Orphée (1950)

It'south the one affair we all have coming, the one thing no one has e'er returned from to study upon, and therefore the single greatest mystery – speculated, philosophised, prayed and written about since life began: what happens to usa after we dice?

"Nothing" might be a reasonable, rational guess for scientists and atheists akin, just it'southward a fairly unsatisfying stance for artists to take. Long before cinema's birth, painters, poets and composers attempted, largely inspired past faith, to become to grips with the afterlife. Accordingly, heaven and hell, angels and devils, featured prominently. Ghosts crept into the mix as well, spiritual or secular, but always with unfinished business concern hither on Earth. It made shuffling off our mortal coil seem more like an ongoing journey than final destination. Whether something to fear, or eternal salvation, the afterlife was very much a living, breathing presence, not an absence.

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Movies accept long taken advantage of this, taking dandy pleasure in visualising just what lies beyond. Whatsoever their vision – grand celestial pearly gates or drab office-like work infinite – it's fascinating that the human demand to restore meaning and reason to our formulation of the afterlife usually wins through.

Even a genuinely great, original film like Michael Powell and Emeric Pressburger's A Matter of Life and Death (1946) tin't assistance but organise a procedure for what happens 'upward at that place'. And no thing how shut to the truth any of these filmmakers below may or may non be, their works testify that at that place's no cease to the human imagination.

Hither Comes Mr. Jordan (1941)

Director: Alexander Hall

Here Comes Mr. Hashemite kingdom of jordan (1941)

And here comes the romantic comedy, based on an unproduced stage play, the success of which inspired not just the wave of afterlife-themed 1940s movies (A Guy Named Joe, Heaven Can Wait, Down to Earth) but 2 subsequent remakes. A working-course boxer is taken up to heaven 50 years too presently, and then, head honcho Mr Jordan (the great Claude Rains at his most effortlessly urbane) sends him back down in the body of a millionaire – who himself is nigh to be murdered…

The afterlife here is a fog-filled airport track, its transit passengers processed in an orderly, though non foolproof, fashion. And while the idea of reincarnation is ripe for witty repartee and physical comedy, at that place's a genuinely bloodshot undertone. Here Comes Mr. Jordan was released only months earlier Pearl Harbour and America's entry into the Second Earth War, and amid the laughter emerges an undeniable tension, with the spectre of ordinary people being taken abroad earlier their time.

A Affair of Life and Death (1946)

Directors: Michael Powell and Emeric Pressburger

A Matter of Life and Death (1946)

With A Matter of Life and Expiry (known equally Stairway to Heaven stateside), the Archers' (Powell & Pressburger) original target was a vehicle to broaden mail-Second World War Anglo-American collaboration. Working at the height of their powers, however, they transformed a propaganda exercise into what's probable the virtually magical, romantic British moving-picture show ever made.

Shuttling between our world and the next, nosotros follow the plight of a young RAF pilot (David Niven) who miraculously survives existence shot downwards and, as in Here Comes Mr. Jordan, is mistakenly taken up. He'south then forced to undergo a celestial trial to prove he should exist reunited with the woman he loves. Information technology'southward a film in love with life itself, bursting with imagination (World shot in vibrant colour, sky in monochrome), innovation (designer Alfred Junge'due south sweeping next-world staircase) and witty cocky-awareness – when Marius Goring'south flamboyant heavenly agent descends to rainbow-hued England, he knowingly sighs, "one is starved of Technicolor upwardly there."

It'due south a Wonderful Life (1946)

Director: Frank Capra

It's a Wonderful Life (1946)

George Bailey (James Stewart), facing ruin and humiliation in his small hometown of Bedford Falls, feels his being is meaningless and contemplates suicide. Information technology takes a trainee angel, Clarence (Henry Travers), to come up down and show Bailey just what a difference he has made to those around him, and why this everyman's – and indeed, every man'due south  – life matters.

It's a canny shift on the afterlife scenario, effectively positing a series of alternative, downgraded futures produced by Bailey'southward erasure from the past. Now a staple of festive, family unit, feelgood entertainment, it's like shooting fish in a barrel to fix on the moving-picture show's twinkly early charms and forget the raw desperation in Stewart'south performance as Bailey comes undone. He and manager Frank Capra, scarred by their ain wartime experiences, evoke a genuine darkness that makes Bailey'south salvation all the sweeter. It's a Wonderful Life is that rare moving picture that earns its climactic tears of joy, and deserves its resurrection as a honey American classic.

Orphée (1950)

Director: Jean Cocteau

Orphée (1950)

In Orphée, poet and filmmaker Jean Cocteau recasts the Greek myth virtually the poet who descends into hell to rescue his dead wife as a unique cinematic spell most the price of an artist'due south immortality. He as well contorts the fable to make Death – hither personified as a femme fatale in arm-length black gloves – an active participant in a complicated love quadrangle.

Cocteau's inventive, applied visual effects apply mirrors, h2o and reversed film to enter the underworld, an austere place of abandoned ruins and stony-faced bureaucracy, where Orpheus – played with heart-searching dynamism by his La Belle et la Bête star Jean Marais – makes his stand. Merely Cocteau'south clear ambiguity about the sacrifices entailed in creating fine art gives the film its fitting existential crisis – one where fatality isn't necessarily confined to another dimension. "Mirrors are the doors past which death comes," notes one character sagely. "Look a lifetime in a mirror and you will run into Decease at work."

Beetlejuice (1988)

Manager: Tim Burton

Beetlejuice (1988)

It'due south surprising how regularly filmmakers cast the afterlife, a realm of surely infinite visual possibility, equally grey, bureaucratic and, well, a wee bit dull. All of which made Tim Burton's breakthrough motion-picture show, with its goofy, gaudy, gothic sensibilities, a jiff of fresh air in fantasy movie theatre.

A recently deceased couple is drastic to rid their home of the living and then foolishly enlist the eponymous demonic 'bio-exorcist' from beyond to help out. Beetlejuice is an infectiously fun alloy of candy-coloured visuals, stop-motion animation, unlikely calypso dance numbers, game rising Hollywood stars (Geena Davis, Alec Baldwin, Winona Ryder) and Michael Keaton'south delirious, fairly adult-oriented, star plow. As befitting Burton's freak-friendly worldview, the dead and the living can co-exist eccentrically ever after. And though he would delve fifty-fifty further across the grave with 2005's enjoyable stop-movement animation Corpse Bride, Beetlejuice remains "the ghost with the about". The afterworld never felt so alive.

Truly Madly Securely (1990)

Director: Anthony Minghella

Truly Madly Securely (1990)

Sometimes haughtily dismissed as "the thinking person's Ghost" due to its release soon later on 1990's Hollywood smash hit, Anthony Minghella's British characteristic debut is pure, raw emotion: a shattering, intimate portrait of unvarnished grief. Overwhelmed past the loss of her cellist lover Jamie (Alan Rickman), Nina (Juliet Stevenson) is even more pole-axed when he all of a sudden reappears in her living room one night. Her most fervent wish granted, the realities of Jamie's reappearance, complete with amiable but intrusive friends from the hereafter, starts to impact on the couple's revived human relationship.

Minghella's fragile, oft wry chamber piece deliberately keeps everything 'otherworldly' largely unspoken and off screen; hell can be a freezing, cramped London apartment. Instead he taps the process of mourning and letting go: life after death. Originally called Cello, the motion picture resonates with the truest, deepest, human chords, grounded by superb performances from Rickman, now himself dearly missed, and the amazing, soul-baring Stevenson.

Defending Your Life (1991)

Manager: Albert Brooks

Defending Your Life (1991)

There's a strong example that every Albert Brooks movie character is stranded in a metaphorical Judgment City, his foibles and follies brutally scrutinised and itemised to foil any attempts at future happiness. Defending Your Life just happens to make the concept literal. Hither, Brooks pitches upwardly in the afterlife pit stop where the departed must justify their nigh recent existence in court. Succeed and proceed to the next phase; neglect, and become a echo earthbound offender. Not the all-time time or place, so, to fall in love with saintly Meryl Streep…

Brooks has great fun milking his purgatorial concept, Judgment City every bit guilt-complimentary holiday resort plus guilt-ridden puritanical trial, where hilarious video clips of his worst moments in life are used to condemn him. Only there's a warmth and greater optimism than usual hither, buoyed past an effervescent Streep'south and so-rare lighter role. One of the 1990s' best comedies.

After Life (1998)

Director: Hirokazu Kore-eda

After Life (1998)

What one memory would y'all accept with you? The recently deceased, arriving in a modest way station that resembles a nondescript though verdant Japanese retreat, go iii days to decide. It's often not easy. A family outcome, a childhood delight, a seemingly inconsequential run into? But eventually this retentivity of choice is then recreated and filmed by a team of dedicated caseworkers, to be your personal meaning of happiness for eternity.

Hirokazu Koreeda's brilliant conceit is to mix scripted actors with real-life testimonies in the early section, as if we're watching an otherworldly documentary. He carefully observes the stresses on visitors and staff alike, and the sheer labour – building sets, acquiring props, inventing visual effects – of retentivity recreation evokes the transient still immortal nature of filmmaking itself. Later on Life is a beautifully allusive comment on Koreeda's own profession and withal, quietly, insistently, and then much more: a profoundly personal, humanist masterpiece.

Enter the Void (2009)

Director: Gaspar Noé

Enter the Void (2009)

A sensory overload from habitual shock tactician Gaspar Noé (Irreversible, 2002) that pushes boundaries from its pulsating, strobing opening titles through to its climactic intrauterine rebirth. When a immature human being is gunned downward in a Tokyo brothel, his soul leaves his body and Noé's start-person-POV camera follows, taking his audition on a free-floating odyssey through the city, his by and across.

Early references to the Tibetan Volume of the Dead are perhaps a red (or, given the film'south phantasmagorical visuals, hallucinogenic-neon) herring. Noé has claimed he doesn't believe in life after decease, and however his picture show definitely taps into the commonage desire for such a possibility, here framed equally office-drug induced reverie and role-spiritual voyage. The phenomenal technical ability competes with and often cancels out risible dialogue and borderline exploitative sexual fascination. And whether 1 shares its director's delight in provocation, you've truly never seen anything like this in your life.

A Ghost Story (2017)

Director: David Lowery

A Ghost Story (2017)

Ghosts overpopulate stories about the afterlife. But the best ones often testify how these spirits are equally much haunted as haunting. David Lowery's atypical indie appeared, appropriately, seemingly out of nowhere to bandage its ain melancholy, meditative shadow across the genre, reinventing it from the ground upward.

Rooney Mara and Casey Affleck play a immature couple in small-town Texas. Affleck is killed early in a car crash and spends the majority of the remaining running fourth dimension under a Caspar-like white sheet, moored to their house, unable to communicate with his partner. If you're expecting an arthouse Ghost, the film and then boldly breaks with convention to contemplate what such isolation truly means, subsequently moving unshackled through time and space to fifty-fifty more unsettling result. That Lowery'southward story still maintains its fragility and mystery makes it an ethereal highlight of cinema's afterlife landscape; its own phantom thread.