#84 - Easy Rider

The typical buddy road picture ... on acid (literally). This movie, like "The Graduate" which also came out in 1967, did a lot to create the culture it depicted. In the case of "Easy Rider," it is a culture of hippies, psychotropic drug use, and pot-induced discussions around a campfire.

Peter Fonda plays Wyatt, better known as "Captain America" because of his flag-adorned motorcycle and clothing. His buddy, played brilliantly by a long-haired Dennis Hopper (who died on May 29, 2010), is Billy. Together they travel on their bikes from Los Angeles to New Orleans for Mardi Gras, which ends up being the most important trip they took their entire lives.

Along the way, they meet a cast of interesting characters. Most captivating is a young Jack Nicholson, who earned an Oscar nomination for portraying the booze-dipped Southern lawyer George Hanson.

The tagline for the movie, as you can see on the poster, is "A man went looking for America. And couldn't find it anywhere." This is the true heart of the film: through all of its weird scene-cuts, its extended LSD-trip scene in a cemetery, and its depiction of Middle America as ignorant and bumbling, only one thing remains central -- America has lost the freedom its forefathers died to protect.

While I don't believe, as George Hanson does, that UFOs have dropped off aliens who look and act just like the rest of us and have become regular members of society since being brought here, I do agree that most people (especially in 1969) were not acting like their real selves. While I obviously do not identify with the long-haired hippies that are the film's main characters, I can sympathize their feelings of ostracism when they eat at the diner in Texas (?) and everyone has their judgmental eyes on their foreheads.

The movie was daring for its time, in more ways than one. Referenced earlier were the weird scene-cuts and the extended LSD trip. For some reason (I'm sure he had one), the director -- who happens to be Dennis Hopper, in his directorial debut -- chose to end each scene with a flash to the next scene, then coming back to the first scene, then going back to the second, then back to the first, then finally resting on the second scene and continuing the story. It was unsettling, weird, and confusing -- perhaps this was the exact intention of the technique. But weirdest of all things found in the film is the five-minute LSD trip found near the end of the film. There are no words for the bizarreness of this scene, so I'm not even going to try. Just watch (I couldn't find the English version, but you can get the gist from this).

The movie was short, yet had a large amount of sequences that consisted nothing more than the duo driving through America and showing us the scenery. Because of this, the movie feels almost like a documentary. But the ending jars us back into reality: this is fiction, dramatic and overblown, but real nonetheless.

#26 - Mr. Smith Goes to Washington

Frank Capra knows how to make a movie that just warms your heart. This piece from his fell-goodery collection is pulled from the political science department. James Stewart plays Jefferson Smith, a man thrust into the headlines when he goes from being a boy-scout leader to state Senator overnight.

Conflicts arise when Smith tries to start a national boys' camp, to be paid for by young men all across the nation in the form of small-change donations. When he is accused to pocketing the money, Mr. Smith uses the finest tool our nation's freedom of speech has ever created: the senatorial filibuster. He talks for almost 24 hours, eventually changing the mind of the man who is persecuting him.

This is the first time I'd ever seen this 1939 movie, and to be honest, I've had a lot of opportunities to watch it before, but I've always been kind of intimidated by it. I didn't think I would understand everything, and it just seemed like it would be a labor to watch. I was right, in some ways, but I shouldn't have let those things deter me from seeing such an important piece of American cinema.

The film was quite controversial in its time. Its representation of Senators as drowsy, indifferent representatives was quite frowned upon by people in government. This turns out to be one of the film's greatest benefits, as we see the entire room full of politicians go from uninterested to engaged during Smith's filibuster.

Smith's love interest is an interesting one. Clarissa Saunders, played by Jean Arthur and only rarely called Clarissa throughout the film, becomes Mr. Smith's chief of staff when he arrives at Washington and they befriend one another. Smarter than most of the other characters, Saunders is dry and witty -- rare for a female character in 1939 (compare to Scarlett O'Hara, for instance).

But the centerpiece of the film is not a character or a performance (though Stewart is at perhaps his best as Mr. Smith). Instead, it is the final scene, or rather the idea of the final scene. The huskiness of Smith's voice, the urgency in Saunders's eyes, and the idea that this simpleton's cause has become a national phenomenon all make for a fantastic and pulse-pounding scene (if you're into political discourse). The movie is slow in the middle, but this makes up for it. A timeless classic, this movie is sure to inspire countless political hopefuls to become candidates for public office. And for that we can either thank or condemn the film, which ever you prefer.

#72 - The Shawshank Redemption

Prison life, geology, and this movie are all about two things: time and pressure.

The first two are compared by Morgan Freeman's character in this quiet, pensive 1994 film from director Frank Darabont. The 142 minutes of the movie creep by, but not in a boring way. Instead, time is used in the way it is experienced by the prisoners: time to think it over, time to learn about people, time to change.

Tim Robbins plays Andy Dufresne, a man accused of killing his wife and her lover in a crime of passion. He is given two back-to-back life sentences at the Shawshank State Penitentiary in Maine, where he meets a wide variety of characters. Most notable are Morgan Freeman's characterization of Ellis "Red" Redding and James Whitmore as the aging prisoner/librarian Brooks Hatlen. The film spans twenty years in the prison life of Andy and his subsequent escape (sorry if this spoils anything, it's pretty well-known).

The movie received mixed reviews when it first came out. People thought it was too slow and too calculating to be good. It was also a box office bomb, costing $25 million and bringing in only $28 million. Under the mainstream shadow of "Forrest Gump" and the indie shadow of "Pulp Fiction," this movie did not fare very well at any of the award shows. But the film is a rare example of a movie that grows in popularity and critical reception through home video and television showings.

Since it is based on a novella by Stephen King, it is hard to believe that this movie has no elements of horror -- or even real suspense. There is violence typical of King, sure. (Andy is terrorized by a group of homosexual prisoners called "The Sisters" who sexually assault him regularly -- his reactions are haunting.) But there is nothing that would keep even the most horror-phobic awake at night.

Depictions of horror are replaced with depictions of the human will to be free. Andy's baptismal cleansing after crawling through 500 yards of sewer pipes to the outside world is cathartic, quenching, and just very well-acted. Most pitiful, however, is the character of Brooks Hatlen, who is paroled after serving 50 years of his life sentence. A man who knows nothing but prison life struggles to acclimate to the outside world (imagine going into prison in 1960 and coming out in 2010 -- it gives me chills), and ends up losing everything that he held valuable within the stone walls of Shawshank.

The movie excels with its solitude. This is not a barn-burner, full of laughs or action or face-slapping drama. This is a movie about a few men living trapped, by themselves, among hundreds of other men. And that is what makes the movie so captivating.

#69 - Tootsie

When Roger Ebert originally reviewed this absolutely hilarious, amazing film, he said, "Tootsie is the kind of Movie with a capital M that they used to make in the 1940s, when they weren't afraid to mix up absurdity and seriousness, social comment with farce, and a little heartfelt tenderness right in there with the laughs. This movie gets you coming and going."

I totally agree.

The movie has such an undeniably lovability about it. It is impossible to resist. Dustin Hoffman, who is rapidly becoming one of my favorite actors, plays Michael Dorsey, a 40-something actor living in New York, struggling to find work. Plot points entwine, and he comes up with the brilliant ruse to dress up in drag and land a spot on a soap opera, playing the level-headed go-getter hospital administrator.

Much like "Some Like It Hot," this movie starts with a gimmick that is always a crowd-pleaser: man dressed like woman. Ha, ha. But both of these classics (#1 and #2 on AFI's 100 Best Comedies, coincidentally) have more substance than gimmick, and that's what makes them both so brilliant.

There is a certain quality about "Tootsie" that I love, yet can't put my finger on. Perhaps it is the purely mainstream feel about the movie, undercut with social commentary about gender roles in post-women's lib America. Perhaps it is how it appeals to all Americans with this "mainstreaminess." No one, including myself, can resist the temptation of seeing Dustin Hoffman in a dress.

But more than these qualities, I think the movie is so brilliant because it is a comedy. It sounds simple, just to say that a movie is great because it is funny. There are a ton of funny movies out there. But "Tootsie" is decidedly different. The humor is mostly purely word-based. Other than the images of Hoffman in curlers and a nightgown, most of the laugh-out-loud moments are born out of wit and genuine comedy, not cheap laughs.

Rather than focusing on the movie as a whole, I'd like to talk about one character who doesn't really exist, but has become one of the most endearing characters in movie history. Dorothy Michaels, the woman Michael Dorsey becomes, is such a sharp-shooter, it is hard not to love her. Her Southern grace and her ability to go toe-to-toe with the soap opera's director make her one of my favorite characters ever. Also, she is one of the only "fictional fictional characters" I can think of that has a life of her own. She's just brilliant. I mean just perfect.

The movie -- I refuse to call this a film: it is hilarious, simple, and brilliant, but it yearns not to be called the pretentious title of "film" -- is one of the most shamelessly funny movies I've ever seen. Tongue-in-cheek, spunky, and forward-thinking, this movie emulates its title character in its own special way.

#71 - Saving Private Ryan

Meh. Sure, the war scenes were great, and some of the characters were memorable, but was I moved by this 1998 war movie? No. This was the first time I'd ever seen the legendary first 30 minutes of the movie, and to be honest, I was expecting more. In my opinion, the first fifth of the movie was one of the worst parts. Please don't kill me.

I think this, much like "The Sixth Sense," is a movie which is permanently stuck in the "just good" category, not able to transcend greatness into perfection. Call me old-fashioned, but I think 1994's "Pulp Fiction" should be the most recent movie on the list.

The story is of course simple. Captain John Miller, played by Tom Hanks at his usual level of greatness, is sent to locate and procure the safe return of a paratrooper whose three brothers had died. Capt. Miller assembles a battalion of sorts, including the film's most endearing and frustrating character, a timid cartographer and interpreter, to go out and find the soldier who may be alive, wounded, or dead.

Along the way, people die, as in most war movies ever made. And the film ends with a bloody showdown that I think is doubly as good, as interesting, as the first thirty-minute D-Day sequence.

And that brings us back to the shy interpreter, Timothy Upham, played by Jeremy Davies. When he does the cowardly thing and refuses to save his comrade, though it would be easy to do so, he is taking a stand that it is clear will haunt him for the rest of his life. Played poignantly, pitifully, and perfectly, Davies brings humor and life to this rather drab film.

There are patches of greatness, of course. The directing is top-notch, perhaps Spielberg's best non-blockbuster film. And Tom Hanks as the schoolteacher-turned-military captain is pensive and intriguing. But where the movie fails is its desperate appeals to emotion. Final speeches, most of them consisting of the sentence "Tell my wife I love her," pepper the entire film, and they begin to lose their punch after a while. Maybe it's the Millennial in me showing, but the movie simply bored me. I know I may stand alone, but it's the truth.

#46 - It Happened One Night

The ultimate, the best, the classic, the romantic comedy.

You know all of those movies with Julia Roberts and Hugh Grant (and any number of their contemporaries)? Love them or hate them, "It Happened One Night" is the reason for their existence.

Made in 1934, Frank Capra directed Clark Gable and Claudette Colbert in one of the best movies of the century. The story of a spoiled heiress who jumps ship (literally) and fleas to New York to start a life of her own and a newspaper reporter who finds himself sitting beside her on the bus from Miami to New York, this movie is one of the funniest and most romantic movies I've ever seen -- this, coming from a cold-hearted Grinch.

Other than the performances, what makes the movie soar is the screenplay. The writer, Robert Riskin, gave these characters soul and a sense of humor that is all their own. This was typical for the male characters before this movie -- all of them were different. But all of the female characters were kind of two-dimensional comedically. None of them gave as good as they got, really. Until Claudette's turn as Ellie Andrews. Even as a 79-year-old, I would still marry this woman.

The film was the first of three to win the "Big Five" Academy Awards (Best Picture, Best Director, Best Actor, Best Actress, and Best Screenplay). This achievement would not be duplicated until 1975 with "One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest" and then again in 1991 with "The Silence of the Lambs." For this movie to sweep the Oscars in this unprecedented way was both expected and deserved.

The brilliant simplicity of the story -- all of it can be told in the time of about sixty seconds -- and the endearing genre created by a single movie are the film's biggest contributions. While there have been many re-hashings of the story, many duplicates of the characters, and many attempts to recreate the humor and the spark between Gable and Colbert, no romantic comedy has ever come close to "It Happened One Night."

Seriously, just watch the movie. Netflix has it to watch instantly, every Blockbuster should have a copy, and Google Videos even has it in its entirety. Just watch it, and thank me later.

#75 - In the Heat of the Night

Not really impressed. Sure, it was decent, maybe even good. But it wasn't earth-shattering Top 100 material. The story of a murder case in racially charged Sparta, Mississippi, 1967's "In the Heat of the Night" has such classic characters as Sidney Poitier as Virgil Tibbs (make sure you call him Mr. Tibbs) and Rod Steiger as the level-headed chief of police Bill Gillespie.

Steiger won the Academy Award for Best Actor for this film (Poitier wasn't even nominated, take that for what you will). Steiger's competition was some of the stiffest I've ever seen: Paul Newman in "Cool Hand Luke," Spencer Tracy in "Guess Who's Coming to Dinner?," Dustin Hoffman in "The Graduate," and Warren Beatty in "Bonnie & Clyde." And Steiger won. I honestly would put him in last place in that category, which had to be a photo-finish.

All of this is not to say that I did not enjoy the movie. It was mildly enjoyable: the story was simple enough, and the acting was above-average, I guess. I just saw it more as a hard-nosed detective story rather than one of the best movies ever.

Some movies on this list seem to be chosen based on their politics (I'm looking at you, "Do the Right Thing"). Of course this is supposed to be an indictment of the widespread racism of 1960s America (not just the South, but especially), but what does the movie really prove? What did it accomplish? When a movie tries to get too preachy, it is either done only to the choir, or its results are the opposite of its intentions.

The film has a 96% "Fresh" rating on RottenTomatoes.com, a site I put a lot of stock in. The lonely "rotten" review was written by a guy named Nick. While he was lambasted for ruining the film's perfect reputation, I agree with a lot of the things he says: "American liberals, though obviously preferable to to its racist hate-mongers, are forever so ensconced in a deluded rhetoric of color-blindness that when a picture even notices the blackness of some of its characters, many audiences will sense that political work has been accomplished." All "In the Heat of the Night" has to say is that racism exists, and it's wrong. Thank you for that, give them five Oscars. Give me a break.

#90 - Swing Time

There just has to be a Fred and Ginger movie on the list. And though this is the first one I've ever seen, I can see what all the hullabaloo is about. The film is the ultimate pre-World War II example of good, clean fun.

Fred Astaire has become a cliche in recent years. Not really a joke, but only useful for one type of movie: this type. While I was watching it, I realized that our generation's version of this movie would probably be the "Step Up" trilogy (trilogy!). And that made me sad. But what makes this story that is essentially a vehicle for more, fantastic dancing, is the investment we have in the characters and the personalities that we can see showing from the performances of the triple threats. I haven't seen any of the "Step Up" movies, but I doubt any of them have a character as sassy and hilarious as Mabel, played by Helen Broderick, who is the Ethel Mertz of the movie, which automatically makes her my favorite character.

When it comes to what is the film's greatest contribution to the pop culture arena, an argument could be made for the original singing of the "The Way You Look Tonight." Whereas I always thought Sinatra had started it and made it a standard, I was interested to find that this is where the song got its origin: Astaire sitting at a piano, just singing.

I've never been that impressed by dancing. I've never been wowed; everything I've seen has been okay, but I've never been blown away. This movie's choreography, the emotion behind every movement of Fred and Ginger, blew me away.

Overall, the film was funny, bright, and had an interesting story. The stellar dance routines and my first experience with seeing Fred Astaire float around the room only added to the enjoyment of "Swing Time."

#31 - The Maltese Falcon

Oh, Bogie. The ultimate film noir in my opinion, 1941's Best Picture-nominated "The Maltese Falcon" is the quintessential fast-talking, quick-movie 1940s detective movie that has quotes like the gem "When you're slapped, you'll take it and like it!" Genius.

The story is relatively straightforward, but goes deep into the heart of human greed and people's willingness to lie to get ahead. Basically, a falcon statuette was forged in 1539 and bejeweled with priceless stones. Over 400 years later, the search is still on for the maltese falcon. This is what brings the four main eccentric characters together.

There's Bogie, who plays Sam Spade, the typical tough-talking private eye. Then there's her love interest (?) Brigid O'Shaughnessy, who has an incurable dishonesty when it comes to ... well, everything. And who could forget the creepy Peter Lorre as the effeminate and obviously emotionally scarred Joel Cairo. He gave me nightmares. And finally is a man that is first introduced to us as "the Fat Man." His actually name is Kasper Gutman, and Sydney Greenstreet brings him to (larger than) life and gives him all of the personality the character exhibits.

The movie really has it all -- more melodrama than you'd ever need, intrigue that leaves you hanging after each and every scene, and more than a few laugh-out-loud moments when Sam Spade shows his true, frustratedly cynical colors.

The film was made at a very low budget, and you can tell -- but I don't mean that in a negative way. The film is simple, the special effects are minimal, and there is more detail placed on the story and the development of the multi-layered characters. It is a beautiful directorial debut for John Huston, who would go down in cinema history as one of the most respected filmmakers ever.

The over-sized villains, the beautifully weird crooks, the ultimate femme fatale, and the gruffy hero no one wants to admire all make "The Maltese Falcon" a joy to watch again and again.

#14 - Psycho

Perhaps this is the classic horror movie. Everyone's heard of it, but only a few people I know have ever seen it. Alfred Hitchcock's most popular (best?) movie, this 1960 horror film tells the story of a young girl who steals a lot of money from her company and goes on the lam. One night while driving away she stays at a hotel. And then she takes a shower.

Having Marion Crane die only 47 minutes into the movie -- less than halfway through -- was a big deal. No one had ever seen that in 1960: a film that was said to star a woman whose death starts the real action of the movie. It's like two movies: everything leading up to and including her death is an intriguing, suspenseful horror movie. And then after her death, it's purely a detective story (with one gory death thrown in). This is unprecedented.

For these reasons, among others, critics returned mixed reviews for "Psycho" when it first came out. Some thought Hitchcock had really missed the mark with this one, but the more forward-thinking ones so it as an instant masterpiece.

Also interesting is the phobia-inducing effect of the movie. Much like "Jaws" prevented people from swimming in open waters, "Psycho" prevented some people from taking showers. One such person was Janet Leigh, who plays Marion Crane (who could blame her?). She would lock all the doors and windows when she had to bathe. She never realized until she first saw the film "how vulnerable and defenseless one is."

But more important than the film's shock factor or its amazing score (the violin strings seem to cut deeper than the knife would) is the film's quality of entertainment and dealing with tough issues. The 108 minutes are some of the most entertaining you will ever see -- I was gripped to my seat, and this wasn't the first time I'd ever seen it. Also, the film's upfront dealing with a man who is obviously psychotic (you'll have to watch the movie to see the full level of his disease) was refreshing now in a world of desensitized language. We all know he is crazy, he knows he is crazy, and he should be put out of sight for a very long while. This sense of justice gave the film great closure, and may be one of the film's most endearing qualities. An absolute must-see, no excuses.

#76 - Forrest Gump

Are movies really timeless? In fifty years, will "Citizen Kane" still be considered the greatest movie ever? Only time will tell, but I would be willing to make the prediction that 1994's "Forrest Gump" will only grow in people's opinions as time goes on.

The movie is seen as overly sentimental nowadays, and I can understand that. But that doesn't stop me from saying "That is a good movie" every time I watch it all the way through.

If you don't know the story by now, you probably never will. A less-than-ordinary man from the fictional Greenbow, Alabama, lives an absolutely extraordinary life, weaving in and out of pop cultural and historical events.

What I noticed this time around was Forrest's amazingly simple, determined focus about some things. Because of his dimness, he only has the ability to see one way of doing things -- a quality we should admire in this high-paced, busy world of ours. When his army buddy teaches him how to play ping-pong, he only tells him one rule: "Always keep your eye on the ball." And that's just what Forrest does, and it turns out that that is the key to the game. Unlike other, admittedly smarter, individuals, he is not distracted by the outside world. He sees only himself and the ball, which is all that really matters when it comes to ping-pong.

More than any other time I've watched this movie was the character of Jenny. While I have usually just brushed her off as a good-for-nothing hippie who wasn't good enough for Forrest, I really enjoyed the way her character popped up at the most fitting times of the movie -- every time there was a time to breathe, a time for quiet reflection, Forrest would mention Jenny. I loved that.

Forrest's ability to cope is also astounding. Perhaps it's because of his dim-witted nature, but it seems like nothing really gets to him. Contrast this with Lieutenant Dan and Jenny, who can't seem to catch a break and go about in pity for themselves. Instead of feeling sorry for himself, Forrest just runs when he's at his lowest point -- why not?

The movie isn't outstandingly well-directed or well acted (except for Tom Hanks, of course, who is genius in everything) or anything technical like that. But every part of the movie is good enough to make for a truly great movie that I'm sure will be higher than #76 if this list is redone anytime in the future.

#17 - The Graduate

Some movies define the consciousness of a generation. They do not merely reflect or depict it; they create it. 1967's "The Graduate" is a fine example of one such movie.

A movie truly ahead of its time, this film directed by Mike Nichols tells the story of Benjamin Braddock (played by Dustin Hoffman, in his breakout role that earned him an Oscar nomination) and his relationship with two women, the "older woman" Mrs. Robinson (played by the devilishly seductive Anne Bancroft) and her daughter Elaine (played by the innocent and lovely Katharine Ross).

The movie's most famous line is heard early in the movie, at a party held for the newly graduated Benjamin by his parents at their Southern California home. A man pulls him aside to give him some advice about the future, not really knowing he is getting to the heart of the movie: "I just want to say one word to you ... Are you listening? ... Plastics."

In an oblique way, this is the heart of the movie. Benjamin has become disillusioned with the SoCal way of life -- or any way of life, for that matter. Everything is fake, put through a filter, not real at all. Plastic. And that's his future.

It is not until he is seduced by the older Mrs. Robinson that his life finds purpose. In a series of affairs at the Taft Hotel, Benjamin and Mrs. Robinson become closer, but it's only superficial. When she tells him to never ask out her daughter (they went to high school together), he sees it as a challenge, but brushes it off. When pressured into by his parents, he ends up taking her to a cabaret show where a showgirl shimmies over Elaine's head (the scene is pitiful, but in an amazing way). They end up falling for each other, and there are elements of the forbidden love archetype before Benjamin takes drastic steps to be with the woman he loves.

Where the movie soars is its arrangement of emotion, humor, and social commentary. Nichols uses some totally new techniques. My personal favorite is a moment when Benjamin flops down on a pool float, and lands on Mrs. Robinson in the next scene. Genius, the movie is worth watching just to see it, honestly. Also there is the use of the amazing subjective shot when Benjamin is in a Scuba suit, a birthday present from his father. The scene is tense, reflective, and hilarious.

I almost forgot. The soundtrack. Written and sung exclusively by folk-rock duo Simon & Garfunkel, the soundtrack is widely known as one of the best ever. They wrote each song to fit exactly what was going on in the movie, so that the songs would be what Benjamin would say whenever a song started playing. As he drives over 1100 miles in about a day, the "koo-koo-ka-choo" of "Mrs. Robinson" pushes him up the California coastline, and it remains one of the best music choices in movie music history.

The movie is simply some of the most inventive filmmaking I've ever seen. It is a classic movie for modern times. It is, in my opinion, at the absolute perfect spot in the list -- #17. My favorite number.

#50 - The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring

The first chapter in one of the best movie trilogies ever is a slow-building, background-establishing tour de force. 2001's installment of the Lord of the Rings trilogy is my second-favorite, after the epic third and final installment. The story is simple, even if people try their darnedest to make it complex.

A young man is bequeathed a ring that has the power to rule over all of Middle Earth, and he must embark upon a journey to a doomed mountain to destroy it, ensuring peace forever. Nipping at his heels the entire time are minions of the evil ring, led to find the boy and destroy him before he can destroy the ring.

What is most enamoring about the film is its escape factor. I defy anyone to not get swept away by the awe-inspiring landscape of New Zealand, where the movie was filmed. Its scope is so grand, its dialogue and background so rich, it's hard not to feel as if you are in the Shire. (Although, Rivendell is clearly the place to be -- wow.)

I watched the theatrical version (178 minutes) instead of the extended version (208 minutes). Some Peter Jacksonian purists would hoist their noses high into the air because of my bourgeois viewing tendencies, but I felt it was important to watch the movie that everyone originally saw, and was apparently great enough for the AFI voters to choose to start off their Top 50.

This is one of only three movies on the list I saw in theaters ("Toy Story" and "Titanic" being the other two), and I must say, the landscape and visual effects were just as thrilling to me then as they were yesterday. But as an 11-year-old, you would imagine, I did not fully grasp the story (at all). Even when I watched all three of the movies about a year-and-a-half ago, I didn't really know what was going on. Now, it seems that I was just bored and distracted on all other prior viewings. The story was simple, straightforward, and nothing short of gripping.

Altogether, the easy-to-follow story, the unprecedented level of quality in the special effects, and the perfect location scouting by director Jackson, make for the film that is unique in two ways: it is the latest film on the list, coming out six short years before the list was revised, and it is the only truly fantasy film (I mean "fantasy" in the purest sense of the word -- trolls, hobbits, elves; not "The Wizard of Oz"-type stuff). The movie is a fast-paced (as fast-paced as a three-hour movie can be) adventure to a world completely apart from our own, and that in and of itself makes it worthy of its being on this list.

#91 - Sophie's Choice

Gender and age discrepancies aside, if my life were made into a movie, I would want Meryl Streep to play my part.

This woman is a genius.

And this is the film where she really comes into her own as a full-bodied, well-tuned maestro of the acting profession. As far as I'm concerned, Meryl is the only person acting in this movie. Everyone else is fine, sure: Kevin Kline made me hate his schizophrenic drug-addict character, and Peter MacNicol was okay as the hayseed Southern boy from Virginia taking root in Brooklyn to finish a book. But none of them shine quite as brightly as Meryl.

She plays Sophie Zawistowski, a woman who was interned at Auschwitz, though not Jewish (she didn't type up some Gestapo documents when asked by Nazi leaders). While waiting in a line at the concentration camp, a Nazi officer comes up to her and demands that she choose one of her two children to go into the camp, alone. If she chooses, he says, he will let her and the other child go free. If she does not choose, he will take them all into the camp. Sophie makes her big choice, and lives with it for the rest of her life.

Her choice, while being the emotional climax of the movie, is not the main plotline. In 1947, Sophie is living in Brooklyn with her boyfriend Nathan Landau (a hideous man played by Kevin Kline). They are joined in their boarding house by a 22-year-old boy from the South who goes by the name Stingo. Stingo falls for Sophie, Nathan is jealous and insane, drama and tragedy follows.

Like I said, the emotional core of the movie is Sophie's choice (duh). Streep did an exceptionally good job in this movie of playing a tough-skinned Polish girl with a secret that tears her apart daily. I found myself hanging on each, masterfully accented, word she spoke. Although the movie is only above average except for Streep's performance (I wasn't moved by the story, the directing, or the other acting), her turn as Sophie made watching the movie entirely worthwhile.

Only watch this movie if you are prepared for one of the best performances a living actress has ever given. Meryl Streep, God bless you.

#9 - Vertigo

I'm still not entirely sure I understand this movie. This usually means that a movie is great, if I don't get it. One of Alfred Hitchcock's masterpieces, this 1958 psychological thriller may have invented its genre, but definitely made it infinitely more popular.

The main storyline of the movie is the relationship between Scottie Ferguson (played by an aging, but still brilliant, James Stewart) and a woman he is supposed to be spying on, a friend's wife. The reason for his detective work is his friend's suspicion that his wife may have been inhabited by a dead woman's spirit (Oh, Hitchcock).

The movie follows their relationship, which ends up becoming romantic. And then it gets really weird, a little over halfway through the movie. What looks like a tragic suicide ends up being a truly awful conspiracy to confound Ferguson and get rid of a nagging wife.

The movie was more experimental than I thought it would be -- more cutting-edge. There is a dream sequence pretty deep into the movie. For there to be a dream sequence, this lengthy and this high on the weirdness scale, has got to be unique for a mainstream movie made in the 1950s. Just watch it.

I've seen a couple of Hitchcock's movie before, but I've never really grasped how masterful his work was, until now. The shots he uses can be modern and inventive, or subtle and classic. Although he dealt almost exclusively with the horror/thriller genres, I think he has one of the widest directorial ranges of any director, ever.

When the movie first came out, it was met with mixed reviews. People thought the movie was too long with a plot that was labyrinthine, bogged down by too much detail. It was only in 1983, when the film was re-released, when it was accepted as the thrilling, cerebral movie it is.

A movie that deals with issues deeper than the human psyche, Hitchcock's (most ambitious?) offering is nothing short of cinematic genius. A gripping (though confusing) story, with a great performance by the sphinxlike Kim Novak, wrapped around with a strand of good old Hitchcockian intrigue all make for a most enjoyable ride, fully deserving of its lofty position on the list.

#63 - Cabaret

Pardon the lack of political correctness, but this is one of the gayest movies I've ever seen. Set in 1931 Berlin, this 1972 movie-musical is loosely based on the musical by Kander and Ebb (the poor man's Rodgers and Hammerstein).

The story, starring Liza Minelli and Michael York, depicts the relationship between American Sally Bowles and Briton Brian Roberts. Sally is a cabaret singer at the local Kit Kat Klub (unfortunate initials, no?), and Brian moves into her apartment complex to complete a study of German culture.

The person who steals the show, however, is Joel Grey, who won the Oscar for his portrayal of The Master of Ceremonies of the nightclub shown throughout the film. Never seen off the stage, I feel like the movie turns to him and one of his zany (and lewd!) performances whenever the plot gets a little boring. He also sets the entire tone of the movie with the perfect opening song, "Wilkommen." Like any good musical number, this has been in my head for days since I watched this movie. Just look at this man. Perfectly campy and perfectly cast.

The main conflict in the movie, however, is the burgeoning relationship between Sally and Brian. Forward and promiscuous, Sally has a personality that is in direct opposition to Brian's reserved and almost celibate way of life. Once Sally finally breaks through Brian's soft shell, she ends up pregnant. But a question of the paternity arises after she has an affair with a baron who had been wooing her for a few days. Sally has the child aborted, and ends up bidding goodbye to Brian and singing a razzle-dazzle song in the club. That's how all abortions end up, right?

But the movie is effective in its depiction of 1930s Germany (I'm guessing). The sound of clarinets blaring through the musical arrangements take you to a faraway place, if you're willing to go there. Is it worth being on this list? I'll give a reluctant "Yes," but say that it should be much, much lower than it is (of what I've seen so far) -- we're talking low-90s territory. The rise of Nazism angle is interesting. And the musical numbers are catchy and funny, I've got to give the movie that, especially my favorite, the last song, the title song of the movie. As gay as it may sound, life really is a cabaret.

#52 - Taxi Driver

Martin Scorsese is an absolute genius. This gritty, unrelenting portrayal of one man's innermost strength and insanity has got to be one of the most impressing movies ever (not impressing in the conventional sense of the word, but rather the movie that leaves the longest-lasting impression on anyone who watches it).

We start feeling a special brand of pity for the main character Travis Bickle, played by Robert De Niro in one of his best roles. We see him go to the pornographic theater, we see him watching a beautiful girl from afar, we see him doing whatever it takes to get his attention. But what we end up feeling for Bickle is far from pity. Or is it?

The other notable performance is from Jodie Foster. Playing a 12-year-old prostitute, the 13-year-old Foster had to go through psychological testing by the California Board of Labor to see if she could stand up to the emotional trauma of portraying her role.

The final shoot-out is an opera of blood, profanity, and madness. To keep the movie at an R-rating, Scorsese had to actually desaturate the color of the blood in the last ten minutes to make it less bright and less noticeable. I can only imagine how gory and disturbing the original scene must have been, given the "tamer" version.

Most famous for its quote that starts with Bickle talking to the mirror, saying, "You talkin' to me?" the film has become a classic and a must-see for any film buff.

There is a quiet, pathetic humor to the situation when Bickle takes his date Betsy (played with a brilliant innocence by Cybill Shepherd) to the pornographic theater for one of their first dates. When she leaves in a huff and he doesn't understand what the big deal is, the audience just wants to shake him to wake him up -- the audience has the similar desire near the end of the film as well.

There is much debate about the movie's last five minutes -- after the big shoot-out. What seems on the surface to just be a continuation of Bickle's life, many view the scene as either his dying thoughts or a pure fantasy. What is seen in the last five minutes is simply him living his life as normal -- he has become a bit of a local hero for shooting a ton of corrupt and contemptible figures in the neighborhood, and he has returned to his job as a New York cabbie. Whether this is reality, Scorsese decides to leave to the viewer's opinion. This openness to interpretation is brilliant, confounding, and irresistible -- much like the movie itself.

#19 - On the Waterfront

He could'a been a contender. He could'a been somebody, instead of a bum, which is what he is.

The man, Terry Malloy, is played by Marlon Brando in what I consider to be his best role. In the past few years, I have had a burgeoning obsession with any movie having to do with the Mafia. When I watched this 1954 masterpieces as a 14-year-old, I didn't know it had anything to do with the Mafia (I didn't know what was going on in it half the time). Thus, I couldn't see what all of the hullabaloo was about. But now, I will defend all of the hullabaloo I hear about his amazing piece of cinema.

The story of mob informants, "On the Waterfront" depicts Malloy's descent into becoming a rat. Elia Kazan, the director, had recently been investigated and questioned by the House Un-American Activities Committee (Wikipedia article here), and had named names of people in the movie industry he thought held Communistic beliefs. So many people see this movie as a response to all the criticism he faced for turning on his own people, to show that there can be nobility in "naming names."

Terry Malloy is just one man, but through his fervent beliefs of right and wrong, he is able to build up support and topple the mob boss he's become rather close with, Johnny Friendly. The movie, rather gorier than I expected, depicts the action of the coup d'etat, which includes many killings of people who need to die to move the plot forward.

At the center of all the action is the power-couple: Malloy and his new flame, Edie Doyle, the sister of a man who was just killed for talking to the cops about the organized crime activities happening down on the waterfront (the name comes from where all of the corruption takes place -- at Terry's workplace down on the docks of Hoboken, New Jersey).

The movie was filmed in a short 36 days, on-location in Hoboken to add a realistic touch. The bars are dirty, working-men places. You can almost smell the musk and the cheap booze when Malloy and Edie dance at a wedding party to which they weren't invited.

The movie is a classic that was easier to follow than I remembered and that contains one of the most famous scenes ever, including the line I quoted at the top of this article, which was ranked #3 on AFI's list of 100 Movie Quotes.

And it's clear that Brando was certainly acting like a guy who had no class. This man was a true gentleman. Oh wait. Never mind. So close.

#59 - Nashville

If you can see in the poster, the tagline for this movie was, "The d*mndest thing you ever saw." That's pretty accurate. 24 intertwined characters spend a long weekend in the Music City in a movie that clocks in at 2 hours, 40 minutes (par-for-the-course with AFI). Twenty-four main characters to keep track of for almost three hours. Let that sink in.

A movie that barely leaves you time to breathe, 1975's "Nashville" is so ground-breaking because of its ensemble cast of bright stars, all with connections keeping them together to the central action. It could be argued that this movie invented the format that led to such films as "Crash," "Babel," and even the more-recent "Valentine's Day."

There is no main, central character, but the character the audience most relies upon is a BBC reporter named Opal who is filming a documentary of the weekend. Played by Geraldine Chaplin (the first daughter of Charlie Chaplin), she asks the questions the audience wants to know. As an outsider to the country music industry, she allows the audience to get to the heart of the matter without wasting much time.

Every level of stardom is represented in the film: the young superstar, the aging classic, the young glamour-girl, the modestly popular folk-rock trio, the tone-deaf singer looking for her big break, et cetera ad nauseum .......

I thought the movie would be hard to follow with so many characters and plotlines, but it was surprisingly easy to sort everyone into categories and relationships they shared ("Oh, she's married to him," "He sings with him," etc.) The character that keeps it all together is known as the Tricycle Man (Jeff Goldblum!) who is actually never seen up close -- just driving around Nashville, bridging the gaps between day and night. The movie has a definite pace; Friday, Saturday, Sunday, Monday, and finally Tuesday seem to fly by. The movie was definitely a quick watch, despite being almost three hours long. I think this can be explained by the vast amount of characters -- there was always something going on.

On the whole, "Nashville" was an interesting portrayal of Southern American life in the mid-1970s. You can almost feel the heat of the Tennessee sun in some of the scenes (especially the car-crash scene, which brought everyone together), and I think this element of "you're-really-there" is the movie's strongest suit.

#79 - The Wild Bunch

(I wrote about this movie when I watched it a couple of weeks ago, but apparently I erased the post. So here is another post, hopefully similar to my original.)

Now this is a man's movie. Condemned as being full of deplorable violence and contemptible language when it was first released in 1969, this movie is full of the type of character who is the ultimate "man's man." The only women present are the archetypal "professional" gals that belong in the upstairs of local saloons.

When I was younger, I would watch Westerns with my grandfather. He would always tell me that he much preferred "clean Westerns" over "dirty Westerns." To put it succinctly, this is not my grandfather's Western movie.

From the opening scene, it is clear that this is going to be a bloodbath. The first five minutes were some of the best-edited, most urgently acted moments I've seen in a while.

Themes of change are omnipresent in the movie: just as the movie itself is a shocking change from the "clean Westerns" everyone knows and loves, the characters in the movie are going through a change of cowboy values. Set in the early 1900s Prohibition Era Texas-Mexico border, the movie depicts a group of guys who are standing strong with their tough-man values as the world around them softens up.

The Wild Bunch go on several adventures, stealing from some people to give to others, in the typical Western fashion. What makes this movie so different is the layers given to all of the important characters -- William Holden as the aging Pike Bishop is being hunted by his former partner, a bounty hunter Deke Thornton. After all of the criminal activities, after all of the government's plans have gone awry, the movie ends in one of the bloodiest, goriest shoot-outs in movie history. Very few people make it out of the Mexican village alive, but the ones who do are obviously forever changed.

Overall, the movie was a great escape from the usual AFI grind, which consists mostly of cerebral dramas that play more like a long conversation than an actually entertaining movie. The shoot-'em-up action was different and beautifully shot, and made for an entertaining experience throughout.

#27 - High Noon

The existential Western. Now that's something you don't see a lot. This 1952 film is considered one of the greatest Westerns ever made, but it's certainly different from all the rest. No real action takes place until the last ten minutes (except for a couple of fistfights). But most differently of all is that the movie takes place in real time (this is different for movies in general, not just Westerns).

That's right, the movie depicts the 85 minutes between 10:35 a.m. and 12:00 p.m. on a single day in a New Mexico town (population 400). Here is a rundown of everything that happens in those 85 minutes: Town Marshal Will Kane (played by Gary Cooper, the ultimate "strong and silent type") gets married to Amy Fowler (Grace Kelly in her first major role), he gets word that a man he had captured and who had been sentenced to death had gotten out of prison and is headed his way for revenge, he tries to assemble a band of deputies to help him in the final battle, and he faces off with the convicted murderer who has assembled his own ragtag group of lowlife criminals to face the Marshal.

While that seems like a lot of plot (I didn't even mention the angle that Kane and his assailant shared the same mistress and all of the complications it brings forth), but that makes for one of the busiest hours of our main character's life. I talk a lot about urgency in these reactions, and it is one of my favorite qualities a movie can have. But this movie has got it more than any film I've seen so far. This man's life could be ending in an hour, and he has to do everything in his power to stop it. At first he runs away, going on his honeymoon a little earlier than expected. And no one would begrudge him for it -- after the wedding he turned in his badge and gun, relinquishing his duty as sheriff (his new bride is a strict pacifist Quaker who wants him to open up a general store).

But, valiantly, he does return. And although his wife initially blames him for ruining their marriage, she comes around by high noon -- in a big way. The movie is a fast-paced examination of one man's will to survive and be a true man, stand up for what is right and protect the moral fiber of his town (even if he stands alone, as he does in one of the film's most memorable moments when the camera pans out to show that he is standing in the streets, a lonely, sitting duck). It's losing the Best Picture award to the circus epic "The Greatest Show on Earth" (I'd never heard of it either) is considered one of the greatest upsets in the award's history. No matter what, it is strongly advised to take a short hour-and-a-half out of your day at some point and truly enjoy this movie. You'll be glad you did.

#21 - Chinatown

It was both better and worse than I expected. This is the second time I've tried to watch this 1974 neo-noir film about corruption, adultery, and family secrets. The first time, I couldn't get through the first thirty minutes without being bored out of my mind ("This is a movie about a private detective and the local water authority??" is what I said in my impressionable youth).

But five years later, I thought I would enjoy and understand the movie more. My brother told me a few nights ago that it wasn't that great, so I once again dreaded watching it. So last night, before going to bed, I popped in "Chinatown" and what I saw was one of the more interesting films of the last forty years.

The story is told entirely from J.J. (Jake) Gittes, a private detective in 1937 Los Angeles (it is told entirely from his perspective in that he is in every scene, and when he passes out, there is a cut to black and a fade-in when he comes to). Jack Nicholson does his usually best with the role, making him unlikable but out for justice nonetheless.

Faye Dunaway plays a mystical femme fatale with a sordid secret, Katherine Mulwray (Dunaway shares the distinction with two other actresses to have acted in three films on the list). Her performance is one of the film's strongest suits. Almost always enveloped in a halo of cigarette smoke, Mulwray is seen from the outset as a woman with something to hide. What Gittes discovers, step-by-step, is so deliciously scandalous that it's hard to watch some of the final gut-wrenching moments.

The main titles set the tone for the rest of the movie. The seductive trumpet playing "Love Theme from 'Chinatown'" is perfect for the movie you're about to see. I just have to post a YouTube video of the song -- it's a must-listen.

So overall, the film was great, but I was hoping for a little more umph. The plot meandered near the middle, but the final payoff was well worth the wait, and the lack of sleep.

#37 - The Best Years of Our Lives

I'd like a war movie, hold the war scenes. 1946's big hit was "The Best Years of Our Lives," mostly because it was about what an awful lot of Americans were experiencing at that time. The troops were coming home from "over there," so what other movie could be as successful as one about troops coming home?

The idea is simple: the intertwining stories of three men who return back home to the same city. They had never met before boarding the plane back home, but that chance meetings changed each of their lives forever.

While the individual stories are not all that captivating (one guy ends up with another guy's daughter), the movie is so memorable because of some of the moving moments it depicts. Most notable is a scene in which Homer, a young man who lost his hands and now has two metal hooks attached at the elbows, shows his high school sweetheart the magnitude of his injuries to see if she is ready for the commitment that would be involved in marrying him.

(As I was looking up stuff about this movie, I ran across one of the most interesting stories I've read in a while. The man who played Homer Parrish was Harold Russell, a man who actually fought and lost his hands in World War II. The director of the film saw him in a war documentary and knew he couldn't make a war movie about veterans without him. The role won him two Academy Awards for the same role--this is interesting both because his is the only case in which two Academy Awards have been given for the same role and because he is one of only two non-professional actors to win an Academy Award for acting.)

Anyway, back to the movie. The mood is so joyful and so contagious, it's hard not to like this movie. While the homecomings are met with happiness, they are undercut by a sense of disillusionment on the veterans' parts. Can they really go home again? So much had changed in the 3-4 years they were gone, has too much changed? This movie goes a long way in answering these questions and presents one of the finest examples of a war veteran movie I can think of.

#67 - Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf?

What a devilishly good time. Essentially the story of a foursome getting drunk and yelling at each other, this movie was condemned for having very profane language and adult themes (the movie was the first to use the word "screw" in a suggestive way), but its fame is deserved by more than just its pushing of the envelope.

The story has only four characters, only two locations seen for more than five minutes, and a timeframe of only 4-5 hours (the movie itself is just over two hours). History professor George and his wife, the college president's daughter Martha, come home at about 2 a.m. from a party put on by the president. George thinks the rest of the night will consist of a little more drinking and some sleep. But Martha springs on him that she has invited a couple over for more drinks. The young couple consists of a new biology professor at the college and his doting, somewhat dim wife.

What becomes of their visit lasts until dawn, when the movie finally ends. Family secrets are fleshed out by both couples, leaving open wounds. Violent words turn into violent actions. With each refreshed drink, everyone gets drunker, until they reach their limits and the inevitable denouement/hangover sets in.

With only four characters, each actor has to be strong. Elizabeth Taylor plays Martha, a woman with a vicious tongue and an attraction to the young professor. Richard Burton, Taylor's fifth husband in real life, plays her husband George, who is not afraid to say what he really thinks at any time. Their conversations are so bitter and real, it's hard to believe that they are acting.

Rounding out the cast is the younger couple, Nick (played by a young George Segal) and Honey (played by Sandy Dennis, who won an Oscar for her performance and then was basically never heard from again). All of them were nominated for Oscars, and rightly so. All of the characters push the plot and the exploration of modern gender and family roles with words and actions that are subtle when they need to be and in-your-face when the scene requires them.

Overall, I love the claustrophobic timeframe and locations. The film's cast is pitch-perfect and the story is enthralling, scandalous, and darkly hilarious.

#40 - The Sound of Music

A movie that has truly stood the test of time. First produced in 1965, "The Sound of Music" can be seen twice a year on television, around Christmas and Easter. This kind of constant attention is unparalleled--even the most popular movie ever made, "Gone with the Wind," isn't shown on television twice a year, every year, at the same time of year.

Perhaps the reason the three-hour-long movie musical is so popular and deserves such attention is its overwhelming sense of joy in life. When it comes right down to it, people don't want to see the struggles of Scarlett O'Hara or the death of Vito Corleone every year around the happiest times of the year. They want to see Maria von Trapp run on a hill, singing falsetto about trees, hills, and music.

What follows after that opening scene is the story we all know: woman sent from convent to militaristic widow with seven children, she teaches them all to sing and enjoy life, nuns, Nazis, and romance soon follow.

The songs have become classics in their own right. Everyone, young and old, men and women, knows at least one line from one of the songs. It's impossible not to, even if you are a car mechanic living in the secluded foothills of the Appalachians: at some point or other you have heard the tune of or seen the part of the movie in which Maria calms the children's nerves with "My Favorite Things."

The story is also intoxicating. It has something for everyone: romance, betrayal, forebodings of war, and nuns.

The scene that makes me laugh the most will always be near the very end. With two minutes left in the movie, they still find a way to squeeze in some good-hearted humor. The Nazis are chasing the Von Trapps, and they get in their cars to peel out of the convent. But their engines stall. Cut to a couple of nuns standing with the Reverend Mother, saying they had sinned. They then hold up a couple of car parts that were obviously essentially to the cars' starting, and the scene fades out. Classic, harmless, clean good fun.

All of this coming together--the infectious music, the universal story, the saccharine comedy--makes one of the best feel-good movie experiences American film has ever put forth.

#25 - To Kill a Mockingbird

Finally, a truly good movie. It seems like I've slipped into a bit of a slump when it comes to AFI's list. By the time I watched this movie, I was rather tired of being disappointed. I had of course seen 1963's "To Kill a Mockingbird" before, but I didn't enjoy it as much on those viewings as I did yesterday afternoon.

The pace is so slow--so Southern--that watching the movie is like visiting with an old friend, full of stories to tell and gossip to spread. That I noticed, there are no hard cuts in this movie between scenes; the transitions are all fade-out, fade-in. This helps the entire message of the movie, conveyed in the first few words: "The day was 24 hours long, but it seemed longer. There was no hurry, for there was nowhere to go and nothing to buy ... and no money to buy it with."

The famous story, set in 1932, revolves around two key plots: the trial of Tom Robinson, a black man accused of raping a white girl, and the mystery of Boo Radley, the neighborhood crazy man. When the noble lawyer Atticus Finch takes up the case of Robinson, he puts his reputation and his and his family's life at stake. Told mostly from the perspective of Scout, his six-year-old daughter, the story is about the nature of modern prejudice and the innocence of youth.

There are few things more interesting to me than a Southern courtroom. The men with their starched collars, the lackadaisical judge, the young female witness crying on the stand: all of it culminates to form one of the most intriguing ideas I can fathom.

While Atticus's speech is often cited as the best bit of acting the movie has to offer, I think Mayella Ewell takes that prize. The victim of the alleged rape only appears for a few short minutes, but her performance has resonance through the rest of the film. Her loud invocation of the jurors to find the defendant guilty still gives me chills: the way it was shot, a close-up of Mayella's sweaty brow, was pure genius on director Robert Mulligan's part.

The film is also to be thanked for introducing us to one of the greatest actors of the 20th century: Robert Duvall. As the mysterious Boo Radley, 31-year-old Duvall is calm, warm-hearted, and almost vapid. A great breakout role for a great actor.

All in all, the movie is nothing short of a trip back in time. From its playful and foreshadowing opening sequence to the last lines of the movie, I feel as if I lived in 1932 Maycomb, Alabama, and began to wish I had.

#93 - The French Connection

If it hasn't become obvious through my recent postings, I like a simple story done well. That, to me, is the perfect movie. I like stories that can be boiled down to just a few sentences. This does not make me a simpleton, someone who is defective in following labyrinthine plots. I just think it is better to say a lot about a little than say a little about a lot.

So 1971's "The French Connection" was a bit of a disappointment to me. It's the story of two New York City cops on the narcotics beat, trying to intercept an international heroin drug deal. I've become a fan of crime movies the past couple of years, so I thought I would enjoy this film. I did enjoy it on a superficial level, but I didn't understand it because of the complicated plot and mumbling-and-bumbling characters. I'm a believer in telling a story in media res (starting in the middle), but there has to be some explanation of what is going on, or else I feel like I'm spending half the movie playing catch-up.

Gene Hackman was great as tough-cop Jimmy "Popeye" Doyle, but Oscar-worthy? I guess so when you're in a group of nominated films none of which I've heard of, except for "Fiddler on the Roof." Not exactly stiff competition.

It should be noted that the movie was groundbreaking in that it was the first R-rated movie to win Best Picture, which is saying something in the early 1970s. The violence is bloody and gruesome, the language profane and suggestive, but it's real. What is most famous about the movie is perhaps the classic car chase sequence, which is often cited as being one of the best in cinema history. But a good car chase does not make a great movie.

MSNBC goes so far as to say, "Without its nerve-wrackingly real chase sequence, filmed on New York streets, [the] box-office smash might not have collected the Oscars for best picture, director and film editing."

Aside from the car chase, the groundbreaking content and language, and Hackman's performance, this movie fell a little flat for me. I had great expectations for the film, but they were destroyed by a convoluted plot and sometimes cryptic colloquialisms.

#58 - The Gold Rush

Have you ever seen a cartoon or anything in which a character is very hungry, and imagines their companion is a large-sized chicken or other food, out of hunger delirium? Well, that cliche comes from Charlie Chaplin's 1925 silent comedy "The Gold Rush."

I realize that I made an error a few posts back when I discussed Buster Keaton's "The General." I said that I had never seen a silent movie before, but that was a lie; I watched "The Gold Rush" when I was 14 years old, the first time I tried to make my way through this list. So apologies, not that you really cared in the first place.

This movie is hilarious and groundbreaking, but all I could think about while it was playing was the degree of fame Chaplin attained through silent films. He was voted #10 in AFI's list of male screen legends, yet very few know what his voice actually sounded like. Now that is a star.

Other than that, I don't really have that much to say about the movie. The story was simple and engaging, and it was interesting to see all of the conventions that are familiar to us that obviously originated in this movie. Altogether, the movie was funny but boring. It lasted 82 minutes, but probably would have been better to last only an hour. No matter what, though, it's still a classic that set in motion a lot of cliches we are still using today.

#47 - A Streetcar Named Desire

Blanche DuBois: the ultimate drama queen. Played by Vivien Leigh (a.k.a. Scarlett O'Hara), this character is one of the most unforgettable in cinema in 1951's Tennessee Williams-written movie that made Marlon Brando a household name and a legend.

Brando and Kim Hunter play Stanley and Stella Kowalski, a couple who is visited by Stella's sister Blanche from Mississippi. What starts out as a harmless visit eventually leads to the crack-up of Blanch and the dissolving of the Kowalski's relationship after a strange act of violence.

What makes this movie so intriguing was the character of Blanche--the archetypal woman with a mysterious past. She says that her family's estate has been lost because of too much debt after everyone died or left home, but the truth is much more sordid, much more interesting, and much more cinematic.

Brando as Stanley Kowalski is brutish and lovable at the same time. He throws the girls around, but you can tell that there is genuine care for Stella and what she means to him. The most famous line from this movie is Stanley's beckoning for his wife: "Stella!" has become one of the most recognizable single-word quotes ever. Here is a video of the classic moment:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S1A0p0F_iH8

Just as his shirt is in tatters, so is his life. He had made his pregnant wife angry after acting violent and belligerent when she and her sister interfered with his poker game. A lot of the conflicts in the movie take place because the characters are drunk. The liquid courage loosens their inhibitions, causing Stanley to confront Blanche about her lying and her manipulative ways and causing her to begin an ill-fated romance with one of Stanley's friends Mitch, played with a beautiful sadness by Karl Malden, who died last July.

Where the movie most succeeds is its depiction of how life can become so overwhelming and claustrophobic with the simple addition of one element--in this case the element is Blanche. The results of her visit (which ends up lasting around six months) are like ripples in a pond; everyone is affected, in a negative way. Her toxic personality, her constant nit-picking, and her over-dramatic essence are what eventually lead to the downfall of all the major characters in one of the finest films out there.

Also, the movie supplied the inspiration for this, one of my favorite moments in "Seinfeld":

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qVrU0JNAgqI

#96 - Do the Right Thing

I can sum it all up in three words: "White People Suck." No other movie has made me more angry in its two short hours than this one. The simple story of one hot day on a street in Brooklyn that starts out almost comedic and ends in a blaze of violence was a box office success when it came out in 1989.

This is Spike Lee's most identifiable movie. He starred, wrote, produced, and directed -- quite a burden on the shoulders of a 32-year-old. I will divide my criticism of the movie into two parts: the writing and the directing.

First, the part that made me vein-bulging mad, the writing. The movie was well-written, obviously (my white-man anger was probably the emotion Lee wanted to glean). But the anger I felt for the ridiculously unfair and racially biased dialogue in the movie blinded me to any of the movie's meaning, which I do not think was one of his intentions.

To put it simply: a white middle-aged man named Sal owns a pizzeria on the Brooklyn street where many blacks frequent and pay good money for good pizza. One black customer, fittingly called Buggin' Out, becomes steadily more angry as the movie goes along that there are no black people on the pizzeria's wall of fame. Instead, there are Italian-American icons -- Sinatra, Pacino, DiMaggio. So Buggin' Out enlists the neighborhood recluse, a large man who carries a boom box around all day playing the same song, and they confront the manager. "Radio Raheem," as the boom box guy is called, refuses to turn his very loud rap music down when he comes into the pizzeria. A series of escalating insults and rising testosterone result in an outbreak of violence that leaves one person dead (because of dirty cop interference) and the pizzeria permanently damaged.

And then the blacks on the street have the gall to blame the Italians for the loss of one of their people, as if they were not at all provoked. It is one of the more ridiculous fifteen minutes in movie history -- I found myself staring jaw-dropped at the screen, more shocked by each thing they said than the thing before it.

However, the writing was very provocative and controversial. It dealt with race issues in a way that I don't think had been addressed yet up to that point, at least not in a way that was both so direct and so mainstream. For an example, visit this link where you will see an onslaught of insults about all the races portrayed in the movie. Warning: this movie is rated R for language and racial slurs. This clip has both.

http://www.hulu.com/watch/12637/do-the-right-thing-racial-slurs#s-p1-so-i0

And that's all I have to say about the writing: infuriating, stupid, and ridiculous characters whom I have learned to hate, but an effective script nonetheless.

So now for the directing. Despite my anger, I do believe this movie is very good and well-deserving of a spot on this list. The camera angles and the way the movie is paced are interesting and unique. Also, it has that it-all-happens-in-one-day aspect that I find so amazing in films (for instance). While some of these qualities may have come from the writing or the screenplay, I think it is the directing that makes them shine and made them so noticeable for me as an average viewer.

The actors' performances were extraordinary, no doubt about it. John Turturro was amazing as Pino, one of Sal's sons who helps him run the pizzeria (he is the second person that speaks in the above clip -- Spike Lee is the first). I commend all of them on working on a tough film with a lot of tough roles and hope that none of them actually believe some of the words that they were saying.

#97 - Blade Runner

Oh, science fiction. What a love/hate relationship you and I share. I've never been one to be wow'd by amazing special effects that are supposedly groundbreaking -- I know that technology that will always be progressing, and there will always be one movie that is at the forefront of a certain special-effects movement (e.g. "Avatar" and digital 3-D). But I refuse to accept the sacrifice of an interesting story for the stylish appearance of a film. Luckily, this film disappoints in neither departments.

Set in November 2019 (just nine years away, and it was interesting to see how improbable some of the things in the movie's future world are), the 1982 film depicts Harrison Ford's character Rick Deckard search for four rogue Replicants: human clones made for good reasons who turned evil and were banished from Earth -- their presence is illegal and calls for immediate killing ("retirement") by the Blade Runner sent to find them.

The story is simple, basic, and intriguing: my favorite kind. The film is dark, both literally and metaphorically. The sun doesn't shine on the characters until the very end -- this is a movie that depicts actions taken in the middle of rainy nights, on deserted streets in futuristic L.A. Chinatown. Also, though the city is in shambles and the whole outlook seems quite dystopian, none of the characters seem patently morose -- as if this dreariness is something that will come about in the 37 years from the movie's production to its setting.

Intriguing and haunting story beside, the special effects were staggering (blah, blah). And it also gave one of the best movie quotes I've heard in a while: as the final Replicant is about to expire (they have only a four-year lifespan), he says, "I've seen things you people wouldn't believe ... All those moments will be lost in time; like tears in rain. Time to die."

Altogether, the movie was a fast-paced two hours that was easy to follow and a joy to watch, totally deserving of a place on this list.

#89 - The Sixth Sense

What makes a movie transcend just being great and enter into the realm of one of the Top 100 movies ever? AFI's criteria for their list was the following: the films had to be feature-length and American-made, had to have substantial critical recognition, had been a major award winner, had lasting popularity over time, or had a historical significance or a cultural impact.

Here's how I feel about 1999's "The Sixth Sense": just because we got the phrase "I see dead people" and one of the first hugely popular twist endings does not make it one of the 100 best movies of all time.

Now, I had never seen this movie until last night. But of course, like everyone else, I knew the major spoiler: Bruce Willis's character Malcolm Crowe is actually dead for most of the movie. So when I was watching the movie, it was rather obvious to me that his interactions with the characters who couldn't see him were completely absent. It doesn't matter how detached you've become from your wife, she's still going to say hello or something when you come in the door.

This blatantness is one of the aspects that irks me so much. It completely destroys the re-watch factor. Would I have enjoyed this movie if I had seen it in theaters in 1999? Most likely, yes. I'm not the swiftest to pick up on things in movies like this, so it would have taken to the very end to figure out he's really dead. But watching it with the pre-knowledge that he is dead was more like a hunt for clues than an enjoyment of what is supposed to be the 89th best movie ever produced in America. I feel like this movie could only be watched twice and be truly enjoyed -- once for a first-time viewer, ignorant of the twist, and a second time to go back and see all the clues M. Night Shyamalan left for the viewer.

The suspense was good, and some parts were rather frightening. But "Saw" was better to me in those aspects. It just seems to me that the AFI voters squandered a slot on the list just because the movie was wildly popular and introduced the twist ending to mainstream film.

While I was watching the movie, all I could think about was poor "American Beauty." This is the only time I will ever do this; this blog is about what movies are on the list, not the ones who aren't or should deserve to be. But I just can't help but think why 1999's "American Beauty" was left out when "The Sixth Sense" was selected. "American Beauty" swept the Oscars that year, winning five awards instead of zero like "The Sixth Sense." I know awards aren't everything (they're just one of the criteria listed), but don't they count for something? If everyone thought one movie was better the year both of them came out, shouldn't we compare them the same way in the future?

To put it in simple terms, I found "The Sixth Sense" to be enjoyable but far from worthy of being given a spot on the list of the greatest movies in the history of American cinema. Also: "Pulp Fiction" at #94, but "The Sixth Sense" five spots above it? Blasphemy.