Jim Jarmusch’s grim and beautiful black-and-white Western premiered at Cannes in 1995, but it didn’t make its way to American screens until the summer of 1996, when Miramax dumped it into theaters with minimal support. (Studio head Harvey Weinstein bought the movie sight unseen, hated it when he watched it, and then hated it even more when Jarmusch refused to make changes.)

Jarmusch’s tale of a mild-mannered accountant fleeing through the American West on a murder rap is the best movie the director ever made, and as powerful a use of the Western as a vehicle for personal expression as the best of Peckinpah, Eastwood, or Ford. A streamlined model of clarity and concision, “Dead Man” moves forward with relentless propulsion, yet is filled with digressions that allow for profound meditations on American culture and character — on what it means to be American in the era in which the movie takes place, the era in which it was made, and whatever moment in time you happen to be watching it in.

Larry Cohen wrote and directed two of the best Blaxploitation movies of the 1970s (“Black Caesar” and “Hell Up in Harlem”), and for this, his final directorial effort, he returned to the genre for an all-star reunion featuring icons Fred Williamson, Jim Brown, Pam Grier, Richard Roundtree, and Ron O’Neal. Rip-roaringly funny and violent but with just the right touch of elegy, the movie is a feast for fans of 1970s grindhouse cinema, as Cohen loads the supporting cast with drive-in stalwarts like Robert Forster (who would reunite with Grier the following year for “Jackie Brown” and score a deserved Oscar nomination in the process), Charles Napier, and Wings Hauser.

It’s a cliché to say “they don’t make them like that anymore,” but they really don’t make them like this anymore. 

The 1996 summer movie season kicked off in earnest with this spectacular disaster film boosted by action auteur Jan de Bont at the top of his game. Coming off of the success of “Speed,” de Bont was given all the resources imaginable to tell Michael Crichton’s story of tornado chasers, and he made the most of every penny to create one of the great visual effects films of the 1990s.

The secret to the movie’s success, however, is the human element: the Hawksian romance between Bill Paxton and Helen Hunt, and the Hawksian team of professionals that includes Philip Seymour Hoffman and Todd Field, are why “Twister” endures when so many other effects extravaganzas have been forgotten.

Bernardo Bertolucci returned home after 15 years of making films in other countries for this sumptuous travelogue about a young American (Liv Tyler) on holiday in Tuscany. The literary qualities of novelist Susan Minot’s script dovetail beautifully with Bertolucci’s warm lyricism, which takes on a new form in this rare Bertolucci film not photographed by Vittorio Storaro; the cinematographer is Darius Khondji, a long way here from the grimy pleasures of “Se7en.”

Working with Khondji seems to have unlocked something in Bertolucci, who is at his loosest and most graceful here — the movie is charming and restorative, a cool cinematic drink on a hot summer day. Bonus points for the killer soundtrack combining cuts from 1990s icons like Liz Phair with standards by Stevie Wonder, Nina Simone, and more.

The “Citizen Kane” of summer action movies, a film that synthesizes everything a summer blockbuster had been before and creates a new template that would define the form for the next 30 years. It’s still the best of the “Mission: Impossible” series, thanks to director Brian De Palma’s superior visual imagination and sly sense of humor; the central heist sequence and the final train chase are among the best set pieces De Palma ever created, which means they’re the best set pieces anyone ever created.

Huge and elaborate and meticulously designed within an inch of its life yet buoyant and swift, this is escapist entertainment at its smartest, most visually pleasing, and most deliriously inventive. 

Although Todd Solondz had already written and directed a theatrical feature (the underrated “Fear, Anxiety & Depression“), he and everyone else in the world treated this like it was his debut, and it remains one of the most striking introductions to a new voice in independent film from an era when those new voices seemed to be springing up every month. A coming of age story as lacerating and fearless as it is hilarious, “Welcome to the Dollhouse” is one of the best movies about the torture of growing up ever made, and contains an unforgettable performance in the form of Heather Matarazzo’s singular work as Dawn “Wiener-Dog” Wiener.  

Behold the maximalist majesty of director Michael Bay, producer Jerry Bruckheimer, and actor Nicolas Cage in this “more is more” masterpiece! Bay had made an impressive debut the year before with “Bad Boys,” but the increased budget for this action flick (which co-starred Sean Connery, Ed Harris, and more) allowed him to unleash his Bayhem in all its glory, from a San Francisco car chase that makes “Bullitt” look like “My Dinner With Andre” to the Alcatraz-set climax.

This is the film that launched Nicolas Cage as an action hero, allowing him to transition from art-house eccentricity into a career as one of the biggest movie stars in the world — right after this he did “Con Air” and “Face Off,” meaning we all owe Michael Bay a debt we can never repay.

When “The Cable Guy” was initially released, more of the press coverage focused on Jim Carrey’s landmark salary (he was reportedly the first screen actor ever to get $20 million as an upfront salary) than the quality of the movie itself, which is a shame — because Carrey was worth every penny.

He’s brilliant and bizarre as the title character, a service man who becomes obsessed with one of his customers (Matthew Broderick) and ruins his life. There’s a hint of “King of Comedy” and “After Hours” in the film’s portrait of male obsession and potent mix of comedy and nightmarish horror, but Carrey is so unhinged he makes De Niro’s Rupert Pupkin look calm and ordinary. This is high wire comedy, deftly executed by the actors, screenwriter Lou Holtz Jr., and director Ben Stiller, displaying the skill at tonal wild swings that would later serve him well on “Severance.”

John Sayles has made a career out of writing and directing some of the finest ensemble films of all time, movies like “Matewan,” “Eight Men Out,” and “Sunshine State” that create rich tapestries of American life filled with intimate detail and epic sweep. This contemporary Western is one of his best, and it has, like most of Sayles’ movies, only improved with age. The story of a Texas sheriff investigating an old murder that opens his town’s old wounds and creates plenty of new ones, the film is both timeless and specifically of its era (particularly in the border crossing scenes conceived and shot before the wall that eventually went up in Sayles’ location), a complex consideration of cultural conflicts and generational divides that seem hardwired into the American consciousness. A great American epic, made on a modest budget that never seems tight, thanks to Sayles’ indie ingenuity.

Remaking Jerry Lewis’ comedy classic with an emphasis on obesity didn’t sound like a promising idea when it was announced, but this Eddie Murphy vehicle ended up being one of the pleasant surprises of the summer of 1996. Murphy plays a multitude of roles here — not just overweight professor Sherman Klump and his arrogant, skinny alter ego Buddy Love but most of Klump’s family — and the key to the movie’s greatness is the commitment with which he plays every role. This isn’t just a stunt, Murphy is creating multiple fully realized, lived-in characters (with an assist from makeup effects legend Rick Baker), and the result is a comedy filled with both laughs and heart — Klump’s story is surprisingly sweet and moving, but the gags are as funny (and at times vulgar) as anything Murphy ever did before or since.

A 1970s disaster movie crossed with a 1950s alien invasion movie, mounted with 1990s technology and a generous budget, this is summer entertainment at its zenith, an epic of big set pieces and small character moments that generates both pleasure and horror with a 145-minute barrage of mass destruction. Although Will Smith had already been in a hit (“Bad Boys”), this was something different; the biggest box office success of the year, it launched Smith into the stratosphere and announced him as a major movie star. (It also established the 4th of July as a weekend he would own several times, most notably the following year with “Men in Black.”)

Smith is just a part of a huge tapestry here though — even actors who the aliens blow up early, like Harvey Fierstein, get some very funny moments, and the ensemble includes Bill Pullman, Randy Quaid, Jeff Goldblum, Vivica A. Fox, and many others seemingly having the time of their lives. Their enthusiasm is infectious — this is crowd-pleasing cinema of the highest order.

Nicole Holofcener made her feature debut with this exquisitely written and directed character comedy, a movie with a keen satirical eye and ear that’s filled with empathy and insight. The naturalism of the performances and the nuances in the characterizations give the impression of life caught on the fly, but everything is exquisitely designed toward the emotional results Holofcener wants — it takes a lot of effort to make something look this effortless. Holofcener would further refine her technique in later films, but the economy of expression and unerring sense of where to place the camera and when to cut are already on display in this exceptional first film.

Danny Boyle’s adaptation of Irvine Welsh’s novel about Scottish heroin addicts became an instant Gen-X classic thanks to its irreverent, energetic, and surprisingly funny approach; it also solidified Ewan McGregor’s reputation after promising work in Boyle’s “Shallow Grave,” and established Boyle as a supreme stylist with an impressive command of cinematic rhythm in all its forms — the use of music and editing as storytelling tools is exceptional. Episodic but propulsive, provocative in its intentions but unforced in its effects, “Trainspotting” remains a movie of its moment that still feels fresh and innovative 30 years later. Sony Pictures Classics is re-releasing the film in a new 4K restoration on June 5, providing a welcome opportunity to revisit “Trainspotting” on the big screen.

This John Grisham adaptation is old-fashioned in nearly every sense of the term, but when it comes to its virtues — classically expressive widescreen framing by director Joel Schumacher and cinematographer Peter Menzies Jr., an ensemble of huge stars gnawing on the scenery, richly atmospheric location shooting — that’s a compliment. Matthew McConaughey became a star in this, his first leading role, as a young attorney defending a vigilante (Samuel L. Jackson) who murdered his daughter’s rapists, but it’s the supporting cast that makes this movie electric: Donald Sutherland, Sandra Bullock, Ashley Judd, Oliver Platt, and others provide one riveting big screen moment after another.

What do you get when you combine the lowbrow comic outrageousness of “Dumb and Dumber” with the character-driven buddy road dramedy of “The Last Detail” and place it in the world of competitive bowling? You get this one-of-a-kind comedy classic, a movie with more laughs per minute than any movie since the Marx Brothers and at least three performances (Woody Harrelson, Randy Quaid, and Bill Murray) that should have been Oscar-nominated but weren’t.

Directors Bobby and Peter Farrelly were just a little bit ahead of their audience with this one — “Kingpin” didn’t find many takers when it came out in the summer of 1996, but two years later the brothers would hit paydirt with their signature combination of sweetness and vulgarity when they applied the same formula to “There’s Something About Mary.”

Director John Carpenter, star Kurt Russell, and producer Debra Hill reunited for this sequel to their 1981 cult classic “Escape from New York,” which both replicates and improves upon the pleasures of its source. Russell is delightfully and infectiously cynical as convict Snake Plissken, a guy so misanthropic he makes Clint Eastwood’s Man With No Name look like Mr. Rogers, and his cynicism is perfectly matched by Carpenter’s vision of an America turned into a hellscape by religious hypocrisy and economic inequality (sound prescient?).

Carpenter had a gargantuan budget from Paramount for this follow-up to what had been a gritty low-budget indie flick, but he retains his scrappy iconoclasm here — it’s one of the greatest examples of a maverick auteur bending the system to his will in the history of cinema.

Robert De Niro returns to “Taxi Driver” and “King of Comedy” mode as a baseball fanatic obsessed with his favorite player (Wesley Snipes); when they first meet the crazed fan is more in love with his idol than ever, but when the object of his obsession turns off the charm De Niro springs into violent action, Max Cady-style. Under Tony Scott’s direction this is melodrama turned up to 11, with De Niro matching his director’s lack of restraint in every scene to spectacularly entertaining effect.

The sense of excess on every level — from the editing style, which rarely allows a shot to sit on screen for more than a couple of seconds, to the amped-up Hans Zimmer score and the goregously stylized lighting that makes even the dingiest locations look like they belong in Architectural Digest — is extremely pleasurable if you’re on this movie’s wavelength. A lot of people weren’t at the time — “The Fan” got mixed reviews and middling box office — but if you want a break from any kind of subtlety and just want to watch some actors and their director going for broke, this is a fantastic ride.

The crime story in Robert Altman’s 1930s period piece (co-written with his “Short Cuts” collaborator Frank Barhydt) isn’t particularly plausible nor entertaining, but as was so often the case plot is not what Altman is interested in — in this case, it’s mainly just a loose foundation on which to build an extraordinarily vivid sense of atmosphere, inspired by memories from Altman’s youth. The jazz music is sensational, as are the sets by production designer (and Altman’s son) Stephen Altman, and Harry Belafonte gives a great late career performance as gangster Seldom Seen.

For all Altman’s reputation as a loose improviser, the period details in this film are abundant and extremely precise, from the clothes and colors to the songs and advertising; it’s up there with “McCabe and Mrs. Miller” and “Thieves Like Us” in its evocation of a lost time.

Director Ron Shelton reunited with his “Bull Durham” star Kevin Costner for this effervescent romantic comedy pairing Costner’s pro golfer Roy “Tin Cup” McAvoy with Rene Russo’s smart, funny, and sexy clinical psychologist Dr. Molly Griswold. As in all of Shelton’s films, the dialogue (cowritten with John Norville) is fast and sharp, the philosophical issues rich but explored in a breezy, entertaining manner, and the supporting cast is stacked with great ensemble acting (Don Johnson is very funny and very charismatic as Roy’s rival for Molly’s affections, and Cheech Marin a delight as Roy’s best friend). Intimate and insightful but mounted with scale and style, “Tin Cup” is a supreme achievement in a genre — the well-resourced character comedy — that barely exists anymore.

Both an affectionate and meticulous recreation of its source material and a completely irreverent parody of it, “A Very Brady Sequel” doubles down on all the strengths of “The Brady Bunch Movie” to yield a sequel that’s even funnier than the original. The cast from the first movie — Gary Cole, Shelley Long, Christine Taylor, etc. — returns, and all are as spot-on as before in their recreations of the TV show’s performances.

Some of the real pleasures of this sequel, however, come from the newcomers, particularly Tim Matheson as Carol Brady’s first husband. When he gets the chance, as he does here and in “Animal House” and the criminally underrated 1980s sex comedy “Up the Creek,” Matheson is as impeccable in his comic delivery as anyone, and his Roy Martin in “A Very Brady Sequel” is one of his finest creations.