71. Haley Joel Osment (The Sixth Sense)

71. When I first saw The Sixth Sense, I was fifteen, and it was Summer. That meant no access to the Internet (what dark and dank times those were) and no access to Entertainment Weekly (literally my movie almanac up until I hit nineteen). Therefore, I had no idea that there was any hoopla surrounding The Sixth Sense. I mean, I'd heard it was good, but that twist (which I guessed, and will certainly not tell here), wasn't something that I was necessarily expecting going in.

Something else I wasn't expecting going in was the supreme performance by child wonder Haley Joel Osment (see also Number 80 in this countdown). His Cole was a gifted individual, capable of great, thought-provoking sentences and one undeniably affective catch phrase. The looks of sheer terror, and also of the unknown and known in his perceptions of death is startling. Yes, the twist is terrific, as are Toni Collette and Bruce Willis, but without Osment's tour de force, this would have been as standard as every other M. Night Shyamalan film.

When I think Haley, I immediately go to Dakota Fanning, so I'd check out her wide-eyed turn in War of the Worlds as a companion to this (just try not to be sucked into Tom Cruise's scientology vortex).

I'm not here, but look at these two and I don't think you'll care

All right, so John has been super busy the last couple of days, but don't fret-he'll be returning tomorrow with two new performances, plus a commentary on how Jeff Bridges career has gone down the drain. In the meantime, ogle over these two beautiful human specimans:

How can that woman be 48?

We now take a break from the Countdown of the 100 Greatest Performances to bring you the most beautiful onscreen blonde, since, well, since ever. Because there's no lovely, sexy, stunning goddess quite like Michelle Pfeiffer. Just look at her. I mean, Michelangelo himself could not have cribbed a more flawless face. It's timeless, it's ravishing, it's the stuff of screen iconography. Pfeiffer is one of those rare actresses you could see in any era. Can you imagine her in the hands of Howard Hawks? Of Ingmar Bergman? Of Hitchcock?
Most will highlight in this birthday blog-a-thon (if you did not see the icon up top, this is part of a huge blog-a-thon hosted by Nathaniel-check out all of the other Pfeiffer-inspired love by clicking on any image of the golden lady) on Catwoman or Baker Boys or the glorious blonde one's absence from the screen. However, I'm going to highlight One Fine Day, one of Pfeiffer's lesser known roles.
The reason for my love of this film is that this was my first introduction to Pfeiffer. Being twelve at the time (guess my age from there), I was enthralled by this uber-sophisticated pairing of debonair George Clooney and the haunting, haughty Pfeiffer. I was instantly attracted to her thawing of the ice princess ideal. The way she spouted off how Clooney had a "Peter Pan" complex, I was totally laughing in the rows. The rest of my sixth grade posse had no idea what to make of this sophisticated, totally underappreciated romantic comedy, but I remember listing it as my favorite film of that year. The scene where a frazzled Pfeiffer changes in front of the mirror, trying to remember what it was like back when she was a hot young single, you can see the wile in her eyes, and the complete melding of actress and character. Michelle, I implore you, make more films-screen memories like those I have of One Fine Day can only be created by an actress as world class as yourself.
Happy birthday to Michelle-may you someday have the Oscar you deserve!

72. Holly Hunter (The Piano)

72. One might ask, what is Anna Paquin without her mother/companion? Well, half of a perfect movie, that is. For the other half, you needed to wait just two slots until 72, where Holly Hunter, pictured here with wide-eyed Anna, claims her slot on this list.

Holly Hunter is one of the best actresses working who routinely gets no acknowledgement for being one of the best actresses working. Never mind the fact that she has four Oscar nominations (and considering her career, will likely be headed for numbers five and six in the next decade or so), she rarely is mentioned in a conversation of Julias, Meryls, and Kates.

Yet, in this harrowing tale, she proves what actresses can do at their peak: inhabit a character, body and soul. The film takes her Ada McGrath, and shoves her into not one but two alien situations. The first, the one with her mail-order husband Sam Neill, provides for unbearable stifle and raw disgust. The second, and far superior one, is that of her lover Harvey Keitel, who goes from complete disgust to out-and-out passion. One can almost feel the forbidden nature of their love wash over you as you watch. Hunter's character is mute, but through her eyes and tentative gestures, she becomes a rarefied breed of beauty and light.

73. Barbara Stanwyck (Double Indemnity)

73. "The withering glance of the goddess" is a quote from The Philadelphia Story, but it applies more aptly to a film four years later. The beautiful Barbara Stanwyck would drive anyone to destruction with just a gaze (so Fred MacMurray, take heart).

Wilder's skewering of the female in Double Indemnity is the definitive noir, and there's no explanation other than Stanwyck's Phyllis Dietrichson. She lounges around in sunglasses and slutty sundresses, and decides to kill her husband completely out of boredom. Her hatred of human weakness, and her unrelenting ability to take out any person in her way is what is lacking from modern day femme fatales. Present actresses always have to add a little morality to their vindictive creations-not Stanwyck. When she needs to toss out MacMurray, she does with a flick of the wrist. She can even make supermarkets sexy! There have been many reincarnations of the dangerous dame since, but it's Stanwyck, all murder and honeysuckle, who makes sin so deliciously sweet.

Take your pick for the film festival: ranging from Kathleen Turner in Body Heat to Sharon Stone in Basic Instinct to Rita Hayworth in The Lady From Shanghai, you can't have enough of the sexy ladies/criminals. Probably don't bring a date though, at least not without a background check.

74. Anna Paquin (The Piano)

74. Do you see the wild angry eyes? The complicated brow? The bewitching glance? Anna Paquin in The Piano is full of anger, but that's part of her adorable charm. In one of the best performances ever given by a child, you can't help but fall in love with the dancing, prancing Paquin, even when she's out trying to draw a line between good and evil.

Paquin's character actually becomes two in one within The Piano, as she is both her own young woman and her mute mother. As the voice for her mother, her Flora must confront the fact that she doesn't approve of her mother's affair. Therefore, her uncharacteristic actions are made totally believable.

It should be noted that I am not a great fan of Paquin's-oh sure, she's a fine actress, but she seems to have run her course as a new millenium Lolita. As Flora, though, she will always be a part of my vernacular. I say "we have to take the piano!" every time there is a much needed awkward gaze in a conversataion. Her Flora is a breath of fresh air to watch, and essential to any film-going experience.

Combined with Anna Paquin's spoiled turn, you should take in the super sweet, unsettlingly caring Peggy Ann Garner in A Tree Grows in Brooklyn-both will stick with you for months and years later. You can thank me in 2010.

75. Richard Attenborough (Jurassic Park)

75. Yes, I am perfectly aware that this is the fourth (if my count is right) performance from a film by Spielberg on this countdown-and let me tell you, it won't be the last. Though the Academy often ignores the performances featured by this master entertainer, I find the deceptively complicated, always rich and wide-eyed creations that Spielberg imparts enthralling and vital to his storytelling.

That said, I don't think anyone could disagree that Richard Attenborough's John Hammond is anything less than fun. The aging millionaire, out playing with all of his toys, wanting to make the world a better place, is a lovely piece to this millions-year-old puzzle. I have a feeling Tom Hanks will be playing this role in his seventies. Attenborough's beautiful speech about the fleas is chilling and heartbreaking. Jurassic Park, my personal favorite of all Spielberg movies, wouldn't be the same without his kind center. Plus, I would be robbed of his flawless line-reading of, "Welcome to Jurassic Park!" a quote that welcomes moviegoers into a world of magic that they may never wish to leave.

Spielberg film festivals are never hard to conduct, with so many choices, but may I recommend that you take Jurassic Park and up the ante with a double feature of Jurassic and Jaws, Spielberg's other monster movie. Get ready for good, arm-gripping fun (and maybe make two buckets of popcorn, as you know you''ll spill at least one during that opening scene at the beach).

76. Harrison Ford (Indiana Jones Series)

76. Harrison Ford, despite what you may have seen at the Golden Globes this past year, was not always a fading has-been. In fact, at one time, dear children, he was one of the top box office draws in the world. And why not: he was breaking hearts in Star Wars, was on the run from Tommy Lee Jones in The Fugitive, and was Oscar-worthy in Witness. And he grossed millions upon millions upon millions. Therefore, the punching bag he's become is only possible because he's had so far to fall.

That said, for me, he'll always be the rascal Indiana Jones, running away from boulders and fighting with Sean Connery. While some may claim James Bond to be the ultimate film action hero, in my mind there's no question that it's Harrison. Indiana Jones has that slightly academic thing going for him-don't you have wish your professor would secretly be running around the world, chasing after the Holy Grail? Ford uses all the charm he has in the Star Wars films to a much more rugged, adventuresome effect (and plus, I love Spielberg far more than Lucas). Some actors are on this list for stretching their acting talents to the absolute limits. I place Ford here, not because this was a stretch, but he was an actor who took his once shimmering movie star persona and turned it into one of the screen's most memorable characters. And for that, Harrison, you will never completely fall in my book.

A marathon...three Indiana Jones movies, each interedependent on the last? It doesn't take a vine-swinging professor to figure this one out. On a side note, however, I have a theory that Harrison Ford is in that elite group of actors who, were he ever to create a truly substantial, dramatic role again, would win an Academy Award. I have little faith that he'll ever do this (unlike, say, Bruce Willis and John Travolta-both of whom I expect to pull a James Coburn someday and pick up a little golden guy), but here's to hoping.

77. Diane Keaton (Something's Gotta Give)

77. If I was being totally honest with myself, I would have every role I've ever seen Diane Keaton in on this list. There is no other actress I surround myself so freely with. Every new movie is a treasure, every performance an anticipation. Picking just one favorite is like picking a favorite Ben & Jerry's flavor-they're all so delicious.

Unfortunately, for those keeping track, Diane won't make this list with every performance. However, her charming turn as Erica Barry perches quite divinely at Number 77. This role seems to epitomize all that is right with the affable Diane-it's quirky, sweet, incredibly endearing, and ripe with intelligent observation. The scenes with Jack are bustling with a sort of sexuality few movies can seem to crackle with today (where have you gone, Kate Hepburn and Cary Grant?). The crying jags both send tears from the ducts and laughs from the gut. My personal favorite though, and one of my favorite romantic sudser lines, is when she goes, "Do you know, I’ve written this, but I’ve never got it. You know what this is? This, this is heartbroken. How’s that for impervious? I just wish it had lasted more than a week." Love was never so truly spoken. And with Diane highlighting the beats of the heart, it was never so truly acted.

In making a Diane Keaton film festival, one must decide to go for the lighter or darker side of her filmography. Since it's good to be consistent, I insist that you start out with an afternoon of frothy fun in the form of The First Wives Club, then follow up with this treasure, and finally sink back with the delightful romp of Annie Hall.

78. Robert de Niro (The Godfather, Part II)

78. When amassing a list like this, you start out with hundreds of performances, and slowly but steadily you narrow it down to 100. In this winnowing process, a lot of things become just as important as the acting itself: how beloved the films are, how likeable/memorable the characters are, and of course, the person's career. Many of my favorite actors show up on this list not only out of my sheer love of that role, but of their career themselves (with one notable exception-one of my all time faves will not show up on this list, whom I will point out at the end of the countdown).

Therefore, I give you your chance to ogle the master thespian Bobby de Niro (never Robert-we're on a nickname basis). While I'm personally more of a Pacino man, there's no denying that Bobby has a sense of actorly minimalism that few others in his craft possess. Look at him as Don Vito Corleone, in the monumental Godfather, Part II. Look at how he jumps from rooftops, or how he grows into the character we know and love. Few actors, if any can so readily possess the character they are playing. His face is iconic, his roles (at least those before Cape Fear) are legend. Brando may have created the mold here, but it was de Niro who brought it to life.

OK, I'm going to recommend that you enjoy the entire nine hour Godfather trilogy, complete with spaghetti and a lone cornet playing in the background. Just make sure that the horses are locked up nice and tight.

79. Daniel Radcliffe (Harry Potter Series)

79. One might assume anyone who adopted the Hogwarts logo would be gliding, Nimbus 2000 on hand, onto this list. After all, there are few things I receive more joy out of then a new tidbit of Harry Potter wonder and adventure. However, when you have a young actor like Daniel Radcliffe, who manages to make me not long for the boy wizard, but instead start imagining him in the stead of my literary mind's snapshot of him, you know that you've got someone with a future beyond Hogwarts.

The Harry Potter movies, for me, are filled with flaws that I can stomach. Perhaps because I love the series so much that any output will make me happy and I'll end up waxing soliloques about how perfectly Alfonso Cuaron's replication of Professor Lupin was or how wonderfully Chris Columbus recreated Diagon Alley. And while I acknowledge that there are some flaws in all of the movies, I'm going to defend Dan Radcliffe in his role-I mean, anyone who has the guts to take on one of literature's most beloved children's adventurers has to have some respect. Radcliffe takes the rather naive creation of J.K. Rowling and moves it onto the screen with pluck, but also some internal self-conflict. Radcliffe is obviously a student of the books: how else could he have so well shown the awkwardness of talking to Cedric about the dragons? Or shown such determination in the scene fighting the Boggarts (probably my favorite scene in the entire cinematic series)? Radcliffe makes you believe in magic, and more importantly in he as the boy wizard, and that is why he ranks Number 79 on the countdown.

All right, buckle down for this one, since the film festival is going to be a long one: start out with the childhood pluck and simplicity of Sorcerer's Stone, move into the darker tones of Dobby, Basilisks, and Kenneth Branagh in Chamber of Secrets, reach the pinnacle of magic in the whispy Prisoner of Azkaban, and end up counting on Ralph Fiennes in Goblet of Fire. Enjoy some Bertie Bott's and chocolate frogs, and afterwards call up your favorite mate for a nice game of chess.

Speaking Frankly with James

James Franco celebrates a birthday today (according to that lovely behemoth IMDB), and I think it's time to step back and look at his career. After all, this is a man who charmed the pants off everyone in sight as the brooding, poetic Daniel DeSario, then went ahead and played the crown prince of troubled youth, James Dean (in a role that nabbed him a Golden Globe). Hell, he even stole scenes from Robert de Niro in 2002's City by the Sea.

So what happened? Where are the award-worthy roles? Why is all the press going to the likes of other young talents in Hollywood? Every couple of years, an actor emerges and immediately everyone assumes that he's going to be the next thing, but even in Franco's case, it seems to have been a rather steep plummet. And what's more, no one seems to have noticed. After City by the Sea tanked at the box office, it was as if the boy wonder had never captivated the American Psyche. Forgotten amidst a sea of Jakes and Cillians, he seems to have been doomed to Spider-Man cameos and bad Romeo & Juliet knockoffs.

So, on this, the day of your birth, I implore you, Mr. Franco, to get off your ass and call your agent. Tell him you want to get cast in the next cowboy epic or in a big-screen adaptation of The Line of Beauty. Heath Ledger just had a renaissance-now make it your turn.

80. Haley Joel Osment (A.I.: Artificial Intelligence)

80. There are some performances on this list that are funny, some dramatic, some scary, and some utterly romantic. And then there are a few that are so oddly moving, the list would be incomplete without their wonderful presence. This is how I feel about Haley Joel Osment as David in A.I.: Artificial Intelligence.

I remember looking forward to this movie in 2001, possibly more than even Harry Potter and Lord of the Rings (anyone who knows me can understand the great sacrifice it was to make that last statement). I couldn't help it though-Spielberg, whom I still love, despite the critical gut instinct to hate his work, always brings out a sense of the child in me (perhaps my adoration also stems from Spielberg usually picking my birthday as a release date for his films). Rarely, though, does his work come across as effectively as the tale of this Pinocchio robot, who crosses far and wide to find a love that will never come to him.

Osment is shocking and real in the role that should have won him as many accolades as his previous work in The Sixth Sense. His quirky chemistry with Gigolo Joe Jude Law is more like two aimless drifters (Huckleberry Friends, for any Breakfast at Tiffany's fans) than anything else. Yes, the mother-complex thing is a little disturbing, but so is the whole movie. Osment is unflinching in his approach to the character-never appearing false. On occasion, there is some child in the role, but, hey, he's playing a child. And the individual scenes should be watched by every aspiring teeny bopper child actor: the abandonment at the car, the wayward glances at the Blue Fairy, the interaction with Dr. No; if you can't pull off this sort of magnetism, don't expect me to take your thespian ambitions seriously recent Disney Channel reject. As for Osment, if you ever decide to finish your trio of masterworks, I'm eternally yours.

A film festival? Hmm, why don't you pair A.I.: Artificial Intelligence with its original tale, Pinocchio, my all-time favorite classic Disney tale. Study how both are weaves of lost, but ultimately found dreams.

81. Lesley Ann Warren (Clue)

81. And the Clue festival continues-for what is Mrs. Peacock without the yelping, comically sexy Miss Scarlett to follow her? Lesley Ann Warren (who also received one solitary Oscar nod in the 1980s-this time for Victor/Victoria), is a comedic riot as the scheming, oversexed lady in red (well, actually blue-you gotta love that the costume designer put no lady in her signature color).

I literally quote this film once a week, and if I had a character I highlight the most, it would certainly be Scarlett-"Who are you, Perry Mason?", "Sure, I'll eat anything" "It's my defense mechanism" The fun in Warren's performance is that she never lets up-you can tell that this comedic glamour gal is only doing this for the shear joy of the laugh, and I continue to do that again and again.

I recommend you invest into two other gorgeous funny ladies for a film festival: the irrepressible Carole Lombard in the hilarious My Man Godfrey and the sparkling Claudette Colbert in It Happened One Night.

82. Anne Baxter (All About Eve)

82. A few days ago, I sank into the delicious playwright's wife Karen Richards (Celeste Holm, #86), and stated that she distinguishes herself from a mouth-watering cast. Well, this wasn't to say that there weren't other members of that cast that deserved a spot on this list as well, as can be seen from the woman on the left.

While Bette Davis's immortal role of Margo Channing may not always equate itself with Bette Davis for me (I've also got Baby Jane Hudson and Charlotte Vale vying for my attentions), Anne Baxter is Eve Harrington in my eyes. That perfect hair, that cool, rehearsed demeanor, that heart of a vixen trapped in the body of a mouse ("no, not mouse, never mouse, if anything rat"). Baxter may have played other roles well (such as her Oscar-winning turn in The Razor's Edge), but it is with this dewy-eyed creation that she wins over any naysayers. From her sparkling tete-a-tete with George Sanders in the hotel to her pure Hollywood awards acception speech to the final, strings-soaked curtain call, she owns Eve Harrington, and bewitches the audience. Movie villains may come and go-Anne Baxter and Eve Harrington are forever.

A film festival with Anne Baxter may seem pointless (after all it, was Easter yesterday-you already saw The Ten Commandments). Therefore, I recommend two other are-they-good-or-evil? films: Charade, with Cary Grant's character switching every-which-way-he-can, and North by Northwest, again with Cary Grant (but this time it's Eva Marie Saint who keeps you guessing).

What about television?

In compiling my list of favorite performances in film history, I had to wrestle with whether or not to include television-I mean, performances in series would be inappropriate, as surefire placers like Calista Flockhart's Ally McBeal or Martin Sheen's President Bartlett had years to amass my devotion. However, tv movies were a different scenario.

The miniseries has not been my great friend through the year-possibly because I don't have the patience to sit six days in a row, watching a long-running narrative. However, there are several, including The Forstye Saga and The Temptations, that capture the best of a "real" film. Great performances are much more difficult to come by, in part because film has the beautiful stigmas of sitting alone in a dark, and also because I have seen many more of the great films than the great miniseries. Here, however, are the three performances that I would have considered, if not placed in the top 100:

Colleen Dewhurst (Anne of Green Gables)-This series is filled with lovely acting, ranking from the late Richard Farnsworth's Matthew to the whatever-happened-to-her wonder that is Megan Follows as Anne with an e. However, if I had to pick a favorite, it would of course be Colleen Dewhurst's stodgy Marilla Cuthbert. Can you imagine anyone else exuding such stern grace as a woman who wanted a boy, but was blessed with a girl? Her best scenes are telling off Mrs. Barry when she yells about Anne drinking the raspberry cordial (growing up, I always wanted to drink this magical cordial as well). I distinctly remember watching this for the first time as an adult (it played opposite the Super Bowl-guess which one I would pick?), and balling like a baby when she stated, "They knew we needed her." Such sorrows, all from one capable thespian.

Jennifer Ehle (Pride and Prejudice)-Going from a multiple Emmy winner to a Tony winner, you can't really tell how Jennifer Ehle could have possibly been made for the stage-I mean, I love her, and she's all there as an actress, but her brilliant symmetry just doesn't seem like it would work well in the louder, more on-the-spot world of the theater. Watching her as the divine Elizabeth Bennett is like watching a softly unfolding Keats poem. If there was ever an actress I've wondered more about, I can't think of one offhand-how could she not have a major film career with a performance this radiant? Aside from that film with Ralph Fiennes (Sunrise-which is high on my Netflix queue-Ralph and my Jennifer, I can hardly wait), there's nada. But no matter-even if she never creates anything else, she will live on in my memory as a stubborn, vibrant Elizabeth Bennett. Not handsome-it's a pity for Mr. Darcy that he couldn't realize her many excellent qualities at the beginning of the film. As for the audience, who received one of the best miniseries ever, we have no such complaints.

Robert Duvall (Lonesome Dove)-And, so you don't think I forgot the fellas, well, just look at Robert Duvall. For some he may be Bill Kilgore, to others Tom Hagen, and still more Mac Sledge. To me he'll always be Gus McCrae-that charismatic, romantic, hopelessly fascinating last warrior of the west. I don't like the Western as a general rule, and I may not like the miniseries all that much, but all that is cast aside in this masterpiece-I ADORE this movie, and Robert Duvall in the greatest performance, not just of his career, but of the entire eighties. If you haven't seen this miniseries, set aside the 384 recquisite minutes to fully appreciate this miracle at the end of a decade of yuppies and Rambo. The western may be dead-Lonesome Dove will live forever.

83. Michael J. Fox (Back to the Future)

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84. Dustin Hoffman (The Graduate)

84. As promised, I will be granting you two performances today to make up for my Easter absence (I also haven't watched a film yet this Easter, which I must surely take on this weekend-maybe I'll work on some homework and indulge in a little Kurosawa).

Anyway, back to the task at hand, the dapper young man at the left-for how could one pay attention to my weekend when we have the fantastic Dustin Hoffman, master of the comedic and dramatic everyman, glaring so needily at us? Though he was thirty-a tad old for a graduate, but who are we to judge?-he captured youth and vigor in his Ben Braddock.

My favorite part of Hoffman's performance, is of course, that tender need/lust/amour that he carries on with the sensational Anne Bancroft as Mrs. Robinson. The fumbling with the cigarette kiss, the shocked look he exudes with her thigh bared to the audience and he alike. The "Singleman party" line-Hoffman is a man in love, but he isn't quite sure what love is. There's something endearing and yet very real about not being to identify the emotion-and adds all the more to that ambigous ending. Hoffman may have become slightly arrogant in his old age, but look at this role-isn't a little self-love deserved with something so capable?

A Hoffman film festival? Hmm, while you could go with his creepy antics in Marathon Man or the walking man in Midnight Cowboy, I should probably recommend a film festival where I've seen the movies. Therefore, I'd lead in with The Graduate, break out the laughter with Tootsie, and end up with a good cry in Kramer vs. Kramer.

85. Kevin Spacey (The Usual Suspects)

85. First off, I should tell you that you will not get your daily dose of performance tomorrow, as I will not be at my computer, but I'll give you a double feature on Sunday worthy of the absence.
Of course, if you're into double features-you might as well catch Kevin Spacey in The Usual Suspects, because you're going to have to watch the movie twice to realize the absolute layers he exudes as Verbal Kint. This crime drama, one of the smartest I've ever seen (for those who want to see one that's similarly intriguing, catch Inside Man, in theaters now), takes five small time crooks and puts them into a bigtime heist. The cast is rather paltry (one of the lesser Baldwin brothers gets above the credits billing), but Kevin Spacey is so smashing, you won't really care (you can also check out a young scene-stealing Benicio del Toro, five years before Traffic). Spacey glues the scenes together, whether it's through his daft, sarcastic narration or his nervous glow as he partakes in the crime to beat all crimes. Oh yeah, and there's that infamous ending (which made me fall out of my chair, and which I insist no one share here). However, there's an entire movie before that, and Spacey steals every nook and cranny.
Anyone who was around in the early nineties would have seen The Usual Suspects, L.A. Confidential, and American Beauty and known that we had a big, talented star on our hands who was going to become the next-well, I don't know, but something spectacular. Then, nada, nothing even worth going out and just enjoying the popcorn for. Watch these three back-to-back, and then write a letter to Kevin Spacey's agent insisting that he either resign or go to Confession.

86. Celeste Holm (All About Eve)

86. One of the things I'm enjoying about this countdown is that I don't always remember who I put on the list-I have the list, and only check it once a day, to find out whose performance we will be viewing that day will be. I had completely forgotten about this fine actress, number 86, and one of the most unsung performances in a film brimming with some fantastic thespians.

The great thing about Celeste Holm in All About Eve is that she doesn't, in fact grate. Struggling for screen charisma opposite the likes of Anne Baxter's witchy Eve Harrington, George Sanders' irrepressible diva, and, well, Bette Davis (did Davis ever let someone else take one of her scenes?), Holm could have gone the easy route of making Karen Richards a whiny, loud-mouth scene stealer.

Instead, Mankiewicz has a better idea for Holm. While everyone else is traipsing around with abomination, Holm becomes the meddler with her conscience conflicting with her better judgment. When she betrays Margo, she feels bad, but she doesn't have the foolishness to tell the grand Bette Davis. Holm lets her eyes and overly calm demeanor represent her. You know she's more than what she seems, but you can't tell quite what Karen Richards is capable of. It's that threat of what could come, what lies behind the "lowest kind of celebrity" that brings about the finest form of acting: the kind that doesn't need temper tantrums and threats to appear intimidating.

I haven't seen hardly any of Celeste Holm's movies, so instead I'm going to represent that you accompany Holm's theater wife with Jane Darwell's powerful matriarch in The Grapes of Wrath and Virginia Madsen's sweet-tempered waitress in Sideways. All are down-to-earth, really special performances in grand cinema.

87. Bill Murray (Lost in Translation)

87. Look at that face, look at that complete and utter confusion of an actor caught in the middle of life. But more importantly, look at this movie, because there is no other work this decade who combines a sense of beautiful artistry with a complete sense of melancholy and the eternal struggle to find one's self. I now have times in my life I refer to as "Lost in Translation" moments. This film has become part of my psyche, and I think anyone who watches it will find that they too will be lost in this wayward tale.

A third of this change of life has to be credited to Bill Murray (the other two parts, of course, are all Sofia's and Scarlett's). Murray, in my humbled opinion, has never been better. He has classic scene after classic scene, as he rediscovers that his uber-successful life has been for want-he doesn't know what he's doing, and he's not sure he likes that he's a drifter. My favorite is the scene with the commercial...no wait, the scene with karaoke...no, the end-definitely the end (or maybe the scene where Scarlett asks about the Porsche). Every scene reaks of future depths. I remember an author once commenting that he intends to keep reading Proust's Rememberance of Things Past for the rest of his life. I plan on watching Bill in this movie for the rest of mine.

A Murray film festival? I am in desperate need of one. Despite the fact that I have gained a recent love of him, I am completely void on my collective Murray filimography: What About Bob?, Caddyshack, Rushmore-I haven't seen any of the three. Of the ones I have seen, I'd say make it a double feature between Lost in Translation, and then Broken Flowers-Murray's underappreciated follow-up (even though he doesn't have Scarlett, there's still much to love).

88. Jake Gyllenhaal (Brokeback Mountain)

88. I've gushed on Brokeback Mountain more than any other movie this side of The English Patient, and the bulk of that praise is geared toward the fantastic Heath Ledger and Ang Lee's clever direction. Yet it's impossible to imagine the film without the sweet heart of Jake Gyllenhaal.

Gyllenhaal manages to combine a needy sense of belonging with a self-imposed obligation of masculinity. He is torn between his need to be the rough-and-tumble cowboy that he was raised to be, and the tender heart that he exudes as he hopes and prays that his one true love Ennis will someday come to his senses and profess his love. Watching his face shatter with every chance for hope, watching him regain trust in Ennis, only to have it ripped away by fate or ill-timing: it's a heartbreaking piece that Gyllenhaal pieces together, and his Jack Twist is anything but nasty-he's a film character for the ages. With all due respect to Mr. George Clooney, he robbed blind one of the best performances by a young actor given ever-not just this past year.

A Jake marathon? Maybe a little of that sweet young nerd in October Sky, perhaps some disaffected soldiering in Jarhead, maybe even take a gander at how Jake can be watchable in dreck like Day After Tomorrow. No matter, as long as you end with Brokeback, you'll be all set.

89. Eileen Brennan (Clue)

89. I will never stop loving Clue-even if I end up spending my remaining years of cinematic existance only going to Oscar nominees and obscure, critically-adored foreign flicks, I will always have that spot in my heart for Clue, the film that I discovered just before I dived into the classics (I saw A Streetcar Named Desire and Clue in the same year-both would have an amazing effect on my future viewing habits).

That said, how can you beat Mrs. Peacock in this movie? There are no layers here, like the bulk of the actors we've looked at-just a boozy senator's wife who is caught in the middle of a country weekend hell. Brennan relishes the spotlight, puffing away at her cigarettes, screaming every chance she can, spitting out dialogue like she's chewing Skoal. Just peer at her-the ostrich feathers, the look of disdain; Brennan is one of the most underused and underappreciated comediennes out there.

A film festival for me would be to watch Clue three times, but I suppose you might want something more. I don't have a lot to offer in the way of Brennan, as I haven't seen everything (maybe I should have the film festival). Potentially score Clue with her early bit parts in awards magnets The Sting or The Last Picture Show? Or perhaps check out Brennan's own awards bonanza, Private Benjamin, the only Oscar nomination she ever received.

90. Jodie Foster (The Silence of the Lambs)

90. Jodie Foster is one of my favorite actresses. I say this because when discussing Clarice Sterling, arguably the best tough lady of the screen (all of you fans of Ripley, keep in mind I've only seen Alien, not its supposedly superior sequel), you have to have some Foster love there. Otherwise, you'll be distracted by the brilliance of Anthony Hopkins and his Hannibal Lecter or the loom of Buffalo Bill has as Clarice inches ever closer to him or the tautness of Ted Tally's story. Perhaps even that bouncy Howard Shore score will knock you out. So a love of Foster may be required to notice the brilliance of this particular role in her capable, thespian hands.

Clarice Sterling is, like almost every character on this list, more than she seems. Unlike, most characters on this list, however, she lays all of her flaws out on the line. In scenes with Hopkins, she shows what lies beneath "her good bag and cheap shoes. She has incredible bravado. Sketched across Foster's face as she delves further into herself, you can see the changes, the moments where she fleetingly relinquishes control to Hopkins. Unlike most others, I did not see any sexual flare between Clarice and Hannibal, but Foster does allow a bit of friendship, and at the very least, a mutual admiration to spring up between the two of them. The scenes where she is alone aren't nearly as compelling, but still actorly-particularly the scene in the picture above, where she, after stumbling through the darkness of her psyche, has to face the true darkness, the darkness she'd been literally discovering the entire film.

Jodie Foster, despite the fact that she has been rather lax lately in putting out films, has been in a number of fine movies. I'd normally throw together my three favorites of hers (aside from of course Lambs, there would be her small role as a child hooker in Taxi Driver, as well as her daughter on a mission in Contact), but I can't help but recommend the riveting new drama Inside Man, playing in theaters right now. Ignoring this deceptively good film would be a bad way to spend April.

91. Jane Fonda (Julia)

91. Unlike the Academy, I don't have much of a fondness for actors who take on famous people. I'm more of a fan of a new creation, or at least one interpreted from literature.

However, I do on occasion fall in love with the biopic, and there are few film tales as compelling as Julia. The film doesn't quite follow the biopic (after all, the title character isn't the lead-it is in fact Lillian Hellman, recollecting her past with the beautiful and lovely Julia). The film has grand performances crawling out of the woodwork (ranging from the intricate Maximillian Schell to Vanessa Redgrave as the title character to Meryl Streep in her haunting screen debut). However, it is Fonda, as the chain-smoking playwright, who steals the show.

This is Fonda's best performance, hands down. Yes, she won Oscars for Klute and Coming Home, but it is this where she most perfectly combines her cold, hard edge with a woman who deserves that edge (and the film is of unbelievable quality). Her Hellman is a woman on the move, trying to recapture youth, her story, and her future all in one fateful trip. The scene in the coffeehouse with Redgrave is the best, but even small motions, like the way Fonda handles the hat, are brilliant. It's a study of minutia, and Fonda, with a precision she patented, is grand.

Hmm...a Fonda marathon? Avoid Monster-in-Law, that's for sure. Maybe take on the early work of They Shoot Horses, Don't They?, and perhaps the later works of On Golden Pond (where she's a supporting hottie), with Julia as a beautiful tiramisu dessert.

WGA's 101 Greatest Screenplays

OK, here's the link (I don't know how to write those fancy link things, but here it is: http://www.wga.org/subpage_newsevents.aspx?id=1807

My comments:

Best Item: You have to love a list that recognizes the brilliance of Annie Hall, Casablanca, both the Godfathers, and Citizen Kane in its Top Ten-all must see films.

Other great items: I love the scripts of Lawrence of Arabia, Taxi Driver, and Back to the Future, which don't usually get recognized for their writing properties.

Isn't it a little premature?: Eternal Sunshine beats out Double Indemnity and The Philadelphia Story (which at 40, is a travesty-top fifteen, at least)? And Sideways topping Psycho? A big huh on that one. For the record, though, I love all five of these movies.

What the hell are they doing on a list like this?: Jerry Maguire, Rocky, The Princess Bride, and Patton? I mean, aside from "You had me at hello" and that opening speech in front of the flag, none of these has clever wordplay (though they do have blockbuster screenwriters).

Where on earth is: Lost in Translation (they go with the modern films, and leave out this marvel?), Bringing Up Baby, The Hours, Vertigo, and A Streetcar Named Desire? I mean, the comedy bias could play with Baby, and The Hours and Lost are new, but no Streetcar or Vertigo-they'd both me in my Top 25.

OK, normally I don't like reality television, but...

...this has me completely intrigued:

http://news.yahoo.com/s/afp/20060407/ts_alt_afp/afpentertainmentusfilm_060407195853/

92. Jason Isaacs (Peter Pan)

92. I remember very vividly the moment I saw this movie announced, I proclaimed, "I am going to fall in love with this movie. This is going to be one of my favorite films of 2003." I stuck by it, even when the rather shoddy trailers came out, because I knew deep down, that the story of Peter Pan was destined to translate flawlessly to the silver screen. And, lo and behold, it was every bit as magical as I imagined. This is that hallowed film which becomes better and better and better with every viewing. It is already among my favorites of all time. How can one not adore it? Sumpter and Hurd Wood turn in two incredibly unsung child actor performances, one shimmering bravado and the other ladylike adventurer. The sets seem plucked from outside of a dream-literally, the hazy, sometimes outlandish designs are like a nighttime landscape. The veins of wickedness, the wry sense of fantasy, the storybook twists. If the world had any justice, P.J. Hogan would be in charge of that rumored Dakota Fanning version of Alice in Wonderland.

Of course, when it comes to Peter Pan, you can't have the tale without Captain Hook, and Jason Isaacs, in the performance of a lifetime, bites into this role with gusto I'd never imagined. I still have trouble believing that the Academy could nominate such routine performances as Alec Baldwin in 2003, and yet somehow ignore the likes of this genuine gem. Isaacs is of course wicked, but he also delves into the envious nature of Hook-how he longs to be one with Pan & Wendy, and when he can't, he must go all through Neverland, trying to rid the world of things that he can't reach. His pirate is truly swashbuckling-evil but funny, clever but stupid-he's a mix of conundrums, and Isaacs balances them marvelously.

I think the best way to celebrate Isaacs would be to partake of three recent children's classics that, for the large part, weren't paid nearly enough heed: Matilda, Peter Pan, and Lemony Snickett. Each has a magical wickedness that I adore, each has a scrumptious set of villainry, and children that aren't cookie cutouts (I'm talking to you, Pevensie children that aren't named Lucy).

93. Meg Ryan (Sleepless in Seattle)

93. Remember back before Russell Crowe, before all the terrible career moves? Hanging Up? Against the Ropes? I mean, I can forgive In the Cut (Jane Champion did wonders for Holly Hunter, after all), but come on Meg, you haven't made a watchable movie since your last teaming with Hanks.

That said, Ryan, well, she was once America's unsung everywoman, and there was no more quintessential romantic than Sleepless in Seattle. The role of Annie, the lady stuck in love, but longing for something more, is achingly beautiful. It's a testament to Ryan that you never think that she's a crazy person (pining after a guy from a radio program), but you can't help but root for the make believe. It's a charming, lovely film and there's no one better in it than Ryan (not even the beloved Hanks). The best scenes are when she's hiding in a closet, after listening to Hanks on the radio. An actor hasn't that good of chemistry with a machine since 2001: A Space Odyssey. The reason she's on this list, as opposed to the dozens of other comedic actresses of the 1990's (though there are at least a couple coming up, so those worried about an America's Sweetheart battle, there's still a few more rounds), is the vulnerability that she exudes. You can never quite tell where she's headed, whether she'll take the safe route, or she'll head to the top of that glowing New York skyscraper.

There's no better film festival than When Harry Met Sally, Sleepless in Seattle, and You've Got Mail (no Joe v. the Volcano, no dramatic Courage Under Fire) when it comes to this bubbly blonde. Ryan is best when she's pining and in love and adorable-remember what a fine actress she was, and how desperately you wish she'd mount a comeback.

94. Morgan Freeman and 95. Tim Robbins both for The Shawshank Redemption

94 & 95. If you were wondering who I meant yesterday when I said Tom Hanks should have lost to someone else for Best Actor in 1994, it would be these two fellas. Had they both been rightfully nominated at the Academy (instead of just the deserving Freeman), I think it would have been one of those great coin flip scenarios for me in the voting booths. For each inhabit their characters like well-worn pairs of jeans.

This is also my favorite performance from both of these accomplished actors, despite their subsequent back-to-back Oscars. It's probably because Shawshank itself is such a startling triumph. Remember the first time you saw it, before it was overplayed so much on TNT that you could swear it was Jaws? That quiet desperation, that slight uplift at the end, that score (omg-what a score!), all of it would have been impossibly unfulfilling if it weren't for these two men.

Robbins's Andy is the classic innocent-man-found-guilty, but he doesn't always play to that stereotype. You can tell that he knows he's innocent, but he doesn't let that wear him down. He doesn't mope around, he's not out for some grand scheme of justice (at least not at the beginning), there is no piety that we're feeling for him (I'm talking about you Mr. Hanks, and your horrid Green Mile). Instead, the greatness in his role is that he makes this a character that we can all relate to-and therefore terrify us into realizing we could just as easily be the man on the big screen. He keeps to his quiet self, he spends the twenty some years in prison (it has to be close, Rita Hayworth to Raquel Welch?), but ultimately he lets little out. He remains the perfect introvert, only letting us know the vitals, leaving us to fill in the blanks.

It's the sort of minimalist acting that made Morgan Freeman famous. Unlike Robbins, who, outside of Shawshank, I don't really have strong feelings for, I love me some Morgan Freeman (which is why Freeman is 94 and Robbins 95). My one qualm with him is that he does the same sort schtick in each film. Playing off of his unbearably smooth baritone, he spouts wisdom and worldly knowingness, all the while keeping that emotion bottled deep within his tall, gaunt frame. Shawshank is perhaps the film where he does this most effectively, since, unlike flicks like Million Dollar Baby or Bruce Almighty, he has a fellow introvert to console with. The scenes with the two actors contain great wordplay and bright chemistry, and all they have to do is throw around a baseball. Freeman does well on his own, but it is with Robbins that he pulls off the great movie magic. The reason I place them both together in this countdown is, without one, the other one would not be on this list. Shawshank is a film that needs both of its talented leading men to prove its metal. And I, in turn, could not pick one over the other-and that's why they take up two of the hundred slots.

For a good marathon with these two fine gentleman, I'd spice it up with some comedy (a Mystic River, Million Dollar Baby, Shawshank Redemption marathon might have you heading for the noose). Instead, I'd suggest hitting Robbins in The Hudsucker Proxy, a fast-talking spin on films like His Girl Friday, and turn around and watch Bruce Almight, a pleasant enough film where Jim Carrey is funny and watchable, and Jennifer Aniston is great without having to be called Rachel (and Morgan Freeman plays God, one of my favorite casting choices of all time).

96. Tom Hanks (Philadelphia)

96. With Tom Hanks, I am of the thought that his films are worth watching, if he himself is not the end-all-of-everything. He is a very good actor-one of my favorites, but he is not the best working actor, as some of mainstream America would insist upon, nor is he the reincarnation of my beloved Jimmy Stewart. Instead he is a talented man who recognizes a good script when it comes along, and takes ahold of it. Apollo 13, Saving Private Ryan, Big, Catch Me If You Can, and Cast Away-they are all excellent movies, well worth anyone's time. It is odd that he won his two Oscars for performances in films that I don't like at all. One of them ( Forrest Gump) was a waste of an Oscar that could have gone to some far worthier nominees (one of which will show up later in this countdown, so I won't spoil the surprise over whom I would have gone with). The other, well, that one he should have had hands-down.

Philadelphia, after careful consideration, is my least favorite film on this list, but the performance isn't to be missed. Hanks plays a former high-flyer who has contracted AIDs, and must deal with bigotry and failing health all the while a court case is being held to argue whether his job dismissal was legal. The film is a shlock of stereotypes from the mustache-twisting Jason Robards to the cookie-cutter lover Antonio Banderas to the homophobic Denzel Washington (people often say he should have been nominated for this, but I consider it one of his least performances). The saving grace (aside from that fantastic Bruce Springsteen ballad) is Hanks, so moving as a man trying to find grace in a life that insists of robbing him of it, as a man balancing frustration with a need for something more. His painful opera scene is the killer, but its the entire persona he creates that really captures the life of this man. It's my favorite of all his work, and really shows what a fine actor can do with a fine role-create greatness.

A Hanks marathon? So many selections! If it were up to me, I'd begin with a dose of Big, to start the ball rolling, showing how he'd gone from sitcom hack to legitimate actor, then role into Philadelphia, and then move on to the survivalist motions of Cast Away (but fast forward through Helen Hunt).

97. Olivia de Havilland (Gone with the Wind)

97. The first supporting performance of the countdown, from a lady who was basically a leading actress. De Havilland, whom I first fell in love with The Heiress, will always be the quintessential Melanie Wilkes. I may be the only person alive who would have voted for Ms. de Havilland instead of Hattie McDaniel in 1939. Not that the boisterous McDaniel wasn't excellent (she was), but I've always been a fan of the quiet, pleaful Ms. Wilkes.

Someone once stated that the first time you see Gone with the Wind, you are supposed to hate Melanie, and eventually you will grow to appreciate her. I guess I can understand that, but I believe I've loved her always. That slight smile, the eternal saintliness, all covering a mask of a woman who is likely severely distraught-wondering how her husband can possibly yearn for another woman, even though she loves him desperately. Look at her as she pines for Ashley while he's away at war, how she longs for her husband even while he's prancing around with Scarlett. De Havilland is homespun grace and charm-it isn't one-note, it's just subtle. My favorite scene is where she reassures Belle Watling that they could be good friends, but the most actorly of all the scenes is when she introduces a scarlet Scarlett at Ashley's birthday party. All that sweetness, so cleverly hiding contempt and the joy of learning that everyone loathes the harlot Scarlett (I cannot avoid rhyming!), she's magical.

For a double feature, I'd suggest you check out the second Oscar-winning turn that de Havilland turned in The Heiress (the first is a bland sudser). Here she's an older Melanie, less happy, more obviously out for revenge against a young Monty Clift.

98. Annette Bening (Being Julia)

98. OK, I don't know if I can keep up this sort of frequency in my posts (maybe Sundays will be double performance day), but who can hold off when you have someone at 98 like Annette. Yes, Ms. Bening (Mrs. Beatty since 1992) takes this slot with her most recent outing. Annette has had the good fortune of playing opposite some of the 90's great leading men (John Cusack, Michael Douglas, Kevin Spacey), but this vehicle is completely and totally hers. Yes, Jeremy Irons (the always dependable) pops up and gives his British two cents, but the film centers on Annette.

Of course, when you have an actress this game, how can you not focus on her? Her Julia is a triumph, moving around and eating scenes with a divaesque flair not seen since Bette Davis took on Margo Channing. My favorite scene (though there are many I adore) is when she takes the stage-that curtain call with her young nemesis, taking her down (as if anyone ever thought she could take on Annette?!?) "B-E-N!" "God, I love beer!"-she has such vivacious flare throughout the entire film. The performance isn't sublte, but it's damned spectacular, and who would want a mousy lady of the stage? "Real actresses don't make films" Here's one grand exception.

Though in reality any film with Bening in it would be worth an investigation, accomplishing a triple feature out of The American President, American Beauty, and Being Julia would be one of the best Saturday evenings you could possibly imagine. Bening, Bening, Bening-end the night with a round-the-table game of insulting Hilary Swank for taking our lady's two Oscars and you have yourself a party.

The World is Quiet Here

Yes, yes, I live and breath the boy wizard, but you can't deny that those Baudelaire children, and the wily Count Olaf (yes I say wily-he may be a moron, but he's outfoxed those brilliant kids many, many times), the idea of not one but two Lemony books (the final two-I'm already in mourning) coming out this year is almost unbearable. Unfortunate, however, it is not.

When I got my letter stating that there would be a book coming out yesterday about the dear, departed Beatrice, I almost jumped out of my skin. Then I realized, wait, it's April Fools Day, and I always fall for at least one joke on this pranksters' holiday. However, lo-and-behold, I headed over to Barnes and Noble, and there she was, the lovely companion to the Lemony novels. Here's to hoping that this book has a little more answer and a lot less riddle than the Autobiography. Then again, when you're dealing with something this complex and clever, who cares if you ever get to the bottom of things (I'm thinking Lost must have learned this lesson from Sir Lemony)?

And for those of you who have yet to indulge in the woeful tales of these orphans, shame, shame on you-the movie may be supreme (I loved it, at the very least), but the books-that's where the wicked magic comes.

99. Adrien Brody (The Pianist)

99. I'm going to admit that the reason that I saw this movie was not the fantastic director Roman Polanski (again, look for more performances out of this actor's director later on in the countdown), nor was it because the plot intrigued me. It was, in fact, that pucker with Halle Berry. Instantly, Adrien Brody had melded into my psyche as one of the great Oscar moments of my Academy-adoring experience, and I needed to know how someone as young and unknown as he could beat such heavyweights (and beloved ones by me) like Michael Caine, Jack Nicholson, and Daniel Day-Lewis (no I don't list the other one, as I am not a fan-go to imdb if you want to find nominee number five).

It was, in fact, a no-brainer decision on the part of the Academy after I viewed the sharp, character-driven The Pianist. The film surrounds Adrien Brody with a deft, insightful look at how tragedy can destroy a man. However, it is Brody who transfixes us. Those early scenes, with the cocky, talented Brody, lead us to emotionally collapse when the Germans begin to round up the Jews. The claustrophobia he feels in the ghetto, the way he uses silence to shout out loud in those later scenes. And of course, there is that infamous moment (at least infamous for me, as I often sight it as one of the most heart-breaking of this decade) where Szpilman plays the piano, reunited with his one true love, playing for his life, but also for his sanity. Brody knocks that out of the park. It seems shocking that Oscar would honor such a deft, quiet turn, but hey, sometimes they accidentally get it right.

For those who love the Brody, later screenings, are, well, harder to find, as this perf is pretty recent. I never saw The Village, because Shyamalan has been nothing but disappointment since that brilliant debut. However, I do have two favorite moments since then: Adrien's cocky Coca-Cola commercial, which ranks alongside of Kate Winslet's American Express outing as my favorite celebrity endorsement, and King Kong, where Brody isn't the standout (that would be the duet between Naomi and Andy), but the film itself is a treasure trove of great film-watching.

100. Henry Thomas (E.T.: the Extra-Terrestrial

100. All right, I've finally found a use for this blog, that of dedicating myself to the 100 Greatest Performances I have ever seen. Now, this is as of April Fool's Day 2006, so any films I see after this (like say, La Dolce Vita or 8 1/2, both out from Netflix, even though I cannot bring myself to watch them).

So, these are my personal canon (I hopefully will interrupt this blog with some other interesting asides). There are performances on this list that I 'm not even going to begin to argue are the greatest acting pieces ever made, but they are my favorites. So now, perched out at Number 100, I have the child pictured above, post his infamous flight aboard the bicycle.

Steven Spielberg has always had good luck with actorly youth: Dakota Fanning in War of the Worlds, Drew Barrymore in E.T., those Jurassic Park kids, and then there's one that will show up later in this countdown. However, it is Henry Thomas who manages to capture that elusive sense of wonderment that Spielberg desperately clings for in all his movies. He used that ultimate actorly tool (the eyes) to instill both sadness and determination with his newfound friend E.T. Freddie Highmore wishes that he could equal the heartbreaking subtlety that Thomas brought to his Elliot. The entire rest of the cast, even the adorable Drew Barrymore, are caught up in the earthly problems of looking into the beauty of E.T., but also knowing that reality would set in and the alien would return home. It is only Thomas who believably, every time you watch this remarkable adventure, transends Spielberg's rather formulaic plot (I love Spielberg, but you always know where he's headed). Sure the effects are magnficient and that John Williams score is epic fancy, but it is Thomas, his whimsy, his utter hope, who makes E.T. so heavenly.

(For those of you who want to catch a more adult Thomas, make sure to see the beautiful Legends of the Fall, one of those epics that got lost in the mid-1990s, but is surely one of the best post-Golden Age Westerns).