The loss of Sidney Lumet last Saturday may not have come as a complete surprise, but it was still a crushing blow when the well-regarded director finally succumbed to lymphoma. It would perhaps be easier to take if his output had slumped in recent years – so often the case with older filmmakers – but as recently as 2007 he was still churning out high quality films. Lumet was regarded as an actor’s director, his films often demanding a lot from their stars. By way of tribute, 20/20 Filmsight has gathered together a batch of what we think are Lumet’s best works. His entire filmography is impressive, but these five are essential.

Lumet’s auspicious debut is the stuff of legend; an enduring, flawless classic in which the perseverance of a decent man gradually spreads through a cynical room of cleverly delineated jurors suffused with various shortcomings and prejudices that initially blind them to any true perception of justice. This was a landmark film for the young Lumet who coaxed one of the great performances from the legendary Henry Fonda. Still espoused for its textbook model of economy, the film stirs the soul with its humanity and authenticity. And with its skilful manipulation of a solitary, enclosed location, 12 Angry Men only gets better with every subsequent viewing.

Lumet was already recognised as an accomplished filmmaker by the early 1970s, having directed both 12 Angry Men and The Pawn Broker, but Serpico is often seen as his true breakthrough. Whether or not that’s the case, the 1973 film certainly was the start of a revitalised period in Lumet’s career, the then 49-year-old becoming the elder statesman of the new Hollywood directors. And rightly so, because Serpico is memorable on a number of levels. Stylish but gritty, based on true events yet propelled by breathless narrative, the film also featured Al Pacino in one of his more subtle performances. Often grouped together with Dirty Harry and The French Connection, Serpico feels almost spiritual in comparison to either of those films, its story of a left-leaning New York cop who rebels against department corruption staying with the viewer long after the final credits have rolled.

The second of the Lumet-Pacino match-ups and the second to be grounded in real events, Dog Day Afternoon is perhaps the Lumet film everybody can agree on. Based on a true story it may be, but Lumet and screenwriter Frank Pierson made some very pointed decisions, choosing not to glorify Sonny (Pacino) or Sal (John Cazale), the bumbling bank robbers at the centre of the plot, firmly casting their story into the moral ambiguity of the 1970s. Pacino won plaudits for his bravura performance, but in hindsight you could argue Cazale is the more effective of the two, Sal’s pessimism about the eventual outcome of the duo’s stunt having the same effect on the audience as it does his fellow characters. Lumet pitched his tone perfectly, capturing both the absurd comedy of the situation and the utter seriousness of the potential outcome. Sublime filmmaking.

Though remembered most readily for Peter Finch’s final – and Oscar-winning performance – as television anchorman Howard Beale, who threatens to end his life on air after being relieved of his duties after poor ratings, Network has many fascinating strands to recommend it. Paddy Chayevsky’s screenplay is considered the best he ever wrote, a satire – and an admirably understated one – of the industry and the soulless means-to-an-end its head honchos utilise to keep ratings in the ascendancy. Lumet was in prime form in the 70s and this scathing film, featuring slyly sinister turns from Faye Dunaway and Robert Duvall, may have been robbed, by time, of some of its satirical sting, but it still retains the power of its underlying messages.

Lumet’s swansong was incontrovertible proof that he’d lost none of his potency or relevance, even as he entered his 80s. A dark night of the soul crime drama, this saw Philip Seymour Hoffman and Ethan Hawke as brothers entering into a deal with the devil that goes horribly wrong as they prise apart their own family with a sledgehammer. Devil lent itself to a daring non-linear structure as it charted the downfall of its compelling but unsympathetic protagonists, revealing a director thoroughly adept at changing with the times. Though it covers unrelentingly bleak subject matter, Lumet’s final feature is filled with audacious touches and a cold adherence to that almost extinct determination to carry grim narratives through to their logical conclusion without any threat of a cheap redemption. This is just the kind of the film this great director was making in that golden era of the 1970s.