When it comes to collecting together the plums of those films screened so far this year a common and regrettable fact emerges. The life of many a worthwhile film in this country consists often of only one or two screenings, after which the film is freighted out and, for all intents and purposes, has disappeared for good. By "worthwhile" I mean those films which invite and provoke interest and argument and, at their greatest, provide insights into matters personal or political which one may not otherwise have found.

These films that check in for one night only are by and large festival flicks. The distinction between these "art" movies has the more popular commercial movies has always been drawn, by those who control the means of distribution, namely the two big cinema chains, Kerridge Odeon and Amalgamated.

Both monopolies exist to make money, working to an economic rule of thumb which has it that the people who pay to go to a cinema expect entertainment. If a movie's primary or secondary purpose is not to entertain, then people will not pay money to see it. If a film happens to make its audience think as much as entertain them, then that is a fortunate coincidence.

Nowadays however, there is a slow trend towards the type of movie that doesn't make dear the distinction between "art" and "entertainment". Such films as Taxi Driver, Cross of Iron and Last Tango in Paris have all succeeded from both a commercial and critical point of view and all three had two important things in their favour: good publicity, and wide distribution in the country's best cinemas.

Unfortunately, these are exceptions to the current rule. Film Festivals are still needed to provide the stimulant to the serious cinema-goer. The Festivals do a great trade; somewhere out there is a large body of people, an intelligent and appreciable audience who are able and willing to take in a diet of films other than the usual commercial fare.

In fact, maybe people are coming to realise that an is entertainment in the sense that the requirement placed on our attentions by any particular work and the degree of response on our intellect and emotions are in due proportion and can be measured against the complexity of information, impulses and ideas present in the work. The point is: it's not just what a film can offer you, but what you can give to a film.

Its a sad state of affairs when the law protects the two cinema chains against any independent from purchasing first releases and giving them a run. I remember the lengthy wranglings that the owner of Auckland's Classic Theatre had to endure in order to get approval for his cinema - and he only intended screening old, out-of-circulation prints.

Until the day when Kerridge Odeon shows something like respect towards the intelligence of its audience, it looks like a lot of us will continue to rely upon the invaluable service provided by those involved in the Film Societies and the Film Festivals.

Well here, as promised, and in no particular order, is my Top Films List for 1977.

The Memory of Justice

Marcel Ophuls raises more questions than there are answers in this 284 minute documentary on war crimes and the nature of responsibility and guilt, but articulates one of the pro-foundest moral lessons of this century.

The Travelling Players

Another epic with a political theme that keeps perfect balance between content and form, both of which are expressed fluently and with great conviction.

Face to Face

Not only is Bergman better than Strindberg, he's better than anyone else today who takes it upon themselves to examine the knife-edge between life and death. There are survivors in Bergman's films, but only just.

Taxi Driver

Robert de Niro goes out of his tree in Martin Scorcese's ambiguous interpretation of American society and the way it affects one man who is, after all, just like you or me. The point is often made sledgehammer-style.

Private Vices, Public Virtues

The political point is taken, but this film is the work of a romantic. Miklos Jancso creates an easy-paced, sensual utopia of colour, light and flesh. Finally pessimistic however.

Last Tango in Paris

Make up your own mind on this one.

Heart of Glass

The quintessential Herzog film. Mystical, hallucinatory; difficult to pin down and categorise. Wins through in the force of its imagery, atmosphere and in the strength of its vision.

There's seven; if I had to name art eighth film, then I would put together the two first halves of The Tenant and Cross of Iron and supplement it with the intermission at the Audrey Rose screening.

One other observation to be made about films this year is to lament the dearth of humorous features available. Can You Keep it Up for a Week?—perhaps not. Pleasure at Her Majesty's certainly deserves a public showing though.

The Penthouse cinema has earnt a pat on the back for a year of great quality and variety, including two films that figure in my Top Ten of all time, namely 81/2 and Rashomon.

And one last thing. If you only see one film between now and February, make sure its Sleeping Dogs. It looks like having plenty of action for the smash-bang coinnesseur and, to judge by what was shown on TV last week, features what appears to be a future SIS in the role of law enforcement officers.

—David Beresford.

A list of what would probably be considered the year's major films reveals an unsurprising theme running through nearly all: social decay. The American bicentennial year did throw up Nashville and one or two other celebratory works, but it was films like Taxi Driver and Network which set the tone. Of course there was a counter-reaction, with That's Entertainment II, A Star is Born and Rocky still pretending the American dream is real. We hardly need the satire of Carrie and the like to tell us how ridiculous that is.

Western culture has for a long time been shot through with psychological probing. The aim has been understanding of ourselves, usually of what is wrong with us. We have constantly been split up into individual units alone in front of either some uncontrollable force, or a void. Sometimes culture has provided us with a means to escape, but necessarily escapism cannot make problems go away. And sometimes a method of coping has been tentatively suggested.

Of late that uncontrollable force has often been political, but the films which suggest the people has a strength greater than the sum of its parts are few and do not come out of the United States. Look at Bound for Glory, conveniently evading this stand by divorcing Woody Guthrie from his origins, colouring him with social stigma (the inadequate treatment of his relationship with his wife), and sending him alone down the romantic path to 'glory'. Travailing Players is the most excellent case to give this the lie.

My choice of best commercially released film is Taxi Driver, because its condemnation of our social system is the most viscious and the best executed. The film opens in hell, out of which we know something terrible will emerge. That thing is Travis Bickle. He makes his mark but society ignores him and makes even him into a hero. At the end hell remains, with the implication that next time it won't be just one "demented" individual who reacts. Travis is beaten but not the forces which created him.

The prize for worst resolution goes to Face to Face, for daring to tell us that everything will be okay if we can only touch somebody else and know we are doing it. Effectively the film maintains that insulated isolation (alone or in pairs) is the only way to cope, and that if we are to function on a broader social scale we must extend our insulation. Along with this goes the assumption that nothing can ever be done to alter the power structure. That is about Bergman's most reactionary statement yet.

I have this year criticised The Mother and the Whore, Seven Beauties and Last Tango in Paris along similar lines. The Story of Adele H also falls into the bracket. These films mark the death throes of an ideology. Certainly most people in our society find themselves in varying degrees able to identify with Adele Hugo or Li v Ullman's Jenny. Vet the way the problems are recognised (with Adele, that the whole thing is grossly unfortunate!) cannot be of significant use.

I go back to my earlier point: if we are treated culturally as isolated individuals we will tend to remain so. Social critics can create ways and means of demonstrating what is wrong in these terms until the cows come home, but they will never have a role in developing a society capable of effective change.

In this sense Roger Donaldson's Sleeping Dogs could well be the most worthwhile film in quite some time. It shows up the fallacy of the "I don't want to get involved" ethic, and asks, what would it take to mobilise the New Zealand population against Fascism? See this film before it's too late.

—Simon Wilson