It’s a popular pastime for movie buffs to gripe about the Oscars. In the 80-odd years that the little golden guy has been given out, it seems that he often ends up in the wrong hands. Citizen Kane didn’t win Best Picture. Hitchcock and Kubrick never won Best Director. Chaplin’s City Lights was completely snubbed in 1931: no nominations for the Tramp as either actor, director, or producer of that masterpiece.

And so it goes. But we always watch, don’t we? And some years make the whole ordeal worthwhile. With the Academy Awards scheduled for this weekend, I thought it’d be fun to cite some instances where deserving films actually did end up winning the big prize.

1943: Casablanca. When talking about classic movies, Casablanca is always one of the usual suspects. With good reason: it does everything well. It’s like a blueprint for how to make a movie. Great script, great story, great acting, great directing. Bogie at his world-weary best, Bergman is heartbreaking, and Claude Rains is hysterically funny. Everyone has their favorite line.

1957: Bridge on the River Kwai. One of the best war movies ever made, showcasing a brilliant performance by Alec Guinness as Colonel Nicholson, a British officer who matches wills with Japanese Colonel Saito in a southeastern Asian prison camp. Along with Hitchcock and Kurosawa, David Lean is one of the masters of film form.

1959: Ben-Hur. Sure it’s dated in parts and Chuck Heston never met a piece of scenery he wouldn’t like to chew, but Ben-Hur is epic filmmaking, par excellence: the chariot race alone is worth the price of admission. Plus, it’s a moving story and features a powerful performance by Stephen Boyd as Judah Ben-Hur’s boyhood friend turned bitter enemy.

1962: Lawrence of Arabia. Speaking of epic, this is one takes the cake. Quite possibly the greatest film yet made. Consummate craftsmanship, consummate artistry. David Lean’s masterpiece and the movie that inspired both Martin Scorsese and Steven Spielberg to become filmmakers. See it on the big screen.

1966: A Man for All Seasons. Robert Bolt (who wrote Lawrence of Arabia) adapted his stage play about Sir Thomas More, later canonized, Chancellor of England who held fast to his Catholic principles against the pressures of King Henry VIII. Beautifully written screenplay, and Academy-Award winner Paul Scofield could not have been better as the martyred saint.

1972: The Godfather. Brando and Pacino as father and son. A movie of mythic proportions. Absorbing, compelling, operatic. Caravaggio-inspired lighting. Drenched in the drama of sin and salvation. Of course you already know all this, so go watch it again! (Godfather II is its equal in form and content, but I just love Brando in this movie. )

1981: Chariots of Fire. Now known mostly for its famous theme composed by Vangelis, Chariots of Fire is a stirring story about British runners competing against the better-trained, better-financed, better-equipped Americans in the 1924 Olympics. One of the main characters, Eric Liddell — a gifted runner who refuses to race on the Sabbath — is a great movie hero. Genuinely inspiring film.

1984: Amadeus. Read our review here. Fascinating exploration into the nature of artistic creativity and cancerous human jealousy. Antonio Salieri, court composer in Vienna during Mozart’s tenure, becomes consumed by envy for Mozart’s talent. He decides to take revenge on God for bestowing musical gifts to an “unworthy creature.” F. Murray Abraham and Tom Hulce as Salieri and Mozart, respectively, both give wonderful, nuanced performances.

1993: Schindler’s List. A harrowing, haunting film from a master director. Though we miss the childlike Spielberg, this is probably the movie he was born to make. Many of its images are sure to become indelible in the canon of film history. I only have the stomach to watch it every few years, but the achievement is stunning. An unforgettable masterpiece.

2003: Lord of the Rings: Return of the King. A clean-sweep reminded us that the Oscars could occasionally hit the nail-on-the-head. Return of the King was the capstone to a truly monumental trilogy. All hail Peter Jackson!

Special Mention:

We have a weak spot for big, bold, epic movies (as the list above indicates) and so does Oscar, apparently. Here are two other old-fashioned epics that film snobs hated to see win the Big Prize, but we loved it:

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Directed by John Ford

Starring John Wayne, Jeffrey Hunter, and Vera Miles

John Ford’s The Searchers exists at the strange intersection between the Western’s early period of mythmaking (Stagecoach, Shane, A Fistful of Dollars) and the later revising of that same myth (Once Upon a Time in the West, Unforgiven). The push-pull tension between Ford’s desire to make a straightforward western and his desire to subvert the stereotypes of the genre makes for a fascinating film, if not an entirely successful one.

In The Searchers Ford begins to examine more closely, with shrewder discernment, the myth of the Western Hero—here, as in other Ford films, personified by the Duke himself, John Wayne. Wayne stars as Ethan Edwards, a gritty ex-Confederate tracking a hostile tribe of Comanche Indians who have killed his relatives and kidnapped his niece.

The Duke does good work in his most complicated role. Edwards is not just the brusque and swaggering Wayne of pop-culture myth—though he’s that, too—he’s also a man consumed by hatred and fierce vindictiveness. His obsessive pursuit of “Scar,” the tribe’s bloodthirsty chieftain, has echoes of Captain Ahab’s relentless chase after the White Whale in Moby Dick. When the posse of ‘searchers’ comes across the burial of a Comanche tribe member, Ethan pulls out his gun and shoots out the corpse’s eyes.

The Reverend asks, “What good did that do ya?”

Ethan answers, matter-of-fact—“By what you preach… none. But, what that Comanche believes - ain’t got no eyes… can’t enter the spirit land. Has to wander forever between the winds.”

In other words, Ethan’s hatred runs so deep he’s willing to pursue a Comanche into the afterlife and there deny him the chance for eternal peace. It’s a disturbing scene—more disturbing the more you think about it.

The Searchers becomes an extended chase across the inhospitable wilderness of the American frontier with Ethan and his younger companion, Martin (Jeffrey Hunter—who would later play Christ in King of Kings) doggedly tracking the Comanche tribe over the course of a five-year period. Edwards explains, “Injun will chase a thing till he thinks he’s chased it enough. Then he quits. Same way when he runs. Seems like he never learns there’s such a thing as a critter that’ll just keep comin’ on. So we’ll find ‘em in the end, I promise you. We’ll find ‘em. Just as sure as the turnin’ of the earth.”

It’s a story as simple as the turnin’ of the earth and Westerns work best when they operate at the level of parable, if not exactly myth. High Noon, for example, was an almost biblical examination of human conscience, while the more recent 3:10 to Yuma explored the nature of redemption and “doing the right thing” no matter what the cost. The Searchers has intriguing clues to its meaning—such as the way Ford frames his characters in doorways and through the mouths of caves and behind tree branches as if they are never free, always confined. Or how Edwards’ nemesis is named “Scar”—a name that suggests Edwards’ own interior wounds. There are also beautiful shots that passages of haunting power glimpses of what Joseph Conrad would call man’s “impenetrable darkness.” The raid on the homestead early in the film is visceral in a horror-movie kind of way, and there is a shockingly brutal scene when Edwards returns from discovering a body in a canyon. Wayne does especially moving, effective work here.

Hailed as a classic of the Western genre, The Searchers is more interesting to think about than it is to watch. Like many westerns of its vintage, it hasn’t aged well: an overbearing Max Steiner score, some dialogue as wooden as a log cabin, the usual cultural stereotypes, and a contrived ending are all trademarks of the time. The ending is especially disappointing. Without giving anything away, I’ll just say that two characters undergo miraculous changes-of-heart at literally the last minute in order to supply an audience-pleasing ending. I’m afraid the operation of God’s grace is not enough to convince me that such transformations are possible—from a storytelling standpoint, there simply wasn’t enough set-up. In my mind, the off-key ending irreparably mars what might have been a flawed but enduring masterpiece.

It’s only fair to acknowledge, however, that mine is a minority opinion. John Ford (a.k.a. “Sean Aloysius O’Fearna”) is rightly considered one of the best directors in cinema history and The Searchers is widely regarded as one of his best films, if not his very best. His influence has been incalculable, and he could count among his many slavish devotees Orson Welles, Clint Eastwood, Martin Scorsese, and Steven Spielberg. The Searchers features the awe-inspiring vistas of Monument Valley (Ford’s favorite location), a multifaceted performance by John Wayne, and a storyline that operates on parallel tracks as a traditional western and as a parable about human nature. Judge for yourself whether it deserved to make the American Film Institute’s list of the top 100 American films of last century.

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I’m a rank sentimentalist, I know, but I tell you I cried when I saw this trailer for the long-awaited Indy 4: Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull.

It would appear that the Spielberg we have always loved, and whose most “childish” work is perhaps more important than he knows, is back.

We need this. We really need this.

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