15 Best Movies Of The 1970s, Ranked

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Cinema changed in the 1970s. After countless Westerns and studio-driven productions, the decade gave way to independent filmmaking and ushered in a handful of creative titans. Filmmakers like Steven Spielberg, George Lucas, Francis Ford Coppola, Martin Scorsese, and Brian De Palma laid the groundwork on which modern cinema was constructed, for better or worse. Stars such as Robert De Niro, Al Pacino, Carrie Fisher, Sylvester Stallone, Jamie Lee Curtis, and Harrison Ford became household names, and the once tame cinematic landscape was tossed aside in favor of more complex character studies brought to life by naturalistic performances, raw visuals, and shocking violence.

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Blockbuster films like “Star Wars” were just coming into existence and charted a unique course with enormous financial results, but smaller, more personal productions like “Rocky” and “Halloween” snuck between the larger tentpoles and captured the imagination of audiences. Indeed, the plethora of classic pictures populating the ’70s is jaw-dropping, and we’ve done our best to craft a list highlighting our favorites. 

So, without further ado, here are the 15 best movies of the 1970s.

First up on the list is John Carpenter’s “Halloween,” the quintessential slasher film that spawned hundreds of imitators, turned a William Shatner mask into a pop culture staple, and launched Jamie Lee Curtis’ career. A spiritual sequel to Bob Clark’s “Black Christmas,” this 1978 shocker follows Michael Myers (Nick Castle), a deranged masked killer after he escapes from a mental hospital and returns to his childhood home to reduce the local teenage population on Halloween night. In pursuit is Dr. Samuel Loomis (Donald Pleasence), a psychiatrist who has peered deep into Michael’s soul and found only pure evil and now risks life and limb to destroy him.

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Thanks to its simple, no bulls*** approach, effective kills, and Carpenter’s chilling score, “Halloween” became a surprise hit, leading to a flurry of sequels, none of which lived up to the original. Sure, the acting is amateurish, especially by Curtis and her young co-stars, and Carpenter’s directing occasionally suffers from the diminutive budget, but it’s hard to view “Halloween” as anything less than an influential classic.

Before scaring the bejesus out of audiences with “The Exorcist,” William Friedkin directed another cinematic masterpiece: “The French Connection.” Starring the late, great Gene Hackman and the superb Roy Scheider, this gritty tale follows NYPD detectives Jimmy “Popeye” Doyle (Hackman) and Buddy “Cloudy” Russo (Scheider) as they track a French heroin smuggler (Fernando Rey) by any means necessary, by which we mean circumventing the law and willingly placing innocent bystanders in the crosshairs.

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Friedkin and screenwriter Ernest Tidyman forge an arresting character study about Popeye Doyle, a man driven by obsession, ego, and a pathological need to win. In the film’s most memorable scene, Hackman chases an elevated train transporting a criminal. Paying little mind to innocent civilians, our fearless detective smashes through barriers and dangerously weaves in and out of traffic to achieve his objective, eventually gunning the assailant down in a morally questionable act: he shoots him in the back.

Yet, the brilliance of “The French Connection” lies in its refusal to judge its central protagonist. Instead, the film pulls us into Doyle’s dark, chaotic world and leaves it to the audience to decide whether his methods are unlawful — or necessary.

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Notoriously panned by Roger Ebert, Albert Brooks’ “Real Life” obviously won’t tickle everyone’s funny bone. Like Woody Allen, Brooks’ comedy is an acquired taste. Those who appreciate his dry, satirical wit will be overjoyed by this hilarious sendup of reality television, an idea that feels curiously more prescient today than it did in 1979.

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Brooks stars as a documentary film producer who decides to film a real-life family named the Yeagers during their day-to-day lives, utilizing a variety of ridiculous camera equipment. As the production deepens, Warren Yeager (Charles Grodin) and his family become increasingly despondent over the project, which threatens to pull apart their familial unit, particularly when Mrs. Yeager (France Lee McCain) develops a fixation on Brooks.

Sharp, clever, and drenched in meta-commentary, this witty tale pulls no punches in its takedown of media and its influence on the American family. It may strike many as too cynical, but others will discover an astonishing blend of creativity and humor.

Forget about the gluttony of demonic possession pictures released over the years and return to the OG — “The Exorcist.” Despite being produced in 1973, this supernatural tale still packs a punch, and it’s just as revolting, alarming, and shocking as when it was first released. But you already knew that.

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Yes, “The Exorcist” contains scenes of a young, possessed child (Linda Blair) hurling profanities and vomiting into a priest’s mouth, but it’s also a surprisingly powerful tale about faith and redemption. A majority of the picture concerns Damien Karras (Jason Miller), a priest mourning for the loss of his mother — a tragedy he feels personally responsible for — and grappling with his diminishing belief in God. His initial examination of Regan (Blair) produces skepticism, but as the situation grows increasingly dire and surreal, he must confront a pure and terrifying evil — one that, by its very existence, affirms the presence of an almighty creator — culminating in a redemptive act of self-sacrifice.

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An unforgettable experience that became the most respected horror film of all time, “The Exorcist” is a mesmerizing tale of good versus evil.

John G. Avildsen’s “Rocky” set the standard for sports dramas and is so iconic that it produced a mega-successful franchise, including the “Creed” series, and an army of imitators. Watch any sports picture produced post-1976, and chances are you’ll find a smidge of Rocky Balboa in its veins.

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Either way, this crowd-pleasing, produced-on-a-tight-budget tale captures the essence of the underdog tale, following a young, confidence-strapped boxer named Rocky Balboa (Sylvester Stallone, who also wrote) who gets the opportunity of a lifetime: a chance to take on Apollo Creed (Carl Weathers), the heavyweight boxing world champion. 

“Rocky” has more on its mind than boxing. Stallone uses the main event as a springboard to tell a quiet tale about love, hope, and opportunity — capped by an impressive and goosebump-inducing final bout that’ll make all but the most cynical stand up and cheer. It’s an effective one-two punch of high stakes and heart.     

There are war dramas, and then there’s “Apocalypse Now.” Drenched in complex themes about human nature, robust visuals, and unforgettable performances, Francis Ford Coppola’s adaptation of Joseph Conrad’s “Heart of Darkness” captures the essence of the Vietnam War, exploring the psychological scars it leaves on the soul. “Apocalypse Now” isn’t just a war film; it’s a descent into madness, where each new chapter brings us closer to the edge of sanity.

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Starring Martin Sheen, Marlon Brando, and Robert Duvall — whose brief appearance was memorable enough to earn him an Academy Award nomination (“I love the smell of napalm in the morning!”) — “Apocalypse Now” is a mesmerizing, surreal fever dream with no clear-cut destination, dragging viewers through the mud until we’re just as shaken as poor Captain Benjamin L. Willard (Sheen). The real enemy, you see, lies within, and the pointlessness of war only exposes our darker instincts until there’s nothing left but a hollow shell of a man.

Excuse me while I whip this out: A perfect example of the type of film Hollywood would never dare to make today, but not really for the reasons most think, Mel Brooks’ “Blazing Saddles” is a sidesplitting satire on everything from Western pictures to racial prejudice in America. 

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Starring Cleavon Little and Gene Wilder, the 1974 comedy follows the adventures of Bart (Little), a Black railroad worker suddenly promoted to sheriff of a small town called Rock Ridge at the behest of Hedley Lamarr (Harvey Korman), a corrupt territorial attorney general. Lamarr wants a railroad constructed through Rock Ridge and needs the town’s denizens to vacate the land. By appointing Bart, he hopes to create chaos, predicting that prejudice will rule the day. Luckily, Bart is no pushover and calls on the aid of the “Waco Kid” (Wilder) for help, resulting in a spectacularly absurd finale that quite literally breaks through the fourth wall and spills onto the Warner Bros. film lot.

“Blazing Saddles” uses boundary-pushing humor, sharp writing, and over-the-top gags to highlight the absurdity of the American West, all while delivering a high-spirited romp packed with unforgettable performances and a flurry of memorable set pieces. It’s all blatantly ridiculous and a helluva lotta fun.

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Like its slimy, extraterrestrial antagonist, Ridley Scott’s “Alien” reaches out from the darkness, violently snatches unsuspecting viewers from their safe confines, and drags them into a dreary nightmare. A wicked mashup of science fiction and slasher, this 1979 creature feature gives zero f**** about convention. It moves with precision, slowly building toward each blood-curdling moment before striking with a harrowing finale within the dimly lit, oppressively industrial corridors of the space freighter Nostromo. Take a deep breath and hold on tight.

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Born from this cataclysm of grimy horror is Ellen Ripley — a smart, resilient spin on the “final girl” trope, armed with grit, intellect, and shockingly skimpy underpants. As played by Sigourney Weaver (in four films and counting), this unlikely heroine upstages even Roger Christian’s sublime production design and H.R. Giger’s sex-infused monstrosities as the belle of the ball. Rather than take on the horror with modern girl-boss bravado, Ripley is driven by dogged determination, fear, and emotional vulnerability, making her both formidable and profoundly relatable. There are few cinematic creations like her — making Ripley an alien in her own right.

“Alien” is a masterpiece of the highest form and a shining example of blockbuster-fused art.

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Who would’ve thunk a film loosely inspired by the California water wars could be so engrossing? Forget it, folks, it’s “Chinatown.” Yes, Roman Polanski’s gripping drama (that the studio had no faith in) is every bit as good as they say, mainly due to Robert Towne’s legendary screenplay and a devotion to detail over broader film noir tropes.

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Produced in 1974, this crime drama follows the investigations of private investigator Jake Gittes (a phenomenal Jack Nicholson) as he attempts to uncover a plot to divert water to Los Angeles by any means necessary. As the old mantra goes, the further he digs, the more corruption he finds, all tied to a dangerous businessman (John Huston) and a mysterious femme fatale (Faye Dunaway).

Complex but never convoluted, “Chinatown” doesn’t stoop to the level of standard detective procedurals, instead ensuring that every character and detail serves a purpose. Viewers are locked in step with Gittes from start to finish, learning every piece of important information in real time, right down to that shocking — nay, revolting — twist and the final gut punch.

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Martin Scorsese’s violent vigilante tale sees bitter and lonely Travis Bickle (Robert De Niro) attempt to rid the mean streets of New York City of crime and corruption. Navigating the gritty, shadow-drenched streets, Bickle, a socially inept, intrinsically angry cab driver, represents the forgotten souls of a society undone by politics. We see his awkward interactions with people around town, including his fellow cab drivers and passengers, via a fractured narrative that becomes more surreal as the story progresses. He tries to kickstart a relationship with a beautiful campaign volunteer (Cybill Shepherd) with predictably dour results, plots to assassinate a presidential candidate (Leonard Harris), and eventually turns his attention to rescuing a young prostitute (Jodie Foster) from her abusive pimp (Harvey Keitel).

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Aided indelibly by Scorsese’s steady directing, Michael Chapman’s striking photography, De Niro’s incredible performance, Paul Schrader’s layered screenplay, and Bernard Herrmann’s moody score, “Taxi Driver” is an unsettling experience that resonates on a deeper level. You can’t take your eyes off it.

Jack Nicholson headlines this Milos Forman-directed drama, based on the novel by Ken Kesey, about the struggle to maintain one’s individuality in an aggressively oppressive environment. In this case, multiple-assailant Randle McMurphy (Nicholson) pretends to suffer from mental illness to avoid hard labor and lands in a mental facility. There, his free-spirited ways clash with Nurse Ratched (Louise Fletcher), a cold, fear-mongering tyrant hellbent on maintaining control of her patients. Will McMurphy overcome his confines and emerge a better version of himself, or will he ultimately conform to the demands of his environment?

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Equal parts funny and horrifying, devastating and hopeful, “One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest” captivates with its authentic, natural performances by a stellar cast — including Will Sampson, Brad Dourif, Christopher Lloyd, and Danny DeVito — Forman’s documentary-like approach, and a powerful message about individuality. We won’t mince words: this is a tough watch, replete with a bittersweet ending and a fascinating deep dive into the human condition.

Perhaps the greatest sequel ever made — and an example of a follow-up topping the original — “The Godfather Part II” dives deeper into the blood-soaked corridors of the Corleone family, offering a richer narrative and a more sobering meditation on power, greed, and the cost of loyalty.

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So, why doesn’t “The Godfather Part II” top the list? As they say, it’s not personal; it’s business. Francis Ford Coppola’s magnificent “The Godfather” pulls the strings that gave life to the franchise and rightfully wears the crown. Sure, its successor may best it in depth and scope, but “The Godfather” remains more focused and streamlined. “Part II” occasionally buckles under its bladder-busting runtime. Che me ne frega? It’s still a delicious feast — think of it as the meatballs atop the original’s spaghetti. 

Here’s a critique you can’t refuse: Robert De Niro and Al Pacino are magnetic as a young Vito Corleone — depicted entirely in flashback and spoken mostly in Italian — and his cold-hearted son Michael. Coppola brilliantly juxtaposes Vito’s rise to power with Michael’s fall from grace before allowing both storylines to converge in one of the most devastating closing scenes ever put to film (even without Marlon Brando). Like a slow, methodical hit, “The Godfather Part II” chronicles Michael’s descent into darkness, step by horrific step, until nothing remains but the bitter memory of a soul. 

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The craziest thing about George Lucas’ “Star Wars” is that it shouldn’t work. A film about princesses, space wizards, and evil empires, packed with Roger Corman-esque creatures, spaceships, and laser fights — all shot on a modest $11 million budget outside the studio system — sounds ludicrous, right? Yet, like the Millennium Falcon, this hunk of junk shocked the world and blasted into hyperspace thanks to the indispensable talents of everyone involved. 

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“Star Wars” shines as the ultimate example of creative collaboration, with figures like Joe Johnston, Marcia Lucas, Ben Burtt, and John Williams transforming this would-be disaster into a surprising box office success that launched Harrison Ford, Carrie Fisher, and Mark Hamill into superstardom and allowed Lucas to build his own empire.

Beyond its offscreen triumph, “Star Wars” dazzles with its youthful enthusiasm for all things adventure, drawing inspiration from both Western and Eastern cultures — swap the spaceships for horses, and this could easily be a John Ford Western, sprinkled with Akira Kurosawa-inspired samurai. Lucas also weaves in spiritualism, introducing the concept of the Force, a powerful ally summoned through zen-like peaceful harmony, and the Dark Side, fueled by anger and pain — heady topics for a film featuring a giant, talking dog.

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While the franchise has stumbled in its attempts to bring the saga to the small screen, the original “Star Wars” remains top-tier cinema, powered by a childlike sense of wonder and a storybook ending where everyone lives happily ever after.

A movie about a giant fish eating tourists off the coast of a fictional town — what’s the big deal? Well, farewell and adieu to you, fair Spanish ladies. Despite its deceptively simple premise, this rollicking classic from a stubborn Steven Spielberg is a mighty tale, told with panache by a master filmmaker who weathered a notoriously troubled shoot featuring an animatronic shark that didn’t work to deliver arguably the most rewatchable film in cinema history. It’s chum in the cinematic water.

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Everything about “Jaws” is iconic: John Williams’ pulse-pounding score, the indelible trio of Roy Scheider, Richard Dreyfuss, and Robert Shaw, the looming threat of Bruce the Shark, the tension, the sly comedy — it all works. Spielberg hones in on a primal battle: man vs. beast. Yet it’s Robert Shaw’s Quint, with his haunted past and volatile nature, who adds an extra layer of menace.He’s as unpredictable as the shark, and his demise is as visceral as it is unnerving, especially after the chilling USS Indianapolis monologue.

“Jaws” chews through more dramatic meat than your average summer blockbuster. With sharply drawn characters, flawless pacing, and taut direction from The Beard, it swims right up and bites you in the a**.

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Plenty of cases have been made proving Francis Ford Coppola’s “The Godfather” as the greatest film ever made — and we won’t argue. Flawlessly directed, masterfully written, and featuring all-time performances from Marlon Brando, Al Pacino, and James Caan, this 1972 crime drama, based on Mario Puzo’s bestseller, seduces audiences with its mesmerizing journey into a ruthless world ruled by the mob, before pinning them down and whacking them over the head until they’re sleeping with the fishes. 

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Pacino’s Michael Corleone is the film’s secret weapon — the proverbial gun hidden in the bathroom, as it were. Initially presented as a war hero intent on abstaining from his father’s business, Michael soon gets sucked into this dangerous underworld, only to discover he’s very good at navigating its tumultuous terrain. In a key sequence, the young man protects his bedridden father by pretending to hold a gun in his pocket as a group of would-be assassins drives by. To his surprise, Michael remains unfazed, casually lighting a cigarette for a nervous bystander — his hand steady as a rock.

Moments like these elevate “The Godfather” to extraordinary heights and supercharge its re-watchability. Once it has you, the Corleone empire refuses to let go.

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