20 Essential Criterion Collection Discs Every Film Lover Should Own
There are now over 1300 titles in the Criterion Collection, whose handsome, expansive (and, yes, expensive) releases of what they call “important classic and contemporary films” has made them the standard bearer in the world of home video for more than 40 years. While some of those 1300 titles are out of print, there’s still an overwhelming number of masterworks to choose from. Where do you start?
Well, uh, here. I’ve picked out 20 currently in-print Criterion films that belong in just about every serious physical media collection. For sure, this is not a comprehensive list of great Criterion discs; there are many fantastic options that I couldn’t find room for here (including A Matter of Life and Death and Rashomon and Sweet Smell of Success and Easy Rider and the recent 4K of This Is Spinal Tap, just to name a few). But this is a great place to start (and I’ve even included links to buy all 20 in the ScreenCrush store just to make it super-easy on you, you’re welcome, you’re welcome).
All That Jazz (1979)
An astoundingly confessional musical from director Bob Fosse, All That Jazz tell the tale of a theater and film director (Roy Scheider) ground down by an exhausting schedule and constant substance abuse. Digging deep into his own life story and personal issues, Fosse took the movie musical to new heights. Criterion’s 4K edition includes multiple commentary tracks, an interview with Fosse biographer Sam Wasson, archival interviews with Fosse himself, and a whole lot more.
The Before Trilogy (1995-2013)
Richard Linklater, Julie Delpy, and Ethan Hawke spent decades on one of the great long-term projects in cinema history, revisiting star-crossed loves Celine (Delpy) and Jesse (Hawke) three times across their lives — charting their (and so many people’s) evolution from young romantics to unsatisfied middle-aged marrieds. Criterion offers all three films in one box set that also offers numerous extras, including a new conversation between all three Before architects moderated by critic Kent Jones.
Beyond the Valley of the Dolls (1970)
The Criterion Collection is an unsurpassed survey of the greatest works of world cinema from across time and space, but let’s get real here: It can get a little serious and even a little stuffy at times. If your personal Criterion closet needs a little jolt of energy, grab their edition of Russ Meyer’s Beyond the Valley of the Dolls, his sorta-sequel to the hit Hollywood expose Valley of the Dolls (which Meyer was barely familiar with). Given major studio resources, the sexploitation maven delivered one of the wildest films to ever escape from a major Hollywood studio. Criterion’s disc contains including a very fun commentary track about the making of the movie from critic and Beyond the Valley co-writer Roger Ebert.
Bicycle Thieves (1948)
This devastating drama about an impoverished father desperately struggling to provide for his family is a must-watch for anyone interested in dipping their toe into the world of Italian neorealism. Criterion’s edition of Bicycle Thieves does justice to this eternal classic, and includes a collection of interviews about its director, Vittorio De Sica, as well as a show about the history of Italian neorealism.
Blue Velvet (1986)
The late David Lynch is well-represented in the Criterion Collection, so you can sub in whichever of his surreal nightmares you prefer here. The Blue Velvet Criterion Collection disc is pretty great, though. It’s got a Lynch-approved print of the movie, nearly an hour of deleted scenes, multiple documentaries, and Lynch himself reading from his book Room to Dream.
Blow Out (1981)
Brian De Palma’s masterpiece looks inward at the world of movies. Loosely inspired by the premise of Blowup, which followed a photographer who may have snapped a picture of a murder, De Palma’s version instead stars John Travolta as a B-movie soundman who is out recording ambient noises for his latest project when he happens to record a car crash deliberately designed to remind contemporary viewers of the Chappaquiddick incident involving then-Senator Ted Kennedy. With ingenious sound design and suspense sequences, plus a wry commentary about film violence and its connection to the real world, Blow Out is one of the best movies ever made about making movies.
Branded to Kill (1967)
A frenetic deconstructionist noir from Japan, Branded to Kill was supposedly withdrawn from theaters almost immediately on its initial release, because its distributor so disliked it. The movie also cost its director, Seijun Suzuki, his gig at said distributor, Nikkatsu — facts I learned from the Tony Rayns essay included in Criterion’s Branded to Kill disc. The film’s reputation as one of the coolest and most provocative crime movies of the 1960s had already turned around long before Criterion released it on home video, but their slick package of Suzuki’s masterpiece shows has helped preserve it for new generations.
Breathless (1960)
If you enjoyed Richard Linklater’s recent Netflix film about the making of Jean-Luc Godard’s Breathless, Nouvelle Vague, I’ve got good news and bad news. The bad news is you can’t watch Breathless itself on Netflix. The good news is Criterion has that covered, with Blu-ray and 4K editions that also includes interviews, video essays, documentaries, a Godard short, and a booklet with writing by Godard himself.
Citizen Kane
I have previously owned Orson Welles’ Citizen Kane on VHS, DVD, and a very solid 70th anniversary Blu-ray. But they all pale in comparison to Criterion’s 4K, which presents the film, newly restored, along with hours of illuminating special features about the movie, Welles, and the cast, all wrapped in one of the coolest package designs in Criterion’s library. It may not be the “Rosebud” of your own collection, but when people ask me what 4K discs they should own, this one is always at the top of my list.
Double Indemnity (1944)
Speaking of incredible 4Ks, if you do own a 4K player — and you should — Criterion’s Double Indemnity will put it through its paces. The black-and-white photography sparkles like it’s still 1944, and the supplements include an audio commentary from critic Richard Schickel, additional interviews and discussions with other film historians and critics, a documentary about the making of this defining film noir from director Billy Wilder. Plus: Two different radio adaptations of James M. Cain’s original novel.
Eyes Wide Shut (1999)
This recent Criterion disc (with a gorgeous cover based on a poster by Katharina and Christiane Kubrick) is a release worthy of Eyes Wide Shut’s notoriously meticulous director, Stanley Kubrick. In addition to the international cut of the film (read: not the one that was oddly censored by its original distributor, Warner Bros.), it’s got interviews with Kubrick’s collaborators and family members, plus documentaries, and archival materials featuring Kubrick himself. Its dreamy version of Christmastime New York City looks incredible in 4K.
The 400 Blows (1959)
If you’re new to the French New Wave, you won’t find a better place to start than Francois Truffaut’s unforgettable coming-of-age film The 400 Blows. And the Criterion edition is, you’ll be shocked to learn, quite comprehensive. It has two different commentary tracks, plus 1960s interviews with Truffaut about his life and the creation of his debut feature, which catapulted him out of the cranks of popular French Film critics into the stratosphere of internationally acclaimed directors.
Heaven’s Gate (1980)
Michael Cimino followed his Oscar-winning Vietnam War film The Deer Hunter with an even more ambitious effort, an epic Western based on the real-life Johnson County War. Cimino’s perfectionism is now the stuff of legend; when a street set was not built to his satisfaction — with the two sides too close together — he supposedly had the entire thing torn down and rebuilt, even though he could have adjusted just one side for far less money. (Or, y’know, just rolled with it.) Its reputation as a profligate production preceded it to theaters; for decades, Heaven’s Gate was a symbol of Hollywood excess. But over time, new generations of critics have discovered a beautiful if languid Western full of stunning imagery and strong performances from Kris Kristofferson and Christopher Walken. It’s worth seeing for all those reasons, and as a cautionary tale — in more ways than one.
Hoop Dreams (1994)
In the Mood for Love (2000)
Criterion has now released three different editions of In the Mood for Love — DVD, Blu-ray, and 4K — meaning that for 25 years, it’s been the optimal way (at least at home) to enjoy Wong Kar-wai’s sumptuous romance starring Maggie Cheung and Tony Leung. Wong himself made the included documentary about the making of In the Mood for Love, and you also get one of Wong’s short films, and multiple interviews with the perpetually sunglassed auteur. Be careful, though: The film looks so good it will probably put you in the mood to buy a ton more Criterion Collection discs, and those things are so pricy they can put a real hurting on your bank account.
Jeanne Dielman, 23, quai du Commerce, 1080 Bruxelles (1975)
The current reigning champion of Sight & Sound’s once-a-decade greatest films of all time poll is Chantal Akerman’s Jeanne Dielman, 23, quai du Commerce, 1080 Bruxelles. Admittedly, all 200 minutes of it is probably best appreciated on a big screen, where you can fully turn your attention to its meticulous depiction of its title character’s daily routine. But most of us don’t have the luxury of watching Jeanne Dielman on a big screen, so the Criterion disc is easily the best alternative.
The Life and Death of Colonel Blimp
Everyone should have at least one film in their collection by Michael Powell and Emeric Pressburger, whether that’s A Matter of Life and Death or The Red Shoes or The Life and Death of Colonel Blimp, their Technicolor epic of the first half of the 20th century, seen through the eyes of British army officer Clive Candy. If you want to give Blimp the edge because it’s the one with commentary by Powell and Martin Scorsese, I won’t argue with you. (It’s also got a new introduction by Scorsese, plus a documentary on the film, and an interview with Powell’s widow, editor Thelma Schoonmaker.)
A Man Escaped
There is a famous video essay by Kogonada called “Hands of Bresson.” It’s just four minutes of beautiful shots of hands from the films of Robert Bresson. Why hands? Kogonada’s site has a quote from Bresson about that; “the things one can express with the hands...” And hands absolutely express things. But faces, eyes, body language can too. So why hands?
It must have to do with how people, and especially actors, work to manipulate other parts of their body; their faces, their eyes. Per the essay in the Criterion Collection release of A Man Escaped, Bresson disliked professional actors specifically because he believed they were “alien to the medium of film, because the camera could detect the slightest sign of artificiality and calculation.” Hands, though, are authentic. Their movements are sometimes so ingrained their motions become involuntary. And so they enable Bresson to tell A Man Escaped the way he intends, per the title cards that open the film: “As it happened, without adornment.”
The Complete Jacques Tati
I’ve got a couple Criterion box sets in my personal collection, but the one I’ve spent the most hours with is this stylish compendium of French comedian Jacques Tati’s work from his charming debut Jour de fete all the way to his final film Parade. .Along the way, the set includes one of the greatest film comedies ever made: Playtime, an ingenious satire of modern life and impersonal technologies that feels decades ahead of its time. The set’s extras include numerous Tati shorts, the English-language version of Tati’s Mon Oncle, video essays, documentaries, interviews, and a massive booklet of essays by scholars like Jonathan Rosenbaum. Plus, the entire package is wrapped in beautiful David Merveille artwork.
Videodrome
In Videodrome, a sleazy TV executive (James Woods) gets wind of an illicit broadcast of the same name featuring previously unheard of levels of sexuality and violence. Immediately hooked, he begins broadcasting it on his own station. As he tries to uncover Videodrome’s origin, he finds himself dragged deeper and deeper into a world where TV is more than entertainment medium: It is religion and perhaps even life itself. David Cronenberg’s Videodrome holds up as a timeless examination of our brain-rotted TV culture.
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