Harold and Maude

Wes Anderson fans who aren’t familiar with the quirk-fueled pleasures of Harold and Maude should remedy that post-haste, considering the filmmaker’s sensibilities owe as much to Hal Ashby’s 1971 cult classic as they do to any Truffaut film. Although the story – death-obsessed 20-year-old boy meets life-besotted 80-year-old girl – is as stripped down as, say, The Grand Budapest Hotel is convoluted, most everything else will seem familiar: the dark and deadpan humour, the studied compositions, the obsession with outsiders and societal corruption… and all that darn wistfulness.

Ashby was arguably the most humane of the New Hollywood, and his ability to effortlessly marry barbed social satire with an earnest celebration of intimate connection shines through every rain-dappled frame. Wry, funny and gently weird, Harold and Maude also trades in a much rarer commodity: unashamed wonder at the beauty of life, in all of its absurdity. [Michelle Devereaux]