James Bond is back on the big screen this week with Sam Mendes’ “Spectre” (read our review here), and along with the return of Daniel Craig, spectacular action and casual sexism, that means we get a lavish credits sequence. An immaculately designed opening, usually paired with a specially scored theme song, has been a staple of the Bond franchise since the early days, and continues with the octopus-tastic take in the new film.
But Bond doesn’t have a monopoly on inventive, thrilling credits sequences —all kinds of filmmakers have introduced their films in stunning, ingenious ways. And so we’ve used the occasion of "Spectre" to pick out our fifty favorite opening credits of all time. Take a look below and let us know your own favorites in the comments.
“The Adventures Of Tintin” (2011)
Steven Spielberg’s homaged Saul Bass more than once, but as gorgeous as the blue-and-black, John Williams-scored feel for “Catch Me If You Can” was, we might be slightly fonder of “The Adventures Of Tintin,” which does an excellent job homaging Hergé’s original work, telling some stories and setting the scene of what’s to come. It’s a thrilling Tintin adventure all its own.
As confident and minimalistically terrifying as the movie itself, the opening to Ridley Scott’s “Alien” pans across quiet space as the title, gradually revealing itself in line-strokes, appears. Both possible meanings of the word are entirely apt here.
“La Belle Et La Bête” (1946)
Jean Cocteau’s classic Gothic version of “Beauty & The Beast” begins in a rather unconventional way even for the time, with the credits written by hand on a blackboard, before revealing a clapperboard, then a hand-drawn statement from Cocteau ending ‘Once upon a time.” It puts the artifice first and foremost, yet remains utterly charming: it’s a sort of cinematic version of the oral storytelling tradition that fairy tales come from.
“Danger: Diabolik” (1968)
Mario Bava’s glorious pop-art action-adventure adaptation of the popular Italian comic book opens in the most stylish way possible —as our masked anti-hero (John Phillip Law) dives off a car suspended high above the ocean, the camera spinning deliriously and turning into a sort of kaleidoscope to the tune of Christy’s Ennio Morricone-penned tune “Deep Deep Down.” It’s psychedelic, it’s effortlessly cool, and it’s a perfect microcosm of the movie to come.
The visually startling breakthrough film by Jean-Pierre Jeunet and Marc Caro begins in as gorgeously distinctive manner as it continues: after a man hiding in a bin is attacked by a butcher, there’s a hard cut to titles, then the camera pans around titles written on a beautiful tableau of post-apocalyptic objects, mostly relating to their job titles (i.e. Darius Khondji’s name is marked on a camera). It’s the first real demonstrations of the pair’s immense stylistic flair.
“Do The Right Thing” (1989)
Spike Lee’s “Do The Right Thing” is one of the greatest movies ever, and appropriately it has one of the greatest credits sequences, as Rosie Perez busts a move in front of an almost “West Side Story”-ish backdrop (sometimes dressed in boxing gear), as Public Enemy’s “Fight The Power” eviscerates Elvis and John Wayne. Can you imagine how this could have begun more perfectly?
“Dr. No” (1962)
They’ve got bigger and grander over time, often relying on the same kind of tropes —dancing girls, mostly— but we’d take the modernist simplicity of “Dr. No” over the weird tentacle-porn of “Spectre” any day as far as Bond title sequences go. Introducing the classic theme tune and the gunsight-iris for the first time, but mostly relying on a stylish circle motif, it’s infinitely cooler than much of what followed (until it switches into ‘Three Blind Mice,’ anyway).
“Dr Strangelove (Or How I Learned To Stop Worrying And Love The Bomb)” (1964)
Using archive footage over credits was a familiar trope even in the 1960s, but as we’ll see, filmmakers have been using it in fascinating ways all the same, and few better than Stanley Kubrick. After an ominous warning, the opening of his classic satire “Dr. Strangelove” sees footage of a mid-air bomber refuel, with overlaid credits in an utterly distinctive, wonky font created for the film by designer Pablo Ferro — it’s now known as ‘Strangelove.’
“Enter The Void” (2009)
Hailed instantly as a classic by title-design fans, seemingly influenced in part by Godard and subsequently ripped off by Kanye West, among others, Gaspar Noé’s epic head-trip begins by rolling out the entire credits of the movie in trippy, strobing fashion, with major crew and cast members each getting their own unique design. It’s simply stacked with ideas, and if it goes you a headache, that’s exactly what the intention was in the first place…
“Fahrenheit 451” (1966)
Given that it takes place in a society where all literature has been banned, it was something of a genius stroke, if obvious only in retrospect, for Francois Truffaut to begin his sole English-language film, an adaptation of Ray Bradbury’s sci-fi novel, by having the credits read out aloud rather than being shown on screen. It’s throws you right into the film’s milieu without the need for lazy set-up, and is one of the smartest decisions in a film that doesn’t always work.
The Coens have come up with some memorable title sequences in their time, but our favorite might be one of their very best films, ‘Fargo.” After the famous (and inaccurate) ‘This Is A True Story’ intro (so iconic that the excellent TV series uses it in every episode), we’re greeted with pure white. Though in fact, it’s a snowy Minnesota landscape, with a car gradually becoming distinct as the cast are introduced in a nifty, spaced-out typography, over Carter Burwell’s gorgeous score.
“Un Femme Est Une Femme” (1961)
Paving the way to the more hyperactive “Enter The Void” titles, Jean-Luc Godard’s New Wave rom-com opens in bold, attention-grabbing fashion, with a series of words (beginning, perhaps with a nod to Cocteau, with “Il Était Un Fois —once upon a time…") in giant typeface. It serves both as the credits and as a statement of intent (“Lubitsch! 14 Juillet! Cinéma!”), before introducing its three stars with the spoken words “Lights! Camera! Action!” Pure cinema.
“Foxy Brown” (1974)
Jack Hill’s badass feminist revenge fantasy, which made a star of Pam Grier, seems to consciously kick off with a sort of ’70s, female-led spin on the Bond opening credits, with a luminous Grier winking down the lens, then dancing over day-glo colors to Willie Hutch’s theme tune and, in another cheeky 007 nod, shooting straight into camera. Rarely has an icon been born so quickly.
“Funny Face” (1957)
Stanley Donen’s beloved fashion-world musical, featuring Fred Astaire as a famous photographer and Audrey Hepburn as his model muse, was very loosely based on the life of real-life lensman Richard Avedon and benefits enormously from his involvement in the stylish opening sequence, which he designed. It gives insight into the fashion world (arguably more than the movie) and feels strikingly modern even now.
“The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo” (2011)
We’ll likely never get a David Fincher-directed Bond movie, but thanks to his version of “The Girl WIth A Dragon Tattoo,” we at least have a Bond title sequence in all but name, one that outdoes most of the recent official examples. Taking some major inspiration from Chris Cunningham, it mixes CGI silhouettes of stars Rooney Mara and Daniel Craig (cheekily, given that he’s the most recent Bond) with some truly nightmarish, all-black imagery, with tentacle-like USB cables, beatings, fire, phoenixes, and more, all scored to a propulsive Karen O version of “Immigrant Score.”
Gareth Edwards’ reboot of the classic monster movie divided audiences (we love it…), but pretty much everyone agrees that the opening credits were among the best in years. Using it for actual storytelling purposes and filling in some of the creation-of-the-monster backstory with a clever mix of archive footage and seamless CGI, it’s made even smarter by the use of ‘redacted’ text, which freeze-frame happy fans will find contains not just story details, but also references to “men in rubber suits,” star Bryan Cranston’s work on “Malcolm In The Middle” and “Breaking Bad,” and Edwards’ previous film “Monsters.”
“The Good The Bad & The Ugly” (1966)
Basically all of Sergio Leone’s title sequences are banging, but “The Good, The Bad & The Ugly” is particularly strong. Over some of Ennio Morricone’s best work, we get a striking red-and-black animation image of a horse, and then the cast and title introduced with gunshots, chanting and more. About 90% of everything Quentin Tarantino’s done since the turn of the century can be traced back to these few minutes.
“The Graduate” (1967)
Speaking of Tarantino, he borrowed/stole from Mike Nichols’ coming-of-age classic for the beginning of “Jackie Brown,” but as iconic as Pam Grier’s entrance to “Across 110th Street” is, our first glimpse of Benjamin Braddock pips it. Opening on a great image of alienated youth with Dustin Hoffman’s Benjamin sitting dull-eyed on a landing plane, Nichols then follows him along over credits as he’s passed by others, with of course Simon & Garfunkel’s “The Sound Of Silence” scoring the whole thing. It’s a great piece of visual storytelling for a filmmaker who until then had been known as a man of words.
“Grand Prix” (1966)
Undoubtedly the most famous credit sequence designer in the history of film, Saul Bass is, as we’ll see below, best known for his iconic animated segments, but his live-action work was exemplary, and one of the best examples comes at the beginning of “Grand Prix,” John Frankenheimer’s motor-racing picture. Bass focuses on the minutiae of car-tuning and race preparation, fragmenting and replicating the perfectly-composed images, making it into an almost abstracted piece of art.
“A Hard Day’s Night” (1964)
Richard Lester’s “A Hard Day’s Night” defied the odds suggesting it’d be a pure cash-in to become a truly artful, experimental celebration of the Fab Four, and it’s rarely exemplified better than its opening credits. Following the boys as they’re pursued by crazed fans, hiding out and and even, in Paul’s case, donning a goatee in an attempt to escape, it’s playful, vibrant and one of the best attempts at capturing Beatlemania, even if there’s a degree of self-mythologizing.
“The Kingdom” (2007)
Peter Berg’s rock-solid Middle Eastern actioner has somewhat unfairly been somewhat forgotten, despite some top-notch action and a surprisingly nuanced take on geopolitics, but if it deserves to be remembered for anything, it’s the excellent title sequence. Mixing archive footage with well-designed graphics, Berg and co. successfully lay out a brief history of relations between the U.S. and Saudi Arabia, smartly summing up the film’s political context without pandering, and ending with a gut-punch evocation of 9/11.
“LA Confidential” (1997)
Curtis Hanson’s adaptation of James Ellroy’s novel is one of the best American crime movies ever made, and kicks off on a perfect note as Danny De Vito’s skeezy tabloid hack introduces the film’s post-war setting over dazzlingly-edited semi-utopian archive footage, before digging under the surface (with some originally-shot material) to introduce mobster Mickey Cohen, police corruption, and everything else that the movie will be tackling, then seamlessly getting into the meat of the movie. Off the record, on the QT, and very hush hush.
“Lord Of War” (2005)
A movie remembered best for its credits, Andrew Niccol’s arms-dealing satire, with Nicolas Cage and Ethan Hawke, isn’t bad as such, but it’s never quite good either. “Lord Of War” opens with Cage talking to camera about the worldwide proliferation of firearms before tracking the progression of a bullet from the factory, to quality control, to packaging, to an African war zone where it ends up being fired into the head of a child. It’s dazzling: would that the movie that followed was as good.
“The Man With The Golden Arm” (1955)
When you think of Saul Bass, you likely think of the distinctive paper cut-out style animation style. While he deployed it repeatedly with Hitchcock and Otto Preminger, it was birthed brilliantly in his work on Preminger’s addiction drama “The Man WIth The Golden Arm.” Over Elmer Bernstein’s hall-of-fame jazzy score, on simple black-and-white without much more than rectangles at play, Bass turned the movie title on its head, and was imitated forever as a result.
“My Man Godfrey” (1936)
Limitations of technology meant that the early days of cinema weren’t hugely inventive in terms of credits, but by the 1930s, filmmakers were starting to experiment, and Gregory La Cava’s “My Man Godfrey” had one of the best examples as such. Rather than a series of simple title cards, the film opens with a sort of art-deco cityscape, as the names of cast and crew are illuminated on and off in dazzling neon across a steady pan to the darker side of town. It’s elegant, inventive, and encapsulates the film’s themes brilliantly.
“Monty Python’s Life Of Brian” (1979)
Terry Gilliam’s animations were an intrinsic part of Monty Python from the beginning, but he might have created his masterpiece with the title sequence of “Life Of Brian.” Echoing the titles for Biblical epics like “The Ten Commandments” but produced in Gilliam’s distinctive style and paired with a hilarious, Shirley Bassey-ish Bond-esque theme, it’s the perfect way to start Python’s religious satire.
“The Mouse That Roared” (1960)
This 1960 Peter Sellers comedy about a diminutive nation declaring war on America kicks off with one of the most inventive early examples of messing around with the studio logo, as the Columbia lady is scared off her perch, leaving an electric torch still dangling by a rodent at her feet. The animated opening that follows isn’t quite as great, but it’s still an utterly charming intro to a film that’s often overlooked these days.
“The Naked Gun! From The Files Of Police Squad” (1988)
Inspired by but taking to ludicrous extremes both classic cop shows and the opening to its small-screen source, the opening to the Zuckers’ cop spoof seems to be ordinary enough at first, with the POV of a blaring police siren atop a speeding cop car. But then the car starts swerving, mounts the pavement, goes into a car wash, a house, a ladies’ locker room and a rollercoaster before stopping off at —where else?— a doughnut shop. A great idea, impeccably executed.
“The Naked Kiss” (1964)
Samuel Fuller’s terrific neo-noir has as striking an opening you can imagine, as prostitute Kelly (Constance Towers) beats and reclaims the money owed her by her pimp through visceral POV shots, her wig being pulled off in the process to reveal her bald head. She then replaces the wig in the mirror, and transforms herself back into a sly seductress as Fuller pulls up the film’s titles and credits: and covering that image with “The Naked Kiss” is about as clear a statement of intent as you could ask for.
“Napoleon Dynamite” (2004)
Jared & Jerusha Hess’ absurd indie comedy might not have aged so well in the last decade amidst its cartoon spin-offs and endless Vote For Pedro t-shirts, but its title sequence (shot after the film’s Sundance premiere, once Fox Searchlight agreed to pay for it) remains something of a classic. In a vaguely ’70s-ish, glowing pastel color scheme and to the tune of The White Stripes’ “We’re Going To Be Friends,” the Hesses introduce their cast and crew on school canteen plates, pencils, line-drawings and student IDs, written in ketchup, mustard and peanut butter, summoning up a nostalgic high school vibe that never quite existed, but feels nonetheless real.
“The Pink Panther” (1963)
All these credit sequences are great, but only the one for “The Pink Panther” spawned a whole sub-franchise purely off its titles. It’s easy enough to forget now that the panther in Blake Edwards’ caper comedy was a diamond (and that Inspector Clouseau was a small supporting role), in part because of the greatness of the animated titles, which personify the diamond as a cartoon character slinking around to Henry Mancini’s instantly iconic theme. TV spin-offs, merchandising and, soon, a CGI movie soon arguably eclipsed Clouseau and co.
“The Player” (1992)
Some of the most famous opening tracking shots in movies, like “Touch Of Evil” and “Boogie Nights,” aren’t strictly speaking credit sequences, as they only feature the title of the movie with no other listings. Robert Altman’s Holllywood satire “The Player,” however, does. Explicitly referencing Welles’ “Touch Of Evil” opening, it’s a dazzling sequence that takes us through a movie studio backlot as Tim Robbins’ executive arrives for work, is pitched a couple of terrible movies, and passes some of the cast of characters, including “The Graduate” writer Buck Henry, pitching a sequel to that film. No full embed available, but watch most of it below, or the whole thing at Art Of The Title.
“Raging Bull” (1980)
For all the spectacular tracking shots and expensive CGI imagery out there, sometimes simplicity is best, and Martin Scorsese kept it as such with “Raging Bull.” Scored by Pietero Mascagni, the credits unspool over a gorgeous slo-motion sequence of Robert De Niro’s Jake La Motta warming himself up before a fight. It’s one of the most stunning images in a stunning film, and somehow proves an introduction to our subject that tells us everything we need to know.
“Reservoir Dogs” (1992)
Pretty much reinventing American independent cinema in just a few moves, Tarantino follows the instantly memorable dialogue of his opening diner scene with the much-imitated credits sequence, where he introduces his cast in their sharp attire over George Baker’s “Little Green Bag.” It might have inspired a million douchebag’s Halloween costumes, but if you can find a cooler way to make some people walk across a parking lot, we’ll give you all the money we have.
“The Royal Tenenbaums” (2001)
The majority of those uninspired, oh-god-when-will-they-stop ‘Wes Anderson directs [insert name of movie]’ parody videos aren’t really riffing on the filmmakers’ career as much as riffing on the brilliant credits from “The Royal Tenenbaums.” The minute-long sequence introduces us to the players in a style at once theatrical and literary, showing them in portrait form in their morning routines, complete with symmetrical framing and exquisite production design. The Wes Anderson that most people know was born here.
“Saturday Night Fever” (1977)
John Badham’s classic disco movie (which is grittier than you probably remember) knows how to get the party started. Unforgettably accompanied by the Bee Gees’ “Stayin Alive,” John Travolta’s Tony Manero is introduced with his sharp shoes as he struts through the Brooklyn streets, working-class sex appeal made flesh. An intro so great that the rest of the movie struggles to live up to it.
“Scott Pilgrim Vs. The World” (2010)
Edgar Wright’s rock-and-roll pop art gem takes the strobe-y, abrasive vibe of the “Enter The Void” credits and gives it a punk rock energy all of its own, dollying back from a performance of a song by Scott’s band Sex Bob-omb (actually penned by Beck) to cut to lightning-fast day-glo credits introducing the movie’s cast, full of cunning easter eggs (the evil exes are numbered, for one) and Wright’s trademark attention to detail. These are the rare credits you want to get up and dance to.
Another Saul Bass classic, though you wouldn’t know it, so different is this from his best known work, the opening to John Frankenheimer’s oft-undervalued sci-fi nightmare warps and distorts the human face and body until you’d barely know what you’re looking at. Which, for a movie that revolves around changing your face through surgery, is just about perfect.
Among the most famous credit sequences of the last thirty years and certainly one of the most influential (find a horror movie or TV show in the subsequent two decades that didn’t borrow from Kyle Cooper’s work here, we dare you), this uses extreme close-ups, freaky imagery, optical techniques and the beyond creepy score to show us the meticulous preparations of the man that we’ll soon come to know as John Doe. David Fincher’s almost always pulled out great credits, but these are his very finest.
“Soylent Green” (1973)
It’s arguably a cliche now to open a dystopian sci-fi epic with old-timey images, but Richard Fleischer’s “Soylent Green” was well ahead of the game and does it far more effectively than most. In just a few minutes and with nothing but still images, this effortlessly takes us from agricultural turn-of-the-century America to the world of the 1970s: overcrowded, industrial and with food likely to be increasingly scarce. It’s an incredibly elegant way of telling us everything that we need to know about the movie’s themes and world.
“Thank You For Smoking” (2005)
Jason Reitman’s one of those directors who seem to think more than most about opening credits sequences —“Juno” and “Up In The Air” had great ones— but he’s yet to top his first, for whip-smart satire “Thank You For Smoking.” To the tune of Tex Williams’ enjoyably old-school cautionary tale “Smoke, Smoke, Smoke That Cigarette” (a choice that risks being on the nose but somehow avoids it), the impressive animated credits roll out the names of its key players in the style of classic cigarette packets. It’s stylish, funny, and a great fit for the movie.
“That’s Entertainment Part II” (1976)
It’s almost unthinkable now that a studio would put out a feature-length clip show as a major release, but it’s perhaps even more unthinkable that Saul Bass would end up doing some of his finest work in it. Essentially a sort of grab-bag for all the ideas he never got to execute elsewhere, we get titles told through marching bands, medieval scrolls, markings on the beach, messages in bottles, dominos, giant gongs and much more, all beautifully evoking classic Hollywood.
“To Kill A Mockingbird” (1962)
Back in the days before Atticus Finch was a racist, Robert Mulligan began his movie adaptation of Harper Lee’s beloved novel in an ideal way. Eschewing much in the way of music beyond a child’s singing at first (Elmer Bernstein’s lovely score kicks in eventually), it sees an unseen child opening a box of treasures, rubbing the film’s title out with crayon, and showing the various other bric-a-brac inside, beautifully evoking the book’s themes right from the off, right up to the end, when a drawing of a bird is ripped up.
“The Umbrellas Of Cherbourg” (1964)
One of the most beautiful and romantic movies ever made, Jacques Demy’s “The Umbrellas Of Cherbourg” starts as it means to go on, with the helmer panning down from a dockyard scene to an overhead view as it starts to rain and the umbrellas go up. Feeling at once immaculately choreographed and organic, and already taking advantage of the film’s gorgeous pastel colors over Michel Legrand’s score, it’s as heart-stoppingly gorgeous as the rest of the film.
Martin Scorsese called the opening scene of "Vertigo," the first of three collaborations between Bass and Alfred Hitchcock, "a mini-film within a film," and he’s not wrong. Focusing on a woman’s face before the screen flashes red and we delve into a kaleidoscope in her eyes, it makes no sense at first, but by the end you realize Bass told you the same story in 150 seconds that Hitchcock did across the whole film.
“Walk On The Wild Side” (1962)
Our final entry from Saul Bass (though we indeed did fill an entire feature with his work), and for a film that was swiftly forgotten aside from those opening credits. Edward Dmytrk’s Depression-era melodrama is a bit of a damp squib, but Bass, beginning to experiment again with live-action and perfectly paired with Elmer Bernstein, gets things off to a sultry, stunning start simply by focusing on the careful, tentative walk of a black cat before it pounces on a white counterpart. Frankly, we could have watched a whole film of this, and we don’t even like cats.
Zack Snyder’s adaptation of Alan Moore & Dave Gibbons’ subversive superhero classic comic book misfires on any number of levels, but not via this spectacular credit sequence. In just a few minutes, Snyder introduces the history of the costumed crime-fighter within the film’s universe, telling with small brush-strokes everything from their involvement in WW2 to their cape-induced accidental deaths and downfalls. His hatred of subtlety occasionally lets him down (was there a less obvious choice to cut this to than “The Times They Are A Changin’?” Probably), but this still displays a vision and ambition that the rest of the movie doesn’t always reach.
“Will Success Spoil Rock Hunter?” (1957)
It’s a bit dated now, but Frank Tashlin’s 1950s satire starring Tony Randall as an ad exec romancing Jayne Mansfield’s actress begins with a delightfully meta, fourth-wall breaking sequence. As the 20th Century Fox logo appears, we see Randall playing it as a one-man band in the corner, then addressing the audience as he introduces the cast and the title, despite not being able to remember either. The rest, involving a series of TV ads, isn’t quite as great, but it’s altogether a wonderful start.
“Women On The Verge Of A Nervous Breakdown” (1988)
This comedy was the film that made Pedro Almodovar’s name internationally to a large degree, and perhaps in part thanks to the opening scene. Nodding somewhat to “Funny Face,” classic fashion catalogues and Sirkian melodrama, it’s an immaculately designed collection of still images, and nothing more, but somehow managed to do a huge amount in creating the Almodovar aesthetic as we understand it now. (no embed sadly, but watch it here)
The reputation of Ruben Fleischer’s canny, funny reinvention of the zombie movie has rather faded in the last few years, but it has a ton of charm, not least in its flashy opening sequence that sees Jesse Eisenberg’s neurotic voiceover introduce his rules for surviving a zombie apocalypse, before credits roll over smartly composed images of the undead rampages, to the tune of “For Whom The Bell Tolls.” It’s got big laughs, some scares and lashing of gore, and sets the tone of what was to come perfectly.
We could have gone on to another fifty and beyond here, including many more examples by titles masters like Saul Bass and Kyle Cooper. But some brief mentions for those that nearly made it, including David Fincher’s “Panic Room,” “Fight Club” and “Zodiac,” and Bass’s work on “The Age Of Innocence,” “Ocean’s Eleven,” “Around The World In 80 Days,” “Anatomy Of A Murder,” “Bunny Lake Is Missing” and dozens more.
Beyond that, we could have also mentioned “2001,” “Lost Highway,” “Pillow Talk,” “Music & Lyrics,” “Up In The Air,” “101 Dalmatians,” “Natural Born Killers,” “Superman: The Movie,” “Barbarella,” “The Shining,” “Days Of Heaven,” “The Conversation,” “Lord Of The Rings’ (the animated version), “Falling Down,” “Eurotrip,” “I Am Love,” “Vacation,” “Butch Cassidy & The Sundance Kid,” “Scrooge,” “My Best Friend’s Wedding,” “Superbad,” “Caligula,” any number of Bond movies, “Bridget Jones’ Diary,” “The Diving Bell & The Butterfly,” “Re-Animator,” “The Wild Bunch,” “Hostage” and, obviously “Star Wars.”
There was also “Catch Me If You Can,” “Kiss Kiss Bang Bang,” “Charade,” “Pi,” “American Splendor,” “Funny Games,” “Blue Valentine,” “The Cabinet Of Dr. Caligari,” “The Lodger,” “The Third Man,” “The Thing From Another World,” “Attack,” “Attack Of The Crab Monsters,” “Little Shop Of Horrors,” “The Great Race,” “Those Magnificent Men In Their Flying Machines,” “Bonnie & Clyde,” “Billion Dollar Brain,” “Girl On A Motorcycle,” “Harold & Maude,” “Sisters,” “All The President’s Men,” “Murder By Death,” “The Warriors,” “Altered States,” “Under The Volcano,” “To Live & Die In LA,” “Wild Style,” “The Usual Suspects,” “Ghost In The Shell,” “The Island Of Dr. Moreau,” “Men In Black,” “24 Hour Party People,” “Donnie Brasco,” “Run Lola Run,” “12 Monkeys,” and “This Is England.” Anything else? Let us know in the comments.