10 groundbreaking movies that were ahead of their time
Sometimes, you come away from a film feeling enamoured by the creative risks taken by the director, leading to a groundbreaking piece of work. But in the film industry, authenticity and rule-breaking are not always met kindly and are sometimes misinterpreted and shamed by audiences when misunderstood.
Whether it be the bath scene in Birth or the ending of Anora, there will always be films that push the boat out and challenge mass audiences, risking misinterpretation to chart new territories, which is perhaps the bravest thing a filmmaker can do.
During a time when films are becoming more palatable and catered towards commercial audiences, it is increasingly rare to see a film on its own path, working ahead of its time as it challenges the boundaries of cinema and takes the medium to the next level, whether liked or not.
But with many divisive stories that have done so over the years, here are ten groundbreaking films that were ahead of their time.
10 movies that were ahead of their time:
Birth (Jonathan Glazer, 2004)
While Jonathan Glazer’s body of work shifts from film to film, one thing that has remained constant throughout his career is his ability to push audiences outside their comfort zone, using challenging concepts to create unflinchingly honest films that confront the most primitive side of humanity.
However, it seems as though Glazer’s films are often met with backlash and controversy of some kind, with his acceptance speech for The Zone of Interest famously being censored when he referenced the films’ parallels to the ongoing conflict in Gaza. But his 2004 film Birth also shared a similar reaction, with a famously harsh reaction from American audiences, accusing the director of being a pedophile after one scene with Nicole Kidman’s character and a young boy in a bathtub.
But this response feels reflective of a conservative audience and not the ideas being explored, with Glazer creating an all-consuming and hypnotic portrait of grief as Anna convinces herself of something impossible, desperate for an answer to her pain. The choice to articulate this through her relationship with a child is fascinating, highlighting the self-destructive nature of our beliefs and how quickly our logic can be shattered when presented with an antidote to our suffering.
The Golden Dream (Diego Quemada-Díez, 2013)
The Golden Dream feels as though it could have been made today, and after watching a re-release at the BFI, I was shocked to say that it came out over ten years ago. The story follows a group of Central American teenagers who attempt the treacherous journey from Guatemala City to Los Angeles in pursuit of the American dream. It is a poignant and heartbreaking tale of immigration and the horrendous obstacles along the way, with people who try to strip these kids of their chances at better lives and their unwavering optimism despite this.
Ultimately, it paints the idea that the American dream is a hollow cage that traps those who achieve it, with the main character sacrificing everything for his future only to end in a hell that he pursued himself, shovelling bloody meat in a factory with no loved ones around to relieve the misery of becoming another cog in the capitalist machine.
Given the fact that people all over the world are making the same journey today and being met with decreasing levels of compassion, The Golden Dream feels urgent in its empathy towards these characters, hammering in just how little progress we’ve made.
Claire’s Knee (Éric Rohmer, 1970)
Éric Rohmer has always been ahead of his time with his meaningful examinations of love and gender politics, with timely stories such as Claire’s Knee that criticise the male ego and rationalisation of desire, no matter how perverse. The film follows an older man who becomes infatuated with a teenage girl called Claire, finding himself having fantasies about caressing her knee.
Rohmer has an incisive understanding of people, and through his critical gaze, the director shows contempt towards the male sex drive and how power is leveraged to find sexual fulfilment, no matter the circumstances. Much like many films featuring taboo relationships and the implications of pedophilia, the film is one of the most controversial within Rohmer’s body of work but only grows in meaning as we see these relationships play out in real life, with little contempt shown towards the men who are celebrated for pursuing young women and rationalise the confusing male ego.
Last Year at Marienbad (Alain Resnais, 1961)
Last Year at Marienbad is an enigmatic and endlessly unsettling film, existing in multiple territories as both a love story and horror. It explores the uncertain relationship between two characters who meet at a chateau, with one of them being convinced that they have met before. It’s a disturbing story about being frozen and forever lost inside the memory of a past love, except the person you loved doesn’t remember a single thing while you obsess over every detail. There’s a mood of urgency and stagnancy throughout the film, with the truth rotting away and becoming lost in the mansion’s walls, unsure whether we’re seeing a dream or an illusion, a person or a statue.
It feels ahead of its time in its ambiguity and the jarring nature of the editing, which cuts through the stillness of the images and leaves you feeling distinctly unsettled and uncomfortable. The implied romance manipulates you through the false expectations of the genre, leaving you trapped in a nightmarish montage of endless pining that is as brutal as a horror movie.
Sunday Bloody Sunday (John Schlesinger, 1971)
When first thinking about the films to include on this list, Sunday Bloody Sunday immediately sprang to mind. Given the fact that it was made in the 1970s, the film is revolutionary in its portrayal of queer love, following a polyamorous man called Bob, who is in a relationship with a recently divorced woman called Alex, and a middle-aged doctor called Daniel. It charts the entanglement between each character, with a sensitive and deeply affecting exploration of love and the need to feel accepted. The love scenes between Bob and Daniel are delicate and full of tenderness, something that was extremely rare to see on screen between gay men.
It’s a complicated subject matter that is hardly ever tackled, only vaguely comparable to the likes of Passages, highlighting how radical and ahead of its time it was in its exploration of polyamory and the misconceptions about these relationships.
Jeanne Dielman, 23, quai du Commerce, 1080 Bruxelles (Chantal Akerman, 1975)
I know everyone always bangs on about Jeanne Dielman, but it truly is a one-of-a-kind masterpiece. When discussing her work, Akerman explained how she wanted to almost punish the audience through slowness, forcing them to be witnesses to the most mind-numbingly boring and devastating existence that is the reality of many women all over the world. The story charts three days in the life of Jeanne Dielman, going into the painful details of the minutiae of her everyday routine and showing the oppressive lifestyle of housewives who are rarely thanked or appreciated for their work.
Masterfully played by Delphine Seyrig, there is one shot as she kneads mince on the table before staring into nothing for minutes on end, existing as an invisible ghost of herself as she completes chores that the world relies on without ever being noticed for it, living for a buildup of inconsequential moments. Akerman was revolutionary in the way she weaponised slowness against the audience, using this as a tool to express the horrors of the patriarchy and the way it consumes those who are trapped by it.
Black Narcissus (Emeric Pressburger, Michael Powell, 1947)
The work of Powell and Pressburger has been heralded as some of the most influential within cinema, with The Red Shoes being endlessly praised by the likes of Martin Scorsese and revered for their groundbreaking visual style and progressive narratives. And among many bold projects, Black Narcissus sticks out for this very reason.
The story follows a group of nuns who live in a secluded convent at the top of the Himalayas, with one of them being driven to insanity as a result of her unresolved sexual feelings for a government worker, Mr Dean. It is equally sinister as it is hilarious, with breath-taking shots of the nuns atop the secluded hills and one terrifying moment as Sister Ruth becomes engulfed by her desire completely, wearing a full face of makeup and a red dress as she tries to seduce Mr Dean. For the time, a story that explored female sexuality was completely taboo, but it subverts this subject matter in a clever way by mocking the idea that horniness is somehow horrific, creating a funny and satirical tale about desire and madness.
Alma’s Rainbow (Ayoka Chenzira, 1994)
Alma’s Rainbow is a criminally underrated hidden gem of a film, following a teenage girl called Alma Gold as she navigates the choppy waters of growing up. At the time of its release, there were very few films about Black girlhood, with coming-of-age stories often centring themselves around white characters. But Alma’s Rainbow is a rich and endearing story about family and self-discovery, with lush visuals of secret discos and sex dreams that creates a charming portrait of puberty and the pangs of adolescence.
The director was criticised at the time of the release for showing a fairly affluent Black family, something that American audiences weren’t used to seeing and thought was ‘unrealistic’. But Chenzira affirmed that this was not an unusual setting, and pushed for people to widen their perspective and challenge these stereotypes perpetuated in cinema. Alma’s Rainbow highlights how important it is to see all experiences of girlhood on screen, creating vital representation for young Black girls at the time who had not seen characters like themselves in the movies.
Nope (Jordan Peele, 2022)
After the global success of Get Out and Us, Jordan Peele’s following project was shrouded in mystery, and his 2022 film Nope received a somewhat divided and initially lukewarm reaction. The film is a supernatural twist on the traditional western, following a brother and sister who try to capture a mysterious alien creature that lurks near their home. However, Peele uses this pursuit to comment on the nature of spectacle itself and our exploitation of grief and trauma as we attempt to understand it.
Peele expertly uses the tropes of both genres to capture an insidious new aspect of modern culture and our use of social media, both finding empathy for these characters who are trying to understand their own grief as well as critiquing a world that encourages us to use our worst experiences for entertainment, something that is particularly prevalent in the film industry and the commercialisation of pain.
Many misinterpreted the film after its release, disappointed that it didn’t inspire the same level of fear as his earlier films and had a less obvious thematic subtext. However, I truly believe that people will revisit this in years to come and see it as a warning about the dangers of social media and the exploitation of trauma.
Daisies (Vêra Chytilová, 1966)
For those who have seen Daisies, you won’t need any explanation as to why this film is ahead of its time. It is a truly bizarre and experimental film that follows two teenage girls who embark on a quest to consume and destroy the world around them, punishing the old men who find them attractive by eating obscene amounts of food. The images are spliced together in a choppy and disorienting way, creating a trippy and dream-like mood that grounds you in the fantasy world of the characters.
It is a radically strange and feminist story that is gleeful in its anarchy and destruction, mocking the restrictions of the patriarchy and the gender norms of the time in a wonderfully playful way. It is a kaleidoscopic piece of filmmaking that breaks the boundaries of film itself, becoming more impressive given the restraints of Soviet oppression that ruled the time it was made, existing as a weird odyssey of gross behaviour as the girls indulge in a disgusting image that challenges the way they are perceived.
