Ranking the Top 100 Beatles Songs – Part 2

50. Paperback Writer

49. Sexy Sadie

48. I Me Mine

47. Maxwell’s Silver Hammer

46. For No One

45. Hello, Goodbye

44. I Am the Walrus

43. Get Back

42. I Feel Fine

41. She Loves You

40. Tomorrow Never Knows

39. And Your Bird Can Sing

38. Within You Without You

37. Here Comes the Sun

36. I’m Down

35. Revolution

34. If I Fell

33. The Long and Winding Road

32. All My Loving

31. You Never Give Me Your Money

30. Day Tripper

29. Golden Slumbers

28. Fixing a Hole

27. Michelle

26. I Want to Hold Your Hand

25. Across the Universe

24. Yesterday

23. Drive My Car

22. Dear Prudence

21. Back in the U.S.S.R.

20. Blackbird

19. Come Together

18. Girl

17. The Fool on the Hill

16. Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds

15. Something

14. Being for the Benefit of Mr. Kite!

13. Eleanor Rigby

12. Happiness Is a Warm Gun

11. Penny Lane

10. While My Guitar Gently Weeps

09. Norwegian Wood (This Bird Has Flown)

08. Strawberry Fields Forever

07. Let It Be

06. Hey Jude

05. In My Life

04. She’s Leaving Home

03. Because

02. Here, There and Everywhere

01. A Day in the Life

Check out part 1 here

Double Bill #15: Taxi Driver & Bringing Out the Dead

In Scorsese’s oeuvre, this is the most obvious Double Bill together with Casino and GoodFellas. Taxi Driver and Bringing Out the Dead share a great deal in common. Both revolve around a driving protagonist who suffers from urban isolation in New York City while interacting with colleagues. Both were written by Paul Schrader, feature a dark atmosphere, and explore urban madness and crime. Visually, each film reflects the protagonist’s mental state within the cityscape – often through POV shots of grim street scenes. In both, the anti-hero is driven by a desire to save others, particularly women. Each also features a rapid-fire cameo by Scorsese himself (in Bringing Out the Dead, he’s the voice of the radio dispatcher). Both films include moments that likely exist only in the protagonist’s mind: Frank Pierce (Nicolas Cage) sees visions of ghosts and corpses on the streets, while Travis Bickle (Robert De Niro) probably imagines the entire ending of Taxi Driver. Of the two movies, Taxi Driver is obviously the masterpiece. It captures the transformation of this complex main character perfectly. From oddball, to radical, to killer. De Niro’s performance is deeply unsettling; he truly becomes Travis, and it shows. His voice-over beautifully conveys his descent into psychological darkness, and the lines have a raw, poetic quality. Shot on a low budget in a documentary style, the film has a gritty authenticity. Add Bernard Herrmann’s haunting score and the outstanding supporting cast (Jodie Foster, Peter Boyle, Harvey Keitel, and Cybill Shepherd), and you have a truly iconic classic on your hands. While Bringing Out the Dead never reaches that same status, it remains an underrated entry in Scorsese’s filmography. It vividly captures the stress and chaos of working as an ambulance driver, with striking imagery – like Frank literally lifting spirits in the city. Philosophically, it reflects on life and death in the modern metropolis and, unlike Taxi Driver, includes moments of humor (in Taxi Driver, the only joke is Travis taking his date to a porn movie). Viewed together, these films form a fascinating pair: after descending into the darkness of Taxi Driver, Bringing Out the Dead feels almost like a cathartic, even therapeutic, experience.

Mean Streets (1974)


‘You don’t make up for your sins in church. You do it in the streets…’

Directed by:
Martin Scorsese

Written by:
Martin Scorsese
Mardik Martin

Cast:
Harvey Keitel (Charlie Cappa), Robert De Niro (John ‘Johnny Boy’ Civello), David Proval (Tony DeVienazo), Richard Romanus (Michael Longo), Amy Robinson (Teresa Ronchelli), Cesare Danova (Giovanni Cappa), Victor Argo (Mario), George Memmoli (Joey ‘Clams’ Scala), Lenny Scaletta (Jimmy), Jeannie Bell (Diane)

Mean Streets marks the first collaboration between Martin Scorsese and Robert De Niro and right out of the gate, it’s a masterpiece. Set in the tight-knit world of Little Italy, the film follows four small-time hustlers: the conflicted Charlie (Harvey Keitel), hot-tempered bar owner Tony (David Proval), dim-witted loan shark Michael (Richard Romanus), and the reckless wildcard Johnny Boy (Robert De Niro).

Although it isn’t technically Scorsese’s debut, it feels like it. This is the movie in which his voice fully emerges for the first time. It showcases early yet commanding performances by Keitel and De Niro, two actors who would become his most trusted collaborators. Many of the hallmarks of Scorsese’s later masterpieces are already present: the gritty New York setting, the soundtrack full of sixties pop classics, the collision of religion and crime. This isn’t exactly a gangster film – it’s about small-time crooks – but it plays like a prelude to GoodFellas, with dialogues and moral tensions that already sound familiar.

Scorsese immediately sets the tone with a Super 8 projection of Charlie wandering the streets, underscored by the Ronettes’ ‘Be My Baby’. From there, we trail Charlie through his daily routine: drinking in bars, running minor cons, wrestling with Catholic guilt in church visits, and trying to reconcile his moral compass with his ambition.

Charlie wants to rise in the underworld by aligning with his mob-connected uncle, but his loyalty to Johnny Boy – a man drowning in debt and chaos – pulls him down a dangerous path. That loyalty is both touching and toxic, and Scorsese makes it clear early on that violence is never far away. A brutal barroom shooting foreshadows the storm gathering around these characters.

The film’s raw power lies in its atmosphere. Scorsese layers the story with a soundtrack of rock ’n’ roll classics – the Stones’ ‘Jumpin’ Jack Flash’ among them – injecting energy and immediacy into every scene. His restless camera, the naturalistic dialogue laced with profanity, and the lived-in performances combine to create a world that feels authentic and alive.

De Niro is magnetic as Johnny Boy, unpredictable and dangerous yet oddly charming, while Keitel gives a deeply human performance as Charlie, a man torn between sin and salvation. Their chemistry is the film’s beating heart. Scene after scene burns into memory: a drunken spree, a hilariously chaotic bar fight, an explosive confrontation on the street. The pacing is electric, and the details are so rich you’ll want to revisit it just to soak up more of Scorsese’s vision.

The film still feels fresh today. It is utterly original, with no real comparison except some of Scorsese’s later work. Mean Streets doesn’t just hint at the brilliance to come; it announces the arrival of one of cinema’s great storytellers.

Rating:

Quote:
CHARLIE: “You know something? She is really good-lookin’. I gotta say that again. She is really good-lookin’. But she’s black. You can see that real plain, right? Look, there isn’t much of a difference anyway, is there. Well, is there?”

Trivia:
The opening words are actually spoken by Martin Scorsese, not Harvey Keitel as we are led to believe.

Black Caesar (1973)

‘Hail Caesar, Godfather of Harlem…The Cat with the .45-Caliber Claws!’

Directed by:
Larry Cohen

Written by:
Larry Cohen

Cast:
Fred Williamson (Tommy Gibbs), Gloria Hendry (Helen), Art Lund (McKinney), D’Urville Martin (Rev. Rufus), Julius W. Harris (Mr. Gibbs), Minnie Gentry (Momma Gibbs), Philip Roye (Joe Washington), William Wellman Jr. (Alfred Coleman), James Dixon (‘Irish’ Bryant), Val Avery (Cardoza)

The James Brown–scored gangster film Black Caesar opens with Brown’s soulful ‘Down and Out in New York City’ playing over a gritty scene where a young Black boy helps carry out an underworld killing. That boy, Tommy Gibbs, grows up to become a fearless gangster who initially works for the Italian mafia before turning the tables and taking control of Harlem’s criminal rackets himself.

Throughout his ruthless rise to power, Tommy is driven by a deep desire for revenge against the racist cop who abused him as a child. Black Caesar follows the familiar gangster rise-and-fall trajectory, but with a crucial difference: its antihero is a Black man from the ghetto, a product of systemic oppression and limited opportunity. Used to enduring insults and abuse, Tommy learns to turn his rage into ambition—and his rivals fatally underestimate him. Once he reaches the top, his sociopathic streak surfaces, and he exacts brutal retribution on his enemies. The Italians begin dropping like flies across the city.

While the film clearly bears the hallmarks of a low-budget exploitation picture, it’s impressively crafted. Fred Williamson is outstanding as the fierce, charismatic lead, giving Tommy Gibbs both menace and magnetism. The gritty atmosphere, authentic New York settings, and James Brown’s powerful soundtrack combine to create a vivid, memorable experience. A standout sequence is a tense, extended chase through the streets of Harlem, with a wounded Tommy pursued by two gunmen—a masterfully shot moment of raw energy and desperation.

Black Caesar was followed later the same year by the sequel Hell Up in Harlem, also directed by Larry Cohen and starring Fred Williamson as Tommy Gibbs, continuing the saga of one of blaxploitation’s most iconic antiheroes.

Rating:

Quote:
TOMMY GIBBS: “Sauce looked like it needed a little more meat.” (after dropping an ear in a plate of spaghetti).

Trivia:
While filming in Harlem, Larry Cohen was accosted by local gangsters who threatened to disrupt the shoot unless they were paid off. Instead, Cohen offered them small roles in the film. They helped so enthusiastically that they attended the premiere to sign autographs.