There can be only one. (Remakes vs Originals)

Original - Not even close, the original is by far the better film. Pierce Brosnan is fine in the roll, but Steve McQueen is iconic in the former incarnation. Crown as calculating mastermind is more menacing and fitting than Crown as, well, James Bond. I don't need to go on about the Nineties' version's annoyingly upbeat ending.

Remake - These two films say a lot about the change in Hollywood aesthetics in the last fifty years, and also a lot about the business in general. There are frankly pornos filmed today that have more awe-inspiring visuals that the original Ocean movie. The Rat Pack was rumored to have used the film as an excuse to party and chase girls, and get paid for it. In a weird way the reiteration, on the other hand, shows how little things change. It's hard to conceive of the modern film having been made at all (or its sequels) with such a lavish budget if not for its own A-Listers.

Original - The first Jackal film was so great partly due the lore that it was based on a book that inspired the name if not the persona of the world's then most notorious terrorist (Carlos the Jackal's expertise and craft were also coincidentally fictional). For whatever reason, the 1997 film clumsily omits the contribution of the author of the thriller-novel, Frederick Forsyth (voluntarily, so the story goes), and instead credits only the guy who wrote the 1973 screenplay. The problem is that the '73 screenplay hardly resembles the '97 film. But whether this is technically an 'official' remake or not is beside the point, the first one is the only one you need view.

I previously covered the indistinguishable merits of the Frederic March and Spenser Tracy J & H films in another list so I don't have much left to add than that they are both decent expressions of the same script. I would encourage more people to read and compare the film adaptations and original short story. The source story is adequate as a trifling tale but appears unfilmable. The film(s) do a respectable job maintaining tension and retain a semblance of rewatchability despite the fact everyone on earth knows the crux of the story beforehand. Which is more than you can say for The Sixth Sense or The Natural.

See above.

Original - Probably no better film to remake than one that was nominated for Best Picture, Lead Actor, and Director, the original stilll gets absolutely no credit from anybody. Whereas Howard Hawks's His Girl Friday is irreverent but sanitized, Lewis Milestone's The Front Page is foul and cynical, probably a better representation of the cut-throat Depression-era newspaper business the two represent. I know I'm probably alone on this but the pre-code version is funnier and benefits from a slower pace. Hawk's film only really has the exaggerated back-and-forth dialogue in its favor and even that is best utilized disguising flat jokes and a central romance that has a deficiency of chemistry. I think if you inspect the number of successful jokes in the Hawks film, the ratio is lucky to surpass the Mendoza Line.

Remake - If I were to suggest that an American remake (starring Richard Gere no less) of the most beloved piece of French cinema, is superior to the source work, you might take that as a gravely insulting, naive, or chauvinistic declaration. There's also the possibility that it's simply the more enjoyable, immersive, and well-executed of the two.

Original - You can always make an argument that just because a film is made before another adaptation of the same work, it should not automatically become the standard that all other variations are so harshly compared. But c'mon, The Planet of the Apes is the best example why originals countless times are the standard for all reincarnations. In the case of Pierre Boulle's sci-fi-political parable there remains one great manifestation, regardless of the latest and best efforts to readapt and re-mythologize the premise. The rest of the canon will always remain a novelty.

Original - Another hands-down winner, the 1936 Kong trumps the 1976 and 2005 copies easily. No matter how badly dated the effects appear, there will never be a serious contender to the stop-motion classic monster movie that begat all monster movies.

Original - These Michael Haneke motion pictures (1997, and 2007) are both practically identical shot-for-shot. I personally found the films harrowing but intentionally, joylessly lacking payoff, as if to say Haneke could make a great genre piece but would rather make meta-jokes and mundane observations about horror clichés, and the subjective nature of the film viewer, ideas he apparently thought so brilliant he needed to share twice. (Wes Craven pulled off a similar stunt a few years earlier in Scream, and the results are vastly more entertaining. Perhaps the best contrast between high-brow mainstream cinema and what I like to call the 'academic genre' of filmmaking.) On a base level, the film(s) are adequate as an experimental work, but it's the intellectual baggage where Haneke disappears into his own ass. I recommend the original as a default but I'd rather not bother implicitly endorsing either if I could. Seldom can a film run the gamut of boredom, suspense, dread, horror, and annoyance, in that order.

Original - Though I prefer the 1973 blaxploitation re-do, (unimaginably titled) Black Caesar, purely as entertainment, the original from a technical standpoint is superior. And in a case like this I always give the original credit over the imitation.

Original - A no-brainer, though the Nicholson-Lang picture is a decent update for people who want a glossier veneer.

Original - Richard Matheson's name looms large in American literary-pop culture, and The Last Man on Earth is his best adaptation. Only fittingly, the Vincent Price film is the only one of the three I Am Legend productions to have its screenplay written by Matheson. It is hard to imagine the remakes even being made if not for the success of the first, which popularized the writer as much as his novel. You don't need look far to see its lasting effects on the zomie genre in general, including Romero's trilogy. The series, beginning here and continuing to the Charleton Heston vehicle Omega Man and the post-millennial I Am Legend starring Will Smith, is notable for a steep decline in quality -- I won't dignify the Asylum direct-to-DVD knock-off by mentioning it by name. The original has a clever twist, albeit rather non-threatening vampires (who look more like stereotypical zombies). The Seventies film has the most tangible antagonist, but also has a rather ridiculous ending and some heavy-handed Jesus symbolism. The final film is unrelenting and jarring, however reduces the villains to nothing more than growling C.G.I. A cinematic case of law of diminishing returns.

Original - Scorsese is a brilliant craftsman and manager, he's shown an adeptness for his own original stories, adaptations, and sequels, however he just can't seem to get the hang of remakes. Whereas Robert Mitchum has natural charm/creepiness, a deep voice and swagger that both harken comfort and defiance, Robert De Niro wildly overplays the character of Max Cady. Critical as this is the most important role that holds film together, De Niro looks like he is taking a little too much glee from the actorly exercise. Mitchum's main asset is that his portrayal is so plausible and naturalistic. Though some of DeNiro's problems lie with the writing, the ending did not need change. Scorsese's Cady has an element of Jason Vorhees in him, as if he wouldn't die even if you ran him through with a machete.

Original - Leonardo DiCaprio's attempt to out-act Jack Nicholson is almost as bad as the ending. Say what you will about Scorsese's over-praised The Departed, at very least he doesn't €!$# around with sequels. But I digress... The Andrew Lau and Alan Mak-helmed picture was snubbed by Oscar voters, not even nominated in a year that included arguably the least exciting selection of movies in Academy history (the fact that Master and Commander still can't find enough interest to merit a sequel is most telling). This well-written action movie would have been a welcome change to the staid predictably of the award season that traditionally ignores all non-Western productions. But why not just give the Foreign Language award to the not terribly funny academic-comedy that deals with death & healthcare & family & drug dependency & class & suicide. That has all the 'important film' boxes checked off, doesn't it? Sorry, I digress way too often.

Remake - In a decisive battle in the overrated directors bracket, Brian De Palma upsets Howard Hawks. Oliver Stone's outrageous but entertaining script and Pacino's swaggering maniac a big reason the '83 shoot 'em up leaves the Thirties' shocker in the dust. An accomplishment considering how much was required to shock jaded American audiences in a decade where the film industry's success was predicated partly on its ability to come up with new & amusing new ways to mutilate the human body.

Remake - I am no fan of John Huston/Bogey's Falcon no matter how hard I pretend to be. Then again, I can't even remember the Roy del Ruth/Ricardo Cortez version from 1931, so I guess the former is probably the better watch. Though, I must say the more iconic version is dated and a little too talky. It's hard to imagine real underworld figures actually behaving the way that they do here. As an aside, apparently the only reason this 'masterpiece' (not to mention a forgotten 1936 comedic version, which I have no intention of subjecting myself to watch) was even made was because Warner Brothers owned the film rights and wanted to squeeze one last dime out of the Dashiell Hammet property.

Original - I was a big fan of 12 Monkeys until I saw Chris Markers' original film. Markers' resourceful and bold exploitation of a shoestring budget (the film consisting solely of a narration, some background music, and monochromatic stills) makes it all the more impressive than the multimillion-dollar extravagance of Terry Gilliam. The latter feels vulgar and conventional in contrast, which render it not only emotionally but aesthetically inferior.

Original - The first T.C.M. was such a hit because it was unlike any other horror film made before, amping up the genre to a gory, genuinely uncomfortable fever pitch that the genre never really recovered from. It didn't have a moral nor a subtext nor a social commentary on Vietnam or race relations; it was a refreshingly unpretentious horror project in an era when everyone was trying to 'out Romero' each other or incorporate nudity for no other sake but to cover more ground in the adolescent demo. Audiences today are immune to the shock Tobe Hooper's classic unleashed, which is why you've never heard anybody talk about the 2003 remake when this title gets brought up, it is irrelevant. While the Seventies' indie made millions and changed the industry, the remake was the very definition of a brain-dead, corporate cash-in.

Original - I know what you're thinking, both the Soviet thriller and Steven Soderbergh remake are based on a book, it's not technically a re-do, but it seems unlikely Soderbergh would ever have adapted the obscure Stanislaw Lem sci-fi novel if not for the acclaim of the the '72 film. In a more authentic way it is a remake not just another adaptation. Andrei Tarkovsky's shadow looms large in high-brow cinema, apparently not enough though to prevent tampering. In any case, Soderbergh deserves credit for removing the larded first hour of exposition and a lot of the endless babble that ruined the original's potential. Unfortunately, like everything else Soderbergh makes, it's a shiny toy you grow tired of pretty quickly (and, yes, by that I mean George Clooney).

Original - John Carpenter's d.i.y. slasher wrote, or at least solidified, most of the rules for the genre for the next few decades. (Don't hold it against Carpenter, he bailed after presumably killing off the central character in the second film.) Rob Zombie, on the other hand, is the embodiment of a mainstream horror genre that insists upon running the same old clichés into the ground one more time. The original is no masterpiece, but in comparison to the 2007 reprocessing its understated violence and quirky, mute villain seem like a breath of fresh air. Zombie's incessant shaky-cam shots, false-finale twists, unnecessary backstory, and focus on t & a/a cool soundtrack/blood splatter are all stylish ploys to disguise the fact that the original (and by extension all iconic horror films) do not call for a re-do. The worst thing I can say about the remake is that it isn't even scary.

Remake - It may not be in the strictest sense a remake since they are derived from the same book and there exists a 1907 short film but one look at the chariot scene, and it's clear the 1959 William Wyler version is heavily inspired by the 1925 Fred Niblo film. And while the original is more cutting-edge and bold in its gothic composition, casual use of nudity, and grandiose scenery, it also has some pretty dreadful pantomiming. The Jesus subplot in Wyler's film is more streamlined and subtle than the original, which doesn't feel as forced. Needless to say, the acting is better and there is no ridiculous sped-up camera effects or eye-liner. However much one is compelled to ignore the latter's hidden homoerotic undertone (Gore Vidal co-wrote the screenplay, what do you expect) and unnecessarily long running time, it still remains among the most defining works in the epic genre.

I love both of these films so much it is impossible to pick one over the other. Watch both. Enough has been said about the 1986 musical remake starring a gaggle of Saturday Night Live vets, but the cult 1960 film deserves more credit. The original Little Shop of Horrors won me over with its brilliant use of a crappy production budget and no-name actors. The b & w original is noteworthy for being an early pioneer in the horror-comedy genre (previously occupied solely by dated Abbot and Costello monster movies) and for its risqué humor catering to adult sensibilities. This being one of the few (intentional) comedies Roger Corman would ever make and easily his best creation. At very least enough to compensate for his Revenge of the Red Baron. Ugh.

See above.

Original - No surprise here. The French incarnation made Luc Besson's career, the American remake is purely an afterthought.

Original - Yet another French gem overshadowed by a lesser Hollywood recreation, this one practically verbatim. I think I just figured why the French are so snooty, the handful of exquisite masterpieces they do craft we systematically appropriate. While the Americanized instance, The Birdcage, is decent the original stands up even better after over nearly forty years. Which doesn't, coincidentally, say much about our society considering the film deals with gay self-loathing and rampant intolerance. At this rate perhaps Iran can have their own Persian derivation in 2067.

Both Body Snatchers, '56 and '78, are interesting projects. The original is one of the better written horror films of the fifties, though a little limp by modern standards. The remake is boringly loyal to the first but creepier. If IMDb ratings are any indication the subsequent replications in the nineties and oughts only guarantee future crops of soulless copies.

See above.