The best movies of all time?

Yeah, exactly. It’s just the left hemisphere versus the right one.

Quote:Quote:

redowl90 says: Honestly, the poll should’ve just been this: Which cinema is actually the best? A) American B) Everything else Simple as that... 😉

Man, that would end all the arguments overnight 🤣
just pick one—the USA or the rest of the world😁

I'm choosing the world😍

Anthony Kim18 said:If you ask me, that similarity shows up in how much they share the same "pool" of talent.
Especially when it comes to actors.
So many stars who make it big in Britain end up conquering Hollywood.
Sure, that happens with other countries too, but with the language being the same, it feels less like moving abroad and more like just moving house.

I'll just list a few: Alfred Hitchcock, Michael York, Anthony Hopkins, Hugh Grant, Sean Connery, Rowan Atkinson.
Honestly, I feel like both Charlie Chaplin and Anthony Hopkins are essentially British staples.

And look at the flip side—just think about the themes, like the whole Bond series!

You've got a point. The more I sit here trying to find the right way to put this, the more I realize there are very few "islands" left in the world that maintain a truly systematic, national cinema. I suspect the culprit is the globalized capitalist market. Film is a business, after all, and business doesn't care about borders. It’s like how local sodas don't get much traction; even in Thailand, everyone is drinking Coca-Cola. Sure, there are still people selling coconut water and folks buying it, but that's become a niche thing now. That's my point regarding film.

There has always been a blending of talent. The Americans usually have it harder in that regard because, if they ever had a distinct cinematic identity, it often came from immigrants moving in. You had plenty of German technicians, and some of the most successful directors weren't even originally from the US (think Korda, Losey, or Lester...). You could probably start a whole debate over how much a Canadian filmmaker like Emeric Pressburger actually contributed to the American cinematic landscape and whether his work can even be considered "American."

But personally, I think actors are just a secondary part of the production machine. Their performance depends 99% on the director's vision and methodology, so I wouldn't really factor them into the conversation about migrations affecting a national style. Unfortunately, reality works differently—the audience's subjective obsession with a "star" is sadly part of the toxic dish being served: one pretty face with a finished acting workshop dictates the entire industry standard. It's unbelievable.

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!

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

I have a ton of respect for Iranian cinema, but honestly? It feels a bit too much like a monolith to me. It’s always the same themes, the same visual language, the same specific obsessions over and over again... so I don't really go out of my way to seek it out. On the other hand, if we're talking about truly essential movements that have shaped the cinematic landscape since the eighties, nothing beats the wave coming out of Taiwan. You've got legends like Tsai Ming-liang, Edward Yang, and Hou Hsiao-hsien—that's the kind of stuff that actually sticks with you. I've never really been able to get into Japanese films, though. When it comes to Europe, I usually gravitate toward Spanish or French cinema, but I also find myself drawn to the gritty, soulful works coming out of the former Eastern Bloc.

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?

Exactly. This whole idea of defining what’s "the best" is honestly just a slippery, elusive concept that doesn't carry much weight in the real world. Top ten lists are basically just statistics—and as they say, there’s truth, lies, and then there’s statistics. Personally, I think someone’s favorite movies say more about their own personality than the films themselves; I prefer to build my own opinion from scratch once I actually sit down to watch them. My own list of "all-time greats" is constantly shifting and evolving, which feels like the only sane way to approach it.

Regardless, I actually dig the underlying logic behind your cinematic picks! 🙂 Quality per capita... sounds pretty reasonable to me. Though, let's be real, the actual reason is probably just because you happen to enjoy them most.

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.

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.

Joseph Lee3 said:Exactly. This whole idea of defining what’s "the best" is honestly just a slippery, elusive concept that doesn't carry much weight in the real world. Top ten lists are basically just statistics—and as they say, there’s truth, lies, and then there’s statistics. Personally, I think someone’s favorite movies say more about their own personality than the films themselves; I prefer to build my own opinion from scratch once I actually sit down to watch them. My own list of "all-time greats" is constantly shifting and evolving, which feels like the only sane way to approach it.

Regardless, I actually dig the underlying logic behind your cinematic picks! 🙂 Quality per capita... sounds pretty reasonable to me. Though, let's be real, the actual reason is probably just because you happen to enjoy them most.

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.

Anthony Kim18 said: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.

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)....

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: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: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: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....

No, I think you might have gotten me wrong. I’m not actually against surveys, not even in this kind of format. Besides, I already cast my vote (for "others") and I’ve shared my thoughts regarding Czechia. What I’m really trying to do is just contribute my own "two cents" to the discussion within the scope of this thread.

The core point I want to make—and something I wish people would always keep in the back of their minds—is this pervasive wave of cinematic Americanization. I honestly don't know where else in the civilized world we see such an overwhelming percentage of American movies being shown compared to here (maybe only in the USA itself). We basically, unfortunately, don't have much of a choice, and over time we've just been conditioned to believe that American cinema is the only thing that truly qualifies as "film." Everything else feels like a pale imitation of a movie, which usually means it's just an imitation of an American movie... And I suppose that subconsciously shaped cinematic taste of ours could be a deciding factor when we're trying to pick out the very best in cinematography...

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:No, I think you might have gotten me wrong. I’m not actually against surveys, not even in this kind of format. Besides, I already cast my vote (for "others") and I’ve shared my thoughts regarding Czechia. What I’m really trying to do is just contribute my own "two cents" to the discussion within the scope of this thread.

The core point I want to make—and something I wish people would always keep in the back of their minds—is this pervasive wave of cinematic Americanization. I honestly don't know where else in the civilized world we see such an overwhelming percentage of American movies being shown compared to here (maybe only in the USA itself). We basically, unfortunately, don't have much of a choice, and over time we've just been conditioned to believe that American cinema is the only thing that truly qualifies as "film." Everything else feels like a pale imitation of a movie, which usually means it's just an imitation of an American movie... And I suppose that subconsciously shaped cinematic taste of ours could be a deciding factor when we're trying to pick out the very best in cinematography...

which is exactly what Anthony Kim18's survey results suggest... 😬