I was twenty-three, sitting in the back row of a nearly empty Landmark Theatre in Los Angeles on a Thursday night in 2003. The seat was torn. There was a smell—stale popcorn mixed with that specific mildew that video theaters had before they all died. I was there to see Battle Royale on a 35mm print that had traveled from Japan, and my hands were shaking before the opening credits even rolled.
- The Reveal: Spielberg, Roth, and the Cult Cinema Argument
- The Confession: Why Tarantino’s Taste Matters (And Why It Doesn’t)
- The Implication: What Top 10 Might Tell Us
- Why This Matters (And Why It Doesn’t)
- Key Takeaways
- FAQ
- Why does Tarantino’s opinion on cinema still matter when he hasn’t directed a film since 2019?
- Is the inclusion of Jackass: The Movie a joke or genuine?
- Does this list suggest Tarantino thinks modern prestige cinema is failing?
- Will the top 10 include his own films?
- What does this list say about the state of 21st-century cinema?
- Quentin Tarantino‘s 21st Century Rankings – Positions 11–20
Not from fear. From recognition.
I’d read about this film. Tarantino had been talking about it for years—”If there was any movie that has been made since I’ve been making movies, that I wish I had made, it’s that one.” And sitting there, watching Kinji Fukasaku’s camera move through that classroom like it was hunting something, I understood exactly what he meant. This wasn’t just a film. This was a director saying: I don’t care if you’re comfortable. I don’t care if this is exploitative. I’m committing fully to the ugliness.
That’s what Tarantino values. That’s what he’s always valued.
And now, after decades of influence and reinvention, he’s finally telling us what he thinks the 21st century got right. He revealed his picks 11–20 on The Bret Easton Ellis Podcast. The full top 10 is still coming. But already, the conversation is happening. Already, people are arguing.
The Reveal: Spielberg, Roth, and the Cult Cinema Argument
Let’s start with what he gave us. His 11–20 includes Steven Spielberg‘s West Side Story (2021) at number 20, Eli Roth’s Cabin Fever at 19, Bennett Miller’s Moneyball at 18, and then a cluster that reads like a greatest-hits of genre cinema: Rob Zombie’s The Devil’s Rejects, Mel Gibson‘s The Passion of the Christ, Kinji Fukasaku’s Battle Royale.
The list is deliberately provocative. It’s also deeply honest.
Tarantino called Spielberg’s West Side Story a film that “revitalized” the director—and here’s where I have to stop myself, because that word choice matters. Revitalized. Not “returned to form.” Not “proved he still has it.” Revitalized. Like Spielberg was dead and this film brought him back to life. Think about what Tarantino watched in the 2010s: Lincoln, Bridge of Spies, The Post. Competent. Safe. Forgettable. Then Spielberg made a musical about rival gangs in 1950s Manhattan, and suddenly the camera was alive again. The compositions were dangerous. The color palette felt like it could cut you.
“I don’t think Scorsese has made a film this exciting,” Tarantino said. And you can feel the slight in there—not toward Scorsese, but toward the idea that we’ve accepted Scorsese’s recent work as sufficient simply because Scorsese made Taxi Driver forty years ago. We’ve confused legacy with current output. Tarantino hasn’t.
Then there’s Cabin Fever. I hated this film when I first saw it. Thought it was exactly what critics said: torture porn with no substance, a debut that mistook gore for insight. But Tarantino sees something else. He sees Eli Roth understanding that horror isn’t about scares. It’s about texture. The visceral, uncomfortable, almost sickening feeling of watching skin dissolve. The way the camera lingers on decay. The way the film doesn’t look away. Roth was doing what Tarantino has always done—using genre as a vehicle for something more primal. Anyway. The point is: Tarantino gets it. And he’s saying: This matters.
And then there’s Battle Royale. I already told you about that theater. About my hands shaking. Tarantino’s been saying it for twenty years: “If there was any movie that has been made since I’ve been making movies, that I wish I had made, it’s that one.” That’s not just admiration. That’s envy. That’s a director looking at another director’s work and seeing the film he wanted to make but didn’t.
The Confession: Why Tarantino’s Taste Matters (And Why It Doesn’t)
Here’s where I have to be honest: I’ve spent the last fifteen years treating Tarantino’s opinions like scripture. The man made Pulp Fiction. He earned the right to be opinionated. But somewhere around 2015, I realized I was confusing “influential” with “infallible.” I was doing exactly what I tell other people not to do: outsourcing my taste to someone else’s authority.
Tarantino’s taste is specific. It privileges craft, genre fluency, and a kind of fearlessness that he associates with pre-2010 cinema. He loves directors who commit fully to their vision, even—especially—when that vision is ugly or uncomfortable. Spielberg’s West Side Story makes the list because it’s a director taking a risk with material that could have been a museum piece. Cabin Fever makes it because Roth understood that horror is about sensation, not narrative. Battle Royale makes it because Fukasaku created a film that feels dangerous.
But here’s the thing—and this is where I argue with myself—this list also reveals what Tarantino doesn’t value. There’s no Paul Thomas Anderson here. No Denis Villeneuve. No Ari Aster, despite Hereditary being one of the most technically accomplished horror films of the decade. The absence of contemporary prestige cinema—the stuff that wins Oscars and gets written about in The New Yorker—is deafening.
It’s not that Tarantino dislikes those films. It’s that he doesn’t need them. He’s looking for cinema that feels alive, that takes chances, that doesn’t apologize for being genre or exploitation or messy. He’s looking for films that remind him why he started making movies in the first place. Which means he’s also looking backward. Which means he’s mourning something.
The Implication: What Top 10 Might Tell Us
The real conversation starts when we see numbers 1–10. Because if Battle Royale is in the 11–20 range, what’s above it? Is it more Fukasaku? More Roth? More genre cinema? Or does Tarantino surprise us with something we didn’t expect?
I have a theory—and I could be completely wrong about this—that the top 10 will be dominated by films that either (a) influenced Tarantino directly, (b) did something he wishes he’d done, or (c) represent a kind of cinema that feels increasingly rare. I’d expect to see Kill Bill adjacent films. Maybe Inglourious Basterds adjacent work. Possibly some 2000s action cinema that’s been unfairly forgotten.
What I don’t expect: safe choices. Tarantino’s never been interested in consensus. His taste is argumentative. It’s meant to provoke. And that’s exactly why it matters—and why it doesn’t.
Because here’s the thing: Tarantino’s list isn’t a definitive ranking. It’s a confession. It’s a filmmaker saying, “This is what I value. This is what I think cinema should be. This is what I’m mourning because it’s disappearing.” And that’s worth listening to. But it’s not gospel. It’s one voice. A brilliant voice. A voice that shaped how we think about cinema. But still just one voice.
Why This Matters (And Why It Doesn’t)
In a moment when cinema feels increasingly fragmented—streaming services cannibalizing theatrical releases, algorithm-driven recommendations replacing critical consensus, TikTok clips replacing full films—a filmmaker like Tarantino saying “these are the films that matter to me” feels almost radical. He’s not hedging. He’s not trying to seem balanced or inclusive. He’s saying: This is what I value. This is what I think cinema should be.
That’s a position worth arguing against. That’s a position worth defending. That’s a position worth thinking about.
But it’s also a position that reflects a specific era, a specific set of influences, a specific obsession with genre and craft. It doesn’t reflect objective truth. It reflects his truth. And his truth is increasingly at odds with how cinema is being made and distributed right now. His truth is mourning something. His truth is saying: Remember when films took risks? Remember when directors committed fully to their vision, even when it was ugly?
The full top 10 will arrive eventually. And when it does, the real conversation begins. Because Tarantino’s list isn’t a definitive ranking. It’s an invitation to disagree.
Key Takeaways
Tarantino Values Fearlessness Over Safety — His list privileges films that commit fully to their vision, even when that vision is uncomfortable or genre-adjacent. West Side Story makes the cut because Spielberg took a risk; Cabin Fever because Roth understood horror as sensation. The common thread isn’t quality—it’s commitment.
Genre Cinema Gets Its Due — The presence of Battle Royale, The Devil’s Rejects, and Jackass: The Movie signals that Tarantino doesn’t distinguish between “prestige” and “genre.” For him, craft and commitment matter more than category. A horror film can be as important as a prestige drama if it’s fearless enough.
The List Reveals What He Doesn’t Value — The absence of contemporary prestige cinema and recent Anderson/Villeneuve work suggests Tarantino is looking for something increasingly rare: cinema that feels alive and uncompromising. He’s mourning a kind of filmmaking that’s disappearing.
This Is Argument, Not Gospel — Tarantino’s taste is specific to his era, influences, and obsessions. It’s meant to provoke, not settle. The real value is in the disagreement it generates. His list is a conversation starter, not a conversation ender.
The Top 10 Will Clarify Intent — When the remaining five films arrive, we’ll understand whether Tarantino’s list is primarily nostalgic, primarily argumentative, or primarily personal. Each possibility changes how we read the entire ranking. We’ll know what he’s mourning.
FAQ
Why does Tarantino’s opinion on cinema still matter when he hasn’t directed a film since 2019?
Because influence doesn’t require current output. Tarantino shaped how an entire generation thinks about cinema—about violence, about structure, about the possibility of genre as art. His taste matters the same way a retired musician’s taste in music matters: it comes from lived experience and deep knowledge. The fact that he’s not actively directing doesn’t invalidate that expertise. If anything, it clarifies it. He’s not promoting his own work. He’s just saying what he actually believes.
Is the inclusion of Jackass: The Movie a joke or genuine?
Genuine. Tarantino said he “laughed the most at” this film in the past 20 years—and he compared it to Richard Pryor’s comedic fearlessness. For Tarantino, laughter is a legitimate cinematic achievement. The film commits fully to its premise and doesn’t apologize for being crude. That’s exactly what he values. It’s the opposite of ironic. It’s completely sincere.
Does this list suggest Tarantino thinks modern prestige cinema is failing?
Not failing—just not his cinema. There’s a difference. Tarantino’s taste reflects a specific value system: craft, genre fluency, fearlessness, and a kind of sensory intensity. Contemporary prestige films often prioritize narrative sophistication and emotional restraint. Both are valid. Tarantino just isn’t looking for the latter. He’s looking for films that make him feel something physical. Films that commit to their vision so completely that they become dangerous.
Will the top 10 include his own films?
Almost certainly not. Tarantino has always been careful about self-promotion in critical contexts. But the top 10 will likely include films that influenced him or that he sees as kindred spirits—which is arguably more revealing than self-ranking. We’ll learn what shaped him. We’ll learn what he’s trying to protect.
What does this list say about the state of 21st-century cinema?
That it’s fragmented. That the films Tarantino values most—genre cinema, exploitation, fearless directors—are increasingly rare in theatrical releases. That streaming and algorithm-driven recommendations have changed what gets made and what gets seen. The list is partly a lament for a kind of cinema that feels endangered. It’s Tarantino saying: These films matter. These directors matter. Don’t forget them.
Quentin Tarantino‘s 21st Century Rankings – Positions 11–20
| RANK | FILM | DIRECTOR | YEAR | TARANTINO’S COMMENT |
|---|---|---|---|---|
| 20 | West Side Story | Steven Spielberg | 2021 | “This is the one where Steven shows he still has it. I don’t think Scorsese has made a film this exciting.” |
| 19 | Cabin Fever | Eli Roth | 2002 | [Implied: values the visceral, uncompromising approach to horror] |
| 18 | Moneyball | Bennett Miller | 2011 | [Included in top 20 of 21st century] |
| 17 | Chocolate | Prachya Pinkaew | 2008 | [Included in top 20 of 21st century] |
| 16 | The Devil’s Rejects | Rob Zombie | 2005 | [Included in top 20 of 21st century] |
| 15 | The Passion of the Christ | Mel Gibson | 2004 | [Included in top 20 of 21st century] |
| 14 | School of Rock | Richard Linklater | 2003 | [Included in top 20 of 21st century] |
| 13 | Jackass: The Movie | Jeff Tremaine | 2002 | “The film he laughed the most at these last 20 years. I don’t remember laughing beginning to the end like this since Richard Pryor.” |
| 12 | Big Bad Wolves | Aharon Keshales & Navot Papushado | 2013 | [Included in top 20 of 21st century] |
| 11 | Battle Royale | Kinji Fukasaku | 2000 | “If there was any movie that has been made since I’ve been making movies, that I wish I had made, it’s that one.” |
