When I look over my years of movie consumption, the years between ages 14 and 20 proved to be my most voracious and adventurous. That’s when I hunted down most of the revered classics of world cinema. Oddly, since my reviewing days began in 1993 I started watching fewer and fewer art-house and foreign films. That means that any classic I didn’t catch in those six or so years had to wait for those rare occasions when I got up the patience and focus to watch them. Thank goodness for Turner Classic Movies, without which I’d not yet have seen any of the movies listed below. These movies all fit into the category of classics that I just couldn’t get excited about, and finally only watched out some sense of responsibility. I’m so glad I did.

William Holden in Stalag 17. (Courtesy photo)

Stalag 17 (1953): Billy Wilder has always been a challenge for me. What makes him so gloriously unique is what also exasperates me. He dares to trawl all over the tonal seas, switching from comedy to drama and back again. You could say it’s just like real life, except Wilder always does this with a certain theatricality that’s anything but naturalistic. Wilder has a stunning number of unqualified classics to his name—The Apartment, Double Indemnity, Some Like It Hot, Sunset Boulevard. But thanks mostly to very specific director choices, I find each of these movies to be a little shy of unassailable greatness. Stalag 17 takes place entirely in a World War II prisoner-of-war camp, and stars the pleasant but seldom exceptional William Holden. I think it may be my favorite Billy Wilder film. Holden gets a perfectly tailored role as the conniving Sefton, and deservedly took home an Oscar for it. The supporting cast is a joy—even the recently departed Peter Graves shines in a supporting role. And seldom has Wilder’s comedy/tragedy cocktail been so intoxicating. For having such a claustrophobic setting, Stalag 17 is always a fast-moving treat. The central mystery—who’s the Nazi spy—is captivating, and the denouement is tantalizingly withheld while we get to truly know the gang of characters inside. Wilder remains a challenge, but Stalag 17 is a pure pleasure to watch.

Giulietta Masina in Nights of Cabiria. (Courtesy photo)

Nights of Cabiria (1957): Federico Fellini is another renowned filmmaker whose movies divide critics and viewers. Some see him as a master of the art form, others as little more than a pretentious ringmaster. I think they’re both right, depending on the movie. One thing about Fellini: he goes for a mood, an elusive feeling more than a clear story. Nights of Cabiria, starring his wife, the inimitable Giulietta Masina, marks a transition from his early neo-realist style to his more experimental later years. And does it have mood! Cabiria follows a feisty prostitute through her days and nights in a seedy area of Rome. The movie lingers endlessly in some places, then jumps ahead with abandon, leaving ideas and characters unfinished. But it all adds up to something magical. The second half in particular, from when Cabiria wanders into a hypnotist’s show to the justly famous final shot, is dreamy cinema heaven. If you’re feeling up for trying a Fellini, avoid his overblown later movies and try Nights of Cabiria. A warning: this film was the inspiration for Sweet Charity, but there are almost no similarities.

Sean Connery stars in The Hill. (Courtesy photo)

The Hill (1965): Here’s another war movie in which the filmmaking triumphs over an oppressive setting. Sean Connery is housed in a British military detention camp in the Libyan desert. He and his cellmates (including an unforgettably modern Ossie Davis) engage in a battle of wills with the camp leadership. With a world-class script by Ray Rigby (from his own play), The Hill is a thrilling character piece and damning critique of the British military system. For Sean Connery, it was the perfect opportunity to shed his reputation—and his hairpiece—and dig into a meaty role. For director Sidney Lumet, it was a rare trip out of New York City, and the first and best of the five movies he would make with Connery. The film is shot with brutal realism, and the supporting cast is uniformly strong—especially Harry Andrews as the camp’s sergeant major. Connery was a huge star at the time, and Lumet was a top director. But The Hill was a box office failure.

Alex Manugian lives in Sherman Oaks, Calif. He grew up in Groton and has reviewed movies for Harvard readers for many years.