5 hit films from the 70s that no one remembers today

Okay, sure, I’m really being hyperbolic when I say that “no one” remembers these films, because it’s a literal impossibility to prove that I’m right, and I have no doubt that some die-hard fan is going to come across this list and curse my name for mentioning a title that made Letterboxd’s top four. But the 1970s marked one of the best decades in movie history, where even titles in the bottom half of the decade’s 50 highest-grossing films included “Annie Hall,” “A Star is Born,” “King Kong” and “Young Frankenstein,” all beloved and lauded films today.

But there are still films that have topped the box office or received top honors during awards season that are no longer relevant to mainstream pop culture and new generations of audiences, kept alive only by the most dedicated moviegoers who crave cinematic sustenance beyond the same 100 titles repeated ad nauseum. So with those caveats in mind (seriously, don’t trust me), here are five hit films from the 1970s that are rarely talked about today and are in danger of being forgotten for good unless we start introducing them to fresh eyes.

(This should also go without saying, but given that the films are all around 50 years old, they sometimes feature scenes, characterizations, or language that haven’t stood the test of time.)

It may not feature anything as memorable as Audrey Hepburn’s black Givenchy dress in “Breakfast at Tiffany’s,” but Blake Edwards’ 1979 film “10” proves he still had the talent to create iconic movie moments late in his career. The view of Bo Derek in a flesh-colored swimsuit and (questionable) cornrow braids with beads are one of the most recognizable images of the 1970s. Yet it’s shocking that few people born after 1985 can pinpoint the image’s origin.

The film stars Dudley Moore as a composer plunged into a mid-life crisis, with Julie Andrews – Edwards’ real-life wife – playing his ground partner, who refuses to indulge in his self-inflicted torment. A lost film, “10” is decidedly an adult film about adult issues; a painfully accurate portrait of men falling apart in middle age. Edwards’ witty script, coupled with Henry Mancini’s pitch-perfect score, transforms “10” into a bittersweet reflection on aging, desire and disillusionment. It was one of the first cinematic attempts to reckon with the free-love generation of the 1960s, now forced to admit that the party was over and they had firmly entered adulthood. But rather than playing out like an after-school special, much of “10” plays out like a claustrophobic, middle-aged echo of Edwards’ early slapstick comedies. Moore stumbles through a series of humiliations – without the absurd grace of his comedy partner Peter Sellers to save him as usual – caught in the clutches of the farce that is existence.

Messy, funny and self-aware, “10” constitutes a late-career triumph for Edwards: a final juggling act from one of Hollywood’s most exuberant performers and a hell of an introduction for Bo Derek. Too bad he was largely ignored by the generations that followed him.

John Huston’s “Fat City” is a compassionate tribute to the poor, adapted by Leonard Gardner from his own 1969 novel of the same name. Filmed in the seedy alleys of Stockton, California, the film follows Billy Tully (Stacy Keach), a has-been boxer and part-time drunk who mentors a naïve young man, Ernie Munger (Jeff Bridges). Their stories revolve around defeat and self-deception, with glimmers of hope popping up just long enough to sting. While it’s undoubtedly a story about masculinity, it’s Susan Tyrrell’s wild brilliance in the combative role of Oma Lee Greer that gives “Fat City” its greatest credibility. She was nominated for an Academy Award for Best Supporting Actress, a deserved honor for a truly incomparable performance.

“Fat City” isn’t an underdog boxing story like all the greats of the genre tend to be. Rather, it’s a film that revels in perpetual failure and why losers keep fighting even when they’re just losing, as well as how disappointment and futility can become such familiar bedfellows that any feeling outside of them becomes uncomfortable enough to be downright foreign. Each character is framed; their unattainable dreams function as both a driving force and an inevitable trap. It’s a supposed sports movie that refuses to focus on what might be inspirational, but instead studies how pain and perseverance intertwine until you can no longer tell the difference. Every image feels lived in, every punch thrown from a place of recognition. In Huston’s world, even when you win, you lose.

In a world where “Sex and the City” didn’t revolutionize what society considered “acceptable” for female friendships, there was still pressure for women in their 20s to dedicate the decade to finding a partner, settling down, and relegating their lives to domestic bliss. No relationships could be more important than those of marriage or motherhood, and deep-rooted friendships with other women were supposed to be secondary. In reality? Girlfriend breakups are often more heartbreaking than any romance.

Directed by Claudia Weill and financed by the National Endowment for the Arts and the New York State Council on the Arts, “Girlfriends” was the first American independent film to be funded by grants, although private investors helped finalize the funds. Upcoming director Melanie Mayron stars as Susan Weinblatt, an aspiring photographer stuck shooting weddings and bar mitzvahs to make ends meet, who shares an apartment with her best friend, Anne Munroe (Anita Skinner), an aspiring writer.

Much of this story is about us being unable to see ourselves the way we see our best friends, and that there is an extreme loneliness that arises when friendships are forced to take a back seat in favor of discovering who we are, what we want to do with our creative passions, and whether or not we choose to pursue a romantic relationship. While “Girlfriends” has rarely been recognized for its influential place in the New Hollywood canon, the film joined the Criterion Collection in 2020, allowing moviegoers to finally experience one of the best and most overlooked films of the decade.

If you asked someone to name a delightful romantic comedy about a man falling in love with a sex worker, the overwhelming majority would respond with “Pretty Woman.” But if you have taste and a penchant for the little-known works of Barbra Streisand, you could cite “The Owl and the Kitten”. The film follows the usual themes of the era – exploring the sexual revolution through the juxtaposition of an unbridled woman and an uptight, prudish man. But rather than settling into the typical trappings of an opposites attract story, each character is given the space to recognize that they’re living a life they’re not happy with and can perhaps find a different path than the one they initially imagined by relying on each other.

Streisand’s Doris is a liberated, verbal woman who moves in with meek book clerk and aspiring novelist Felix (George Segal) after he unwittingly kicks her out by reporting her to the landlord as a woman of the night. Despite their differences, the couple develops an unexpected romance that is as adorable as it is infuriating. For example, Doris follows Felix around with a dictionary so she can look up words he says she doesn’t understand, and Felix willingly dons a skeleton costume to “scare” Doris when she has an overwhelming case of hiccups. In one of the best scenes in the film, they get high together in a bathtub. It’s the kind of niceness reserved for studio indies and Sundance darlings, so much so that you almost forget how unbearable the nuisances are. They absolutely deserve each other, and among sex comedies, this is definitely one of the most interesting to watch again.

A landmark Los Angeles moonlighting as neo-noir Blaxploitation, the incomparable Isaac Hayes bursts onto the scene with his breakout performance as the titular Mack “Truck” Turner, a former professional football player who now works as a bounty hunter with his buddy Jerry (Alan Weeks). The two are tasked with tracking down a pimp named Gator (Paul Harris) who has skipped bail, and their quest to find him sends them on a dangerous journey through the underbelly of Los Angeles.

Originally written by “The Man From UNCLE” star Leigh Chapman (under the pseudonym Jerry Wilkes) for a white lead, Hayes’ casting completely changed the film’s message and helped make it one of the all-time greatest works of Blaxploitation cinema. It also benefits from a wild turn from groundbreaking “Star Trek” veteran Nichelle Nichols as Dorinda, a madam who delivers lines so salacious that our content moderator would kick into high gear if I dared repeat them here.

“Truck Turner” is a pivotal work in the Blaxploitation genre, but it is underrated compared to the works of contemporaries like Rudy Ray Moore and Melvin Van Peebles. However, influence remains whether people seek it or not. Quentin Tarantino reused some of Hayes’ work on the “Kill Bill” soundtrack, and initially, Queen Latifah’s production company, Flavor Unit Entertainment, wanted to remake it. Do your civic duty by watching it today and spread the gospel of “Truck Turner.”