a mafia hit squad is after them, so they flee to some cabin deep in the middle of nowhere—where the nearest living soul is probably 186 miles miles away at a Sunoco station grabbing a sandwich. Then, suddenly, there’s this rustling sound right outside the door. And what does the moron in the cabin do? They walk right out to check it out... FOR GOD'S SAKE, YOU IDIOT! Just buy a better lock, reinforce the doors, install steel shutters, and barricade yourself inside... WHO CARES WHAT'S MAKING NOISE OUTSIDE?!
But no... they have to wander out into the dark just to get slaughtered.
Or how about when characters step out of their apartment into a dimly lit hallway... seriously...
Or when people just stroll into someone's house whenever they feel like screwing them over... I mean, really... if anyone ever tried that with me...

Usually, those cabins aren't built specifically to hide from the mob.
Those people weren't planning on running into any gangsters.
It all happens by pure chance.
And you have to react right then and there.
Or do you really think someone fighting for their life is going to spend the next few days wandering around town buying heavy-duty locks, steel shutters, and bulletproof glass,
maybe even hunting down contractors to install it all,
while giving everyone their cabin's address just so they can get the supplies delivered...

Zachary Thompson9 said:Obviously, nothing but love for Sellers—though I’ll admit the inspector used to drive me absolutely nuts sometimes because he was just way too clumsy for his own good, but man, those scenes with Clouseau are legendary.

For me, that’s easily the least interesting part of the movies.

lonelynx44 said:lol, this is gold!!!! 😉

I’d probably throw a few more tropes into the mix...

-every single performance or concert lasts like 2 minutes—just enough time to gossip with your date in the background...
-animals are always there at the exact right moment to save the day, even if they spent the whole movie hiding under the couch
-all the teenagers are somehow gorgeous and look like they're 25?!?!
-kids always look way older than they are (like, a 3-year-old playing a 7-year-old)
-the best strategy during a total crisis is just to scream and stay perfectly still
-during a chase, you always run UP the stairs!!!! 😲 or into dead ends where you eventually just stop and wait for the killer to find you
-parents never have time for their kids until the very end of the movie, when suddenly all their life obligations just magically align... out of nowhere!
-that weirdly bright lighting in rooms that clearly have zero light sources...
-how in horror movies everyone hears a tiny rustle and immediately grabs a knife, even if they were living totally normal lives five seconds ago...
-you always try the wrong keys first, and right as the thing chasing you manages to jam a limb through the door, you finally get it open just enough to shove them back out and slam it shut
-breakfast usually takes about one minute, or however long the dialogue lasts
-English is basically the universal language—doesn't matter where you're from, everyone speaks it like it's their native tongue and there's never any communication issues!
-it's totally normal to dance in the middle of the street or scream your head off and nobody even blinks...

If I think of anything else....
Anyway, I was using a little help from Cheerleader to jog my memory, so if you notice any similarities... tell her I'm still bitter about our rights... 😢

1. it doesn't necessarily mean we're seeing the whole concert.
It's just the highlight reel.

2. WELL, I haven't really seen any animal save anyone besides dogs. And it's usually brave or smart dogs doing the saving, but if it's some other animal, they're just using brainpower.

3. when older actors play them. It's tough to find a teen actor who's actually famous or talented (trained)

4. true, same as above. kids develop at different rates, so they might pick someone slightly more advanced just to get a more serious actor.

5. I'd say it's actually the opposite. Even the clumsiest characters, if they're the good guys, somehow manage to hold their own against professionals.

6. I didn't notice that one.

7. hey—sometimes there are job changes too (getting fired, business goes bust...)

8. To me, it's weirder why killers wait for their target to walk down a dark hallway for half an hour before they strike!

electricstag2 said:Things you’d never realize without watching movies!

- A simple Cough is actually a sign of a terminal illness.
- A detective can only crack the case if they've been suspended from the force.
- A Man won't show any signs of pain while taking brutal hits, but he'll start shaking the second a woman tries to clean his wounds.
- One single match is enough to light up a room of any size.
- Even though we can aim at targets way beyond our sight today, people in the 23rd century will somehow lose that tech.
- All phone numbers in the USA start with the digit 5.
- You can pop any lock in seconds with a credit card or a paperclip—unless it's a door leading into a burning building with a kid trapped inside.
- There's really no need to say "hello" or "goodbye" when you start or end a phone call.
- You can see the Eiffel Tower from basically any window in Paris.
- One guy shooting at twenty people has a much better shot at killing them than twenty people shooting at one guy.
- Kitchens don't have light switches. If you walk in at night, just open the fridge and use that light instead.
- It doesn't matter if you're outnumbered in a fight involving martial arts—your enemies will just wait patiently to attack you one by one, dancing around menacingly, until you take down their buddies.
- Every morning, mothers whip up eggs, bacon, and pancakes for their husbands and kids, even though they never actually have time to eat them.
- Once lipstick is applied, it stays on forever—even if you're scuba diving with full gear.
- Cops are always assigned partners who are their total polar opposites.
- Cars involved in crashes almost always explode into massive flames.
- Even when driving down a perfectly straight road, you absolutely have to jerk the steering wheel left and right every few seconds.
- Honest, hardworking cops usually get shot about three days before retirement.
- If you want to pass yourself off as a German officer, you don't even need to speak the language—just nail the accent.
- The Police Chief is always a Black man.
- The Police Chief will always either suspend his lead detective—or give him 48 hours to wrap the job up.
- The more a man and woman hate each other, the higher the chance they'll fall in love.
- Any building's ventilation system is the perfect hiding spot. Nobody ever thinks to look there, and you can travel anywhere in the building easily.
- When facing off against a villainous international terrorist, sarcasm and wit are your best weapons.
- When paying a taxi, you don't even need to check your wallet—just grab a random bill and hand it over. It’ll always be the exact fare.
- When people are alone, all strangers prefer to speak English.
- Tucking your shirt in can make a man virtually bulletproof.
- If Germans are shooting at you, hide in a river—or even a bathtub; German bullets can't penetrate water.
- If staying in a haunted house, women should investigate every weird noise while wearing next to nothing.
- If you're blonde and good-looking, there's a chance you could become a world-renowned nuclear physicist by age 22.
- If an imminent natural disaster or a killer monster threatens your city, the mayor's first concern will be tourism or his upcoming art gallery opening.
- If you need to reload, you'll always find enough ammo—even if you didn't bring any to begin with.
- If you find yourself in a situation that could be cleared up with a quick explanation, for God's sake, just shut up!
- If you see a large pane of glass, someone is about to be thrown through it.
- If someone is hunting you through town, you can just hide in the St. Patrick's Day parade, which happens every single year.
- If you decide to dance in the street, everyone you run into will know the moves.
- When someone falls in love, it's standard practice to burst into song.
- If someone gets knocked out by a blow to the head, they’ll never deal with a concussion or brain damage.
- When you're driving, it's totally normal to spend the entire trip staring at the person in the passenger seat or the backseat instead of looking at the road.
- You never actually see a cursor on a computer screen; it just says: "Enter Password Now."
- You could survive any battle in any war, provided you don't make the mistake of showing someone a photo of your beloved dog back home.
- The nightly news always seems to feature a story that hits you personally right at that exact moment.
- Landing a plane is pretty easy if there's someone in the control tower giving you directions.
- No one involved in a high-speed chase, a kidnapping, an explosion, a volcanic eruption, or an alien invasion ever goes into shock.
- An electric fence powerful enough to take down a dinosaur won't leave any lasting effects on an eight-year-old.
- Every single police investigation will require at least one visit to a strip club.
- Interbreeding is genetically possible with any creature from other parts of the universe.
- You can always find a parking spot right in front of whatever building you're visiting.
- Most laptops are powerful enough to crash the communication systems of any alien invading civilization.
- A lot of people keep scrapbooks of newspaper clippings, especially if a family member or friend died in a weird accident.
- You can always find a chainsaw exactly when you need one.
- You can always tell if someone is British because they'll be wearing a bowtie.
- Any kind of job will make fathers forget their son's eighth birthday.

👍 even though I think it was transcribed...

most of them are true, though they mostly refer to action movies which are full of clichés anyway...

"If Germans are shooting at you, hide in a river—or even a bathtub; German bullets can't penetrate water."

No clue where this came from? 😕

"If staying in a haunted house, women should investigate every weird noise in their minimal clothing."

I don't get this part at all 😕

"If you're blonde and beautiful, it's possible to become a world-class nuclear physics expert by age 22."

I guess this means everyone is smart and hot....😕

not quite, especially with guys....

"If you find yourself caught in a situation that can be quickly clarified with a simple explanation, for God's sake, keep your mouth shut!"

😕

bluefalcon15 said:Are filmmakers actually this brainless, or do they just think we’re all idiots?!
In at least 70% of movies, nobody bothers to lock their front door when they leave the house. But my absolute favorite trope has to be when the brakes fail, and suddenly, nobody thinks to pull the emergency brake.
(Is there some secret trick to using a handbrake while you're speeding down a highway that I missed?!) 😕

All phone numbers start with 555.
Shooting with empty guns.
Firing without any bullets loaded.
Or when they spray a whole clip at a getaway car and not a single shot even grazes the paint.
And then there's the blind guy who can somehow aim perfectly by sound alone.
😂

When they shoot at the hero, the bullets always seem to miss by an inch or fly right past them.

That’s action movies for you.

Anyway, do Americans really never say "hello" or "hey" when they pick up the phone? 😕
Or is that just movie logic?!
😕

So, if we're talking about the absolute best cinema on the planet...
This poll will close on 16-05-2010 at 05:55
American 14 41.18%
French 3 8.82%
British 3 8.82%
American 1 2.94%
American 4 11.76%
Mexican 2 5.88%
Other 7 20.59%
Voters: 34.

So, what's the absolute best cinema on the planet?
This poll will close on 16-05-2010 at 05:55
American 11 37.93%
French 3 10.34%
British 3 10.34%
American 0 0%
American 3 10.34%
Mexican 2 6.90%
Other 7 24.14%
Voters: 29

Look, when it comes to American movies, I don't think you can find anything better anywhere else.
Maybe in Italy, Germany, or at most France, but even then,
American films still pull more crowds than their own local stuff.

silentridge3 said:Maybe the smartest move would just be renaming the poll to "Which countries produce the films you enjoy most?" Talking about quality is already such a headache, and trying to discuss the quality of a national cinema? That's even worse.

I think we really need to notice the massive difference in terminology here. A movie is just a product that we might like or dislike, something we can probably judge qualitatively (to varying degrees, even if we aren't experts).

But the word "cinema" carries a much broader weight. It describes an entire ecosystem. An ecosystem that possesses its own tradition (sometimes very specific), a certain style of training, a long-standing approach to casting (whether it's meritocratic or based on nepotism), a strong or weak domestic critical landscape, and a local audience response that isn't always proportional to quality. It includes political influence, funding structures, how filmmakers are nurtured (like how much academies support them versus the local theater scene, which serves as the bedrock for actors to transition and survive), and the actual financing of the films themselves...

If we truly wanted to evaluate a national cinema (rather than just individual movies), we’d have to account for all those variables.

For instance, before World War II, the Czechs had a production powerhouse that was strong both in volume and depth. From that, a qualitative foundation emerged during the communist era (that vital transfer of knowledge to new generations). On top of that, there was this distinct tradition of humor, often blended with a sort of "international" satire regarding society at the time. Furthermore, the Czech audience has always been deeply invested in their own domestic films (unlike, say, the audience in some other places). And then there's a fourth factor... and so on.

When you ponder "American cinema," it might be worth remembering someone like Woody Allen. His work actually feels much closer to European filmmaking than to standard Hollywood fare. And it doesn't quite fit the Sundance mold either. You can't really pin it solely on Judaism (since Hollywood is Jewish too); it might be more accurate to say it's rooted in a European tradition where Jewish creators became the primary "exponents" in the USA (even more so than the Italians)....

He brought to mind him and New York City and their film festival, but I didn't want to get carried away.
If you define national cinema as the collection of films (including directors, actors, writers...) from a certain nation, then everyone mentioned above fits right in, no matter how scattered or diverse they might seem....

silentridge3 said:Maybe the smartest move would just be renaming the poll to "Which countries produce the films you enjoy most?" Talking about quality is already such a headache, and trying to discuss the quality of a national cinema? That's even worse.

I think we really need to notice the massive difference in terminology here. A movie is just a product that we might like or dislike, something we can probably judge qualitatively (to varying degrees, even if we aren't experts).

But the word "cinema" carries a much broader weight. It describes an entire ecosystem. An ecosystem that possesses its own tradition (sometimes very specific), a certain style of training, a long-standing approach to casting (whether it's meritocratic or based on nepotism), a strong or weak domestic critical landscape, and a local audience response that isn't always proportional to quality. It includes political influence, funding structures, how filmmakers are nurtured (like how much academies support them versus the local theater scene, which serves as the bedrock for actors to transition and survive), and the actual financing of the films themselves...

If we truly wanted to evaluate a national cinema (rather than just individual movies), we’d have to account for all those variables.

For instance, before World War II, the Czechs had a production powerhouse that was strong both in volume and depth. From that, a qualitative foundation emerged during the communist era (that vital transfer of knowledge to new generations). On top of that, there was this distinct tradition of humor, often blended with a sort of "international" satire regarding society at the time. Furthermore, the Czech audience has always been deeply invested in their own domestic films (unlike, say, the audience in some other places). And then there's a fourth factor... and so on.

When you ponder "American cinema," it might be worth remembering someone like Woody Allen. His work actually feels much closer to European filmmaking than to standard Hollywood fare. And it doesn't quite fit the Sundance mold either. You can't really pin it solely on Judaism (since Hollywood is Jewish too); it might be more accurate to say it's rooted in a European tradition where Jewish creators became the primary "exponents" in the USA (even more so than the Italians)....

Now you're getting into film theory and history territory—basically philosophizing!
You've definitely got points there.
And I'm sure there are solid arguments on both sides.
Should we judge a country's output as a broad average, or just pick out the absolute best gems from that industry?

That's a scientific question that theorists could write entire books about...

But we aren't them.

At the end of the day, just ignore the poll and its results.

It's not that deep anyway.

silentridge3 said:Of course, all our "expert opinions"—mine included, I suppose—on something this incredibly complex are basically just superficial and subjective, especially since we aren't even using any clearly defined criteria. And what really muddies the waters for everyone, making it impossible to draw any meaningful conclusions about the "best cinema," is the simple fact that most of us don't have a clue about global film industries. If you look at the hundred major film industries worldwide, we might be somewhat familiar with maybe four of them, we might know a tiny bit about three others, but as for the remaining ninety-three, we honestly don't know anything at all.

Unless it’s in English and being played in theaters here, we basically don't exist in that world.

But hey, nobody knows "everything" about anything, right?
Just judge based on what you actually know.
Since no one is an all-knowing expert, people sit on actual award juries and committees that carry way more weight than some poll on a random forum thread written in a language spoken by only a few million people... 😎

silentridge3 said:I mean, looking at this poll, it feels like it’s missing a whole bunch of vital details right out of the gate, which I guess makes it a little bit flawed from the start. We’ve already spent quite a bit of time chewing over part of the issue—you know, how certain film industries get picked over others based on these really vague, questionable criteria—so I won't dwell too much on that since it's been covered. Instead, I suppose I should probably point out some other problems that are hovering underneath the surface here.

What exactly constitutes a "national cinema," I wonder? It’s such a slippery, nebulous concept when you really sit down and try to pin it down, isn't it? I suppose you could argue it’s just a collection of films produced within a certain border, but that feels far too simplistic, almost reductive, if you ask me. Maybe it’s more about a shared cultural DNA or those specific, quiet rhythms of life that feel uniquely American, though even that seems a bit idealistic given how much everything blends together these days. I guess you could look at it through the lens of industry, like how the big studios in Los Angeles dictate certain tropes, but then again, is a film truly "national" just because it was funded by a major US studio? It makes me think about how much of our identity is actually captured on celluloid versus how much is just a polished, manufactured version of reality designed for export. It's all very complicated, really, and I suspect there isn't one single, tidy answer that would satisfy everyone.
I suppose I can wrap my head around the whole concept of a national cinema when you look at smaller nations—take a place like a small European country, for instance—where almost every single film is funded by the state from one central pot, and most of the people working in the industry were basically raised in the exact same institutions. In those specific scenarios, you can actually trace how much a film reflects its nation, mostly because the filmmakers share such a common DNA and a unified set of characteristics that you could reasonably call it a singular, cohesive cinema. But then, the United States is a completely different beast altogether, isn't it? It’s just not built on any kind of monolithic approach to filmmaking; here, movies are a massive, multifaceted business driven by all sorts of different motivations and moneyed interests, produced by people who didn't exactly grow up in the same backyard. And we really shouldn't lose sight of the fact that Americans essentially just imported a massive wave of world-class talent, people who were shaped by entirely different traditions and various global schools of thought before they ever set foot in Hollywood.

So, what exactly constitutes "the best" cinema? I mean, it’s such a massive, slippery question, isn't it? I guess when people start throwing that term around, they usually have some specific, polished idea in mind—maybe some high-brow masterpiece from a festival like Sundance or something critically acclaimed that everyone feels obligated to love just to seem cultured. But honestly, I find myself wondering if there's even a real metric for it, or if we're all just chasing this phantom ideal of perfection. Maybe "best" is just a polite way of saying "what makes me feel something without being too obvious about it," though even that seems a bit reductive, doesn't it? It's all so subjective, I suppose, and the more you try to pin down a definition, the more it seems to slip through your fingers, leaving you with nothing but a bunch of pretentious arguments about pacing or lighting or whatever else critics use to justify their existence.

I suppose there are a few different ways we could tackle this, though I'm not entirely sure which one holds the most weight, if any of them actually do...

I mean, I guess you could argue that the absolute best one is just... the one that actually works, right? It’s probably the most obvious answer, though I suppose there's always some complicated reason why people feel the need to overthink things, which we see all the time, I guess. I mean, if you really look at the numbers, they’ve probably churned out more absolute masterpieces than anyone else, even if you have to wade through a massive mountain of total garbage just to find them. It’s kind of a weird statistical reality, I guess, where the sheer volume of their failures almost feels like a byproduct of how many incredible things they manage to pull off.

I mean, if we’re looking at it that way, the USA probably comes out on top. It’s all about the math, I guess. If they manage to churn out maybe 100 absolute masterpieces, even if they have to wade through 30,000 total flops to get there, those 100 incredible films are more than enough to put them right back at number one. It’s just how the scale works, maybe.

I guess you could say that the best kind of cinema is the stuff that actually sticks to your ribs, if that makes any sense, though I suppose "sticks to your ribs" is more for a heavy breakfast than a movie, but anyway, the best filmmaking is really just whatever manages to feel honest when everything else feels like a manufactured lie. It’s easy to get caught up in the flashy, big-budget spectacles that Hollywood pumps out every summer—you know, those massive productions designed to sell popcorn and merchandise—but I've always felt that those are often just hollow shells, regardless of how much they cost to make. Maybe true greatness lies in that raw, unpolished quality where you can almost see the director's fingerprints on every frame, where the storytelling doesn't feel like it was processed through a corporate committee in some glass skyscraper in Midtown Manhattan, but rather comes from somewhere much deeper and perhaps a bit more troubled. It's hard to pin down, honestly, because what resonates with one person might just feel tedious to someone else, but there's something about a film that refuses to play by the rules, that isn't afraid to be quiet or uncomfortable, that just seems to possess a certain soul that you just don't find in the blockbuster machine. I guess you could say they managed to strike that elusive, perfect balance between the absolute masterpieces and the total duds, though I don't know if anyone ever truly finds that sweet spot without a bit of luck involved. It’s almost like they hit on this incredibly precise ratio where the quality actually holds up, which, honestly, feels like a bit of a miracle when you consider how much junk gets churned out by the studios these days. Maybe it's just a fluke, or maybe they actually knew what they were doing for once, but they really did produce the best ratio of hits to misses I've seen in a long time.

I mean, if we’re really playing by those kinds of rules, I guess even Cyprus could claim a victory here—if they managed to churn out 28 films in total and somehow pulled 14 of them off as actually decent.

I guess you could argue that the absolute best kind of cinema—the stuff that actually sticks to your ribs and stays with you long after the credits roll—is the kind that doesn't just try to entertain you, but somehow manages to strip everything back to the raw, uncomfortable truth of being alive. It’s probably that specific type of filmmaking where the director isn't just shouting at the audience or throwing flashy special effects around like confetti, but instead finds those quiet, almost invisible ways to pull at your sleeve, if that makes sense? Maybe I'm being too sentimental, but there's something about movies that refuse to give you easy answers or tidy little endings that feels more honest, I suppose. It’s less about the spectacle and more about that lingering feeling in your chest when the screen goes black, leaving you sitting there in the dark, wondering if you ever really understood anything at all. I was just sitting here thinking about how we always look at things through the wrong lens, you know? Like, when people talk about the biggest hubs for cinema, they always point to the massive coastal cities or those huge industry powerhouses, but I guess if you actually sit down and crunch the numbers—really look at the sheer volume of films produced per capita—you start seeing a completely different picture. It’s funny how that works, isn't it? We tend to obsess over the total output of places like Los Angeles or New York City because that's where the big studios and the flashing lights are, but looking at production relative to the population size... well, that changes the whole conversation, I suppose. It makes you wonder if the real creative energy isn't actually in those crowded, expensive metros, but somewhere else entirely. Maybe it's just a matter of density and how much art a single soul can squeeze out of their daily life before they get too tired to care. It's a bit of a rabbit hole once you start digging, really.

I mean, if you really think about it, there’s actually enough potential here to take on Taiwan... I guess. It's hard to say for sure, but maybe?

I guess you could say that the absolute best kind of cinema is the stuff that actually feels alive, if that makes any sense, because honestly, most movies these days just feel like they were assembled in a factory by people who have never actually felt a real emotion in their entire lives. I mean, maybe I’m being too cynical, but there’s just something about those films that manage to capture a certain raw, unpolished truth—you know, the kind where you aren't just watching actors recite lines from a script written by some committee in a high-rise in Midtown Manhattan, but rather witnessing something that feels almost dangerously real. It's probably a bit idealistic of me to say, but the greatest filmmaking happens when it transcends the mere spectacle of big budgets and CGI explosions, moving instead into that strange, quiet space where the human condition is laid bare without all the unnecessary Hollywood gloss. I was thinking about this the other day, probably while staring blankly at a screen, and I couldn't help but wonder which studio or region actually churned out the highest volume of films over the years. It’s one of those questions that seems simple on the surface, but once you start digging into the sheer scale of production—especially when you consider how much the industry has shifted from the old studio system era to this massive, relentless modern machine—it gets kind of overwhelming, I guess. You have these giants in Hollywood just pumping out content like there's no tomorrow, and then you look at different global markets and realize the numbers are just staggering. It makes you wonder if quantity ever truly matters more than quality, or if we're all just drowning in a sea of endless celluloid, though maybe that's just my cynical outlook talking.

India... I mean, where do you even start with a place like that? It’s just one of those massive, overwhelming entities that stays on your mind, I guess, because everything about it feels so incredibly vast and complicated all at once. Maybe it's just me, but I often find myself wondering how any single system could possibly attempt to manage something so enormous, though I suppose they make it work in their own way. It's a lot to wrap your head around, really.

I guess you could say that the absolute best kind of filmmaking is the stuff that... well, I don't know, it’s hard to put my finger on it, but it's really about that certain feeling, isn't it? Maybe it's the movies that actually feel alive, rather than just being polished products churned out by some massive studio in Los Angeles just to hit a quarterly profit goal. I mean, I find myself constantly drifting toward those films that possess a soul, though I suppose "soul" is a bit of a cliché, isn't it? It’s more about that raw, unvarnished truth that hits you when you least expect it, even if the pacing is a bit slow or the plot feels a little aimless at times. I've always felt that the most profound cinema doesn't try too hard to grab your attention with cheap tricks or explosions, but instead sort of settles into your consciousness, much like how a quiet rainy afternoon in Seattle might settle over you, if you catch my drift. It's a bit of a rambling thought, I realize, but there's just something about authenticity that makes everything else feel so hollow in comparison. I guess if you really sit down and crunch the numbers—you know, looking at the sheer volume of high-quality cinema produced per capita—it’s probably some small, overlooked corner of the world that takes the crown, though I suppose most people would just point to Hollywood and call it a day. It's funny how we measure greatness, isn't it? We tend to focus on the massive studios or the big cities like New York City, but when you actually weigh the artistic output against the total population, the math starts to look a bit different, maybe even a little surprising if you're used to the usual suspects. There's this sense that quality is tied to scale, but I've always felt that's a bit of a fallacy, honestly. Small, dedicated filmmaking hubs often punch way above their weight class compared to the massive industry machines over here in the States.

I mean, if we're being honest, it looks like the Czech Republic might just take the win here... though I guess there’s always room for a surprise, isn't there? Maybe.

I suppose you could say it’s one of those premier film industries that we all tend to gravitate toward—you know, those big, powerhouse cinematic landscapes that we "Western centrists" always seem to fixate on—and it really is quite something. I guess it really comes down to which one we actually gravitate toward versus which one we’ve just grown numb to through sheer repetition, though I suppose there's a fine line between genuine preference and just being conditioned by whatever happens to be playing on every screen in America at any given moment. Maybe we claim to love one thing, but if you look closely, we might just be stuck in a cycle of familiarity, sort of like how you get used to a certain brand of coffee or a specific route to work, until you realize you haven't actually chosen anything in years.

I guess that specific criterion is probably what this whole poll is actually about, if you think about it... maybe.

If you’re asking me to pick my absolute favorite cinematic landscape, I guess I’d have to say it’s definitely Czechia. There's just something about that specific style of filmmaking that hits differently, though I suppose everyone has their own thing, right?

I was totally torn between A and B. Which one would you pick?

It’s gotta be the USA, right? If you're judging by the sheer volume of quality films out there—even if like 90% of what they churn out is total garbage.

What's the criteria here?

If we’re judging purely by the percentage of top-tier films produced, I’d have to say the US takes the crown. Don't you think?
Fair point, I haven't even seen movies from most countries, so that criteria doesn't really mean much to me, does it?

I was actually gonna say in my first post that it’s totally up to the voters to decide which of these two criteria they want to stick with. Right?
Why force one standard on everyone? It’s kind of dumb, right? If they think that other metric actually matters more, just let them go for it.
It’s pretty silly to open two identical threads and run two polls with just a slight tweak to the criteria, right? Pretty sure the mods wouldn't be thrilled about that either.

silentridge3 said:I mean, looking at this poll, it feels like it’s missing a whole bunch of vital details right out of the gate, which I guess makes it a little bit flawed from the start. We’ve already spent quite a bit of time chewing over part of the issue—you know, how certain film industries get picked over others based on these really vague, questionable criteria—so I won't dwell too much on that since it's been covered. Instead, I suppose I should probably point out some other problems that are hovering underneath the surface here.

What exactly constitutes a "national cinema," I wonder? It’s such a slippery, nebulous concept when you really sit down and try to pin it down, isn't it? I suppose you could argue it’s just a collection of films produced within a certain border, but that feels far too simplistic, almost reductive, if you ask me. Maybe it’s more about a shared cultural DNA or those specific, quiet rhythms of life that feel uniquely American, though even that seems a bit idealistic given how much everything blends together these days. I guess you could look at it through the lens of industry, like how the big studios in Los Angeles dictate certain tropes, but then again, is a film truly "national" just because it was funded by a major US studio? It makes me think about how much of our identity is actually captured on celluloid versus how much is just a polished, manufactured version of reality designed for export. It's all very complicated, really, and I suspect there isn't one single, tidy answer that would satisfy everyone.
I suppose I can wrap my head around the whole concept of a national cinema when you look at smaller nations—take a place like a small European country, for instance—where almost every single film is funded by the state from one central pot, and most of the people working in the industry were basically raised in the exact same institutions. In those specific scenarios, you can actually trace how much a film reflects its nation, mostly because the filmmakers share such a common DNA and a unified set of characteristics that you could reasonably call it a singular, cohesive cinema. But then, the United States is a completely different beast altogether, isn't it? It’s just not built on any kind of monolithic approach to filmmaking; here, movies are a massive, multifaceted business driven by all sorts of different motivations and moneyed interests, produced by people who didn't exactly grow up in the same backyard. And we really shouldn't lose sight of the fact that Americans essentially just imported a massive wave of world-class talent, people who were shaped by entirely different traditions and various global schools of thought before they ever set foot in Hollywood.

So, what exactly constitutes "the best" cinema? I mean, it’s such a massive, slippery question, isn't it? I guess when people start throwing that term around, they usually have some specific, polished idea in mind—maybe some high-brow masterpiece from a festival like Sundance or something critically acclaimed that everyone feels obligated to love just to seem cultured. But honestly, I find myself wondering if there's even a real metric for it, or if we're all just chasing this phantom ideal of perfection. Maybe "best" is just a polite way of saying "what makes me feel something without being too obvious about it," though even that seems a bit reductive, doesn't it? It's all so subjective, I suppose, and the more you try to pin down a definition, the more it seems to slip through your fingers, leaving you with nothing but a bunch of pretentious arguments about pacing or lighting or whatever else critics use to justify their existence.

I suppose there are a few different ways we could tackle this, though I'm not entirely sure which one holds the most weight, if any of them actually do...

I mean, I guess you could argue that the absolute best one is just... the one that actually works, right? It’s probably the most obvious answer, though I suppose there's always some complicated reason why people feel the need to overthink things, which we see all the time, I guess. I mean, if you really look at the numbers, they’ve probably churned out more absolute masterpieces than anyone else, even if you have to wade through a massive mountain of total garbage just to find them. It’s kind of a weird statistical reality, I guess, where the sheer volume of their failures almost feels like a byproduct of how many incredible things they manage to pull off.

I mean, if we’re looking at it that way, the USA probably comes out on top. It’s all about the math, I guess. If they manage to churn out maybe 100 absolute masterpieces, even if they have to wade through 30,000 total flops to get there, those 100 incredible films are more than enough to put them right back at number one. It’s just how the scale works, maybe.

I guess you could say that the best kind of cinema is the stuff that actually sticks to your ribs, if that makes any sense, though I suppose "sticks to your ribs" is more for a heavy breakfast than a movie, but anyway, the best filmmaking is really just whatever manages to feel honest when everything else feels like a manufactured lie. It’s easy to get caught up in the flashy, big-budget spectacles that Hollywood pumps out every summer—you know, those massive productions designed to sell popcorn and merchandise—but I've always felt that those are often just hollow shells, regardless of how much they cost to make. Maybe true greatness lies in that raw, unpolished quality where you can almost see the director's fingerprints on every frame, where the storytelling doesn't feel like it was processed through a corporate committee in some glass skyscraper in Midtown Manhattan, but rather comes from somewhere much deeper and perhaps a bit more troubled. It's hard to pin down, honestly, because what resonates with one person might just feel tedious to someone else, but there's something about a film that refuses to play by the rules, that isn't afraid to be quiet or uncomfortable, that just seems to possess a certain soul that you just don't find in the blockbuster machine. I guess you could say they managed to strike that elusive, perfect balance between the absolute masterpieces and the total duds, though I don't know if anyone ever truly finds that sweet spot without a bit of luck involved. It’s almost like they hit on this incredibly precise ratio where the quality actually holds up, which, honestly, feels like a bit of a miracle when you consider how much junk gets churned out by the studios these days. Maybe it's just a fluke, or maybe they actually knew what they were doing for once, but they really did produce the best ratio of hits to misses I've seen in a long time.

I mean, if we’re really playing by those kinds of rules, I guess even Cyprus could claim a victory here—if they managed to churn out 28 films in total and somehow pulled 14 of them off as actually decent.

I guess you could argue that the absolute best kind of cinema—the stuff that actually sticks to your ribs and stays with you long after the credits roll—is the kind that doesn't just try to entertain you, but somehow manages to strip everything back to the raw, uncomfortable truth of being alive. It’s probably that specific type of filmmaking where the director isn't just shouting at the audience or throwing flashy special effects around like confetti, but instead finds those quiet, almost invisible ways to pull at your sleeve, if that makes sense? Maybe I'm being too sentimental, but there's something about movies that refuse to give you easy answers or tidy little endings that feels more honest, I suppose. It’s less about the spectacle and more about that lingering feeling in your chest when the screen goes black, leaving you sitting there in the dark, wondering if you ever really understood anything at all. I was just sitting here thinking about how we always look at things through the wrong lens, you know? Like, when people talk about the biggest hubs for cinema, they always point to the massive coastal cities or those huge industry powerhouses, but I guess if you actually sit down and crunch the numbers—really look at the sheer volume of films produced per capita—you start seeing a completely different picture. It’s funny how that works, isn't it? We tend to obsess over the total output of places like Los Angeles or New York City because that's where the big studios and the flashing lights are, but looking at production relative to the population size... well, that changes the whole conversation, I suppose. It makes you wonder if the real creative energy isn't actually in those crowded, expensive metros, but somewhere else entirely. Maybe it's just a matter of density and how much art a single soul can squeeze out of their daily life before they get too tired to care. It's a bit of a rabbit hole once you start digging, really.

I mean, if you really think about it, there’s actually enough potential here to take on Taiwan... I guess. It's hard to say for sure, but maybe?

I guess you could say that the absolute best kind of cinema is the stuff that actually feels alive, if that makes any sense, because honestly, most movies these days just feel like they were assembled in a factory by people who have never actually felt a real emotion in their entire lives. I mean, maybe I’m being too cynical, but there’s just something about those films that manage to capture a certain raw, unpolished truth—you know, the kind where you aren't just watching actors recite lines from a script written by some committee in a high-rise in Midtown Manhattan, but rather witnessing something that feels almost dangerously real. It's probably a bit idealistic of me to say, but the greatest filmmaking happens when it transcends the mere spectacle of big budgets and CGI explosions, moving instead into that strange, quiet space where the human condition is laid bare without all the unnecessary Hollywood gloss. I was thinking about this the other day, probably while staring blankly at a screen, and I couldn't help but wonder which studio or region actually churned out the highest volume of films over the years. It’s one of those questions that seems simple on the surface, but once you start digging into the sheer scale of production—especially when you consider how much the industry has shifted from the old studio system era to this massive, relentless modern machine—it gets kind of overwhelming, I guess. You have these giants in Hollywood just pumping out content like there's no tomorrow, and then you look at different global markets and realize the numbers are just staggering. It makes you wonder if quantity ever truly matters more than quality, or if we're all just drowning in a sea of endless celluloid, though maybe that's just my cynical outlook talking.

India... I mean, where do you even start with a place like that? It’s just one of those massive, overwhelming entities that stays on your mind, I guess, because everything about it feels so incredibly vast and complicated all at once. Maybe it's just me, but I often find myself wondering how any single system could possibly attempt to manage something so enormous, though I suppose they make it work in their own way. It's a lot to wrap your head around, really.

I guess you could say that the absolute best kind of filmmaking is the stuff that... well, I don't know, it’s hard to put my finger on it, but it's really about that certain feeling, isn't it? Maybe it's the movies that actually feel alive, rather than just being polished products churned out by some massive studio in Los Angeles just to hit a quarterly profit goal. I mean, I find myself constantly drifting toward those films that possess a soul, though I suppose "soul" is a bit of a cliché, isn't it? It’s more about that raw, unvarnished truth that hits you when you least expect it, even if the pacing is a bit slow or the plot feels a little aimless at times. I've always felt that the most profound cinema doesn't try too hard to grab your attention with cheap tricks or explosions, but instead sort of settles into your consciousness, much like how a quiet rainy afternoon in Seattle might settle over you, if you catch my drift. It's a bit of a rambling thought, I realize, but there's just something about authenticity that makes everything else feel so hollow in comparison. I guess if you really sit down and crunch the numbers—you know, looking at the sheer volume of high-quality cinema produced per capita—it’s probably some small, overlooked corner of the world that takes the crown, though I suppose most people would just point to Hollywood and call it a day. It's funny how we measure greatness, isn't it? We tend to focus on the massive studios or the big cities like New York City, but when you actually weigh the artistic output against the total population, the math starts to look a bit different, maybe even a little surprising if you're used to the usual suspects. There's this sense that quality is tied to scale, but I've always felt that's a bit of a fallacy, honestly. Small, dedicated filmmaking hubs often punch way above their weight class compared to the massive industry machines over here in the States.

I mean, if we're being honest, it looks like the Czech Republic might just take the win here... though I guess there’s always room for a surprise, isn't there? Maybe.

I suppose you could say it’s one of those premier film industries that we all tend to gravitate toward—you know, those big, powerhouse cinematic landscapes that we "Western centrists" always seem to fixate on—and it really is quite something. I guess it really comes down to which one we actually gravitate toward versus which one we’ve just grown numb to through sheer repetition, though I suppose there's a fine line between genuine preference and just being conditioned by whatever happens to be playing on every screen in America at any given moment. Maybe we claim to love one thing, but if you look closely, we might just be stuck in a cycle of familiarity, sort of like how you get used to a certain brand of coffee or a specific route to work, until you realize you haven't actually chosen anything in years.

I guess that specific criterion is probably what this whole poll is actually about, if you think about it... maybe.

If you’re asking me to pick my absolute favorite cinematic landscape, I guess I’d have to say it’s definitely Czechia. There's just something about that specific style of filmmaking that hits differently, though I suppose everyone has their own thing, right?

Been chewing on this.
Specifically this example.
You've got "Hollywood" movies (commercial stuff, not necessarily born there),
and then you've got the indie scene, like Sundance.

Now I'm thinking this poll can't really respect that split while still keeping a "national" or "Made in..." vibe, right?

If you really want to, just average the two out for American cinema.

So, what's the absolute best cinema on the planet?
This poll will close on 16-05-2010 at 05:55
American 11 50.00%
French 2 9.09%
British 1 4.55%
American 0 0%
American 2 9.09%
Mexican 2 9.09%
Other 4 18.18%
Voters: 22.

So, if we're talking about the absolute best cinema on the planet...
This poll will close on 16-05-2010 at 05:55
American 7 43.75%
French 2 12.50%
British 1 6.25%
American 0 0%
American 1 6.25%
Mexican 2 12.50%
Other 3 18.75%
Total votes: 16

Yeah, let's face it—movies today are mostly just a business. Or if you want to be blunt, they're an industry.
If a formula works, they just crank out clones on an assembly line.

The truth is, the whole thing is split between being "industry" and being "art,"
but if someone actually pulls off a movie that hits both? That's a total legend move!

brightcobra91 said:Ummm... what happened to Italy? Japan? Spain? Sweden? (And I’m talking about their cinema, not just geography 😁). Seriously, I could go on forever—this poll is totally incomplete and honestly, it's a mistake to even bother voting.

Fine, have it your way.
But honestly, we’d never agree on a poll like this.
If you include Sweden, you've gotta include Finland, and don't even get me started on Norway.

If you throw Japan in there, you need China, maybe Hong Kong, probably Vietnam, and definitely India.

Kind of weird nobody called me out for leaving out Russia, too.