#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.