At 13, Steven Spielberg gathered a group of friends in the deserts of Arizona to film Escape to Nowhere, a 40-minute war movie that won the top prize in a statewide competition. It was a massive leap from the first film he ever produced (a snippet of his Lionel train set in a staged collision) and a far cry from the genius of the man we know today: the most successful filmmaker in the history of Hollywood.

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Spielberg is the highest-grossing director ever, having amassed a global gross exceeding $10 billion. He has won 9 Golden Globes, three Directors Guild of America (DGA) awards, and the Best Director Oscar twice. A Spielberg film has received an Academy Award nomination for Best Picture in every decade since the 1970s and finished in the top five of the yearly domestic box office from the '70s to the 2000s. No filmmaker has ever captured the human experience like him, a seemingly pretentious point to note but one that rings true as we recognize the full breadth of his greatness.

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How often have we been enraptured visually or stimulated emotionally, whether through jaw-dropping practical effects or his extensive introspection regarding his relationship with his father? How often have we looked back on our most memorable movie moments and thought of Indiana Jones fleeing a boulder in Raiders of the Lost Ark, the shark emerging from the sea in Jaws, the Brachiosaurus walking the grounds of Jurassic Park, or the heinous sounds of an alien invasion destroying New York in War of the Worlds? (and yes, I mean Dakota Fanning’s incessant wailing)

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As his autobiographical career wrapper, The Fabelmans, storms through awards season, it’s time to honor a man who has brought more thrills, joy, and cherished memories to the big screen than any director in history: this is… the Steven Spielberg movie rankdown.

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‍34. Hook, 1991

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Peter Pan got a modern imagining in Spielberg’s 1991 disappointment, equipped with the thematics but none of the magic. Robin Williams gives it the old college try as the boy who did grow up, but his material is too dry and diluted to make an impact. John Williams is at the peak of his powers, but it’s clear that Spielberg felt intimidated by the production. Also, sorry, early millennial children: that feast looks disgusting.

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33. The BFG, 2016

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Visually, this adaptation of Roald Dahl's 1982 novel lives up to the imagination of its source material; Spielberg’s films always have a knack for color, even if it’s become somewhat muted. Unfortunately, as loveable as the big friendly giant is, the friendship he forges with a young English girl never matches those of other kid’s movie dynamic duos. It’s the backbone of the movie. Thus, the film is crippled, its disability made worse by lifeless antagonists and a bizarre side-step that features Queen Elizabeth II and lots of flatulence.

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32. The Lost World: Jurassic Park, 1997

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Despite what the trailers for Dominion would tell you, we never cared about the characters in Jurassic Park; our love was for the dinosaurs. With all the chest hair and quipping, it’s easy to get tricked into believing that Jeff Goldblum’s Dr. Ian Malcolm can command a sequel with him at the center. We’ve seen the dinosaurs before; another movie needs more than just a return to the spectacle, but The Lost World feels like a cheap aim at recreating the horror of the original without any of the grit or imagination.

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31. The Terminal, 2004

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Mehran Karimi Nasseri’s story was begging to be turned into a movie; at the time of The Terminal’s release, he was still living in the departure lounge of Charles de Gaulle airport in France. The circumstances of his 18-year-long residence also needed tweaking: his lies, refusal to accept papers from Belgium and France on the grounds of misnaming him (he wanted to be known as “Sir Alfred Nasseri) needed masking. The result is a bland, syrupy movie about a hapless European entering the lives of terminal workers and changing them forever. The full truth of Nasseri may not have been fit for adaptation, but a little of his quirkiness would have taken The Terminal a long way.

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30. The Post, 2017

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Journalism was all the rage after Spotlight claimed Best Picture at the 2016 Oscars. Unfortunately, the imitators failed to replicate its greatness. Tom McCarthy’s factual approach  in Spotlight produces an organic frustration with the investigative process and moral outrage at the nature and breadth of the coverup; The Post can never decide what it wants to be and thus cannot produce anything. Meryl Streep and Tom Hanks are running on empty, and the movie lacks urgency because of it, an issue considering that most of the film’s dramatics stem from the timing of decisions.

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29. A.I. Artificial Intelligence, 2001

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You want to like A.I., but Spielberg honored the vision of Stanley Kubrick but couldn’t restrain his mawkishness. It produces a movie that is just as grim as optimistic, equal parts foreboding and angelic. It’s a polarizing approach that results in a film that’s fascinating on paper and occasionally on screen, mixing the dark calculations that defined Kubrick with Spielberg’s signature sentimentality. Unfortunately, that imbalance refuses to let the film be pointed in posing the many questions it tries to answer, proving that when you cannot commit to anything in particular, you cannot mean anything at all.

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28. The Adventure of Tintin, 2011

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It’s difficult to ascertain exactly what inspired Spielberg to create an adaptation of the beloved French cartoon; the creative juices could never flow enough to create a memorable product and the box office prospects were dim. Thus, it’s impressive that Tin-Tin is as watchable as it is, but aside from a thrilling sequence through the streets of a fictitious Moroccan city, it has little to recommend. Technologies are fun to play with, and motion capture has rarely looked superior, but that isn’t saying much. It’s the story of the movie: a thing that exists and can get complimented, but only with a million qualifiers attached.

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27. The Color Purple, 1985

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Much of what likely made Spielberg’s adaptation of Alice Walker’s Pulitzer Prize-winning novel poignant in 1985 has aged poorly. It’s not enough to simply feature black characters or lay the barrage of suffering on as thick as frosting. We need true substance. We aren’t going to find it in Whoopi Goldberg’s Celie, who’s basically a slightly more able, female Forrest Gump. We won’t find it in the absolution of a pedophilic wife abuser, or the countless times the “Aw shucks” women of the film forgive the men who torment them before the movie grants them a genuine moment of strength. We won’t find it anywhere. Films of this ilk were never Spielberg’s strong suit, but good Lord, Steven.

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26. Always, 1989

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The forgotten Spielberg film earns its lack of cultural recognition: it's mundane, like the world’s most successful filmmaker was on autopilot for a purposeless movie. Its saving grace are fantastic showings from Richard Dreyfuss and Holly Hunter, whose romantic prospects seem impractical but get sold by two talented actors. It’s melodrama at its finest, and little fanfare can get made about the aerial sequences, but Always, while certainly not compelling, isn’t terrible enough to warrant getting placed any lower.

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25. 1941, 1979

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Spielberg’s foray into slapstick was never going to land. Spielberg, for all his visual wizardry and thematic heft, has never been one for humor. 1941 is compulsively watchable, but primarily as background noise. The purpose of a comedy is to make the audience laugh; one can enjoy the experience, but not a single joke lands, and while there’s no use being too rough on dated comedy, many of 1941’s running gags (like the attempted seduction of a woman by manipulating her love of aircraft) inspire an eye roll.

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24. War of the Worlds, 2005

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Something about Spielberg’s turn at H.G. Well’s iconic novel felt revelatory in 2005; he was king of the box office for the better part of two decades but hadn’t notched a top-ten flick since Saving Private Ryan in 1998. It was his do-or-die moment. He would never not be Steven Spielberg, but could he make the transition, a year before his 60th birthday, to the demands of modern audiences? According to the $603 million global gross, yes. In retrospect? Not so much.

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‍War of the Worlds never feels as chaotic or paranoiac as it aims to be; Tom Cruise’s Ray is possibly the worst movie father ever, so horrid that being a Yankee fan might be the least objectionable thing about him; and yes, Dakota Fanning screams… a lot.

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Still, the real issue is that the imperialist themes of Wells’ novel can’t cop out like Spielberg. In the end, Robby miraculously survives, none of the suffering affects the main characters, and in a sense, we all live happily ever after. Kudos for the basement sequence and the tripod design, but everything else? Meh.

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23. Minority Report, 2002

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Minority Report has a great concept: what if we could foresee crimes before they occur and detain the future perpetrators? It’s catnip for ethical theorists but not so much for a viewing audience. In the right hands, and perhaps spread out over a well-done miniseries, it could have been great. As it is, we get a hammy futuristic mess that opts for overblown action when its quiet thrills thrive, floats the ethical dilemmas instead of exploring them fully, and relies on clichés to resolve its narrative instead of challenging the viewer to ponder what they're willin accept in the interest of safety. A year following 9/11 and the resulting Patriot Act, it was easy to see this movie as something that it wasn’t. Twenty years later, it’s exposed.

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22. Amistad, 1997

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It’s not that the tale of enslaved Africans rebelling against their captors and facing the wrath of a racist American judicial system isn’t worth telling, more that lathering it in late '90s cheese wasn’t the best path. The performances are serviceable and the central message worthy, but Amistad often feels like it exists almost for the sake of it, without the ambition to bite off as much as its thematics can chew. Tack on the world’s longest-speech and an extra thirty minutes no one needed, and you have a movie that’s worth watching and then never thinking about again.

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21. Munich, 2005

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Munich is the ultimate paper movie. Everything about it, from its leading man (Eric Bana was all the rage following his glorious shirtless performance in Troy), its international tragedy of choice, and, of course, its legendary director, sounds great on paper. Unfortunately, the narrative rarely explores the ethical implications of seeking revenge, and considering how often collateral damage enters the equation, that’s inexcusable.

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Sure, we get a few hammy exchanges to doll up the moral quandaries the team of Mossad agents face as they hunt down the men responsible for the 1972 Munich Olympics massacre, but a movie clocking in at over 150 minutes should be more willing to wrestle with difficult topics, and Spielberg is too soft.

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20. Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull, 2008

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I’m gonna be this guy: Kingdom of the Crystal Skull is not that bad. It’s much like how everyone reacted to Luke Skywalker’s portrayal in The Last Jedi. Sorry, rose-pupiled boomers: Luke became what he was always destined to be.

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Indy begins the movie surviving a nuclear blast in a freezer, which is… not as ridiculous as Nazis getting their faces melted off, a raft surviving a nosedive down a waterfall, or railcar battles? Spare me.

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It’s the worst of the franchise, but mostly because of its title character. The story is thin and the villain lacking, but Harrison Ford is too old to carry a movie like this, and it shows. The compensation was Shia Labeouf, perhaps the most irritating screen presence of the 21st century, and the fan service of Marion Ravenwood’s return. If you were someone who thought her wailing like a helpless banshee made her a strong female character, that works. If you’re someone who saw her for the useless nuisance she was, it does not.

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19. Lincoln, 2012

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If Lincoln accomplishes anything, it’s reminding us that no matter the quality of ingredients, it takes a great chef to prepare an exquisite dish. Daniel Day-Lewis offers a mighty showing, but he’s let down by the reliance on an ensemble that’s superior in name than in execution. The film isn’t so much “Lincoln” as “Boo slavery,” which is great and all, but we certainly didn’t need a movie to make us revile the abolished institution. As such, we get subjected to arguably the most pointless of Spielberg’s films: a fake, overlong biopic with treacly music, gloomy cinematography, and a narrative whose reward is essentially applauding ourselves for not being racist.

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18. Empire of the Sun, 1987

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Some claim Empire of the Sun is Spielberg’s forgotten masterpiece, which would not be the case if it wasn't named Empire of the Sun. No inherent wrong exists in this story of a young English boy separated from his parents during World War II, but just because nothing is wrong doesn’t mean anything is right. A young Christian Bale shines in the starring role, but that role carries the film, and there’s not much to it. We get moments of resourcefulness and resilience, but the core of the film - a young boy’s desperation to reunite with his parents - gets lost. The result is a film that lingers on elements without ever granting a payoff or dismisses them entirely, like a hint at racial divides in an internment camp or the glossing over of a literal death march. It could’ve been something, and it certainly isn’t “bad,” but Spielberg has done better.

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17. War Horse, 2011

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War Horse is another of Spielberg's ensemble, sentimental period flicks. It’s nothing new, but it scores points for its self-adoring old-fashionedness. Irish Sport Horse Joey anchors the narrative as he switches owners during World War I, but the entire story builds to his reunion with Albert, the Devon-born farm boy who raises him after his father buys him at auction. Unfortunately, Jeremy Irvine’s watery eyes never quite convince us that we’d prefer Joey be with Albert than the kind-hearted English soldier or the young, friendless French girl. It’s an easy watch, but if your movie banks on the audience longing for a reunion that becomes less appealing the more characters you introduce, your movie isn’t that great.

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16. Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom, 1984

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We may as well address that there are some people who like to be contrarian and claim this is the best of the original trilogy.
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Let’s just not.

Temple of Doom feels like it's proud of the set designs and supernatural concepts it unfolds in its final act, so much that it ignores its obligation to be compelling. It’s a notch below in every way, from having the worst opening scene, pacing, villain, and love interest (although, in fairness, Willie can weave a mean hat. Did Marion weave a mean hat?)

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15. E.T. The Extra Terrestrial, 1982

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E.T. is difficult to pin down. It became the highest-grossing film ever made upon its initial theatrical release and enjoys an enduring cultural legacy as one of Hollywood’s most beloved classics. It contains many elements that draw us to movies of its ilk, those family flicks that remind the adults of what it means to be a child and teaches children about the meaning of friendship and family. Still, what exactly about E.T. sets it so far apart from all the rest? Maybe it’s impossible to say, but in many respects, that’s Spielberg’s true signature: inspiring feelings inside of his audience for reasons that not even they can wholly understand. Perhaps the true magic of E.T. is that indefinable quality, which is perfectly fine.

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14. Jaws, 1975

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Jaws is a tale of two halves: the first, where a small beach town gets terrorized by a ravenous Great White, is stellar. We know the iconic John Williams’ score and the image of a detached leg falling to the ocean floor, but there’s a quiet thrill always permeating the movie that locks us in a vice grip. The second half, where the film turns into a man vs. wild adventure flick with lots of talking, rousing music, and boat dramatics, doesn’t mesh with the beginning and turns Jaws into a poorly-paced cheesefest that feels empty compared to what it established earlier.

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13. Ready Player One, 2018

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We decry films or television series for not developing their characters, but occasionally it’s best to reserve the criticism for introspection: maybe we need to reevaluate our perception of what makes a good lead. Wade Watts isn’t quick-witted, charming, or gregarious, but his shy earnestness carries the film’s central themes of self-belief and standing for what’s right even at great personal cost. The VR landscape suffers from the trend of making every landscape dark and dreary; if ever there was a film that could use some color, this is it. Regardless, Tye Sheridan’s awkwardness and Spielberg’s tender hand are a match-made-in-heaven, and Ready Player One stands as an underrated part of Spielberg’s filmography.

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12. The Sugarland Express, 1974

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It’s always refreshing to revisit low-budget '70s filmmaking and marvel at the simple pleasures missing from today’s films. Tires don’t screech the same; gunshots don’t pop like they used to, and by God, do we miss people getting irrationally angry over minor conversational faux-pas. The story doesn’t offer much aside from exactly what it is, and considering the irresistible charm of Goldie Hawn and William Atherton in the central roles, it would be worse off any other way.

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11. West Side Story, 2021

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The prospects did not seem promising, both as Spielberg’s intention to remake the 1961 juggernaut got announced and as the release date got pushed back over a year. In light of how many abysmal remakes and reboots had come out in the preceding few years, things seemed even more bleak. Alas, West Side Story accomplished what seemed impossible: a remake that far surpasses the original. Of course, trumping Jerome Wise’s take on the iconic broadway musical was far from a trying task, but all the modern updates make Spielberg’s remake feel fresh and exciting, particularly the expanded focus on Riff, which gave a showcase for Mike Faist.

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10. Schindler's List, 1993

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Nothing can be done about Schindler's List and the extent to which its critics chastise it for its handling of the Holocaust; the extermination of 6 million Jews during WWII by the Nazi regime is not a horror whose cinematic treatment can please everyone. All one can do is ask if, by whatever measure possible, it grants us some perspective on man’s greatest tragedy. Its refusal to commit to the bleakness makes that difficult, but the Spielberg-Kaminski-Williams trio makes Schindler’s List, at its best, an emotional gut punch that, while a tad too devoted to melodrama, maximizes its smaller moments with great effect.

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9. Duel, 1971

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Movies often bite off more than they can chew, squeezing a miniseries worth of ideas into a 2-hour flick. Cinephiles rejoice in appreciating that overreaching, but the rest of the movie-watching world understands that the simplest concepts often yield the best results. All Duel has to do is make us fear ever passing someone on the road ever again; between nearly getting backed off a cliff, tailgated for miles down a deserted highway, and stalked to every safe haven, it does the job and then some.

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8. Raiders of the Lost Ark, 1981

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As a film ages into legacy, it becomes difficult to find objective criticism. Everything is perfect, nothing is flawed, and any legitimate gripes get written off as a lack of contextualization by a youth movement seeking to topple the beloved relics of yesteryear. Raiders of the Lost Ark benefits greatly from this spirited defense. In truth, it overextends numerous sequences, few of which justify their runtime. Regardless, we cannot deny the brisk force with which Indiana Jones’ first cinematic adventure commands our attention. The man is a hero unlike most, immune to traditional masculinity enough to forgo combat by firing a gun but not enough to accredit his (admittedly annoying) love interest the respect she would deserve if she was at all useful.

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In all seriousness, it’s that mishmash of contradictions that make Raiders such a thrill; a hero that isn’t necessarily heroic, but also is; an adventure that doesn’t always make sense, but also does. A villain that exists for the sake of it, but also feels like a genuine nemesis. Few films find such greatness within their imperfections; in a sense, it makes Raiders the classic it is 41 years down the line.

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7. Jurassic Park, 1993

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It’s sad to see the Jurassic Park franchise go down like the Hindenburg. Sure, the box office numbers please the suits halfway up the ivory tower, but the last seven years have been unkind to one that started it all. Youngins will never understand the legs Jurassic Park had for an entire generation, even those born years after its release. However, if we pay it a visit, everyone can understand why Jurassic Park became the highest-grossing film ever upon its release. It definitively cannot bite the same way 30 years later, but jaw-dropping practical effects and perfectly-choreographed horror sequences makes for a thrilling, genre-busting adventure.

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6. Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade, 1989

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Fans can bat it around forever, which is superior between Raiders and Last Crusade. As “objective” works they’re practically equal, but Last Crusade benefits from better pacing and the presence of a bonafide screen legend in Sean Connery, whose “She talks in her sleep” adlib is perhaps the greatest line ever uttered on film. It lacks the color of Temple of Doom and its sequences don’t seer into the memory like Raiders’, but Last Crusade, by finding the value in each moment instead of zeroing in on the big ones, makes for an easier, breezier, more consistently enjoyable experience.

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5. Bridge of Spies, 2015

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Spielberg can make Mt. Everest out of even the tiniest molehills. Little sentimental meat exists on the bone of Bridge of Spies’ narrative, that of a captured Soviet spy defended against treason charges by an American lawyer at the height of the Cold War. Yet, Spielberg finds a way, even crossing the melodramatic streams into fake shock.

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Ee gads, people are getting SHOT hopping the BERLIN WALL?!?!?!

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Still, he mostly musters a great deal of tact, balancing the political implications of the trial with the genuine friendship that forms between two very different men on two starkly opposed sides. Mark Rylance steals the show, but it’s the narrative choices, from the brilliant negotiations of foreign policy to the balancing of two separate narratives that somehow feel symbiotic, that solidify Bridge of Spies as an underrated entry into Spielberg’s filmography.

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4. The Fabelmans, 2022

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‍The Fabelmans does something many of its more overt “magic of the movies” counterparts fail to do: actually show the magic of the movies. It’s more a reflection on his childhood than a tribute to filmmaking, but it stands as a testament to what happens when an artist is willing to truly be vulnerable, as Spielberg examines his long-held and highly-publicized feelings about his childhood. All the changes from the true experiences serve as an opportunity for the audience to reflect on their lives, make for a more authentic look at family dynamics, and ask tough questions about touchy subjects. Add in a bevy of great performances and a restraint that Spielberg has often failed to show, and The Fabelmans will earn whatever accolades come its way.

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3. Close Encounters of the Third Kind, 1977

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Close Encounters of the Third Kind feels like a deadbeat dad movie more than a sci-fi flick, which makes it a better movie. Many films in the genre try to tell the story through the science fiction, but establishing alien colonies or new dimensions takes time that movies do not possess. It’s a better path to develop a full-bodied narrative that can play off the more fantastical elements, and watching Roy Neary descend into madness as he answers a calling with mashed potato towers and bad parenting does more for Close Encounters than a parade of abstract concepts. Neary never feels like a creation of anything but things that were already inside him, a fascinating take on the blame Spielberg attributed to his father in the wake of his parents divorce. Sure, the iconic jingle helps, but Close Encounters is memorable because it accomplishes what it does in ways that its genre successors have wrongly refused to copy.

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2. Catch Me If You Can, 2002

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Brilliance aside, it is worth noting the cultural lens through which Catch Me If You Can should get viewed twenty years after its release. Its central figure is engaging as a cinematic protagonist yet repugnant as a real life human being. It’s a testament to nuance that the latter is not held against the former but also a worthy statement on how great art can facilitate that nuance. Williams’ score is light and bouncy, the notes feeling almost aerated, a perfect match for Kaminski’s warmth even in the coldest, most dire circumstances. Yes, that’s all very pretentious to note, but it makes it no less true. It’s another subtle insight into the mind of Spielberg, one shaped by a complicated relationship with his father and a struggle to embrace identity during his youth. Few directors could make the conman’s fictitious story feel so sympathetic and fun while also feeling like a drama worthy of contemplation.

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1. Saving Private Ryan, 1998

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Okay, let’s get it out of the way now: the beginning and the end of Saving Private Ryan suck.

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Now for the other 155 minutes, which make for, arguably, the greatest movie ever made. Yes, it’s become popular to spend our time reflecting on Spielberg’s WWII drama as the victim of a great Oscars tragedy or picking it apart to justify why it wasn’t as revelatory as it seemed in 1998. No, both of those are not justified. Saving Private Ryan features the small details more pressing eyes appreciate, like the virtuous characters getting claimed by war while the coward and the smart aleck get out alive, but it nails the broader ideas about humanity in a way many films have tried and failed to master.

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It’s in Tom Hanks’ speech, writing off Ryan as only a name yet everything he needs to get home; it’s in Giovani Ribisi reflecting on the moments he lost with his mother by pretending to be asleep when she came to wish him good night. It’s in the simple act of helping those in need before realizing the fatal consequences of kindness and remembering the stories of those we’ve lost as we face a life without them by our side.

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It’s also in the visual displays, particularly the iconic D-Day Landing, that set the standard for WWII depictions in all forms of media for a generation. It may cop out at the end, hammering home a point a simple “Earn this” made better than Private Ryan’s teary pleas for reassurance, but Saving Private Ryan is as close to movie perfection as Spielberg, or any director, can get.