A Review of Christopher Nolan's Filmography or: How I Managed to Offend Some of His Fans

This entry reviews Nolan's filmography. After reading this entry, if you feel like I have said something dreadfully wrong and you are driven to dislike me to any extent, congratulations. You are a Batman Fan. But if you read this entry and disagree or perhaps find yourself nodding in agreement, you are a Normal Human Being. If you think Nolan is a shitty director, you might be a Sophisticated Filmgoer. Pat yourself on the back.

(Note: If one were to say I am biased against Batman and superheroes, I would accuse one of the opposite. There are many, many Batman and superhero stories - whether we’re talking film, television, or comic books - that I prefer over “Batman Begins” and “The Dark Knight.”)

Following (1998)

I had watched every Nolan film with the exception of his debut up until two weeks ago. Perhaps surprisingly, “Following” features some of Nolan’s best direction. Its black-and-white imagery, obscure cast, and unpretentious dialogue give the film a naturalism that I prefer to Nolan’s phony realism in “Batman Begins” and “The Dark Knight” (interestingly, you can see the Batman emblem on a door in “Following”). Initially, I was bugged by the voice-over at the beginning of the film, but this exposition is later tied into a sequence that effectively brings the story to its climax. As in “Memento,” Nolan employs a nontraditional time frame for “Following,” but in contrast to “Memento,” the time frame doesn’t resemble a gimmick. That is, Nolan isn’t simply telling the main story backward.

Memento (2000)

That one can easily follow “Memento” is evidence of Nolan’s talent as a storyteller. As the main story is told in reverse, black-and-white scenes - that move forward as a traditional story would - are interjected to illuminate the mental condition and purpose of Guy Pierce’s protagonist. When the two series of events meet, the viewer may solve the mystery (or maybe not). Much like the characters in “Following,” the players in “Memento” have dubious motives, establishing moral ambiguity as a consistent theme of Nolan’s work. My favorite scene is when Pierce cannot remember whether he is chasing or running away from someone (Nolan’s wit takes a serious blow after “Memento”). What strikes me the most about the protagonist is not his rare disease that prevents new memories but his psychological need for resolution - a need that is common among humankind and the basis for the mystery genre itself.

Insomnia (2002)

“Insomnia” features a recent Al Pacino performance that doesn’t amount to self-parody. Maybe this showcases Nolan’s potential as a filmmaker more than anything. But I digress. Nolan sets up another case of moral ambiguity with the protagonist, but he makes it awfully damn clear that Robin Williams’ character is a shit-eating piece of shit (I stole this clever line from the back of the DVD case). What worries Pacino is that he starts to realize that he might also be a shit-eating piece of shit, and to make matters worse, he’s in fucking Alaska during perpetual daylight. Thus, the man gets no rest. I dig this lesser work from Nolan, but I have to excuse Hillary Swank’s horrible go-getter role and the firefight climax that should have been saved for a dumb action movie. Finally, one should note Nolan adopts the linear narrative starting with this film.

Batman Begins (2005)

And here, Nolan throws moral ambiguity out the window (but thankfully doesn’t abandon it in his career). We can forgive him for this, however, because Liam Neeson plays the villain! Also, Cillian Murphy! (When speaking of The Villain in Batman films, the word “also” is a must.) Anyway, this movie isn’t realistic (any scene involving the redneck toy Tumbler is incredibly fucking stupid, for example), but Nolan’s main concern is showing us how Batman began, thereby making him less myth and more man (or rather, more Christian Bale-ish). I can appreciate that. What I cannot appreciate is how retarded some of the dialogue is: “It's not who I am underneath, but what I do that defines me.” Well, Jeezus Christus, just slap me with your balls while you’re at it. Lastly, Rachel Dawes (played by Katie Holmes) gives Nolan a two-movie streak of shitty female characters, the director seemingly forgetting what he accomplished with “Following” and “Memento.”

The Prestige (2006)

Just as one can see Nolan gradually define morality with “Insomnia” and “Batman Begins,” one can see him return to the morally gray territory of “Following” and “Memento” in “The Prestige.” Neither magician in this film would be allowed in the church choir, which makes the conflict all the more decadent (and enjoyable). Nolan brilliantly creates a parallel to this conflict with a Thomas Edison vs. Nikola Tesla subplot (and getting David Bowie to play Tesla is terrific casting), granting the film an evident, but secondary, science fiction element. I would mark “The Prestige” as Nolan’s first step toward science fiction, even though others give that distinction to “Memento.” One should keep in mind that “Memento,” unlike the subplot in “The Prestige,” is primarily concerned with answers, not the backbone of quality science fiction: questions. The only major problem with “The Prestige” is the ending, a parlor trick (oh! he has a twin!) that cheapens the aforementioned conflict.

The Dark Knight (2008)

First, let me assure everyone of one thing: I do not consider “The Dark Knight” Nolan’s weakest film because it is his most successful film. I believe “The Godfather,” “Jaws,” and “Blazing Saddles” are three of the greatest films in history and the best work from their respective directors. Furthermore, in case anyone still has questions on the matter, I was blown away by “The Dark Knight” after I saw it in a theater. However, I tailored my opinion after repeated viewings and more thought.

“The Dark Knight” is Nolan’s weakest film because it is, quite frankly, full of shit (i.e., it does not accomplish what it thinks it does). Nolan pretends this film is more believable than other Batman vs. Joker stories, but it isn’t. The Joker is still able to pull off impossible scheme after impossible scheme, and Batman is still the only one who can stop him. Do I have a problem with either of these things by themselves? Of course not. However, Nolan’s pretense on the matter is absurd. And if only that were the single major flaw of the film.

Replacing Katie Holmes with Maggie Gyllenhaal doesn’t change the fact that Rachel Dawes is a boring character who serves as little more than a piece of meat for the predominantly male cast.

Remember the silly line I quoted from “Batman Begins”? “The Dark Knight” is replete with this obvious Flashcard Writing. The worst offense is Commissioner Gordon’s monologue explaining the entire fucking movie, interpretative thought be damned.

Some people say moral ambiguity is at play in “The Dark Knight,” and Nolan undoubtedly shares this view, but I don’t buy it. The film is no more morally ambiguous than Burton’s two Batman films, in which the protagonist breaks the law however he sees fit to fight criminals. In fact, I would argue that Burton’s first film has more moral ambiguity insofar as Batman is directly responsible for creating the Joker via dropping Jack Napier into a chemical vat. In “The Dark Knight,” the Joker is not the effect of Batman’s existence (unless you want to argue that Nolan’s Joker wasn’t abused as a child). As Alfred Pennyworth says, “Some men just want to watch the world burn.” Yeah, that’s another Glaring Flashcard for the stupid audience (which includes me and you, by the way), but it illustrates that Batman has a noble purpose and that the Joker is wrong.

“The Dark Knight” is not a bad movie, and it features one of the best performances of the 2000s (I don’t even have to say the actor’s name), but it is not a masterpiece. Also, watch “Batman: The Brave and the Bold.” OK, I’m done.

Inception (2010)

“Inception” is Nolan’s first full-fledged attempt at science fiction, and while I wouldn’t call it a knockout punch (come to think of it, I wouldn’t call any movie a knockout punch), it is a thinking person’s theme park ride. Moral ambiguity is back again. The idea of sneaking around in someone’s dream is fucked up, no matter the purpose. As far as the time frame is concerned, Nolan’s narrative is still linear, but the dream-within-a-dream-within-a-dream structure is far from a standard experience. You won’t know what I’m talking about until you see it, but when the van finally hits the water, the effect is orgasmic. (So be careful whom you sit by.) Alright, alright, so most of the characters in this film are about as flimsy as paper, but Joseph Gordon-Levitt’s coolness makes up for that shortcoming. Now, about the ending: it’s not complicated, and there’s no reason for Multiple Interpretations. Nolan is simply pointing out that reality and dreams have meaningful interplay, a theme explored previously by the late Satoshi Kon’s “Paprika.” In other words, it doesn’t matter whether the last scene is a dream or not. The conflict has been resolved in the protagonist’s mind.

Acknowledgements. Then I'll blather about 'Batman Beyond: Return of the Joker.'

Well, shit, it's been more than two months since my last entry that concluded Another Top 50 Films of the 2000s List. I told several people--hopefully not more than several--that I would write a follow-up to the list. You know, mention some movies that didn't make the list (e.g., no Clint Eastwood films!) and thank people and so on. I'll just stick to the thanking.

I extend a hearty thank-you to everyone who read the list (including friends at Facebook, Comic Book Resources, and Anime Forums), to those who commented on the entries, and to those who encouraged me to continue writing (my girlfriend is certainly part of this long list). Special thanks go to Ray R. from CBR (I quoted him here) as well as other members of that forums site. Special thanks also go to IcareAlot from A4 (because I did steal a line from him for the "Save the Green Planet" review) as well as other members of that forums site. If I do another list, I hope it's as rewarding as this one.

Alright, I'm done being a nice guy. Now I am going to give a negative review to a direct-to-video film, "Batman Beyond: Return of the Joker." Why should anyone read or write this shit? We have to start somewhere.

But seriously, "Mask of the Phantasm" is a very good movie. Perhaps the best Batman film yet. It also didn't make back its small budget during its theatrical run. Ouch! That doesn't give me dollar signs to use as a fucking crutch while I pontificate about how "Mask of the Phantasm" is better than every comic book movie--and certainly most movies ever made.

I have determined that the preceding paragraph is the product of poor transitional thought and anger, but the point I wanted to make is that perhaps "Return of the Joker" could have been very good, just like "Mask of the Phantasm." Paul Dini is a solid writer, and "Batman Beyond" refers to a new Batman who uses futuristic technology and hangs out with an older, grumpy Bruce Wayne ... fair concept. Hell, it even sounds fun. Here's the problem: "Return of the Joker" should be fun, but it's not.

But could we call "Mask of the Phantasm" fun? It was serious most of the time, but Joker attacking someone with bologna? Yeah, that's worth a laugh.

"Return of the Joker" has nothing to laugh about. That's because--and yes, I'm about to spoil this no-theatrical-release mofo--the Joker in this film is actually Tim Drake. The guy who used to be Robin. The really young guy. In the film, we get a dark flashback involving Batman, Drake, Batgirl, the Joker, Harley Quinn, torture, death, and insanity ... maybe I could let you fill in the blanks. It shouldn't be too hard. Just think of an obvious way to make the young Robin fucked up. Like, Robin gets tortured by the Joker and Harley Quinn, but Batman and Batgirl come to the rescue, and Joker and Harley Quinn die, but Batman did not kill them, thus making their deaths Rightful Punishment, and Drake, though rescued, is insane.

So fuck it, that's all I have to say about the story. I can't enjoy this morbid nonsense. I'm just wondering why this movie contains the phrase "Batman Beyond." After all, Joker doing fucked up shit to people and Batman dealing with the consequences are not beyond my expectations.

And then a thought comes, and none of this matters! Ding, ding, ding! It's a nearly 10-year-old straight-to-video Batman film! Jeezus, what was I thinking?

Another Top 50 Films of the 2000s List: 5-1.

I apologize for not writing this sooner.

Twenty days. Why did the final five take that long to write? The most obvious explanation is I tortured myself on the ordering. About a week ago, any of these five films could have been No. 1 in my mind.

But that is just a partial explanation for this lateness. My personal life has been tumultuous this month. That’s not to say I don’t have a lot to be thankful for. But let’s say my brain has been rather weak. Only now do I consider my wits restored.

No. 5 - “Inland Empire” (2006)

When you get down to it, director/writer David Lynch asks a lot from you with his longest and weirdest movie. The good news is that “Inland Empire” doesn’t require you to watch it in one sitting. Or at least, that’s been the case for me.

The following thought is probably going to doom my reputation as a Serious Commentator, but I feel I have a very odd relationship with “Inland Empire.” As I implied, I’m fine with watching this movie in multiple sittings, and the main reason for this sentiment isn’t the 179-minute running time. Simply put, “Inland Empire” can overload you mentally and emotionally if you accept Lynch’s rejection of a narrative rulebook.

Ultimately, the film is a visceral mystery. Now, now, what the fuck does that mean? As I follow Laura Dern’s confused protagonist through nightmarish cul-de-sacs, I find myself just as clueless and stupefied as she is. Watching “Inland Empire,” you will sometimes have trouble determining whether there is more than one mystery, and if you decide there are multiple mysteries, do you need multiple answers, or does one solution solve the entire puzzle? If the previous sentence leads you nowhere, that is exactly how you feel during the majority of “Inland Empire”—in short, you are never removed from the fear and anxiety of Dern’s character.

And a quick word about Dern. She gives an amazing performance. Somehow, she is able to satisfy Lynch’s craziest wishes and translate her character into a woman we can understand. It’s a daring role that is often difficult to define but always impressive. I was particularly moved by the scenes in which Dern describes the violence she enacted on men. Her delivery during these scenes makes me squirm and guffaw.

There is something I feel I should address: the absence of “Mulholland Dr.” from this list. Frankly, I have no idea why anyone would prefer that film to “Inland Empire,” as the latter features far better acting, writing, and directing. “Mulholland Dr.” is a contrived and humorless combination of ideas. “Inland Empire,” on the other hand, is a fully realized film that Lynch wittily sums up for us: “A Woman In Trouble.”

So yeah, you’re goddamn right I’ll take a challenging and funny movie over a dull, meaningless phenomenon.

No. 4 - “Inglourious Basterds” (2009)

I have to do two things with this entry. First, I have to justify why this film made my list. Second, I have to explain why and how this film deconstructs World War II pictures. I am addressing the second point because some people have inaccurately suggested that “Inglourious Basterds” is sort of a mindless but fun revenge fantasy. In reality, that conclusion is oversimplification.

But yes, it is irrevocable that the film is a lot of fun. Director/writer Quentin Tarantino is all about having a good time at the movies, often through homage. As Tarantino intended, “Inglourious Basterds” is “The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly” in a World War II setting, with Shoshanna being The Good, Hans Landa being The Bad, and Aldo Raine being The Ugly. This fact, among other things such as faulty subtitles and obtrusive segments narrated by Samuel L. Jackson, proves that we are supposed to have a blast with the story.

At the same time, this movie has a surprising amount of substance from a film history standpoint. Had any WWII movie rejected historical accuracy to this extent? No, they never dared to. At best, WWII films strived for historical accuracy and/or relied on action sequences. “Inglourious Basterds” clearly dismisses both trends. This conclusion is evident in Tarantino’s decisions as a writer and director. For example, why spit on historical accuracy in one monumental scene but pay such careful attention to language throughout the film? While these decisions may seem contradictory at first, they work together to defy convention and audience expectations. Most importantly, Tarantino wants us to laugh, particularly when it’s inappropriate to do so.

And if you still don’t think “Inglourious Basterds” deconstructs WWII films, take this challenge. Watch both “The Dirty Dozen” and “Schindler’s List” and explain how “Inglourious Basterds” champions the goals of these films. I predict you will have trouble finishing such an analysis since “Inglourious Basterds” resembles a critique of these films far more than it resembles, well, them.

Some have called “Inglourious Basterds” disrespectful. Others say you cannot justify its running time (whereas I value the film’s Hitchcockian suspense). But these complaints seem rather minute when one considers that film has the power to kill Hitler and make our mouths water as whipped cream is applied to a strudel. Our reactions to “Inglourious Basterds” typify the concept of being alive. Insert a rant about what art should do here.

No. 3 - “No Country For Old Men” (2007)

Out of these top five films, “No Country For Old Men” has the tightest plot. To use an appropriate cliché, the film is like clockwork. A look at the practical side of the directing/writing team of Joel and Ethan Coen is elucidating. On the set of a Coen brothers film, the tone is relatively relaxed. If you ask Joel what to do and then go to Ethan, you will get the same answer. This confident attention to detail is evident in all their films, but it is most apparent in “No Country For Old Men.” Why? Because their script closely follows a Cormac McCarthy book that assuredly presents description after description in concise sentences.

The Coens are genre whores, too. Genre-wise, the essence of “No Country For Old Men” is encapsulated in the scene where Tommy Lee Jones’ Sheriff Bell opens a hotel room door, his cowboy silhouette representing the mixture of the film noir and western genres. But the movie also contains a fair bit of action (more than any other film by the Coens), and Anton Chigurh is like a horror movie villain in that he always moves forward for another kill. Of course, no Coen brothers film would be complete without comedy, as the darker variety can be found in "No Country For Old Men."

Damn, two paragraphs in and I’m still sucking off the Coens as a general phenomenon. But isn’t that enough? “No Country For Old Men” is the epitome of something we’re familiar with as filmgoers. This film will never be remembered as a great thing by itself. A substantial chunk of its appeal is that it showcases the Coens in top form …

No, that’s not everything. The story is fucking great and very much resembles what McCarthy wrote in his book, which demonstrates the Coens’ eye for what can work in film rather than the philosophy that all adaptations should be faithful. But beyond the theme of an old man not keeping up with the times, there is the face of Chigurh, portrayed by Javier Bardem. Chigurh’s face is symbolic of nothing certain. We can’t tell where he’s from. We don’t know what he’s thinking. We just know that destiny follows him.

Funny. A strange man with a silly haircut is a great visual definition of the universe.

No. 2 - “There Will Be Blood” (2007)

An underrated aspect of “There Will Be Blood” is its sense of humor. The final scene is a self-referential joke from director/writer P.T. Anderson, who has a history of unusual endings (just watch “Boogie Nights” and “Magnolia”). Comparisons to “Citizen Kane” and “The Treasure of the Sierra Madre” are apt, but it's a sinister final wink that makes “There Will Be Blood” stand out, and Stanley Kubrick has the patent on that. And like Kubrick’s work, “There Will Be Blood” has a soundtrack that takes on a life of its own while playing off the visuals. (The soundtrack is Johnny Greenwood's greatest accomplishment. Yes, better than the drivel with Radiohead. As a recovering admirer of progressive rock, I interject unnecessary insults about its followers, even when I like them.)

Notwithstanding that Anderson was looking to Kubrick for guidance, “There Will Be Blood” is a distinct creation. Anderson’s dialogue, for example, is strange in how it can fit a story that takes place in the early 1900s but still evoke contemporary culture. Thankfully, even if you don’t listen to OutKast, “brother from another mother” is funny enough as a phrase to work without the reference.

There's also this unknown actor called Daniel Day-Lewis who plays the lead role, Daniel Plainview. His performance is as masterful as any in film history. The voice, physicality, and personality of Plainview are often ridiculously blunt. During the scene in which Plainview performs his first execution, Day-Lewis no longer looks human, contorting his face into an uncomfortable ugliness. Yet in other scenes, I could only laugh at how evil he is, his threats delivered as naturally as we would say “Hello” to a friend.

“There Will Be Blood” works on more than one level and achieves every lofty goal of Anderson. That's the main point here. It's a fantastic character study, a unique comedy, a brutal commentary on American capitalism, and a technical achievement that is scary in its audaciousness. When oil catches fire, the film is an eerie hell and every aspect of its design a brilliant flame nonetheless inseparable from the other in the demonic mise-en-scène.

No. 1 - “Grizzly Man” (2005)

Although “Grizzly Man” is directed by Werner Herzog, it is the work of two great filmmakers: Herzog and the late Timothy Treadwell, who lived with grizzly bears for 13 summers and videotaped more than 100 hours of his work. Indeed, a notable aspect of “Grizzly Man” is Herzog’s acknowledgement of some of the wondrous shots Treadwell set up in the wilderness, many of them unintentionally beautiful.

And yeah, I hope no one has a problem with a documentary being the No. 1 film of the 2000s. I certainly don’t, especially when it involves Herzog, who has blurred the line between feature film and documentary for decades. “Grizzly Man” is as much of a character study, with Herzog making assumptions like any good storyteller, as it is a biography. But I would argue the film goes even further than that. During several scenes, I find myself as fascinated with the mentality of Herzog. When Treadwell remarks on the general beauty of nature, Herzog reveals that he disagrees with Treadwell’s assessment. When a close friend of Treadwell wonders what to do with an audio recording of Treadwell’s death, Herzog insists that she must never listen to the tape and destroy it. Of course, these moments involving Herzog do not outnumber those that deal with Treadwell’s character, but they are just as moving and human.

This is not to say that Herzog relies on his own perception to interpret the actions of Treadwell. Herzog’s various interviewees range from people who loved Treadwell for everything he was to those who questioned or condemned his quest to save the bears. After you finish this film, you are not left with a one-dimensional portrait of the character (unlike the incredibly overrated 2000s documentary, “Man On Wire”). Treadwell is foolish and inspired, courageous and outrageous, tragic and detestable, funny and depraved.

I am still amazed at the sheer watchability of “Grizzly Man.” The foundation of the film is built on information, but the story is sold with emotion. This paradox is perhaps the reason I consider Herzog the greatest narrator in film history. His calm voice—an incredible sound, as German as it is English—convicts me to look for truth as my heart would have it.

Another Top 50 Films of the 2000s List: 10-6.

No. 10 - “Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind” (2004)

“Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind” works as romantic comedy and science fiction. I can’t say that about any other film I’ve seen. But such is the quality of Charlie Kaufman’s writing, which serves as a hole puncher to allow us to peek into the human soul …

Goddamn! I gotta quit that kind of talk. Let’s just say Kaufman knows the awkward conversations that precede and follow relationships. He also knows good science fiction is built around questions, not maxims and computer-generated spaceships that bore the shit out of me. Sure, maybe the answer to “Should we fuck with our memories to reduce heartbreak?” is simple, but it’s fascinating seeing how the idea plays out.

I have to admit, for a while I was sucking off Kaufman so much that I somewhat dismissed Michel Gondry’s role as director. I mean, is it a coincidence that the Kaufman-scripted “Adaptation,” “Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind,” and “Synecdoche, New York” remind me of each other visually, despite having different directors? No. But I’ll put money down saying Gondry’s film has the best pacing out of the bunch.

(As a side note, what I like so much about the memory-tampering sequences is how they aren’t just visually engaging—when one watches the destruction of a life via memory swipe, it is irksome. Maybe James Cameron could learn something here.)

Finally, the cast is the main reason “Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind” is a pleasure to watch. Jim Carrey delivers his most restrained performance, with Kate Winslet playing the wild card. Regardless of how their characters are scripted, Carrey and Winslet make a strange pair, but their interplay is universal in how it speaks to our …

I’m moving to the next one.

No. 9 - “Caché” (2005)

Man, I would have been pissed off if I had paid to see this bugger in a theater. Director/writer Michael Haneke likes fucking with us and then, to slightly plagiarize a friend, laughing maniacally at the ruckus. Basically, think an evil, thinner Alfred Hitchcock with white hair and beard, glasses, and vicious teeth.

But I really like the bastard, what can I say. But yeah, I missed the ending to this film. Strange idea, isn’t it? Missed the fucking ending. Then you look at the title again, “Caché,” and curse yourself for letting Haneke win again.

You will get no definitive answers to the mystery, but this isn’t “The Birds.” Haneke simply dangles possibilities in front of you.

The crazy thing is I don’t think Haneke gives a shit about what actually happened in this story. He wants you to look at what caused the mystery. Truthfully, it’s a simple ploy, but we are so used to certain conventions that it is devastating. Thank Christ you’re not the protagonist.

Plus, any movie that puts all its opening credits on one screen is admirably cuckoo.

No. 8 - “The Royal Tenenbaums” (2001)

A few people may see this movie at No. 8 and go, “Sorry, I can’t get into Wes Anderson.” I can help with that. If Anderson’s intentions are that dubious, pretend this entry is about your favorite movie of all time.

Essentially, “The Royal Tenenbaums” is a storybook of a film, complete with obvious typography and a section for the cast of characters. The story is narrated by a calm Alec Baldwin, which is a testament to Anderson’s knack for self-referential contradictions. Clearly, the introduction of this film is an odd way to start a movie. But listen closely. A cover of “Hey Jude” by The Beatles is playing in the background, and the lyric “Take a sad song and make it better” perfectly describes what Anderson is doing with the dysfunctional Tenenbaum family.

For example, instead of presenting Royal Tenenbaum (Gene Hackman in a superb role), the insensitive father, in a totally negative light, Anderson wants us to laugh at him when he lies about having cancer to win his family back. Rereading the previous sentence brings to mind a genuine sadness to this film that Anderson cloaks and reveals ever so well.

But fuck all that. Look at this cast: Hackman, Anjelica Houston, Ben Stiller, Gwyneth Paltrow, Luke Wilson, Owen Wilson, Danny Glover, Bill Murray, and Kumar Pallana.

I believe I have shown there is nothing that difficult to “get” here. If I haven’t, perhaps I should have included “The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou” in this list like my wacky side suggested.

No. 7 - “The Piano Teacher” (2001)

Close call. I almost listed two movies in a row by the same director twice. (Check out No. 16, “Audition,” and No. 15, “Ichi the Killer,” both by Takashi Miike.)

A question remains, however. Does Michael Haneke deserve to have two movies in a top 10? No, the scheming bastard certainly doesn’t. I am not a Haneke fan in the way one is a Nolan fan. Haneke is a self-important and deceptive person. Having said that, his films are unique, provocative, and unforgettable, and those three adjectives should describe all of the top 10. Otherwise, what the hell am I doing?

I want to switch gears a bit to write about Isabelle Huppert, who plays the titular protagonist. Huppert is a scary actress, much like Daniel Day-Lewis is a scary actor. The depths she is able to convey through both subtle and fierce performing may scar you. I could not remove her character from my mind. Her motivations and secrets are tormenting.

But see, that’s only the excellent actress at work. During the film, you might feel guilty, as Haneke’s camera angles seem more like hiding spots for the most depraved voyeur than visual framing for a story. Like Hitchcock, Haneke is very interested in letting you see nastiness, but the primary weapon in “The Piano Teacher” is sexuality, not violence. If you can handle the violence, Haneke thinks you should be able to handle the sexuality.

(By the way, “Audition” has lost its throne as the most disturbing movie on this list.)

No. 6 - “Oldboy” (2003)

This revenge film from director/writer Park Chan-wook is as visceral as it is intellectual. Don’t let those who praise the hallway fight as cool lead you astray. “Oldboy” is not about heroism or victory. Chan-wook takes the Sophocles approach to tragedy but mixes in enough dark humor and romance to make you think he was the kid burying bodies in the sandbox to make a larger point about—ah, just take my word for it.

This movie is fucked up. That is one claim no one will dispute. The challenge is to take “Oldboy” in a broader context rather than as a film for the sake of itself. If one misses the commentary on the dreary revenge film genre, the movie may resemble unjustified torture. I assure you it is not. Even the infamous squid scene ties into Chan-wook’s critique of revenge flicks. (I’ve read that more than one real octopus had to die for the scene.)

But it’s so addicting! “Oldboy” is immensely rewarding on repeated viewings. Choi Min-sik's lead performance is just as scorching every time (the same can be said for Yoo Ji-tae's antagonist), and his voice-over narration doesn't get tiresome, as it is needed and funny. The flip side is that one also realizes this is an incredibly contrived story, but for a contrived story, it knows how to punch you in the gut.

Damn, I wanted to put this at No. 1.

Another Top 50 Films of the 2000s List: 15-11.

No. 15 - “Ichi the Killer” (2001)

I don’t like it when a list includes two movies by the same director in a row (in this case, Takashi Miike), but damn it, this is how my ranking turned out. “Ichi the Killer” contains more perverse violence than anything on this list. Dismemberment, disembowelment, torture with hooks, rape, tongue cutting. Fucked up, I know, but this exaggerated violence seems to mock Japanese gangster films and anime. “Ichi” was clearly made with comedy in mind, as evidenced by cartoony gore, wild characters (one guy puts on dog ears to become a hound/sleuth), and complete lack of explanation for the titular character’s deadly suit (which may comment on countless anime in which whiny protagonists become unstoppable via ridiculous suits).

But why the hell is it so high on the list? The story is unique, where almost every character has a sadistic or masochistic side. These tendencies are often exploited for laughs, but if you take the characters for what they are, their motivations are understandable. The script simply plays by a different rulebook.

Convention and decency are not only ignored in “Ichi”—they are deemed inappropriate. Perhaps the boldest display of this philosophy can be seen in the film’s climax, when Miike allows his cast (led by the incredible Tadanobu Asano) and crew to make the creative decisions themselves. As Miike explains in a DVD commentary track for this scene, one possibility is more fascinating than multiple possibilities.

He’s right. There will never be another climax like it.

No. 14 - “Memories of Murder” (2003)

Director/writer Bong Joon-ho could have made a pretty good serial killer film, like David Fincher went on to do with “Zodiac” in 2007. After all, Joon-ho was drawing material from real and fascinating unsolved cases in South Korea. Instead, he made a great satire using the same story. This is why you see an officer dropkicking a suspect during an interrogation. Every time you think you might be watching a procedure, “Memories of Murder” inches toward bitter critique. Song Kang-ho is brilliant as the lead detective who helps botch the investigation.

No. 13 - “Spirited Away” (2001)

From my standpoint, one can enjoy Hayao Miyazaki’s animated masterpiece in two ways. You can watch “Spirited Away” as a quirky story about growing up, with the child protagonist Chihiro getting a job, falling in love, and finding her way in a world of spirits and magic. Just as one’s life is affected by many people, Chihiro meets an array of strange characters that help and challenge her.

However, I prefer watching “Spirited Away” the other way, accepting every weird, unexplained thing as fact and not bothering with what anything means. Judging by certain negative opinions on this film, some people may have forgotten the bliss of watching a movie as a child. Miyazaki certainly hasn’t.

No. 12 - “Eastern Promises” (2007)

David Cronenberg changed his direction for the 2000s, leaving behind social critique and sci-fi/horror for a more realistic, character-driven, and subtler approach. (But as one can see in “Spider,” “History of Violence,” and “Eastern Promises,” the director didn’t abandon subtext.) Cronenberg improved this new approach with each of his 2000s films, making “Eastern Promises” his contemporary masterpiece. For such a short film in an overcrowded crime genre, it explores several themes and sets itself apart from “The Godfather,” “Miller’s Crossing,” and every other superb crime film (for example, everyone uses knives in “Eastern Promises”).

The cast and characters are devastatingly good. Viggo Mortensen’s best performance could have been a disastrous lesson on how not to do a Russian accent. Half the battle was won with the script, which presents Mortensen’s character as a three-dimensional moral enigma. Then you have Naomi Watts, whose maternal heroine stands up to an organized family of crooks; Vincent Cassel (almost steals the movie), a son who may or may not be hiding homosexual feelings; and Armin Mueller-Stahl, a friendly but sinister force of evil.

But as much as Cronenberg restrained himself in the 2000s, he still couldn’t help his fascination with the relationship between sex and violence. This lack of restraint is best demonstrated in the sauna fight of “Eastern Promises,” a hilarious spectacle of penetration and dick waving. What makes the scene so well done is how its excess complements the overall story.

Finally, I like any movie that knows how to use a voice-over narrative with fucking dignity. “Eastern Promises” doesn’t overuse the device and allows it to enrich the story, not frustrate me with rambling and exposition.

No. 11 - “Pan’s Labyrinth” (2006)

“Pan’s Labyrinth” is a fairly tale in hell that gets darker every time I see it. The greatness of this film lies in its ability to be simple and profound simultaneously. The fantasy segments don’t give us a break from the war story. They help us understand it. Guillermo Del Toro handles the theme of resisting authority—even if it means death—rather brilliantly, framing the idea in the context of politics and family. The girl Ofelia is defying both a captain of a repressive regime and her stepfather. While this story element may seem merely obvious, it helps accomplish the impressive feat of melding the war and fantasy genres.

“Pan’s Labyrinth” does a lot of things very well: acting, cinematography, visual effects, characters, etc. But what I can’t forget is the woman humming during the main theme of the film’s soundtrack and how her voice overcomes an undefined sadness.

Another Top 50 Films of the 2000s List: 20-16.

No. 20 - “Children of Men” (2006)

The cinematography in this allegorical sci-fi film is breathtaking, but director/writer Alfonso Cuarón uses the camera to support his story about hope and fear, not drown it. “Children of Men” is sometimes nihilistic with its brutal depictions of murder and xenophobia, but the movie also explores the resilience of humankind—in the form of a baby—and the general beauty of life (perhaps the latter is best symbolized by the strange attention Cuarón gives to kittens). Because the script relies heavily on metaphors, the film could have collapsed without the talented cast, including action man Clive Owen in his best performance, Michael Caine in an unusual turn, and Chiwetel Ejiofor, whom I believe ranks with the top performers of the decade.

No. 19 - “The Lives of Others” (2006)

Odd. Controversial films are generally loud, but this subtle picture stirred up some shit. One cause of debate was “The Lives of Others” winning the Best Foreign Film Oscar over “Pan’s Labyrinth.” Others argued that the film was too optimistic and unrealistic in regard to its protagonist, a fictional member of the secret police of 1980s East Germany. The film was also questioned for delving into the fascistic tendencies of the German Democratic Republic. Before the film’s release, criticism regarding the GDR was taboo in Germany, despite the fact that the GDR’s secret police invaded the private lives of Germans through wiretaps and informants.

All of this hubbub over one of the most restrained dramas I’ve seen. Director/writer Florian Henckel von Donnersmarck’s direction is an interesting beast to dissect, as its power can be inexplicably overwhelming. The challenge is giving it a chance. “The Lives of Others” is a cinematic heavyweight that cannot be easily—or perhaps accurately—described in a review or on the back of a DVD case.

No. 18 - “American Splendor” (2003)

“American Splendor” is a comedy about a couple from an autobiographical comic book of the same name and is directed by two documentarians who happen to be a couple. What a crazy sentence to write and read, but the film is a crazy, unique production. There’s nothing quite like watching actor Paul Giamatti as a curmudgeon, especially when he’s playing off an equally adept actress like Hope Davis. But watching the real Harvey Pekar and Joyce Brabner show up in the film to discuss, yes, the film? Fuck, my mind has stopped and I can’t write anymore …

No. 17 - “City of God” (2002)

I was not captivated the first time I tried watching this one. I stopped it before an hour had passed. I have no idea why, considering how impressed I was throughout my second viewing. Well, maybe I have an idea. I kind of stupidly dismissed it as a Brazilian “Boyz n the Hood” wannabe. Damn.

“City of God” makes “Mean Streets” look tame. Most of its cast came from real shanty towns in Brazil. In other words, the film could have been a shitty bummer, but the direction of Fernando Meirelles and Kátia Lund lends enough cinematic power to prevent the movie from being a boring exercise in realism. Something as straightforward as chasing a chicken becomes a surreal parade. And that’s only the first memorable scene (which occurs at the very beginning of the film, by the way). The script is also strong. It wants us to sympathize with the protagonist, a boy whose love of journalism helps him escape the streets, but this is not a preachy or sentimental story, and other fascinating characters—like Li'l Zé, Benny, and Carrot—often steal the spotlight.

If nothing else, “City of God” is a trumpet leader for modern Brazilian cinema. I am still unfamiliar with the country’s other recent endeavors in filmmaking, but “The Elite Squad” waits for me as I write this entry.

No. 16 - “Audition” (2000)

There is only one other 2000s movie that disturbed me as much as “Audition,” but I will be writing about that later. Director Takashi Miike is a cunt’s hair away from insanity, but he’s also one of the greatest and most prolific directors alive. His sensibilities are unorthodox, deranged, and unpredictable. The first 50 minutes, give or take, of this film almost resemble a romantic comedy, but the set-up becomes a faint (and pleasant) memory once you experience the second half. Experience. “Audition” isn’t something you watch. It’s something that gets into your stomach. Poe and Hitchcock would have loved it.

As an aside, you will see “Audition” listed as both a 1999 and 2000 film, depending on the source. I tried to dig up the reason but haven’t found anything definitive. However, Wikipedia indicates the film was released in Canada October 6, 1999, and in Japan, March 3, 2000. A Japanese Movie Database link corroborates the Japan release date.

Another Top 50 Films of the 2000s List: 25-21.

No. 25 - “Into the Wild” (2007)

Sean Penn can write and direct. If someone mentioned his name and asked me what I thought, that's what I would say. Yes, he's a good actor, but he often overplays the part. As a director, Penn has much more control, he knows when to hit hard, and he injects a subtle intensity into both of his full-length 2000s films, “The Pledge” and “Into the Wild.”

Penn's eye for tragedy evolved with “Into the Wild,” though. “The Pledge” was tragic, but it was also sort of a detached examination of chance. “Into the Wild” is personal. One can tell Penn has a strong admiration for the protagonist, Christopher McCandless. But as you see in the second half of the film, Penn is also willing to pinpoint the brutal irony in the story of McCandless, a man looking for meaning that was in front of him almost the whole time.

Emile Hirsch won't go down as one of my favorite actors, but he's fantastic as McCandless. Penn's script calls for a complex character, likable and intelligent yet disappointing and shortsighted, and Hirsch gets every bit of it right. I was also impressed by the supporting cast, particularly Hal Holbrook, whose late appearance is unforgettable and crushing.

As excellent as this film is, it doesn't go beyond the bottom of my top 25 for one reason: Eddie Vedder's contributions to the soundtrack. I can listen to Pearl Jam without laughing, but Vedder is hilariously inept here. What's worse, the music doesn't suit the imagery, either. I've been told Pearl Jam was McCandless' favorite band, so the soundtrack includes Vedder for that reason, but shitty music isn't what the film needed.

No. 24 - “The Hurt Locker” (2009)

I'm somewhat surprised this film captivated me. Lately I've been reevaluating my opinions on war movies. “Tropic Thunder” and “Inglourious Basterds” helped inspire these second thoughts. So even though I was very interested in “The Hurt Locker,” I was apprehensive. I didn't want to see any obvious pro-American nonsense with a soldier I could believe in.

“The Hurt Locker,” superbly directed by Kathryn Bigelow, is not your everyday war film, though. It's an honest character study that favors suspense over action, which tends to be mesmerizing when it's there. The first explosion is a religious experience if you worship Sam Peckinpah. But don't take that to mean the film is about spectacle. Ultimately, the film rests on nuanced acting from Jeremy Renner and Anthony Mackie, whose relationship in the film involves uncomfortable racial tension. I believe their roles also benefit from the fact that two veteran actors, Guy Pearce and Ralph Fiennes, aren’t allowed to take over the screen. Bigelow makes damn sure of that.

Frankly, the film's general visual style had to grow on me. It often subscribes to the Shake The Camera If You Have One philosophy, but Bigelow's execution is much better than what you would have seen from Michael Bay, Danny Boyle, Paul Greengrass, Marc Forster, or any other director who has recently utilized the style.

I haven't read too many reviews of “The Hurt Locker,” so I'm not sure if everyone has sucked off the sound effects enough, but I will anyway. The sound in this movie is the best since “WALL-E,” especially in scenes with fire and even for smaller details, like a knife cutting through a car seat.

No. 23 - “Sideways” (2004)

The script doesn't always work, but “Sideways” seems to improve the more I watch it, thanks to Alexander Payne's brilliant direction and great performances from Paul Giamatti, Thomas Haden Church, Virginia Madsen, and Sandra Oh. Payne wisely keeps a comical tone for the most part, but the film contains several effective dramatic moments. Finally, and perhaps most importantly, Payne established a two-movie streak of hefty nude people with “Sideways.” I am curious to see whether he maintains the streak in his next movie, if it ever comes out. (Honestly, I wish Payne would get off his ass and do something.)

No. 22 - “Downfall” (2004)

I stopped “Downfall” after about two hours into its running time to take a breather from disturbing content. Perhaps the film doesn’t affect everyone in the same manner, but director Oliver Hirschbiegel wanted the film to answer tough questions, particularly about Adolf Hitler’s humanity. Much has been said about Bruno Ganz’s three-dimensional portrayal of Hitler. For some people, it is not easy to accept the idea that Hitler was a charismatic man, but Ganz demonstrates how he was. Of course, Ganz’s frenzied breakdown, which is associated with a boring Internet joke thanks to a Depraved Scheme, is one of the decade’s finest moments in acting.

No. 21 - “Master and Commander: The Far Side of the World” (2003)

Not many actors in the world can match Russell Crowe's intensity, but Paul Bettany is one of them. Director/writer Peter Weir creates one of the most fascinating relationships in film history with Crowe and Bettany, who represent the conflict of politics vs. science. “Master and Commander” is a superb overall production, no slouch in terms of art direction, sound, visual effects, music, and cinematography. Weir's sly sense of humor—demonstrated throughout 1998's “The Truman Show”—is the key to the movie's brilliant ending. This choice is a benchmark for the list, in that every movie after this point must be great in almost every respect to warrant mentioning.

Another Top 50 Films of the 2000s List: 30-26.

This entry took me longer to write for a couple of reasons. First, I rewatched "Fulltime Killer," a film I thought was definitely going to make the list. Yes, the film has great action, but I wanted more. The action scenes are too short, and there's too much talking. Hence, "Fulltime Killer" didn't make the list, and I needed a replacement. Second, I watched three acclaimed 2009 films and wanted to take a breather in case they warranted inclusion. And I'm happy to say one of them made a lasting impression on me.

So the bottom 25 is over with this entry. Again, these choices are negotiable in their placement. I am far more concerned with the ordering for the top 25.

No. 30 – “The King of Kong: A Fistful of Quarters” (2007)

Yeah, yeah, it’s a documentary involving video games, but “The King of Kong” gets on the list because it lets us laugh at losers. I can appreciate the appeal of having The High Score on a video game, but professional gamer Billy Mitchell suggests he’s just as controversial as the abortion issue, and Steve Wiebe cries during one scene when he fails to beat Mitchell’s high score on “Donkey Kong.” The characters in this film gave me so much joy that I considered visiting them and writing my own story, but I have abandoned the idea.

Is the movie factual? For the most part it is, but a few people who appear in the documentary, Mitchell and Wiebe among them, dispute certain claims of the film. You could put yourself through many headaches trying to pinpoint lies. I’m sure these nerds are willing to say anything after being exposed for the crazy lads they are, but they might have a decent point or two. Honestly, I don’t give a shit because the movie is funny and well-directed.

No. 29 – “Amélie” (2001)

I always want to watch this movie again immediately after I finish it, a rather attractive quality for a romantic comedy considering that I usually find films in this genre unfunny and unromantic. “Amélie” is bloated with creativity, much like Woody Allen’s masterpiece, “Annie Hall.” Director/writer Jean-Pierre Jeunet is much more positive than Allen, though, and actress Audrey Tautou leads the march with her unique smile and penchant for mischief. The film basically tells you it is scripted, but unlike “Slumdog Millionaire,” it never takes itself too seriously. Admittedly, I wish the reference to Princess Diana’s death could have been traded for another equally ridiculous plot device, but you can’t have everything in a movie this wild.

No. 28 – “Ratatouille” (2007)

“Great art may come from anywhere—not everywhere.” Has the world of art and art criticism ever been summarized so well? Not to my knowledge. I don’t have much to write about this film other than it lives up to what it says. But yes, its voice-over narration is Shitty.

No. 27 – “The Fountain” (2006)

Many people like Darren Aronofsky because of “Requiem for a Dream,” but I didn’t appreciate his direction until I finished “The Fountain.” The film received mixed reviews, though, and I turned it off the first time I tried to watch it.

My second attempt to watch “The Fountain” was different. I completed it in one sitting, and the film’s three stories interlocked beautifully. Despite the film’s uncomfortable focus on death, the movie had a peaceful effect on me.

Going back to the mixed reviews, there was some common ground. No could deny the visual artistry of the film, and many noted the good intentions of Aronofsky. But some dismissed the film as pretentious and confusing with no emotional power.

Whereas I found it a mature take on life and death that doesn’t discredit emotion or intellect.

No. 26 – “The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford” (2007)

Good luck guessing the ending to this one!

But it’s not that simple, and thank Christ. The relationship between Jesse James and Robert Ford is downright strange, but the movie works because of Brad Pitt and Casey Affleck. Pitt makes a great upscale redneck, and Affleck is a disturbing little bastard. Neither one is that likeable, but their interplay is a subtle breed of film magic.

If Pitt and Affleck make the movie worthwhile, director/writer Andres Dominik makes it a work of art. His script is an apt blend of the western and psychological thriller, and his use of hazy images gives the film a spooky quality that matches the story.

By the way, I briefly considered putting this sucker in my top 25, but it happens to feature annoying voice-over narration every once in while, so there you go. Don’t tell me what the fuck’s happening when it’s obvious, especially when you’re making a slow-paced film in the first place.

Another Top 50 Films of the 2000s List: 35-31.

My ordering has been off for the bottom 25 out of laziness, but these five choices could have been in my top 25 if I weren't such a snob.

No. 35 – "The Pianist" (2002)

This film was not easy to include in my list for political reasons. Director Roman Polanski is back in the news again, finally apprehended for fleeing the United States more than 30 years ago during his infamous statutory rape case. There is no excuse for Polanski’s crime, but his morality is not being judged here. This list is about films, and nothing is ineligible because of controversy related to a film or filmmaker. I know many people will not expose themselves to the works of particular criminals or assholes, but I would limit myself as a person if I adopted the same philosophy. It is certainly your right to feel differently, but any criticism of my inclusion of “The Pianist” will be seen as irrelevant if it relates to Polanski’s personal life.

“The Pianist” is a personal film--the "No Shit, Sherlock" phrase of the sentence--from Polanski, who survived Nazi oppression in Poland during World War II (his mother didn’t). I avoided this film for years because I didn’t want to watch another movie about the Holocaust. “Schindler’s List” was enough for me, I thought, and I’ve never cared for Adrien Brody that much. But I gave the movie a fair shot a couple of years ago.

What strikes me about “The Pianist” more than any other movie in the list is that it is great for one unequivocal reason: the direction. Brody received a lot of praise and awards, but I credit more of his performance to Polanski. The phenomenon is quite subtle, but it’s as if I’m watching someone else when I watch Brody. Polanski maintains his detached style in the camerawork (in contrast to Spielberg’s more upfront camera in “Schindler’s List”), but he channels his mixed emotions about survival through Brody, whose character is not glorified by the guilt-stricken director. The effect is directorial control at its most remarkable.

No. 34 – “About Schmidt” (2002)

That Jack Nicholson appears in two movies on my list illustrates how much respect I have for him as an actor. Contrary to what some people say, Nicholson doesn’t just or primarily play himself, and many specific criticisms of his work fall flat. For example, his performance in “A Few Good Men” is not that over the top, and I say that after recently rewatching it to spot the ham and cheese. Some people also thought he was too “Jack” in “The Departed,” but I found his improvised dildo scene in the theater savagely inspired. That is, when I do see Nicholson playing himself, I might ask, “How is that a bad thing?” At least he’s not playing parodies of himself for the most part (exceptions include “Anger Management” and “The Witches of Eastwick”), unlike Al Pacino, Robert De Niro, and Christopher Walken. And how many people have seen the majority of his work? (I barely have.) “The Passenger,” “Broadcast News,” and “Missouri Breaks” feature only three examples of overlooked Nicholson performances—he is more prolific, selecting, and versatile than what you might have read.

But enough about Nicholson, who plays the most delicate role of his career as Schmidt. Director/writer Alexander Payne is a master at combining comedy and drama. “About Schmidt” is a comedy for the most part, with a couple of wacky scenes involving failed seduction, but Payne dares to end the film dramatically. I usually hate it when comedies soften up, but Payne doesn’t quench the laughter out of fear or laziness. He wants us to see the frailty we may face through an actor who still has the fire after all these years.

No. 33 – “Let the Right One In” (2008)

I toyed with the idea of including Park Chan-wook’s vampire movie, “Thirst,” but that crazy stuff is not easily understood in one viewing. However, I’m confident that “Let the Right One In” will reward me on even more viewings, and that’s the kind of movie you always want, whether it’s great or a piece of shit. “Let the Right One In” does not fall into the latter category, but Swedish director Tomas Alfredson stumbles a couple of times. The CGI cats are quite embarrassing, for instance. Such a loud mistake is countered and eventually forgotten with Alfredson’s quiet style. The movie’s story is serious in that it involves children and bloodsucking, and there is one disturbing glance of what vampirism wrought on a young girl. But the movie softens the blow with subtle humor and an appreciation of love. (I also find it amusing that so many people cherish “Twilight” as a love story when the younger characters of “Let the Right One In” display more maturity.)

No. 32 – “Memento” (2000)

The most passionate Nolan fans would string me up by the balls (only verbally, of course) if I didn’t choose one of his films. So I’m going with the only 2000s Nolan film that deserves it. I like “Insomnia” and “The Prestige,” but they are lightweights compared to “Memento,” and “Batman Begins” and “The Dark Knight” have gotten tiresome after multiple viewings (if you ask me which one is better, I would flatly say “Begins”). Nolan is a good director, but “Memento” is the only Nolan film I can call excellent without any hesitation (I haven’t watched his 1998 debut, “Following”).

The screenplay is the best out of Nolan’s 2000s films. It avoids the pitfalls of exposition and idiotic dialogue (“Batman Begins” and “The Dark Night”) and doesn’t peter out (“Insomnia”) or champion an obvious revelation (“The Prestige”). Guy Pierce, Carrie-Anne Moss, and Joe Pantoliano nail their flawed, sometimes unlikable characters. Most importantly, Nolan communicates clearly despite an unusual and meticulous timeframe. “Memento” is still the benchmark for the productive director.

No. 31 – “A History of Violence” (2005)

This film is a tricky little bastard from David Cronenberg. If you’re not careful, you could dismiss it as a clichéd story about a guy with a shady past, but Cronenberg is going for straightforward subtext. He also can’t help himself from making yet another connection between sex and violence, but the perspective is nonetheless interesting. Ed Harris and William Hurt are not as likable as Viggo Mortensen’s protagonist, but by the end of the film, a moral question about Mortensen arises, and one might believe he’s more than a little full of shit. I didn’t understand this movie after one viewing—but even then, I could appreciate the powerful opening and closing scenes.

Another Top 50 Films of the 2000s List: 40-36.

Quickly, before we start this up again: I was reading through my progress, and I really haven't put much thought into the bottom 25. I know I already said as much in the introduction, but it's incredibly obvious when one reads through the list. No. 38 should be lower. Hell, so should No. 37. I should have already included an entry on "Fulltime Killer." Alright, onward.

No. 40 - “The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring” (2001)

Peter Jackson's adaptation of Tolkien's book is superior to his next two films, “The Two Towers” and “The Return of the King.” The main reason is that "The Fellowship of the Ring" carefully balances large-scale battles with character-based moments, whereas the other two movies are too hung up on CGI carnage to tell a great story. Moreover, “Fellowship” is not as fucking long and has more meaningful character deaths. And is Viggo Mortensen ever more interesting in the series? Hell, no. Honestly, you could probably strike this movie off the list, but I feel it deserves a place somewhere. (I'm not a Tolkien enthusiast, by the way. Some of his ideas were really dumb, like Sauron being nothing more than a big eye on fire, and I generally don't care for his slow writing.)

No. 39 - “The Pledge” (2001)

I have a strange opinion about Sean Penn. I think he should stick behind the camera. Jack Nicholson gives one of his most nuanced performances as a detective who puts solving a case for a mourning mother above everything else. Penn builds suspense and even throws in one of the scariest moments of the decade. The script is the movie's greatest weapon, though, offering a sobering ending and a theme involving chance (a precursor to what “Match Point” and “No Country For Old Men” would go on to do).

No. 38 - “JCVD” (2008)

Hell, I never thought I would be able to say a Jean-Claude Van Damme movie is great. You might have to watch “Bloodsport,” “Lionheart,” and “Kickboxer” to appreciate everything this film is about, but Van Damme's ability to make you feel for him is impressive, the script is funny and original, and director/writer Mabrouk El Mechri (let me know if you know the pronunciation) keeps the pacing tight. The surreality kicks into overdrive with a pleading monologue from Van Damme, a risk that seems pretty lame in theory, but the martial artist and Mechri pull it off.

No. 37 - “The Aristocrats” (2005)

There are two things I appreciate about this documentary. First, it's hilarious. George Carlin, Stephen Wright, the Smothers Brothers, Sarah Silverman, Jon Stewart, and dozens of other comedians share their thoughts and takes on a dirty inside joke about show biz. The joke in question is described as a jazz riff in the film, where a comedian takes the structure of the joke but makes the middle his or her own creation, whether improvised or planned. Second, it doesn't overstay its raunchy welcome, so if you have the sensibility for this type of humor, you're laughing for about 70 straight minutes. Admittedly, a few of the selected comedians are kinda shitty, but you can see how the joke evolves and devolves by teller, which serves the purpose of the film. I've watched “The Aristocrats” several times and still find its honesty refreshing.

No. 36 - “WALL-E” (2008)

This entry is bitchier than others, but the truth is I'm a bit disappointed I can't put this film higher on the list. The last 25 minutes or so of “WALL-E” aren't a complete disgrace, but they're nothing to be proud of, either. Pixar needed a hero, and a dumb fucking character inexplicably saves the day during a trite action sequence, complete with shit sliding down an unstable ship floor. Everyone soon cheers on Earth because humankind rules!

I wouldn't be as harsh on the final third of this film if the first hour hadn't snatched me by the balls. I remember seeing the previews at home and telling people the picture looked like a lame R2-D2 fantasy, but when the opening of “WALL-E” hit me with imagery and dissolves that evoke John Ford, I couldn't believe it. Wow. And the greatness didn't stop. The movie dares to go the route of little to no dialogue for quite a stretch. Not only did Pixar pull this off, but the studio was jeopardizing the commercial viability of the film … no talking isn't what you usually try to sell in a modern movie for the family, but Pixar keeps the kids entertained with the best sound effects since, fuck, a long time ago, and adults could chew on the eternal human theme of loneliness and brutally honest commentary on the environment of the planet. And I'm just now mentioning that the titular character is a visual masterpiece by itself that anyone of any age can appreciate.

The first hour or so was a jaw-dropping mixture of science fiction, romantic comedy, and satire, and I was in total shock. Was I watching one of the greatest movies of all time? Yes!

So while I'm still disappointed with Pixar eventually taking the familiar route, I am thankful for “WALL-E.” Besides being a masterpiece for about two-thirds of its running time, the movie showed me—more than any other—that my intuition can be embarrassingly off the mark.