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.