However you shake it, the rollout for Francis Ford Coppola’s latest (final?) opus, Megalopolis, hasn’t gone as planned. Reviews are arriving with headlines like “What the hell did I just watch?”; crew members are lamenting the haphazard production; a video leaked of Coppola kissing multiple extras on set; the director ranted about wokeness during the press tour; a trailer with fake, AI-generated quotes from critics dropped before getting taken down (the internet never forgets). Only time will tell whether Megalopolis is remembered as an absolute shit show or a misunderstood work of genius, but for now, it’s shaping up to be a colossal misfire that’s projected to make as little as $5 million in its opening weekend.
Of course, none of these issues will bother Coppola that much. He sold a portion of his wine empire to self-fund a passion project outside the studio system; critics and audiences be damned, the 85-year-old auteur is going out on his own terms. Besides, even if it’s been decades since Coppola made a genuinely good movie (um, Bram Stoker’s Dracula?), we’re still talking about an all-time great filmmaker with an all-time great run in the ’70s: The Godfather, The Conversation, The Godfather Part II, and Apocalypse Now. Any director on the planet would kill to make one movie that comes close to being as good as any in this quartet, let alone knock out four of them in the span of seven years. In fact, one could make a compelling case that Coppola delivered the best four-movie run in history—the kind of streak that might be as unassailable as Cal Ripken Jr.’s 2,632 consecutive MLB games.
Well, let’s put that theory to the test. In honor of Megalopolis’s release, we’re doing a simple thought experiment: What is the best four-film run that a director has pulled off since the ’70s? The criteria are simple: Only a run of consecutive movies is eligible, so even if a filmmaker put together some bangers in a short span of time, one bad apple spoils the streak. (See: Steven Spielberg made 1941 in the middle of Jaws, Close Encounters of the Third Kind, Raiders of the Lost Ark, and E.T. the Extra-Terrestrial.) If a director has multiple hot streaks in their filmography, however, we’ll consider each run.
Determining a movie’s quality is also subjective: A film’s failure to light up the box office, or mixed early reviews, won’t be used against it. Instead, what matters is how the movie is evaluated in the present: Michael Mann’s Manhunter wasn’t a commercial or critical hit at the time of release, but it’s now considered one of his most essential works. And with respect to early masters like Akira Kurosawa and Alfred Hitchcock, we wanted to consider only filmmakers whose streaks came after Coppola’s—like he has a championship belt and must fend off a wave of challengers to keep the title. (This is The Ringer, so I’m contractually obligated to view pop culture through the lens of sports; I’m also going to imagine these directors actually fighting in a boxing ring, because I’m an idiot.) Without further ado, let’s meet the contenders.
Terrence Malick
Badlands (1973), Days of Heaven (1978), The Thin Red Line (1998), The New World (2005)
It’s tempting to look at the 20-year gap between Terrence Malick’s Days of Heaven and The Thin Red Line with envy: the mark of a reclusive genius who works only when the mood strikes. (We should all be so lucky.) The truth is that Malick’s filmmaking hiatus was a bit more complicated—full of false starts and work as a script doctor—but one thing’s clear: When he does make a movie, the cinephiles of the world pay attention. Badlands is one of the best directorial debuts of all time, while Days of Heaven and The Thin Red Line deservedly earned Academy Award nominations. For me, however, Malick’s magnum opus remains The New World: the director’s retelling of the Jamestown settlement, best known for the (probably fictional) romance between John Smith (Colin Farrell) and Pocahontas (Q’Orianka Kilcher). Upon several rewatches, I’d put The New World up with the greatest films of the 21st century—the kind of historical epic that endures as a primal sensory experience. Because my brain is permanently damaged, I’ve pitched it to friends as Malick’s Avatar (cinephiles, I’m sorry).
The fight: Malick puts up a good fight but is knocked out by Coppola in the 10th round after he hears a bird chirping in the distance that reminds him of the interconnectedness of the natural world.
Stanley Kubrick
Barry Lyndon (1975), The Shining (1980), Full Metal Jacket (1987), Eyes Wide Shut (1999)
Because of the ’70s cutoff, a decent chunk of Kubrick’s filmography wasn’t eligible, but it’s a testament to his greatness that you could pick out an impressive streak of movies from any point in his career. (The ’60s run of Spartacus, Lolita, Dr. Strangelove, and 2001: A Space Odyssey speaks for itself.) But the movies that can be included underscore Kubrick’s range: a historical drama filmed by candlelight, an adaptation of a Stephen King novel that’s more revered than the source material (by everyone but King), a harrowing war movie, and a psychological thriller about the all-consuming power of sex. (Honestly, depending on the week, Eyes Wide Shut is my favorite Kubrick joint; lock me up, horny police.) Amid all these different types of movies, Kubrick didn’t just transcend genre: He’s a genre unto himself.
The fight: Kubrick and Coppola go 12 rounds, and the latter narrowly wins by a contentious split decision among the judges. When Kubrick publicly contests the outcome, he’s handed a letter that reads: “Give up your inquiries which are completely useless, and consider these words a second warning. We hope, for your own good, that this will be sufficient.”
Martin Scorsese
First run: Taxi Driver (1976), New York, New York (1977), Raging Bull (1980), The King of Comedy (1982)
Second run: After Hours (1985), The Color of Money (1986), The Last Temptation of Christ (1988), Goodfellas (1990)
Third run: The Wolf of Wall Street (2013), Silence (2016), The Irishman (2019), Killers of the Flower Moon (2023)
Marvel fanboys, avert your eyes; everyone else, it’s time to sing the GOAT’s praises. At the time, the ’80s were a challenging stretch for Martin Scorsese—he had to contend with the rise of crowd-pleasing, effects-driven blockbusters like Star Wars, The King of Comedy bombed with critics and audiences, and religious groups protested The Last Temptation of Christ—but history has been kind to these projects. As a result, Scorsese didn’t just pull off four straight movies that belong in the pantheon: From Taxi Driver to Goodfellas, he doubled that. (We’re not including his documentary films, like 1978’s The Last Waltz—which is also great!—because they’re not feature films.) His recent output is nothing to scoff at, either: Scorsese’s highest-grossing film in The Wolf of Wall Street, his most spiritual project since Last Temptation in Silence, and two monumental historical epics in The Irishman and Killers of the Flower Moon. You could make an argument for any of these 12 movies being Scorsese’s best; that’s the mark of a true master.
The fight: Scorsese goes full Jake LaMotta on Coppola in the ring, but the fight ends in a unanimous draw.
John Carpenter
Halloween (1978), The Fog (1980), Escape From New York (1981), The Thing (1982)
Carpenter’s résumé as a genre god is pretty self-explanatory, beginning with Halloween, which, while not the first slasher of its era, has certainly endured as the most iconic franchise. With Halloween, The Fog, and Escape From New York, Carpenter proved adept at creating hits for relative pennies, and he scaled up to make The Thing for $15 million. (Adjusting for inflation, that would cost roughly $50 million in today’s money.) Sadly, The Thing was panned by critics upon release and bombed with audiences, which led Universal Pictures to drop Carpenter as the director for an adaptation of Stephen King’s Firestarter. For better or worse, even Carpenter admits that The Thing changed the trajectory of his career. No matter: When it comes to sci-fi horror, The Thing is right up there with Alien as an all-timer. I’ll never look at a defibrillator the same way again.
The fight: Coppola wins by disqualification because Carpenter skipped the fight to play video games and watch basketball.
James Cameron
The Terminator (1984), Aliens (1986), The Abyss (1989), Terminator 2: Judgment Day (1991)
When it comes to the box office, Big Jim is in a league of his own, responsible for three of the four highest-grossing movies of all time: Avatar, Avatar: The Way of Water, and Titanic. His best stretch as a director, however, happened at the start of his career, which included two of the greatest sequels ever made in Aliens and Terminator 2: Judgment Day. Given his track record, The Abyss may be viewed as the black sheep of the quartet: the rare blockbuster from Cameron that doesn’t have legitimate cultural staying power. But I’ll always go to bat for The Abyss as not just Cameron’s underappreciated masterpiece, but the film that truly taps into his lifelong obsession with the ocean—so much so that he nearly drowned during what was, by all accounts, a production from hell. (The fact that Cameron’s version of Close Encounters is about aliens hanging out in the deepest part of the sea is also extremely on brand.) Wherever one stands on The Abyss, you don’t get Titanic or The Way of Water without Cameron taking that first plunge.
The fight: Cameron proposes fighting underwater in scuba gear, and when Coppola rebuffs the request, Big Jim forfeits the match.
Tim Burton
Pee-wee’s Big Adventure (1985), Beetlejuice (1988), Batman (1989), Edward Scissorhands (1990)
With a few exceptions, Burton’s 21st-century output has underwhelmed as the director became more of an established brand than a goth outsider. But Burton’s early work was formative for a certain generation of moviegoers who grew up with Pee-wee’s Big Adventure, Beetlejuice, and Edward Scissorhands. (I missed out on Beetlejuice, but watching the movie as an adult was nothing if not a memorable experience.) Frankly, even though I never loved Burton as much as some of my peers, he was probably the first person I understood to be an auteur before I even knew what the term was—just watch five minutes of Batman and it’s clear who made it. My favorite Burton joint is actually Batman Returns, and I was very tempted to include it in his four-movie run by omitting Pee-wee’s Big Adventure. In any case, there’s no denying that Burton was on an absolute heater until Mars Attacks!; here’s hoping there’s still time for a late-career renaissance.
The fight: Even with scissors for hands, Burton loses to Coppola by unanimous decision.
Michael Mann
Manhunter (1986), The Last of the Mohicans (1992), Heat (1995), The Insider (1999)
Michael Mann is on my personal Director Mount Rushmore—and may be my favorite filmmaker, full stop—so it’s impossible for me to have an impartial take on these movies. Before The Silence of the Lambs and NBC’s Hannibal, Manhunter set the standard for visual excellence in the Lecterverse; a man getting set on fire has never looked so mesmerizing. As much as the ambush scene in The Last of the Mohicans rips, I’m always swept away by the love story—Mann doesn’t get nearly enough credit for being such a romantic filmmaker. (Shout-out to Miami Vice, which you should absolutely show to your significant other.) Heat is Heat. And with The Insider, Mann turned the story of a tobacco industry whistleblower into a taut thriller about fighting the system in which characters’ arguments have the same firecracker intensity as one of his iconic shoot-outs. Every film is a masterpiece; every film is peak Mann. If it weren’t for the existence of Public Enemies, I would’ve also made the case for Collateral, Miami Vice, Blackhat, and Ferrari as four Hall of Famers to add to the list—yes, especially Blackhat.
The fight: Right after the bell rings for the first round, I jump into the arena and call off the fight. I show Mann proof of my paid subscription to the Michael Mann Archives and tell him that I wish he were my real dad. I never see him again.
Paul Verhoeven
RoboCop (1987), Total Recall (1990), Basic Instinct (1992), Showgirls (1995)
A controversial pick here, but Verhoeven is one of cinema’s great satirists, and if some moviegoers weren’t in on the joke when his incredible run of American blockbusters rolled out, well, that’s their problem. On the sci-fi front, RoboCop and Total Recall is an undeniable one-two punch, but Basic Instinct and Showgirls is where Verhoeven starts to lose some goodwill. Personally, I see the vision: Basic Instinct answers the question “What if Hitchcock went full frontal and almost got hit with an NC-17 rating?”; Showgirls, meanwhile, satirizes the exploitative nature of Hollywood with some of the most deranged sequences you’ll ever see in a studio film. Showgirls might’ve earned Verhoeven a Worst Director Razzie, but the movie has since been reclaimed as a cult classic—one that has far more on its mind than it got credit for.
The fight: Instead of fighting, Coppola and Verhoeven bring out a table and chairs to split a bottle of Archimedes 2021. Coppola peppers Verhoeven with questions about the three-breasted lady from Total Recall until they run out of wine.
Spike Lee
Do the Right Thing (1989), Mo’ Better Blues (1990), Jungle Fever (1991), Malcolm X (1992)
Folks, this is why editors are important. When I filed the first draft of this blog, I forgot to include Spike Lee. I’m making amends for this, but really, the filmography speaks for itself. Do the Right Thing is one of the definitive New York movies of our time; Malcolm X is just one of the great movies of our time, full stop. (That double dolly shot is [chef’s kiss].) I’m pulling a Paul Bettany in The Da Vinci Code and viciously whipping myself as penance.
The fight: When Coppola finds out I accidentally omitted Spike Lee, he and Spike proceed to beat the ever-living crap out of me. The crowd goes wild.
David Lynch
Twin Peaks: Fire Walk With Me (1992), Lost Highway (1997), The Straight Story (1999), Mulholland Drive (2001)
I don’t think any filmmaker is responsible for giving me more nightmares than Lynch, which, to be clear, is a compliment of the highest order. That’s certainly on display in this slate of movies, which features the terrifying trio of Fire Walk With Me, Lost Highway, and Mulholland Drive. (Take your pick for the freakiest character: a possessed Leland Palmer destined to kill his own daughter, the Mystery Man ruining the vibes of a party, or the dumpster creature outside Winkie’s Diner.) All of which makes The Straight Story all the more miraculous: It’s a G-rated Disney film about a widowed farmer taking a lawn mower from Iowa to Wisconsin to visit his ailing brother. Seeing Lynch make such an empathetic, naturalistic movie after years of crafting the most disturbing shit you’ve laid your eyes on is, to paraphrase Ringer contributor Adam Nayman, like having Salvador Dalí draw a Hallmark card. That The Straight Story exists in the first place is among the many reasons Lynch is one of one.
The fight: Coppola wins by unanimous decision after Lynch spends all 12 rounds practicing transcendental meditation.
Quentin Tarantino
First run: Reservoir Dogs (1992), Pulp Fiction (1994), Jackie Brown (1997), Kill Bill: Volume 1 (2003)
Second run: Inglourious Basterds (2009), Django Unchained (2012), The Hateful Eight (2015), Once Upon a Time … in Hollywood (2019)
Whether or not he sticks to directing only 10 films, it’s been a hell of a run from QT—even his self-proclaimed worst movie, Death Proof, has plenty to write home about in the stunt department. The eight movies represented here are also a greatest hits collection of Tarantino’s sensibilities: snappy dialogue, ludicrous ultraviolence, cinematic homages, and more. Perhaps it’s a bit of recency bias, but for my money, Tarantino’s greatest achievement is Once Upon a Time … in Hollywood, where the auteur’s encyclopedic knowledge of Tinseltown was put to excellent use. In hindsight, it’s the project that would’ve been the perfect send-off for his career. (Either that, or Tarantino can just look at the likes of Scorsese, Mann, and Spielberg and realize that directors can still make masterpieces when they’re senior citizens.)
The fight: Coppola instantly knocks out Tarantino in the first round after he’s distracted by a woman’s bare feet in the front row.
David Fincher
Se7en (1995), The Game (1997), Fight Club (1999), Panic Room (2002)
Unfortunately, I don’t think we’re getting the very best from David Fincher here. Zodiac, The Social Network, and Gone Girl are my Fincher top three, but their run includes The Curious Case of Benjamin Button, a curious misfire. Still, we’re talking about some absolute heaters at the start of Fincher’s career—following his lead, we’ll just disregard the existence of Alien 3—including his first stab at a serial killer thriller and Fight Club, which belongs in the unique category of “movies that are great even if their loudest fans don’t understand the message behind them.” (Don’t take it from me; Fincher said it best: “It’s impossible for me to imagine that people don’t understand that Tyler Durden is a negative influence. People who can’t understand that, I don’t know how to respond and I don’t know how to help them.”) Meanwhile, The Game has always been underrated, and Panic Room is maybe the last time Jared Leto was actually a welcome on-screen presence. Even if this isn’t the full catalog of Fincher’s A material, it leaves a serious impression. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m gonna go rewatch Zodiac for the 200th time.
The fight: The outcome is unclear. The first rule of Fight Club is: You do not talk about Fight Club.
Paul Thomas Anderson
First run: Boogie Nights (1997), Magnolia (1999), Punch-Drunk Love (2002), There Will Be Blood (2007)
Second run: The Master (2012), Inherent Vice (2014), Phantom Thread (2017), Licorice Pizza (2021)
Like Scorsese, PTA has pulled off eight straight bangers—a run that could very well stretch to nine when The Battle of Baktan Cross comes out next year. Really, the only debate to be had is which four-movie streak is better. On the one hand, it’s hard to argue against the power of Boogie Nights and There Will Be Blood. (Anytime I revisit the scene in Boogie Nights with Alfred Molina’s cracked-out Rahad, I turn into a beam of pure energy.) On the other hand, Phantom Thread is my single favorite PTA joint—the kind of movie you show to a new partner to ensure they match your freak. (To the fellow hungry boys of the world, I see you.) Gun to my head, I’ll give the slight edge to PTA’s Boogie Nights to There Will Be Blood run—if only because it brought out pantheon-level performances from Mark Wahlberg and Adam Sandler. In any case, talk about a heavyweight contender.
The fight: PTA beats Coppola to within an inch of his life with a bowling pin. “I’m finished,” he tells the judges, who immediately disqualify him.
Steven Spielberg
Saving Private Ryan (1998), A.I. Artificial Intelligence (2001), Minority Report (2002), Catch Me If You Can (2002)
I know what you’re thinking: These are solid choices, but surely Spielberg’s had a better four-movie streak at some point in his career? However, that just might be Spielberg’s Achilles heel: He’s got more crowd-pleasers than arguably every other filmmaker on the planet, but he’s not immune to duds. (Before Jurassic Park and Schindler’s List, Spielberg made … Hook.) Of course, it speaks to Spielberg’s greatness over the decades that the Saving Private Ryan to Catch Me If You Can run feels somewhat … underwhelming by his standards. The Omaha Beach sequence in Saving Private Ryan would be a career highlight for most directors; for Spielberg, you just add it to the pile. With West Side Story and The Fabelmans, Spielberg’s halfway to another hot streak—so long as another Ready Player One doesn’t bring him back to square one.
The fight: Coppola was winning handily through seven rounds before the fight was abandoned due to a group of angry protesters demanding a sequel to The Adventures of Tintin. I may or may not have organized the demonstration.
Alfonso Cuarón
Y tu mamá también (2001), Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban (2004), Children of Men (2006), Gravity (2013)
For such an iconic filmmaker, Cuarón has a pretty small résumé, having directed only eight feature films—including just one in the past decade, Roma. Of course, he’s all about quality over quantity. The coming-of-age dramedy Y tu mamá también manages to be both specific to a time and place and universal in its themes; Prisoner of Azkaban is almost universally regarded as the best Harry Potter movie; Children of Men and Gravity both feature Hall of Fame tracking shots. Next month, Cuarón is taking his talents to Apple TV+, writing and directing the seven-episode miniseries Disclaimer. It’s a major coup for the streamer, but I hope Cuarón returns to the big screen sooner rather than later.
The fight: Cuarón asks for a body double to take his place so he can film a continuous take throughout the fight. The footage is spectacular, but he’s disqualified.
Bong Joon-ho
Memories of Murder (2003), The Host (2006), Mother (2009), Snowpiercer (2013)
There’s a reason Bong has been hailed as South Korea’s answer to Spielberg: All he does is make crowd-pleasing bangers. As much as I love Zodiac, Fincher’s film borrowed a lot of its DNA from Memories of Murder, which was loosely inspired by Korea’s first confirmed serial murders and, more importantly, features its detectives doing enough flying dropkicks to make a whole compilation of them. The Host and Snowpiercer are the best kind of genre movies—packed with big ideas but not at the expense of exciting set pieces—and the latter has been subjected to an American TV remake. (Which was not great, obviously.) For anyone who was introduced to the auteur thanks to Parasite’s Best Picture win, I highly recommend taking a Bong hit through the decades.
The fight: In a tag team match, Bong and his translator during the 2020 awards season, Sharon Choi, square off against Coppola and his daughter, Sofia. Inspired by Memories of Murder, Bong drop-kicks Coppola but is disqualified for spending too much time outside the ring chastising certain members of the crowd for not wanting to overcome the 1-inch-tall barrier of subtitles.
Christopher Nolan
Batman Begins (2005), The Prestige (2006), The Dark Knight (2008), Inception (2010)
We all knew the Time Daddy was going to enter the ring; the question was which films constituted the worthiest hot streak. Given the shakier reception to The Dark Knight Rises and Tenet, a movie I refuse to watch unless I’m high, that left the earlier run from Batman Begins to Inception. The first two parts of the Dark Knight trilogy and Inception have plenty of admirers, but I’ll always champion The Prestige as Nolan’s most underrated film: a twisty tale of feuding magicians and the soul-crushing cost of ambition. By filmmaking standards, the 54-year-old Nolan has plenty of gas left in the tank—if we revisit this thought exercise with whatever movies he makes after Oppenheimer, Coppola might have a serious challenger on his hands.
The fight: Nolan tries to execute a temporal pincer movement with the help of his brother Jonathan, and they’re automatically disqualified.
Denis Villeneuve
Sicario (2015), Arrival (2016), Blade Runner 2049 (2017), Dune (2021)
It was tempting to go with Denis Villeneuve’s full sci-fi slate by including Dune: Part Two, but that would’ve meant omitting Sicario, a wonderfully bleak thriller about the war on drugs perpetuating an endless cycle of violence on both sides of the border. Anti-immigration advocates wish they could fearmonger like “Welcome to Juárez.” (Sicario also has my favorite Emily Blunt performance, and yes, that includes her biceps in Edge of Tomorrow.) Either way, we’re looking at a modern auteur operating at the peak of his powers, and the best may be yet to come. After he’s tackled all kinds of sci-fi IP, I’d love nothing more than to see Villeneuve use his commercial cachet to make an original blockbuster within his favorite genre. For now, though, Sicario to Dune is a thrilling statement of intent.
The fight: Coppola waits for Villeneuve to enter the ring, but he never shows up. Instead, Benicio del Toro’s hit man from Sicario appears with an ungodly number of weapons strapped to his body, and everyone in the arena flees. The fight is called off.
Honorable Mentions
- Peter Weir (The Year of Living Dangerously, Witness, The Mosquito Coast, Dead Poets Society)
- Rob Reiner (Stand by Me, The Princess Bride, When Harry Met Sally …, Misery)
- Robert Zemeckis (Romancing the Stone, Back to the Future, Who Framed Roger Rabbit, Back to the Future Part II)
- Kathryn Bigelow (Near Dark, Blue Steel, Point Break, Strange Days)
- Sofia Coppola (The Virgin Suicides, Lost in Translation, Marie Antoinette, Somewhere)
- Pedro Almodóvar (All About My Mother, Talk to Her, Bad Education, Volver)
- Guillermo del Toro (The Devil’s Backbone, Blade II, Hellboy, Pan’s Labyrinth)
- Rian Johnson (Brick, The Brothers Bloom, Looper, Star Wars: The Last Jedi)
- Kelly Reichardt (Night Moves, Certain Women, First Cow, Showing Up)
- Yorgos Lanthimos (The Lobster, The Killing of a Sacred Deer, The Favourite, Poor Things)
Filmmakers on the Four-Movie Bubble
- David Robert Mitchell (The Myth of the American Sleepover, It Follows, Under the Silver Lake)
- Robert Eggers (The Witch, The Lighthouse, The Northman)
- Jordan Peele (Get Out, Us, Nope)
- Greta Gerwig (Lady Bird, Little Women, Barbie)
- Ari Aster (Hereditary, Midsommar, Beau Is Afraid)
The Final Verdict
As expected, even for the best filmmakers of the past 50-plus years, it’s nigh impossible to compete with Coppola’s four-movie run of The Godfather, The Conversation, The Godfather Part II, and Apocalypse Now. But the strongest challengers to the throne had one thing in common: They had volume on their side. Scorsese’s eight-movie streak from Taxi Driver to Goodfellas is undeniable, and it’s apparently impossible for PTA to create a shitty film. But are any of the movies from these generational talents—even masterpieces like Goodfellas and There Will Be Blood—better than both Godfathers or Apocalypse Now?
It’s all subjective, but I’m inclined to say no. Scorsese and PTA had quantity in addition to quality, but what Coppola accomplished in the ’70s is something we’ll be talking about as long as this art form exists. And no matter how many reviews trash Megalopolis as “utterly a mess” or “bloated, boring, and bafflingly shallow,” that’s never going to change.
