The world of cinema in the late 1960s and 1970s was a whirlwind of change, and while names like Spielberg and Coppola dominate the conversation, there’s a quieter cadre of auteurs who left an indelible mark. In this top 10 unsung roundup we shine a light on the directors who helped define the New Hollywood spirit without ever becoming household legends.
Top 10 Unsung Directors of the New Hollywood Era
10 Jack Hill
Often dubbed the “Howard Hawks of exploitation,” Jack Hill cut his teeth at UCLA where a chance encounter with Roger Corman opened doors to low‑budget horror. He quickly earned a reputation with titles like Blood Bath (1966) and Spider Baby (1967), showcasing a flair for eerie atmosphere on shoestring budgets.
Hill later pivoted to the Blaxploitation wave, teaming repeatedly with Pam Grier to craft films that both critiqued and celebrated African‑American experiences. Even today his work carries a Shakespeare‑like depth, trading gratuitous sex and violence for surprisingly nuanced human drama.
9 John Milius
Best known for penning the early drafts of Apocalypse Now and Dirty Harry, John Milius cultivated a reputation for his rebellious worldview, which often clashed with studio sensibilities. That anti‑establishment streak proved perfect for the era’s rising anti‑hero archetype.
Beyond screenwriting, Milius proved his directorial chops with gritty biopics like Dillinger (1973) and surf‑culture drama Big Wednesday (1977). He later tackled bigger spectacles such as Conan the Barbarian (1982) and the Cold‑War thriller Red Dawn (1984), and even co‑created HBO’s epic series Rome (2005–2007).
8 Herbert Ross
Starting out as a professional dancer, Herbert Ross made his directing debut in 1969 with a fresh take on James Hilton’s classic, Goodbye, Mr. Chips. From there he became a versatile journeyman, collaborating with stars like Barbra Streisand and Richard Dreyfuss throughout the New Hollywood period.
Ross’s chameleon‑like style often blended old‑Hollywood polish with contemporary storytelling. Notably, he helmed The Last of Sheila (1973), the sole film scripted by Broadway legend Stephen Sondheim, cementing his reputation as a director who could bridge disparate artistic worlds.
7 Jerry Schatzberg
Though New York’s 1970s film scene churned out legends, Jerry Schatzberg’s name is frequently overlooked. He began as a celebrated photographer before transitioning to independent filmmaking, working with talents like Faye Dunaway and Gene Hackman.
Schatzberg played a pivotal, if under‑appreciated, role in Al Pacino’s ascent. While Coppola and Lumet guided Pacino through iconic gangster dramas, Schatzberg captured the actor’s raw edge in The Panic in Needle Park (1971) and the tender yet stark Scarecrow (1973), both films exuding a naturalistic honesty emblematic of the era.
6 Bob Rafelson
Bob Rafelson first made waves as executive producer on Easy Rider (1969) via his Raybert Productions venture, which later evolved into BBS. His knack for “legitimizing” actors who previously lingered in B‑movies helped launch careers for Karen Black in Five Easy Pieces (1970) and a young Arnold Schwarzenegger in Stay Hungry (1976).
5 George Roy Hill
Much like Herbert Ross, George Roy Hill’s visual signature isn’t instantly recognizable, yet his filmography speaks volumes. After a string of 1960s comedies and musicals, Hill broke out with the iconic western‑buddy film Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid (1969), starring Paul Newman and Robert Redford.
He later reunited the duo for the Academy‑Award‑winning The Sting, and also directed them separately in classics such as The Great Waldo Pepper (1975) and the cult hockey satire Slap Shot (1977). Hill’s knack for slipping countercultural rebellion into genre fare extended into sci‑fi adaptations like Slaughterhouse‑Five (1972) and heartfelt comedies such as The World According to Garp (1982) and Funny Farm (1988).
4 Alan J. Pakula
Alan J. Pakula’s influence on modern crime cinema is profound yet often under‑credited. After producing the timeless To Kill a Mockingbird (1962), he helped shape the paranoid mood of the 1970s with thrillers like Klute (1971) and The Parallax View (1974).
His crowning achievement, All the President’s Men (1976), remains the definitive portrayal of investigative journalism, cementing Pakula’s legacy as a master of tension‑filled storytelling that resonated through the decade and beyond.
3 Melvin Van Peebles
Melvin Van Peebles stands as a towering figure among Black filmmakers and independent cinema alike. After a brief stint at Columbia Pictures with Watermelon Man (1970), he self‑financed the groundbreaking Sweet Sweetback’s Baadasssss Song (1971) after studios balked at backing his vision.
Beyond its historical weight, the film holds its own against high‑brow social‑issue cinema while also embracing the raw, unapologetic humor of the era. Van Peebles’s theatrical background infused his visual style with a heightened, stage‑like sensibility that pushed cinematic boundaries.
2 Hal Ashby
Hal Ashby may not be a household name, but his oeuvre epitomizes the spirit of 1970s auteurism. From the off‑beat romance of Harold and Maude (1971) to the gritty road drama The Last Detail (1973) and the satirical look at 1970s excess in Shampoo (1975), his films offered intimate dreamscapes that countered the era’s social turbulence.
Originally an Academy‑Award‑winning editor, Ashby’s directorial voice focused on minute, human moments that amplified larger themes. Roger Ebert famously summed up Being There (1979) by noting that a movie is “exactly what it shows us, and nothing more,” a sentiment that perfectly captures Ashby’s understated yet profound storytelling.
1 Elaine May
If Hal Ashby is the most overlooked 1970s director, Elaine May might just be the ultimate unsung auteur. She first dazzled New York audiences as half of the groundbreaking comedy duo Nichols and May, earning multiple awards and a devoted following.
Transitioning to film, May delivered sharp, incisive works like The Heartbreak Kid (1972) after a pre‑lude of A New Leaf (1971). Her later effort, Mikey and Nicky (1976), strained studio relations, leading her to literally hide reels in a friend’s garage until her creative demands were met.
Despite critical praise and box‑office success, May was labeled “difficult” within a male‑dominated industry, facing misogynistic hierarchies that limited her output to just four feature films. Even her infamous 1987 flop Ishtar has been reassessed, proving that her work still resonates decades later.