RESERVOIR DOGS (Quentin Tarantino, 1992): The release of She's Gotta Have It in 1986 marked the birth of the modern American independent film movement. With Sex, Lies, and Videotape in 1989, the movement entered its young adult years, finally invited to sit at the grown-ups' table, and finally regarded as having intelligent things to say. The modern American independent film movement reached maturity when Reservoir Dogs exploded onto the scene in 1992, providing a glimpse of unflinching brutality and unprecedented brilliance to a filmgoing public barely ready to deal with it.

And how odd that a film that felt so new was actually cobbled together from parts of the movies that preceded it, from The Taking of Pelham One Two Three, to The Killing, to at least one obscure Hong Kong actioner of which, I'm told, it's a virtual remake. But somewhere in that post-modern plagiarism is the film's genius. It feels like a fait accompli, some unearthed relic of our pop culture collective unconscious. And it's resonnated, as anyone who's visited their local multiplex and caught the latest quirky, chatty, meta-referencing crime drama can tell you.

But the paradox is that there's a freshness here. In the twisty non-linear way in which the story of a jewel heist gone bad reveals itself. In the film's refusal to let it's audience off the hook . . . when the psychopathic Mr. Blonde is alone with his captive cop, you can almost hear the audience whispering to director Quentin Tarantino, "cut away! Damn it, cut away!" But Tarantino doesn't make it that easy.

And most importantly, the film rocks. What a cast: Harvey Keitel as the tough guy with a heart, Tim Roth who spends most of the movie dying, Michael Madsen as the sadistic Mr. Blonde, Chris Penn as the not-so-nice Nice Guy Eddie, Steve Buscemi as a weaselly, dedicated professional, Lawrence Tierney as the gruff no-nonsense band leader . . . stop me when all this testosterone becomes too much for you. And that delicious macho dialogue: "You shoot me in a dream you'd better wake up and apologize." The steely-eyed standoffs, the brotherly love birthed in conspiracy, nurtured in bloodshed, ended in murder.

Tarantino was a video store clerk and an aspiring actor when Harvey Keitel got his hands on the script for Reservoir Dogs and helped get the picture made. Credit this non-traditional background for creating a film that has taught over-trained film school hacks a thing or two about the potential of cinema. There's not a whiff of Hollywood in Reservoir Dogs. Not a sliver of convention. It may be the most influential film of the 90's.