Excuse me, but Penny Serenade is a tear-jerker that tires a little too hard. George Stevens had a 14 year run — from the legendary Gunga Din (’39) to Shane (’53), which was probably his best along with A Place in the Sun. If you get technical about it he had a 12 year run since Shane was shot in ’51, the same year that A Place in the Sun was released.

Not to get all semantic, but ’45 to ’55 is 11 years, as is ’50 to ’60, and ’72 to ’82 — ’51 to ’60 is 10 years.

And let’s extend Fincher’s window to include DRAGON TATTOO, putting him at 13 years (’99 to ’11) so far.

Don’t ask me why he’s the first one to pop into my head, as he was only ever pretty- good- not- great, but Barry Levinson’s watchable period fits into this perfectly. Diner in ’82 to Bugsy in ’91. Aiming higher, Spike Lee: Do the Right Thing to 25th Hour, ’89 to ’02. I think there’s plenty of life left in Spike though, the last 5 years notwithstanding.

Luis Bunuel…had 3 periods. His early surrealism/documentary films, his Mexican films (from El: This Strange Passion to Viridiana/Exterminating Angel/Simon of the Desert) and then his Spanish/French period beginning with Belle du Jour and concluding with That Obscure Object of Desire.

Not sure I really buy this ten-year thing… it seems to work for a few directors, but I think that’s really just coincidence. I don’t feel like it fits the following great directors (who are just the first four guys I looked up with this concept in mind):

Woody Allen — Probably went from Annie Hall (1977) all the way to Sweet and Lowdown (1999) without really trailing off. Even since then, he’s been keeping to an interesting pattern of more-or-less hit/miss/hit/miss, that includes some of his very best work (Match Point, Vicky Cristina Barcelona, Midnight in Paris). I guess you could say he became less consistent right after Radio Days (1987) and wouldn’t be entirely wrong (the generally less highly regarded September, Another Woman, Alice, and Shadows and Fog were 4 of his next 5, but the very well-thought-of Crimes and Misdemeanors was the other film in that batch), but then he rebounded from 1992 (Husbands and Wives) to 1999 (Sweet and Lowdown) with another strong, consistent run. And that’s without even getting into his “early, funny” stuff, most of which was truly very, very funny, if less substantial than most of his post-1976 work.

John Ford — I can’t see how he fits a ten-year model when what are generally considered his two best films, The Searchers (1956) and The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance (1962) came long after his consistently successful 10-year-run cited in the post.

Billy Wilder — His run also extends for way more than 10 years however you slice it… you really can’t justify starting any later than Double Indemnity (1945) for him, and you can’t stop anytime before The Apartment (1960). And that’s contorting his resume to get as close as you can to a 10-year-stretch, as Wilder made some very strong films after 1960. The Private Life of Sherlock Holmes (1970) and Avanti! (1972) are particular favorites of mine.

Polanski — His best work also seems to be very spread out. You could claim some sort of artificial “super-run” from 1968 (Rosemary’s Baby) to 1979 (Tess), I guess… but that leaves out some excellent early work, a true masterpiece in The Pianist (2002), and a few less-ambitious but very-strong-on-their-own-terms movies like Frantic (1988), Death and the Maiden (1994) and The Ghost Writer (2010).

As somebody mentioned, this idea seems like it might work better for music, where the “director” is also the “star” (assuming the musician writes his or her own stuff and more-or-less has creative control) making shelf life inherently shorter and more zeitgeist-connected.