#42 - Bonnie and Clyde

"My name is Bonnie Parker. This here is Clyde Barrow. We rob banks."

Bloody, romantic, and hilarious. This sounds like I'm describing three different movies. No, no. No other movie that I can think of that's on this list so effectively blends violence with tenderness, humor with pathos, as 1967's "Bonnie and Clyde."

The film was criticized when it came out because of its gore. The brightness of the blood and the seeming glorification of murder made many people irate. And maybe the movie deserved to make people angry. Check out the final scene. Spoilers.

The term "ballet of blood" is used to describe this scene and the movie as a whole. I can think of no better way to sum up the two-hour experience than that.

It is truly one of the best movie experiences I've had in my life.

The film is not just funny; it did not just make me smile or let out a few chuckles. I found myself laughing out loud, particularly in any scene that involved Estelle Parsons in her Oscar-winning role as the preacher's daughter Blanche Barrow or Michael J. Pollard in his Oscar-nominated role as the gas station attendant who becomes a member of a gang, C.W. Moss. These two characters embody everything the movie is about -- humor, violence, and pity.

The film, with all of its controversy, broke many of the taboos surrounding American film in the 1960s. Now, finally, under the regime of "New Hollywood," filmmakers had more liberty to show what they wanted, how they wanted.

Clyde Barrow (Warren Beatty) is an interesting case. The leader of the gang, he suffers from impotence when it comes to the young, fresh, and not-s0-pure Bonnie Parker, played by Faye Dunaway (she smokes cigars, for goodness sake). Sexual imagery and frustration is rife in this clip. But once she "tells his story," all bets are off. A psychoanalyst could do a number on all of these people, sure, but his time would probably be best spent with Mr. Clyde Barrow.

I've seen this movie several times before. But two new things I gleaned from watching it last night were: how inept the gang was at robbing banks, and how fascinating a national phenomenon this was.

The gang was downright bad at robbing banks. Sure, we see them pull off a few successful jobs, but it's never that much money. The reason these thieves were so famous was their public relations department. As depicted in the film, they would write poems and take pictures and send them into the newspapers. This made them celebrities.

They captured the nation's imagination. If a person was shot at during a bank robbery, they had their picture taken with the spot on the wall where the bullet hit. They just don't make criminals like that anymore.

Although the movie was set in the 1930s, it is hard to make a case for many other films that so well define the ways of thinking surrounding the 1960s mentality. Disillusioned about the differences between good and evil, people were looking for an anti-hero. And they found a great one in the Barrow gang. You actually resent the sheriff for enacting justice at the end, and then you realize that these were bad people. But somehow that doesn't even matter.

As I read over my review, I do not think it has done this movie justice. Watching the movie was so enjoyable from every angle, it is hard to put it into words. It is an experience that should be savored again and again, as I am sure to do in the future.

#88 - Bringing Up Baby

Now, I would never hit a real-life woman. But no fictitious female character would I rather slap across the face than Katharine Hepburn's spoiled, self-centered brat Susan Vance.

She is insufferable.

From the moment Cary Grant's character, the bumbling and neurotic paleontologist David Huxley, meets her on the golf course, she causes him nothing but trouble. She steals his golf ball, takes his car after ramming it into several others, ruins his wedding day by enlisting him to help her tote a leopard to Connecticut, and ends up making him fall in love with her.

I wouldn't go near her with a ten-foot pole. But Cary Grant does, and thus, one of America's definitive screwball comedies is born.

In Katharine Hepburn's only screwball performance, she sets a standard that lasts for years for the rich, presumptuous socialite. "Baby" is a leopard that is sent to New York by her brother. The animal complicates matters, as it has to be taken to Connecticut, as mentioned above.

I found the first half of the1938 movie to be interesting and funny (although at this point I found Susan Vance infuriating), and it slowed down once they actually settled in at her family's country home. This is of course, where the meat of the movie takes place, but I just found it to lack the spark of the movie's earlier moments. The dialogue is at a break-neck pace, and the jokes speed by you at a mile-a-minute. Many would see this as not being able to enjoy or savor the wit, but I see it as more fun just to see how many things can make me laugh out loud.

The movie is also noted for being the first to (maybe?) use the word "gay" in a sense to mean "homosexual." Cary Grant says it, as he is dressed in a feathery negligee of Susan's (through a series of misunderstandings and idiocy on Susan's part). He answers the door and, well, ... he says this.

So, despite one of the most maddening characters I've come across in 60-ish movies, I enjoyed this one. It seems to be a trend in the ones I'm watching now that pure entertainment reigns supreme. And isn't that what movies are supposed to be all about? If so, "Bringing Up Baby" is good in a lot of ways.

#83 - Titanic

And now for a movie that everyone (literally?) has seen. What was once both the most expensive and the highest grossing film ever made has been dethroned in both respects (by director James Cameron's follow-up which most everybody saw in the past year, "Avatar"). "Titanic" has become so ingrained in the public consciousness that it might be hard to say new things about it that we haven't heard already. But I will try.

The grand scale of the film -- truly an epic like they used to make in the old days of Hollywood -- is breathtaking. It would be impossible to do this film (and do it well) on a budget less than this film's $200 million. The cinematography, the all-star cast we recognize at every turn, and the center of it all, the ship, all make for an enamoring movie experience.

In many ways, this film is far superior to Cameron's most recent and more expensive offering (speculated at more than $500 million), "Avatar." The characters are developed about five times more than in the science-fiction world. Just think: when you left the theater, did you have a better feel for Jack Dawson as a person, or Jake Sully? The answer is too obvious to state.

I've said before that my favorite moments in disaster epics like this do not usually involve the major characters or plots (although I do love the moment when Old Rose throws the Heart of the Ocean into the ocean; gets me every time). No, it is the supporting cast and the extras and their sad situations that always hit me the hardest. The two examples everyone names are the old couple clutching each other as the water rises and the mother reading her two children to sleep. I also enjoy the quiet nobility of the string band -- their "Nearer My God to Thee" is chilling, fitting, and just downright sad.

I saw this movie in theaters as a seven-year-old boy in Panama City Beach, Florida. Needless to say, I did not really get some of the pathos at play as shipbuilder Thomas Andrews (played beautifully and stoically by Victor Garber) watched his ship go down. And I definitely did not get what the sweaty hand in the car meant, at all.

I should say that I absolutely abhor all of the modern stuff in the movie. Okay, well not all of it -- I like Old Rose, and I understand that we just can't be plopped into the story (although, why not?). But Bill Paxton as the underwater treasure hunter is just that guy that I would hate if I ever met him, and his bearded friend is that guy I'd want to kill if I ever met him. This may be a little of my mother coming out in me, but they seem to curse for no good reason. I could understand if, in the fits of rage or passion, they let out some expletives. But their dialogue is just peppered randomly with obscenities that are unnecessary and detract from the rest of the experience, which is rather wholesome overall.

Even if you think "Titanic" is too sappy, too cheesy (I laughed out loud when Bill Paxton said, "Are you ready to go to 'Titanic'?"), or too much of a chick-flick, I think this movie has something for everyone. The first sentence on the movie's Wikipedia page reads: "Titanic is a 1997 American epic romantic-disaster film." Pretty universal, no?

Overall, the movie is the epic for our times. I don't think it will soon be forgotten, both for its return to old-fashioned movie-making and, of course, for better or for worse, for this (note: as an added bonus, check out how fake the people walking on the ship look at 0:30-0:37; they look like they are in "The Polar Express." Ah, 1997).

#66 - Raiders of the Lost Ark

I love a movie that doesn't let you breathe. Like "Tootsie," this movie is so mainstream and classic, it's hard not to love. We all know the story. Harrison Ford plays Indiana Jones, a renegade paleontology professor/adventurer who goes on an expedition to find the Ark of the Covenant before the Third Reich can get its 1936 hands on it. Whip-snapping, love-making, and face-melting soon follows.

The movie, in my opinion, has two characteristics that make it one of the greatest of all time: its humor and its pace.

First, its humor. Who can forget this scene, a moment my father references about twice a year on average? But more than this, the movie is funny beyond the obvious sight gags and wit of Indiana. The movie makes the viewer laugh in relief when we see how Indiana gets out of his next mess. We are breathlessly humored to see how the filmmakers have stacked adventure on top of adventure, incident on top of incident.

Linked to the movie's humor is its pace. The opening scene sets the pace for the rest of the movie: a completely detached experience from the files of Indiana, we see him steal an idol in the jungle and lose it when his arch-nemesis shows up at an inopportune time. The scene never gives you a chance to breathe, which is how I'm sure it really is when you're in the same line of work as Indiana Jones. From there, we go to a paleontology classroom. There are two scenes of explanation, and then we're off again, flying across the map of the world to Nepal, Egypt, England. It just blazes.

"Raiders" was also a technological triumph -- from the subtle logo-to-mountain opening of the film to the blinding light and gusting winds when the Ark is opened, the film's special effects were top-notch for 1982 (thanks to George Lucas's visual effects company Industrial Light & Magic).

This movie is all about pure entertainment. The characters are great, and they go through a lot of stuff: as Roger Ebert said in his original review, "He survives fires, crushings, shootings, burnings. He really hates snakes." They are all classic, and so is the movie they call home.

#65 - Duck Soup

The movie is jam-packed with some of my favorite lines of dialogue, but the best has to be Groucho, as Rufus T. Firefly, saying to some woman "I could dance with you until the cows come home. On second thought, I'd rather dance with the cows until you come home." Sometimes I can't get over how funny that is.

Like I said, the movie is filled with one-liners like that. But it also has some of the most iconic physical comedy ever preserved on film, most notably the mirror scene.

Perhaps the best quality of the film is that there is basically no drama, at all -- no real conflict. Just plain fun, laughs, and satire. Any plot discussion is unnecessary and would just waste our time. Suffice to say that Groucho plays Firefly, an inept man who becomes the leader of a fictitious nation and leads it blindly into war. This 1933 comedy is not a movie that is made up of plot points and storylines, but rather moments, lines, and small situations.

Many people see the canon of the Marx Brothers films as a large pie, with each movie just a piece of the whole. No one movie gives you an entire feels for the Marxes, and that's the way they like it. "Duck Soup" is arguably the most complete of their movies: the ultimate Marx Brothers movie. But it still seems like the viewer is left wanting more, which is probably exactly what the production company and stars wanted.

I'm finding it hard, for some reason, to write this review. Perhaps it is because I don't just want to quote the movie; I want to review it. This is more difficult than it would seem. The film can essentially be boiled down to a long string of funny lines. So I will say that this movie is great and will have you laughing out loud if you go into it with an open mind (i.e., remember that it's 77 years old). I don't think you'll be disappointed.

#2 - The Godfather

Why can't they make movies like this anymore? Just once, I want to go to a movie that lasts almost three hours, yet I don't want it to end.

Marlon Brando stars as Don Vito Corleone, the boss of the Corleone family, a family that dallies in certain illegal activities specific to the Italian-American subculture. He won an Oscar, but chose not to accept it. Jerk. In a role that may even be more important, Al Pacino plays Michael, Vito's son. Michael starts the film denouncing his father's illegal way of life, but ends up having his ring kissed in one of the most classic twists of fate the world of fiction has ever given us (that's right: not just cinema; I'm bold enough to say that this is one of the greatest things in fiction, ever).

I had seen this movie before (it's required viewing when you're a Mafia fan like I am), and I've seen its sequel. I thought the sequel was better the first time I watched the two. I was not alone in that viewpoint. Many people see Part II on an equal level as, if not higher than, the original. But after watching the original and being able to really understand and soak it in, I think it is obvious that it is the superior of the two (I'm ignoring Part III because who doesn't?).

It is obvious that director Francis Ford Coppola, who co-wrote the screenplay with author of the book Mario Puzo, is only showing us what is important. So what seems to be a non-essential scene of Don Vito watering his tomato plants with his toddling grandson turns out to be a crucial plot point as the Don falls to the ground, dead. The Don, of course, has an orange peel in his mouth when he dies. It is a well-known aspect of the film(s) that oranges = death. Whenever an orange is seen on screen, look out. Just one of those touches that makes the movie so captivating.

But at the center of the film is not Don Vito, played by Marlon Brando. Instead it is Pacino's Michael Corleone, the boy who becomes a man. In one of the most classic scenes, he takes out two of the lynchpins in the Mafia war his family is waging. He is then exiled to Sicily, where he falls in love, marries the girl, and then loses her in a terrible, planned tragedy. The things he goes through are heavy. His main love interest, Kay Carroll played by Diane Keaton, must find a balance between wanting to know everything about her new man and really now wanting to know anything about the heinous acts he commits.

The story is lush, the dialogue rich, and the cinematography nostalgic. The yellow tint given to every scene makes the whole film seem like a story of time gone by. Don Vito takes a stand on not getting into the narcotics business, which shows that the times, they are a changin'. It is an absolutely necessary film for everyone to see, even if they aren't a Mafia fan, or even a movie fan.

#34 - Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs

This 1937 classic was the first Disney feature-length movie, which is probably the main reason why it's on the list. I do think there are better and more classic Disney movies, including "Beauty and the Beast" and "Aladdin."

But I think the reason this movie is on the list is because of how much ground it broke. Animation had only been seen as what people saw before they saw the real movie; they would come to the theater, watch a Bugs Bunny cartoon, and then watch another good old-fashioned live-action movie. "Snow White" changed everything. Now there is an entirely new genre. To the best of my knowledge, no other movie on this list created a genre that has been such a money-maker as the genre of animation.

So that's why it deserves to be on the list. But I'm not sold on that. I've never been one for technical innovations in movies; so your film is moving along with the natural flow of technology. So what? I much prefer an intriguing story with interesting three-dimensional (no pun intended) characters to become involved with. This movie kind of has those aspects, but not enough to make it one of the best movies ever.

I don't mean to sound like a cynic. Of course I love Snow White, the Evil Queen, and all of the dwarfs (Sneezy and Bashful especially). But are there really only 33 movies made by Americans that are better than this one? That's the thing about the list, however. You can't blame just one person. 1,500 people voted on 400 nominated movies, and that's how the list was compiled. So I guess it is possible for 1,500 people to be crazy enough to vote this one to #34. I know that sounds mean, but it seems to me to be the only truth. While the movie was a huge advancement in technology and the way people made movies, I was not altogether impressed with the overall level of filmmaking.

#16 - Sunset Boulevard

Creepy and macabre, this movie is darned near perfect. The story is simple, weird, and lovely: a B-movie writer, in fear of having all of his possessions repossessed, inadvertently visits the house of an aging silent film star. She's writing a script for her epic comeback to the movies, and she uses him to proofread her work. What results is pitiful, sad, and awe-inspiring.

This movie has some of the best casting ever: who better to play the aging silent film star Norma Desmond than the aging silent film star Gloria Swanson? Also in a starring role is William Holden, who plays the movie writer Joe Gillis. Somehow he is strong, despite having no prospects for a future.

Rounding out the supporting cast is Desmond's weird butler and first husband Max, played by old-time Hollywood director Erich von Stroheim. And playing Gillis's friend, colleague, and love interest is Nancy Olson, who is the essence of purity and innocence.

The movie opens interestingly: a body floating in a large, mossy pool. Newspapermen and police officers surround the pool, and we eventually learn that the body is the lead character and, most interestingly, our narrator. Narrating from beyond the grave, Gillis tells the story from his eyes: a story of two women who fall for him, one who he loves and one who he is disgusted by. One of my favorite scenes is the hardest to watch: the New Year's Eve party that Norma organizes. Joe thinks it's going to be a big party with lots of her "waxwork" friends invited, but it turns out to be just an affair for the two of them. The string quartet plays as they dance, and Joe slowly realizes that it's just going to be the two of them. It's uncomfortable, pathetic, and kind of beautiful.

The acting is superb, the writing witty and multi-layered, the stories subtly intense. From the funeral for the chimp to the last harrowing and fatal scene, everything is just absolutely watchable. It pulls you in, and you cannot stop watching. The ultimate Hollywood movie about Hollywood movies, this film is just one of the best I've ever seen. Billy Wilder, the director and co-writer of the movie, has become one of my favorites. It's just great.

#100 - Ben-Hur

You all know how I feel about epics. This 212-minute 1959 Biblical epic stars Charlton Heston in the title role. The entire title is "Ben-Hur: A Tale of the Christ," and the film shows how Ben-Hur interacts with Christ and the events around his life and death.

Heston plays Judah Ben-Hur, the richest man in Jerusalem who is wrongly imprisoned and enslaved and has to fight the corrupt politicians of Rome to find out what happened to his mother and sister. Sounds a lot like "Spartacus," but we're not going to talk about that.

The classic scene that everyone identifies with the movie is the ten-minute long chariot race. The scene is great, and it actually got my pulse pounding. The scene took five weeks to film, and it shows that some time and care was taken to get everything to be as suspenseful as it could.

The movie won 11 Academy Awards, a record that still stands today, with two films tying this epic: "Titanic" and "The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King." Unlike those movies, however, this film won awards for acting, both for Best Actor and Best Supporting Actor. As much as I dislike epics, I do believe that this is the best of the three movies with the 11 Oscars (I also find it interesting that all three movies have a running time that clocks in over 3 hours).

So, even though the movie had one of the greatest and most recognizable scenes at the beginning of the second act, the rest of the movie just didn't do it for me. I think I have learned my lesson: epics just aren't for me, unless I need something to lull me to sleep faster than usual.

#45 - Shane

Tonight at the fireworks, I was talking to my grandfather about some of the Westerns I've been watching, and when I mentioned this 1953 film, he knew exactly what I was talking about.

"That little boy thought Shane was all there is," he said. "And he was a pretty good guy."

That pretty much sums it all up. The story of a man who comes to town with no past and no future, leaving an indelible mark, "Shane" is known by many as the ultimate Western. Its landscape and cinematography are breathtaking; the widescreen aspect ratio (1.66:1 for all of the nerds) gives the scenery just the touch it needs.

A group of homesteaders is pressured by the local agricultural big-wigs to abandon their plots of land and move on. Living in an isolated town with the nearest law authorities only a hundred miles away, the villagers' conflict comes to a head after Shane arrives on horseback and changes everything.

First of all, who can resist the undertones of the love between Shane and the matriarch of the film, Marian, played by Jean Arthur. Shane, played by Alan Ladd, is a younger, more virile version of her husband, and their romantic tension is obvious and intoxicating.

Shane also changes everything with the homesteaders and their current occupational struggles. He has the ability to stand up for the independence of each individual man and his family, getting into epic fights in saloons and starting gun fights on the outskirts of town.

And then there's Joey. Eleven years old, Joey idolizes Shane and all that he stands for. Longing for a lift with no obligations and basically nothing to live for. As my grandfather said, Joey thought Shane was all there was -- the ultimate person, the ultimate man: someone his father was not.

"Shane" soars as the Western with a heart of gold. All of the performances were classic, especially the Confederate soldier Frank "Stonewall" Torrey, who is almost always accompanied by a Civil War tune. From the Oscar-winning cinematography to the winning story about standing up against the man, this movie is what Westerns should be and used to be all about.

#41 - King Kong

This is another one of those movies that just kind of has to be on the list. Made in 1933, this special effects marvel has been heralded as a groundbreaking masterpiece for almost eighty years. But is this lofty reputation deserved?

The major thing that the film is heralded for is its use of special effects. A lot of people nowadays would say that the effects were primitive and you could obviously tell that this towering gorilla was not real. But I look at it from a different angle. I see this as more of an accomplishment than, say, "Avatar." When I was watching "Avatar," I knew that most of what I was seeing was done on some computer. But "King Kong" left me wondering with more of a "How-did-they-do-that?" factor. I legitimately do not know how they made King Kong interact with the other people. In this age of computers, the answer would be easy. But with more "primitive" technology, the answer is more elusive and perhaps more interesting.

But other than that, it's hard to see why the film has sustained such a healthy reputation for years. Fay Wray deserves credit, of course, for being the original "scream queen." She spends about half of her time in the movie just yelling out of fright.

But other than that, I was not altogether impressed with the story of a film crew that travels to the jungle and brings back "The Eighth Wonder of the World." They sensationalize him, creating a Broadway show with him starring, chained up. He gets loose, climbs the Empire State Building, you know the rest. Perhaps the story has become so well-known that it lost some of its original glitter.

It seemed to me like this movie was carried by its effects, which were amazing for 1933, four years after the stock-market crash. But I would have liked a better story, and maybe some characters that I could get more involved with, instead of just hearing them scream their heads off for an hour and a half. Call me crazy.

#98 - Yankee Doodle Dandy

What a great film for me to accidentally land upon at the start of our long 4th of July weekend. A grand spectacle, this 1942 movie musical is what '40s cinema was all about: fast talking, big stories, and a little bit of wisdom.

The story of "The Man Who Owns Broadway," the ultimate song-and-dance man George M. Cohan, "Yankee Doodle Dandy" will make you feel patriotic whether you watch it in early July or on a random Tuesday in November.

James Cagney, famous for his tough-guy gangster roles, raised a lot of eyebrows when he came out with this performance, and surprised a lot of people when he won the Oscar for Best Actor. Here he plays Cohan, a man who spends the entire film telling President Franklin Roosevelt his life story and is then awarded the Congressional Medal of Honor ("My father thanks you. My mother thanks you. My sister thanks you. And I thank you.").

The film went into principal production in December 1941, which at the time was one of the worst times to be an American. But now, in retrospect, we see it as the best time to be an American: we were all united under one flag, working together toward one common goal. And this movie decided to be a rallying tool -- a part was added that included the attack on Pearl Harbor. I'm beginning to love these movies that are made just as the events they are depicting are occurring. "Yankee Doodle Dandy" came out on June 6, 1942, and must have put a lump in the hearts of every American who saw it.

One of my favorite things hinted at in the film is the elusiveness of fame: here today, gone tomorrow. Cohan spends most the film as the most famous man in New York, notorious for coming out with the next big box-office success. But when he's relaxing in a hammock at his country house and some sock-hop teenagers come by with their jalopy, they don't know him from Adam. You can see the look of helplessness in his eyes when they plead ignorance, and it's even worse when he's marching beside a soldier to the tune of "Over There" (a song he wrote at the beginning of World War I) and the soldier asks him if he knows the words. Cohan just smiles, and says "Seems to me I do."

Cagney improvised this little bit, when Cohan is descending the stairs after being awarded the Medal of Honor. Classic. This is what the movie is all about: little touches to make you smile and big spectacles to make you smile bigger. It was entirely hopeful, no real conflict, but not obnoxiously sugar-sweet. It was just the simple story of a famous man's life, simple filmmaking that should be emulated more often. A+.

#77 - All the President's Men

A movie that made everyone want to be a journalist, "All the President's Men" is about Watergate. What makes the movie so different is how current it was. The scandal started in 1972, the book was written in 1974, and the movie came out.

The story chronicles the Pulitzer Prize-winning story broken by journalists Carl Bernstein (Dustin Hoffman) and Bob Woodward (Robert Redford), working for the Washington Post.

The movie (as far as I know) is supremely accurate. Because the journalists were still alive and retained their sharpened memories, they were obviously consulted in several parts along the process of writing the screenplay and filming the movie.

Also interesting about the film is how accurate the depiction of a modern (it was the '70s, so more or less modern) newsroom is. It is a film filled with secret parking-garage meetings, people running through the newsroom at a break-neck pace, and finding our main characters in the very real world of dead-end leads and misleading information. As an aspiring journalist, and someone who has worked in a newsroom before (though not as big or prestigious as the Washington Post obviously).

The "State of Play" of the 1970s, this movie perfectly blends journalistic themes with Washington intrigue. The ending, with the typewriter clacking quickly, shows us how things ended up with Watergate. The last thing we see, "NIXON RESIGNS," resounds through the credits. All of the noise stops, and history is made.

All in all, the movie was satisfying and interesting, but that may be because it was pretty much all about what I'm interested in. Nonetheless, the movie is a gripping, serious portrayal of one of the defining events of the last century, and for that it should be commended.

#49 - Intolerance

Sigh. I've been dreading this movie ever since I printed off the list. This, one of D.W. Griffith's most ambitious pictures, is a tale focused on the theme of intolerance through the ages. The movie is made up of four alternating stories: one in the modern age of 20th century America, one in 1500s France, one that takes the place in Christ's life and shows his death, and one in the age of Babylon. This sounds relatively interesting, but I've yet to mention the most important parts and the most obvious qualities about the movie.

(1) It is three hours and twenty minutes long and (2) it is silent. Think that over. I spent almost three-and-a-half hours watching a movie in which no one spoke. Not typical for a 19-year-old Georgia boy.

Now most everyone has sat through a three-hour movie at one point or another. But there aren't a whole lot of us who have been able to sit through a silent movie, no matter how long it is. But I bet I could count on my left hand how many people have sat through a three-hour silent movie, and I'm proud (?) to say I'm one of them.

Now, to the movie itself. Okay, it wasn't as bad as I thought it was going to be. But good grief, did it have to last so long? Honestly, everything could be established, all of the action could happen, and all of the themes could be conveyed in a movie that lasted less than an hour. Instead, we are faced with two-and-a-half hours of what I consider to be filler.

The overarching theme of intolerance is conveyed well, just as it was in D.W. Griffith's 1915 three-hour silent epic about the KKK, "The Birth of a Nation" made the year before "Intolerance." Griffith does know how to draw drama out of a situation, even if know one gets a chance to speak a word.

Does the movie deserve to be on the list? Sure. Its scenery is epic, its ambition is on a grand scale, and the facial expressions of the actors are all great stuff for 1916, 94 years ago. 94!

While the movie was interesting and kept my attention for the most part, it was just too darn long, which took a lot away from the great experience of sitting in my room alone, watching a movie in which no one says a word.

#4 - Raging Bull

I consider it a rare treat whenever I am about to experience a Scorsese movie, and this was certainly no exception. The hallmarks of the Scorsese code are all here in this 1980 black-and-white sports drama: tension, classic storytelling, and music to die for. From the opening sequence, you get a sense for what the movie is all about -- one man fighting in a ring, landing no punches and making no difference. Brilliant.

De Niro's performance as Jake La Motta has become a standard for actors who undergo severe physical changes to perfect their roles and their art. Three-quarters through filming, the entire cast and crew had to take a four-month (paid) vacation to give time for De Niro to go to Northern Italy and gain a mere 70 pounds. Not a big deal, right?

However, the effect and the weight (literal and figurative) of the aging Jake La Motta is pitiful, damaged, and a perfect representation of what Scorsese intended. De Niro's commitment paid off, winning his first Best Actor Oscar for his performance.

Another thing we can credit this movie is the discovery of Joe Pesci. De Niro and Pesci would reunite 10 years later in the ultimate Scorsese film "GoodFellas," but here they do not seem like they just met: their dynamic is brotherly, just as their roles intend.

When you're watching this movie, you have to constantly remind yourself that it was made in the 1980s, the same year as "The Empire Strikes Back" and "Airplane!" The film seems so much more classic than those, much less modern. Of course part of this is the black-and-white format, which works perfectly. But other movies, like "Schindler's List," that employ the same coloring technique to achieve a timeless look somehow miss the mark. I can still tell that "Schindler's List" is a '90s movie, but there's something about "Raging Bull" that places it in the 1960s, or even earlier.

One of my favorite elements of the movie is the character of Vickie La Motta, played with surprising maturity by the 19-year-old Cathy Moriarty. She is the blonde, pure female archetype so often employed by Scorsese, and we see her go from a 15-year-old sunbathing by the pool to a screaming, petty diva because of Jake's never-ceasing sexual insecurity and jealousy.

There are many psychological layers to this film that, once peeled, reveal the intentions and desires of the main characters. But I prefer to leave the onion whole, with all of its inner layers concealed, and simply enjoy this movie as a stirring depiction of one man's brand of the human condition.

Having said all of this, this movie is amazing and is a classic. But #4? Two spots in front of "Gone with the Wind"? I love you, Scorsese, but sorry, no.

#38 - The Treasure of the Sierra Madre

The ultimate story of good, old-fashioned, corrupting greed.

Only 1987's "Wall Street" could possibly compare to this tale of the immense darkness that is man's greed. Greed, after all, as Gordon Gekko, is good (for lack of a better word).

This 1948 movies is a delicate depiction of a group of brutes who head into the mountains of western Mexico to find gold and make it rich. They, surprisingly, do end up being successful after several false starts. But what follows is a slow, technical portrayal of men spiraling into greedy insanity.

The movie is also the origin of this famous, often mis-quoted, saying. Recognize it? Often misquoted as "We don't need no stinkin' badges," it's hard to tell why this has lasted over sixty years and become a part of our vernacular. Some things just stick, I guess.

And then of course there's Bogie. Playing the gruff and tough-shelled "Dobbsie," Bogart gives one of his greatest performances as the man who is most affected by the endless desire for more money. Though warned of money's effects in a foreboding discussion by an old man who would end up joining Dobbs in his quest for gold, he thinks he will be different and strikes out on his own to strike gold. He ends up making it, but at a cost that is by any measure greater than the reward.

John Huston directed his father, Walter, to an Academy Award for his portrayal of the old man who turns out to be more willing and able to endure nature's tough conditions than his younger counterparts. Huston would go on to direct his daughter to a Supporting Actress Oscar in 1985's "Prizzi's Honor," thus becoming the only man to direct both his father and his daughter in Oscar-winning roles.

What makes this movie absolutely flawless is its simple, straightforward storytelling. There are no frills, there is nothing confusing and nothing that leaves you saying "What just happened?" Everything is laid out in front for all to see, which allows for the theme of greed to take the viewer by the horn and teach him something about the evils of money.

#81 - Spartacus

He's Spartacus. No, he's Spartacus. No, he's Spartacus.

When I was born, a nurse suggested that my parents name me Kirk because I had the chin of Kirk Douglas, the star of this movie -- cleft with a dimple. Luckily, they didn't take the advice of the nurse and gave me the name stolen from a soap opera I use today. But I still see a startling resemblance between myself and Michael Douglas's father.

Stanley Kubrick's fifth film, but his first real one, was made in 1960 and is a sprawling epic of the story of a slave who leads a revolution to topple the corrupt political leaders 100 years before Christ was born.

Douglas plays the sinewy and rebellious slave Spartacus, and Laurence Olivier plays his main enemy, Crassus. I usually don't enjoy epics that last three hours, as you may know. I find them meandering and boring. I prefer a short, simple story done well. But for some reason, I really enjoyed this movie. Perhaps it was Kubrick's eye that made it so different (although, I would not have known that Kubrick directed it without finding it out beyond the movie's credits).

As with most movies (for me at least), the beginning and the ending were interesting and even captivating, and thus made up for the middle-third slump, where it's all talking and planning and blah-blah.

The film's most famous moment comes when Crassus asks the defeated slave army which one of them is Spartacus, the leader of the rebellion. Instead of giving up their fearless leader, all of them say that they are the real Spartacus, thus ensuring that Crassus will never figure it out. But he does, and then crucifies Spartacus. What a cheery way to end the movie, I know. It's not cheerful, but it is hopeful. Spartacus's child was born a free man, and Spartacus's death suddenly seems warranted, justified, even necessary.

The film won four Academy Awards, with one being for acting. Peter Ustinov won for his supporting role of Batiatus, a broker of the slaves who steals every scene with his legitimately funny sense of humor.

All in all, the film was interesting and successful because it did not treat itself as the expensive and ambitious epic that it was. The characters and the storylines were more intimate than, say, those of "Lawrence of Arabia." Great, now I have to again purge my memory of watching that awful movie.

#73 - Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid

Another Western. But this one places itself in a different category than the standards because of its modern action, themes, and storytelling. Paul Newman plays Butch Cassidy, the typical gunslinger who's never shot anyone before, and Robert Redford plays the Sundance Kid, whose best feature may be his girlfriend played by Katharine Ross.

My favorite part of the movie is what many Western purists universally despise: the four minutes in the middle of the movie with Butch and Sundance's girlfriend just riding around on a bicycle to Burt Baccarach's Oscar-winning "Raindrops Keep Falling on My Head." Wordless and playful, this is one of my favorite scenes of all time, mainly because it is amidst bank-robbing and shoot-outs. Irresistible.

I'd like to talk for a second about the ending of the movie, but since it is a bit of a surprise and different, I would like to point out to anyone who wants to watch the movie and be surprise should stop reading now, and resume after the jump:

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The ending has become a classic: Butch and the Kid are trapped in a stone building in Bolivia, surrounded by 100s of Bolivians ready to kill the shifty outlaws. Even though I've seen the movie before, I found myself thinking "How are they gonna get out of this one?" And then I realize that they don't. With both of them wounded and their spirits broken, they run out of the building with guns blazing and ... the movie stops, freeze-frames. We hear the shots fired, but we never see the duo riddled with bullets. So all we are left with is this. Many people think this is just copying how "Bonnie and Clyde" had ended two years before, but I see it as "Butch" tipping its hat to that movie. They are trying to say that crime is crime, whether in the modern age or the Old West. The reason this last photo we're given of the duo is so important is that it immortalizes them -- they still live on, even though they've been dead for more than a century. No one can say they saw them die. And that is what makes the way this movie ends so striking and so original, to be copied by countless films, including "Thelma & Louise" in 1991.

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What makes the movie work is not the action sequences, which are great, but the dynamic between Butch and the Sundance Kid. You really believe these guys have been friends for ages from the very first scene, when Butch says, classically, "Boy, I got vision and the rest of the world's wearing bifocals."

The ultimate late-1960s portrayal of a time long gone by (the modern applications of counterculture and the like are endless), this film is sure to be treasured for many years to come, even if I find only about ten minutes of the movie truly valuable. Quality over quantity, I guess.

#55 - North by Northwest

When writing the screenplay for this 1959 amazing suspense film, writer Ernest Lehman wanted to write the ultimate Hitchcock film. And in a way, he did. It would be easy to say that Hitchcock's ultimate film was "Psycho," which came out a year later, but I think saying so would be a gross misunderstanding of the Hitchcockian technique. Sure, "Psycho" is his scariest film, and perhaps it's even his best film, but it is not the most Hitchcock-y. That prize goes to "North by Northwest."

A film that has jokingly been called "the first Bond movie," this film stars Cary Grant and Eva Marie Saint in a spellbinding tale of mistaken identity that covers half of the country's landscape, starting in New York City and ending in one of the best climaxes ever atop Mount Rushmore.

Eva Marie Saint plays the femme fatale, a woman whose role is constantly changing as the movie goes along. It is clear exactly what Cary Grant is all about from the start -- the dapper, debonair gentleman he always plays. But Saint shape-shifts like a chameleon with every scene she's in, always keeping the viewer on his toes.

And then of course is the most famous scene from the movie, the crop-duster scene. Told (by the duplicitous character played by Saint, no less) to meet someone in an abandoned field in Indiana, Grant's character Roger Thornhill finds himself dodging a killer plane that obviously has his sights set on him. It is at this point in the film that we realize how much Thornhill's life is worth -- and how much hot water he is in, just for being mistaken for someone else and ending up at the wrong place at the wrong time. This is suspense.

I'm trying to think of where the movie fails, and it's difficult to locate an element that doesn't work perfectly. I guess I was a bit confused at the beginning when he is forced to drink a bottle of bourbon and go for a drunken drive around the shores of Long Island. But that was probably just on my part, thanks in part to the allure of Facebook.

Nothing in the film fails -- the main title sequence, the music, the scenery; I could go on forever. Overall, the movie is totally Hitchcock, and thus totally brilliant.