Wayne's World captures the last gasp of genuine pop culture irreverence before everything became commodified irony. It skewers selling out while being complicit in the act, a rare moment of genuine self-awareness from Hollywood.

Office Space matters precisely because it refuses to offer false hope or patronising platitudes about finding meaning in meaningless tasks. Judge nails the quiet, simmering despair of anyone trapped behind a desk, waiting for retirement or death - whichever mercifully comes first.

Dogma is a thought-provoking, intelligently crafted film wrapped in the guise of a stoner comedy. It refuses easy categorisation, sidestepping lazy satire for a heartfelt, biting interrogation of faith’s absurdities and beauties alike. It treats religion with genuine curiosity rather than smug dismissal.

Mallrats matters precisely because it doesn't matter. It’s aimless, juvenile, flawed, but so were you, once. It captures the art of wasting time perfectly, and sometimes that’s exactly what cinema should do.

Clerks is the kind of film that says something essential about how ridiculous modern life really is. It's ugly, cheap, and cynically brilliant. Watch Clerks because it fucking matters to understand just how absurdly, hopelessly funny existence can be.

Brass Eye is not satire for casual viewing. It’s satire as weaponry. Morris takes the British public's trust in authority, celebrity endorsement, and media sensationalism, and systematically dismantles it. Episodes on drugs, crime, and moral decline aren't just parodies. They are indictments of a society that believes anything it's told if delivered with enough sincerity.

There is nothing predictable about Being John Malkovich. It doesn’t have The Matrix’s sleek rebellious edge or Fight Club’s gritty anarchy. Instead, it’s the feeling of sliding into someone else’s skin, only to realize maybe you don’t want to come out. The most important part of Craig’s life isn’t the puppets he so carefully controls; it’s the control he steals while living as Malkovich.

A film inspired by cartoons about a mumbly, put-upon office worker named Milton. A director best known for his animated mischief. A cast of brilliant comedic actors who knew exactly how to capture the daily grind. Shot in Texas, set in a faceless office park, Office Space zeroes in on the mind-numbing monotony of "TPS reports" and the soul-crushing existence under fluorescent lights.