He's a leading man, he's a reluctant superhero, he's a tabloid fixture, he's known for trying to carry too many Dunkin' Donuts beverages in one trip. Ben Affleck is a legit American treasure, a square-jawed, cleft-chinned heartthrob who can really act (and write, and direct, and smoke dejectedly). Affleck's done it all in his thirty-year career: taking home a Best Screenplay Oscar in his mid-twenties, going on to direct a Best Picture winner, patting J-Lo's butt in the "Jenny On The Block" video and re-patting for the paparazzi twenty years later. He's grown up before our eyes, from goateed '90s indie-movie boy to the co-founder of Nike in his latest film, AIR, and we believe he's worthy of celebration. So we here at Esquire have taken it upon ourselves to rank his best movies. Here they are, plus a few quick roundups of the movies that got no love from our voters and can therefore no longer be considered Affleck Canon. |
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Danny Ryan returns in the heart-pounding sequel to 'City on Fire.' This time, everyone's favorite crime boss is on the run from the Mafia and the Feds, fighting for peace in a world that wants to destroy him. |
| The best seat in the house is now 20% off. |
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I'm really not an umbrella person. I have exactly one winter coat that has a hood, and it's impossible to wear without melting in temperatures above 30 degrees. Living in a climate where it's often a little bit warm and a little bit—or a lot—rainy (that is, New York City) means that my stubborn-headedness about rainy day attire often leaves me soaked, with damp hair for the rest of the day. Until, that is, I found the perfect parka. |
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Dan Kelly lost his Supreme Court bid in Wisconsin, sounding positively Trumpian. |
| Get rid of those wrinkles for good. |
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Photographers and cameramen clambered on the metal pipes of the scaffolding like monkey bars, searching for one last unclaimed angle to get the shot. "Just know that I'm getting back up there," one told another who was eyeing his former position. Journos of every description chattered amongst themselves or on the phone, asking what the person on the other end of the line was seeing on TV. In front of them was Centre Street, cleared except for some police vehicles and a number of officers in uniform or suited up or decked out in light blue jackets that read "NYPD Community Affairs." A bit to the left, diagonal across the street, was the Manhattan Criminal Courthouse. Beyond that was a caravan of tinted vehicles, one of which would soon whisk away Donald J. Trump, freshly fingerprinted and arraigned, the first current or former president to face indictment. |
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