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).