The Best Movies From Each of the 50 States

It's possible to travel America without leaving your couch, and no, this isn't some excerpt from a 1980s textbook about the power of this thing called "the Internet." We're talking about the power of motion pictures, 32 frames of film passing before a beam of light every second. That's how you get around.

Hollywood has turned its attention on all of these United States at one time or another, focusing on some locations (Los Angeles, New York) more than others (where's the love for North Dakota?). Sometimes a film will be about a particular place even though it was shot elsewhere. But shooting in a place is only one way to get at the truth. Does knowing that What's Eating Gilbert Grape?, which is set in Iowa, was shot in Texas change your perspective on the film? Or do you still associate that particular big, open loneliness with Iowa anyway?

In honor of the fourth of July, we've selected a film to represent each state. We looked for films that spend time in a particular place, that don't hop around too much and try to get at the character of the setting. These are the best movies from each of the 50 states.

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Was it shot there? Yes

Where Big Fish actually takes place—whether it's all over Alabama or simply in a loony old man's imagination—depends on what you are, a cynic or a believer. Tim Burton's fantasy adventure film is set against the reconciliation between an estranged father (Albert Finney) and son (Billy Crudup), the former an imaginative storyteller and the latter a serious journalist hell bent on getting his father to finally be straight with him. However, on his death bed, the son finally gives his father's stories the time of day.

From there, his memories come to life as whimsical scenes of his life-involving everything from giants to Siamese twin dancers-flash before his eyes (and on the screen in a way only director Tim Burton can pull off). —TA

Was it shot there? No

The commercials promised one thing: Liam Neeson knuckling up against a pack of vicious wolves in freezing cold, snowy conditions. Action movie gold, right? So imagine our surprise when director Joe Carnahan's remarkable film brought us close to tears (but not to Alask, unfortunately; the film was shot in Canada). Much like Warrior, it's a pure guy-cry experience, though, in The Grey's case, the spiritual undercurrent lingers long after its bravura final scene.

Guided by an extraordinary, well-rounded performance from Neeson, The Grey is anything but a man-versus-animal smackdown. Pitting a small group of airplane crash survivors against not only the threat of malicious wolves but also ferocious weather and depleting hope, Carnahan's uniquely solemn action film challenges feelings of spirituality, masculinity, and emotional fortitude, all with superior deftness. It's the uncommon "guy movie" with an active brain and a big, beating heart. —MB

Was it shot there? No

Up until 1960, Alfred Hitchcock was known as the "master of suspense," but his brand of white-knuckle tension was reserved for thrillers and noir mood pieces. With Psycho, his adaptation of author Robert Bloch's popular novel of the same name (based on real-life serial killer Ed Gein), Hitch was a man on a mission: Responding to critics who'd said he was past his prime, the defiant filmmaker wanted to scare the hell out of them. In turn, he also defined the modern horror film as we all know it. (And it has nothing to do with Arizona's recent craziness.)

The bloodshed is barely visible, yet Psycho's preoccupation with mental instability chill more than any amount of gore could. Anthony Perkins, a rather unimposing-looking guy, plays Norman Bates, the proprietor of a roadside motel where the doomed Marion Crane (Janet Leigh) checks in one night and interferes with Bates and "mother's" lifestyle. Knives come out, composer Bernard Hermann's shrieking score kicks in, and Psycho stabs its way into the history books.

Amongst its many first-rate elements, Psycho is notable for its brilliant sense of audience manipulation. At the time, Leigh was a big-time movie star, so offing her so early into the picture was an ingenious move (one suggested by Hitch's wife and close collaborator, Alma Reville). It's a tactic that set the standard used by subsequent horror directors like Wes Craven and John Carpenter to find new ways to truly, deeply shock audiences. —MB

Was it shot there? Yes

One could say that Sling Blade is sort of Forrest Gump gone horribly, horribly wrong. Karl (Billy Bob Thornton), a mentally disabled man born and raised in Arkansas, tries to restart his life after murdering his mother and her abusive lover. He befriends a young boy named Frank (Lucas Black) and everything seems to be getting back into shape until he realizes that certain aspects of his life are repeating all over again. He has to decide whether or not he will return to his old habits, or if he should keep going down this new track in his life. —VC

Was it shot there? Yes

Think what you will about Roman Polanski on a personal level. From an artistic standpoint, there's no denying his brilliance; he's a nuanced auteur who has been cited as an inspiration by scores of international directors, from Wes Craven to Wes Anderson, Darren Aronofsky to David Fincher. And Chinatown is his masterpiece.

This 1974 film, based on the California Water Wars that took place in the earlier part of the century, is a complex neo-noir in which private eye Jake Gittes (Jack Nicholson) teams up with wronged housewife/femme fatale Evelyn Mulwray (Faye Dunaway) to figure out who murdered her husband.

The film marked Polanski's return to Hollywood, five years after the gruesome murder of his pregnant wife-actress Sharon Tate-at the hands of Charles Manson's followers. And it was at the behest of '70s super-producer Robert Evans that Polanski took the job at all; Evans felt that Polanski's European heritage and tortured background might give Chinatown a distinctively darker edge. He was right.

Despite Evans and screenwriter Robert Towne's opinions to the contrary, it was Polanski who insisted that the film's ending be a decidedly un-happy one-a rarity in Hollywood (yes, even in the 1970s). —Jennifer Wood

Was it shot there? No

The beauty of Colorado's mountains and forests is incomparable, yet Kubrick's The Shining manages to creep us out so hard that we might not get near the state's mountain range ever again (just like the film's actual outdoor moments, which happened mostly in Montana).

Jack Nicholson's character, whose name also happens to be Jack, gets a job as a winter caretaker of a deeply isolated hotel so he rehabilitate from his destructive alcoholic tendencies (and finish his novel), but matters only get worse (and we're not talking about the novel). This film contains some of the most iconic symbols in American film. Remember the twins? (Cue the creepy music). The Shining will definitely make you reconsider your plans to go ski in Colorado this winter vacation. —VC

Was it shot there? No

Connecticut (in actuality, Vermont) gets a wake up call when two friendly ghosts call in Beetlejuice to scare away humans from moving into their barely haunted house.

Beetlejuice was a great introduction to Tim Burton and horror movies for kids in the 90s, not to mention Michael Keaton's hilarious performance as the snarky and terrifying Beetlejuice. Despite his talent to scare his ghost friends, he fails at moving the humans out. He and Casper might have more in common than we may think. —VC

Was it shot there? No

Mishandled to the extreme when it came to the marketing approach, Fight Club fought an uphill battle before finding success in living rooms across America (not just in Delaware, where the film is set), a new classic once it hit DVD.

Based on the novel by Chuck Palahniuk, Fight Club told the story of a man (Edward Norton) who sees little significance in modern life. Then he meets Tyler Durden (Brad Pitt), who understands his problem and has the solution: grown men hitting each other to feel things. Oh, it's hard to be a white man, isn't it?

Jokes aside, the movie is a technical tour de force, with impeccable cinematography and smoldering performances. It's become one of the defining films of the '90s, muddled message be damned. Turns out that ultimately nobody paid attention to to the golden rule: "You do not talk about Fight Club." —RS

Was it shot there? Yes

If you enjoy pop culture only because it allows you to participate in conversations with strangers, you have to see Scarface. By now, if you haven't already done so, you must feel as if you've already seen Brian De Palma's long remake of the 1932 gangster picture about Al Copone. You've heard the dialogue sampled in rap; you've seen Tony Montana (De Palma and Stone's '80s version of Capone) and his large gun on posters and T-shirts. You've played GTA: Vice City. You've been to Miami.

But the references and the paraphrasable content don't capture the experience of sitting through the bloody epic. To really lose your soul alongside Tony, the Cuban refugee who becomes a drug kingpin and user, you have to spend those 170 minutes in his company. —RS

Was it shot there? Yes

What do you get when you stick four big-city Atlanta businessmen in the middle of the Georgian wilderness? Disaster. The mishaps of their adventures in Deliverance don't distract you from the gorgeous landscape that surrounds them like you would expect. In fact, the unruliness of the fictional Cahulawassee River valley parallels the unpredictable experiences that these men encounter. Their trip ends sooner than expected, like most city slickers that decide to go camping, but not because their Blackberrys run out of juice. It's hard for our generation to imagine anything worse than losing our 4G connection, but what befalls these guys is—trust—so much worse. —VC

Was it shot there? Yes

For anyone who might hate on George Clooney, thinking that he's more of a social commentator than a proficient actor, have a go at The Descendants, the latest film from champion of subtle dramedies Alexander Payne (Election, Sideways). Your mother's biggest crush stars as a father living in Hawaii who's detached from his two young daughters (the excellent duo of teenaged Shailene Woodley and pre-teen Amara Miller) but forced to bond with them when his wife enters a coma after a boating accident. And, as the eldest kid informs him, his now-vegetable wife was cheating on him...with Matthew Lillard, of all people.

Payne, true to form, finds unexpected moments to evoke laughs, though the film's intelligent comedy never distracts from The Descendants' palpable meditations on family, internal suffering, and second chances. All of which are embodied with a movie star's finesse by Mr. Clooney, who manages to execute a tightrope walk of a performance: When you're ready to buy dude a beer and yuck it up, you're ready to give the man an "Everything's gonna be all right" pat on the back. —MB

Was it shot there? Yes

Years after the fact, Napoleon Dynamite seems about as hip as the phrase "Fo shizzle." There's plenty to blame for the oddball comedy's loss of coolness, chief of which are all of those irritating "Vote For Pedro" T-shirts, every unimaginative Napoleon costume seen on Halloween, and star Jon Heder's inability to make anything else of note since. But none of that is director Jared Hess' fault, so give the film another chance, will you?

Forgetting about all of its negative ubiquity, we're still impressed by the director/co-writer's bizarrely singular world, a rural town that doesn't seem completely of our time yet doesn't feel ancient, either. (Is this what Idaho is actually like? We only knew about the potatoes.)

The film's cavalcade of quirky, one-of-a-kind characters only adds to the strangeness; throw it all together and you've got a unique pop culture phenomenon with strengths that go way beyond one-liners and "fat lard" llamas. —MB

Was it shot there? Yes

Ferris Bueller is every high school kid's hero. Just because he feels like it, he takes the day off from school, gets his friends in on the scheme, and drives a priceless Ferrari all throughout the city of Chicago, making sure to hit the city's major landmarks. Meanwhile, his principal is back in his office scheming to take down the invincible boy. Despite the suspense of almost getting caught, you know Ferris is going to win because he's just that damn cool, and that makes the movie all the sweeter.

Fun fact: Most of director John Hughes' movies are set in a Illinois, his former state of residence, making Ferris Bueller a love letter to the Windy City. —TA

Was it shot there? Yes

Coach Carter. Glory Road. Slam Dunk Ernest. In the pantheon of inspirational basketball movies, the majority of them either suck or are too generic to elicit any sort of detailed recollection. In essence, every post-1989 example is trying to be Hoosiers, the best of all play-hoop-and-become-better-men films.

Based on a true story, the Indiana-set Hoosiers follows a reluctant gent (the great Gene Hackman, especially great here) who leads an all-white team of high school basketball players to their league's championship. Conceptually, it's not much different from every other motivational sports picture, yet it's a testament to the crucial benefits of stellar acting (also to the credit of co-star Dennis Hopper) and crisp, hook-free storytelling. —MB

Was it shot there? No

In the fictional town of Endora, Iowa, Johnny Depp plays a family man named Gilbert Grape who's left in charge of caring for his mentally challenged brother Arnie (Leonardo DiCaprio), his sisters, and his morbidly obese mother. If you couldn't already tell, the film's a real heartbreaker. Take all that and set it in a suffocatingly small town where everyone knows each other, and you'll soon understand what's eating Gilbert Grape. —TA

Was it shot there? Yes

The Wizard of Oz might be the first movie that comes to mind when Kansas is mentioned, but we all know that Hollywood was the backdrop for most of its scenes. On the other hand, Richard Brooks made the effort to film most of In Cold Blood on site where the crimes actually took place: in Holcomb, Kansas.

One of the sites includes the Clutter household, where the whole family was brutally murdered by Perry Smith and Dick Hickock, two ex-criminals trying to scrap up some dough. That authenticity is exciting, but uneasy to experience when watching the film. Try to click your ruby shoes and get out of this nightmare. —VC

Was it shot there? Yes

Harlan County, USA is a documentary about the infamous 1970s coal mine strikers in Harlan County, Kentucky. The film bravelyexposes the dark sides of the miner strikes inside and outside of the workplace. The wives of the miners were also just as essential to the movement as the miners themselves. In fact, the director said that they had to pretend to keep filming even if they were out of film to prevent any strikers from being too violent. A lasting document of American labor, it should be essential viewing this fourth of July. —VC

Was it shot there? No

A dark piece of Louisiana history provides the backdrop in All the King's Men, writer-director Robert Rossen's Academy Award-winning adaptation of Robert Penn Warren's 1946 novel. It's the story of Willie Stark (Broderick Crawford), an ambitious lawyer who works his way through the state's governmental system to become a powerful though widely disliked politician. The character is based on real-life Louisiana politician Huey Long, whose time as governor was cut short in 1935 when he was assassinated, a fate that Stark also suffers.

All the King's Men takes the point-of-view of a journalist (John Ireland) who's on top of all of Stark's shady ways, including his penchant for womanizing (dude gets more ass than swivel chairs). It doesn't exactly make you want to cast any votes in Louisiana, but, nevertheless, All the King's Men captures local government's seedier side with real gusto. —MB

Was it shot there? No

If you're one of the hip kids, you should know all about The State, the MTV sketch comedy show that aired from 1993 to 1995. As its cult status continues to grow, several of the show's players have gone on to bigger and more heralded things, such as creating Reno 911!

For his first directorial effort, David Wain (who also directed the 2008 hit Role Models) gathered a bunch of his former State cohorts (co-writer Michael Showalter, Michael Ian Black, Ken Marino) to mock the summer camp flicks of the 1980s in the ensemble comedy Wet Hot American Summer. In the spirit of Airplane! and Monty Python, Wain's light-hearted mashup of campy elements has its way with the genre's cliches, resting on the able shoulders of its extensive cast of comedy B- and C-listers. The movie may not have much to say about Maine, but it's a better alternative to all those times Stephen King has turned the state into the scariest place on Earth. —MB

Was it shot there? Yes

Looking back at the last 10 years in film, who's responsible for the medium's most talked about comedies? Super-producer Judd Apatow, of course, a maverick who wisely grounds his best works (The 40 Year Old Virgin, Knocked Up) with grounded male characters talking about everyday topics (typically sex, sex, and sex).

Without Barry Levinson's seminal dramedy Diner, the Apatow zeitgeist may have never happened. Diner's about a group of twenty-something buddies (played by Mickey Rourke, Kevin Bacon, Steve Guttenberg, Daniel Stern, and Timothy Daly) who congregate inside a Baltimore diner every night for some good-natured ribbing, confessions, and time-killing conversations. And in the process of carrying on nighttime tradition, they slowly reveal the layers of their evolving personalities.

Diner is insightful, hilarious, and subtle. The only Apatow movie that even comes close to matching its excellence is The 40-Year-Old Virgin. —MB

Was it shot there? Yes

Known best as the film that landed Boston boys Ben Affleck and Matt Damon the Oscar for Best Original Screenplay, the plot of Good Will Hunting has become fully incorporated into the popular imagination: genius works as janitor but is great at math and talks about apples a lot. Jokes aside, the film remains a powerful piece of work about potential, inertia, friends, and the trauma of the past. it's also allowed tons of people to think they get Boston's whole town vs. gown situation. —VC

Was it shot there? Yes

The Coen brothers have always worked aspects from multiple genres into their films, with Fargo being a prime example. Some may see it as a simply a crime drama, but that would ignore the supremely deadpan humor that twists the movie into something far more unsettling. How much of that humor should be credited to the Minnesota accents is surely a sensitive subject in the state.

A pregnant police chief (Francis McDormand) is investigating a series of murders around the town of Fargo, North Dakota, while also following the exploits of a man (William H. Macy) who's hired two criminals to kidnap his wife. Peter Stormare and Steve Buscemi play the hired help. They couldn't be any lousier at their jobs.

The tragic pair brings humor out of the mundane macabre, like in the scene where they bicker like a married couple over how to split their newly-stolen car. Buscemi nurses a gunshot wound the entire time. Should you feel guilty about laughing? The Coens remain stone-faced, daring you to react. —JS

Was it shot there? No

In the Heat of the Night director Norman Jewison and his colleagues wisely made it known that the film's setting, Sparta, Miss., is a fictional town, not a representation of the real-life Sparta, Miss. Call it a protective measure, since In the Heat of the Night takes place within a community that's predominantly racist, with prejudices and abhorrent points-of-views that'd make Paula Deen blush.

Based on John Ball's 1965 novel, Jewison's timeless masterwork revolves around Virgil Tibbs (Sidney Poitier), a black detective from Philly whose time in Sparta is spent investigating a murder. He also takes great pleasure in embarrassing every narrow-minded jerk he encounters with his unparalleled professional expertise. Unsurprisingly, In the Heat of the Night was met with controversy upon its August 1967 release, particularly from southerners who felt the film painted them all as assholes who dislike out-of-towners and hate outsiders of color. We wonder why. —MB

Was it shot there? No

The world in which Ron Howard's Parenthood takes place isn't unlike any other quaint suburban town outside of St. Louis, Missouri. Which is precisely the ensemble dramedy's biggest strength—it's relatable for anyone who's hung out a mall, played for Coach Dad on a little league team, or had theme birthday parties in their backyard with their grade school classmates and parting gift bags.

The cast is first-rate, led by Steve Martin (in his best "acting" performance ever), Jason Robards, Dianne Wiest, and Rick Moranis, all of whom play off bit players like Keanu Reeves and a young Joaquin Phoenix. Together, Parenthood's actors sell every heartbreak, euphoric response, and tender heart-to-heart moment in a story about kindhearted dad Gil Buckman (Martin) and the trials and tribulations endured by his extended family. —MB

Was it shot there? Yes

After one viewing of Robert Redford's epic coming-of-age drama A River Runs Through It, you'll wish that you'd have grown up in Missoula, Montana, 80 or so years ago. Based on author Norman Maclean's semi-autobiographical 1976 novella, Redford's two-hour film centers on brothers Norman (Craig Sheffer) and Jean (Brad Pitt), two vastly different-minded brothers (one's a goodie-two-shoes, the other's a rebel) who learn the do's and don'ts of life from their Presbyterian daddy (Tom Skerritt).

The image above looks quite scenic, doesn't it? A River Runs Through It, as a whole, captures that kind of picturesque beauty, presenting Montana's backwoods and water-stretched terrain as lands of wide-eyed wonderment. And fortunately, Redford's excellent character study does the sights plenty of narrative justice. —MB

Was it shot there? Yes

What's there to do in Nebraska? Apparently nothing but obsess over getting out of it. The winner of the Indie Spirit Award for Best Film in1999, director Alexander Payne's (The Descendants) satirical comedy tells the story of a frustrated suburban high school teacher Jim McAllister (Matthew Broderick) who tries to sabotage the success of overachieving Student Council President hopeful, Tracy Flick (Reese Witherspoon). His resentment for the bubbly yet vindictive student, whose most erotic fantasy is holding office in the U.S. government, doesn't just stem from his own disappointment with this life, but from the fact that Flick seduced a fellow teacher, whose also Jim's BFF, taking him down and his marriage with him.

With the unwitting help of school jock Paul Metzler (Chris Klein) and his sister Tammy, McAllister risks everything to take Tracy down, making for a hilarious and intelligent take on the typical teen movie. —TA

Was it shot there? Yes

When we talk about Nevada on film, we're really talking about Las Vegas. The movies have been in love with the City of Sin since the beginning, and plenty of classic pictures have shot on the candy-colored Vegas Strip. The Ocean's series and the Hangover movies paint the town red with glitz and good-natured sleaze, but only one Vegas movie gets truly down and out.

Yes, when Nic Cage visits the city in Leaving Las Vegas, things get extra real. Cage's character Ben Sanderson has to come to the Gambling Capital of the World to drink himself to death. The film starts from this low point and only gets lower. In Vegas, the house always wins, just like in director Mike Figgis' film. —RS

Was it shot there? No

Thanks to this zany and slyly intelligent jewel's recent 20-year anniversary, we've already dedicated an entire list to Bill Murray's most slept-on works; having thought about it further, What About Bob? might very well be Sir Murray's best non-heralded movie. If anything, it's the most underrated comedy of the '90s.

At his most manic, Murray kills it as an overly neurotic psychiatry patient who turns his therapist's (Richard Dreyfuss, perfectly droll before shifting into an uproarious meltdown) life upside down. Frank Oz's pic is wonderfully off-center, full of darkly funny dialogue ("Death therapy, Bob—it's a guaranteed cure!") and bolstered by the tit-for-tat interplay between Murray and Dreyfuss. New Hampshire, where Bob's therapist is on vacation, should be damn proud to have such a film to its name.

Though it goes a bit too overboard near the end (see: explosions and a shotgun-wielding Dreyfuss), What About Bob? is never less than hilarious, not to mention loonier than a Wile E. Coyote cartoon. —MB

Was it shot there? No

Looking for a man's man kind of movie? Seek out High Noon, the classic western about the ultimate small-town badass, William "Will" Kane. As played by real-life badass Gary Cooper, Kane enforces the law in an unassuming New Mexico locale that's beset by a gang of gunslinging thugs with an agenda: They're heading into town to get at Kane, who put their leader, Frank Miller (Ian MacDonald) in prison.

Though the film's setting looks and feels like Anywhere, Western Movie U.S.A., High Noon sets itself apart through Cooper's fearless lead character. With no fucks given, and finger itching on his trigger, Kane singlehandedly takes the goon squad on, one man against what might as well be the world. Not to mention, he's also married to a woman who looks like the almighty Grace Kelly (because, well, she's played by the almighty Grace Kelly). Respect his gangster. —MB

Was it shot there? Yes

Swinging 180 degrees away from the claustrophobic worldview of Travis Bickle in Taxi Driver, another great New York movie, we arrive at Do the Right Thing, a polyvocal revelation of a film, shot on a single block in Bed-Stuy. The cinematography and art design create a space just left of reality-slightly larger, just slightly more heated-that forces the audience to engage with the tension of urban life, of living on top of so many different sorts of people, anew.

Though there's ample talk of a possible post-racial, post-gender, post-whatever world in 2012, we have to contend with the beauty, comedy, and horror of what we've got. Even 23 years its release, Do the Right Thing remains the most immediate and alive exploration of life in the simmering melting pot. —BG

Was it shot there? No

You almost have to feel bad for the titular gold-monger in Leprechaun. Of all the states in America to get smuggled into, he ends up in North Dakota, the state that's decidedly not California, Florida, or New York. It's no wonder, then, that the evil little green bastard starts killing everyone in sight.

Thankfully he does, though, because without the leprechaun's (played by Warwick Davis, naturally) homicidal tendencies, Leprechaun the movie would be a dull affair. It's not, however, due to its overall ridiculousness that's played self-aware and unabashedly silly. One death scene, for instance, involves the pint-sized baddie caving in a dude's chest by bouncing up and down on a pogo stick. —MB

Was it shot there? No

Two years after giving Larry Clark the screenplay for Kids, Harmony Korine directed his first feature. Gummo, set in Xenia, Ohio (but shot in Nashville, Tenn.) is a grotesque parade of Americana: a breast tumor is discovered during backseat necking; roaches scuttle from behind picture frames in living rooms; two teens hunt and kill cats; a man pimps his sister, who has Down's.

There's little connecting the vignettes, nothing more than a warped idea of America. But you can't forget what Korine shows you. —RS

Was it shot there? Yes

From the same duo who brought you The Outsiders—director Francis Ford Coppola and author S.E. Hinton—Rumble Fish tells the story of a young thug living in Tulsa, Oklahoma, who's just trying to be just as down as his cooler, former gang leader older bro.

Due to the film's misunderstood avante-garde style, many audience members walked out of the film's premiere and even booed the screen. However, those who could appreciate Coppola's opulent directing technique loved his fresh take on the classic novel. In the trusted words of the late Roger Ebert, "Rumble Fish was offbeat, daring, and utterly original." —TA

Was it shot there? Yes

Based on one of the most influential pieces of literature in American history, One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest tells the story of several mental patients, some played by the likes of Jack Nicholson and Danny Devito, at Oregon State Hospital during the 1960s. This movie, like the novel, makes serious commentary on the perception of mental health and drugs in America, while remaining entertaining and a little heartfelt (though it's never sentimental).

The film received critical acclaim due to the stupendous performances by Nicholson and Louise Fletcher. Ken Kesey, who grew up in Oregon, did not watch the film because of creative and narrative differences with the directors of the film. Whether or not the novel and movie are identical, the story of these Oregon patients is, at this point, an iconic American tale. —VC

Was it shot there? Yes

Sylvester Stallone wrote himself into stardom with the 1976 Best Picture winning Rocky. The inspirational David v. Goliath-style sports film was a keystone that set the standard for an entire genre of films. Rocky especially succeeds in its training montage, with memorable images of Stallone running through the particularly filthy streets of Philadelphia, up the Museum of Arts steps, punching meat carcasses, and rocking his signature gray sweats.

This marvel of editing inspired thousands of people to run around their hometown looking a sweaty mess, raising their arms for all sorts of imagined glories, maybe even loosing a couple guttural cries of "Adrian!" Equal parts schmaltz and glory to the absolute brim. —GT

Was it shot there? Yes

To adapt David Mamet's minor masterpiece, American Buffalo, director Michael Corrente dragged his cast and crew to his hometown of Pawtucket, Rhode Island. The small town proved to be the perfect backdrop for Mamet's hard-scrabble tale about American failure and capitalism.

In a junk shop, a plan to steal a valuable coin unfolds. As you expect from Mamet, the dialogue is tough, profane, and thrilling. Better to remember Rhode Island this way than through a Family Guy skit. —RS

Was it shot there? No

Any modern-day movie that pays direct tribute to Fred Dekker's 1986 classic of campy horror-comedy Night of the Creeps automatically deserves props. So the fact that James Gunn's wacky 2006 flick Slither is actually really damn good is simply the icing on the cake, or, for a much more apt metaphor, the melted skin oozing across the pus-filled bodily sore. Sorry, South Carolina. This is what you've got. Really, it was either this or The Secret Life of Bees, and that movie had no exploding zombies.

After a meteor crash-lands in the outskirts of a small hunting town in S.C., the sheriff (Nathan Fillion) and a ragtag group of other survivors fend off locals who've become gooey zombies, due to ingesting intergalactic creepy-crawlies that exited the aforementioned meteor. With a nice blend of showy horror effects and sly humor, Gunn's tribute to B-movies from the '80s recaptures a time when studios made genre movies that favored throwing everything into metaphorical kitchen sink rather than solely eyeing box office ticket windows. —MB

Was it shot there? No

Lucky are the places and people lensed by Terrence Malick. For his first feature, he turned his camera on Colorado (even though the movie is supposed to be set in South Dakota and Montana) for a tale of young love and crime.

Martin Sheen and Sissy Spacek play Kit and Holly, characters inspired by the Charles Starkweather and Caril-Ann Fugate murders of 1958. They kill Holly's father and hit the road for a trip that's as brutal as it is beautiful. Sounds about right for America. —RS

Was it shot there? Yes

Clocking in at nearly three hours and boasting a cast of 24 main characters, Robert Altman's Nashville is a massive film. Tennesee must be proud that this picture captures the rich music and vitality of its capital. Whether or not the state is cool with Altman using its capital as a canvas for his political satire is another story.

Whether or not you agree with Altman's cynical outlook on the possibility of democracy in America, you have to love the great soundtrack and performances from Hollywood greats like Lily Tomlin and Keith Carradine. —RS

Was it shot there? Yes

The two most important horror movies in light of the current state of the genre are Halloween and The Texas Chainsaw Massacre. Halloween is the prototypical slasher flick. The Texas Chainsaw Massacre is a slasher, too, but it stands out from Halloween because of its extreme grit, for which some of the credit surely goes to the harsh Texas landscape. Watching Tobe Hooper's 1974 film, even today, is too much like watching a snuff film.

It is one of the only films this writer has ever seen that, when the the killer first appeared, triggered a horrible looping thought of: "I don't want to watch this I don't want to watch this I don't want to watch this." And the writer has seen many horror movies. But there's something so-it seems silly to use a meaningless word like "real." There isn't a word for this. It's just terrifying.

The film, on paper, is patently ridiculous. Family of cannibals. Van of kids. Death. But truly, this movie is scary. Too scary. —RS

Was it shot there? Yes

It's a good thing that the Utah in which Carnival of Souls unravels its odd creepiness is nondescript. Had writer-director Herk Harvey chosen to emphasize a setting like, say, Beaver or Greenville, we can't imagine anyone who's seen this nightmarish horror flick would ever want to visit there, let alone live.

En route to start her new gig as a church organist, Mary Henry (Candace Hilligoss) gets into a bad car accident, comes to, and tries to begin her life in a seemingly normal Utah town. Except that she keeps seeing freaky, white-cake-faced ghouls that want her to check out the local abandoned pavilion. She's afraid to do so, though, since the decrepit building practically screams "Ghosts and other scary shit reside here!" Carnival of Souls' hallucinogenic climax finds Mary finally entering the pavilion, with results that'll induce the crazy willies. —MB

Was it shot there? Yes

You can have Fletch and those National Lampoon's Vacation movies—if given the chance to watch a Chevy Chase '80s comedy right now, we'd choose the Saturday Night Live veteran's underrated 1988 fish-out-of-water gem Funny Farm. Playing a lovable king of fail, Chase is at his bewildered best as a NYC sports writer who, along with his beautiful wife (Madolyn Smith), relocates to the quit, off-the-grid town of Redbud, Vermont, where he plans on writing his first novel.

What transpires is an uproarious comedy of errors, during which Chase's character, not in this order, casts a fishing lure into a dude's throat, buys a dog that immediately runs away, gets a second dog that's damn near catatonic, and involuntarily makes all Redbud natives hate his guts. The only bad thing he doesn't do in Vermont, oddly enough, is get into a skiing accident. —MB

Was it shot there? No

Catching critics and moviegoers totally off guard back in 2001, Donnie Darko, a then-26-year-old Kelly's feature debut, introduced a fearless young director who wore his geek stripes proudly. It's an '80s-and-Virginia-set teen drama subverted, centering on a super-smart high school loner, Donnie Darko (a terrifically sardonic Jake Gyllenhaal), who hallucinates that a dude in a bunny suit warned him about the world's end and begins to accept time travel as a viable practice.

There's much more at stake than that, but we'll fall back from any further summarizing; it's best to experience Donnie Darko with as little pre-existing knowledge as possible. Kelly's feat is all the more remarkable when you realize that an unproven guy in his mid-20s was capable of conceiving such a large-scale, witty, and disturbing fever dream. It's just a damn shame that Kelly's talents aged more like unrefrigerated cheese than fine wine. —MB

Was it shot there? Yes

The grunge movement has its very own poster movie, and it's called Singles. Written and directed by music enthusiast Cameron Crowe (Almost Famous), it's a charming and funny representation of every ripped-jeans-wearing, long-haired rock fan living in Seattle during the heyday of bands like Pearl Jam and Soundgarden.

Matt Dillon plays the quintessential starving guitarist, an edgy guy with a soft side that's tapped into by a cute waitress (Bridget Fonda). Sparks fly, angst is had, and Generation X gets the respectable rom-com that it deserves. Or at least needs to off-set that traumatic "Jeremy" video. -MB

Was it shot there? Yes

The Battle of Matewan has been one the most significant events in Labor Union History in the States. John Sayle's Matewan is a fictional film heavily based on those events and portrays the hardships of the coal mining industry in West Virginia during the 1920s. It really doesn't get more American than that.

Chris Cooper and James Earl Jones blow the film out of the water with their performances and the cinematography perfectly depicts the grittiness of the era. —VC

Was it shot there? Yes

With just one viewing of American Movie, Wisconsin will no longer be the land of cheese and Brett Favre for the viewer—it'll become the land of broken dreams. Perhaps that's a harsh judgement of the subjects in Chris Smith's documentary about a guy who just wants to make a movie. But really, things are pretty dire in Menomonee Falls, where Mark Borchardt is trying to turn his love of cinema into something that can turn a profit.

He has difficulty holding down a job, maintaining relationships, and moving out of his parents' house, but he is going to make this horror movie—even if it kills him. And really, the horror movie (entitled Coven) is only a means to secure funding for the serious, autobiographical film Borchardt wants to make. His path is beset by struggle. Sorry, Wisconsin. —RS

Was it shot there? Yes

Marked by affecting performances from Jake Gyllenhaal and Heath Ledger, Brokeback Mountain is a heartbreaking tale of two cowboys struggling with their secret relationship in the American West. The film went on to become an Academy Award Best Picture nominee that's highly regarded for breaking the expectations of mainstream romantic movies. The trick was to get people staring at the gorgeous landscape of Wyoming. —TA