In the 1980s and early 1990s, Atom Egoyan was - like so many passionate, young directors – a promising filmmaker. That promise, which percolated just beneath the surface through a series of intriguing, flawed movies, was finally realized with the release of 1994's Exotica (which just missed the bottom end of this list). Egoyan then proceeded to top himself with 1997's The Sweet Hereafter, a completely non-manipulative meditation on grief and fate. The subject matter of the film is difficult (children dying in a bus accident), and, under the stewardship of another director, it might have made for a 5-tissue sob-fest. Egoyan, however, strikes the ideal balance between detachment and melodrama. The screenplay is nearly perfect, and the director never makes a wrong choice. This isn't just good filmmaking. It is powerful, compelling, unforgettable filmmaking. Regardless of how The Sweet Hereafter impacts you – whether you cry a river, feel like you have been punched in the stomach, or watch in wonder at the accomplishment – you will never forget this motion picture.

Raise the Red Lantern is the film that changed my mind about Chinese cinema. When the movie received limited United States distribution in 1992, my interest level was so low that I initially skipped it, even though it was playing at a relatively convenient location. Having watched a few badly made Chinese films on video several years earlier, I was convinced that it wouldn't be worth my while. Then I started reading the reviews, which were uniformly positive (some bordering on rapturous). So, on the day before it was due to end its run at a nearby art-house, I took an afternoon off from work to see it. "Awed" is almost too mild a description for the way I felt. In the wake of Raise the Red Lantern, I began actively seeking out Chinese movies, especially those made by Zhang Yimou and his contemporary, Chen Kiage. At film festivals, I made it a point to sample a few offerings from Asia. And, when there was a special theatrical screening of Raise the Red Lantern at a local movie house, I took the opportunity not only to see the film for a second time on the big screen, but to write a review. I knew from the beginning that Raise the Red Lantern would be somewhere on my Top 100. It wasn't until I began ranking titles that I realized how high. At this time, the film is not available on DVD in North America, which is a shame. I have a laserdisc copy, but I would dearly like to see a DVD special edition of this film. (The recent release of To Live gives me hope.) This movie, perhaps more than any other to ever emerge from China, deserves the best video treatment available. For those who have the patience to sit through a production that takes its time to develop characters and situations (essentially, any movie-lover without ADD), this is a must-see and, when it becomes available, must-own.

Since I first saw it more than a decade ago, My Fair Lady has been my favorite musical. That probably places me in a distinct minority, since many critics consider it to be a good – but not great – motion picture. (The critical weight for Best All-Time Musical comes down on the side of Singin' in the Rain, which is also a distinguished member of my Top 100, although it does not occupy as lofty a position.) There's nothing about this movie that I don't like. The songs are wonderful, the costumes are imaginative, and the two leads are without peer. Watching My Fair Lady for the first time all those years ago, I finally saw the Audrey Hepburn star quality that had eluded me while viewing some of her other films (including the overrated Breakfast at Tiffany's). It helps that I have always been a sucker for Pygmalion, regardless of the version. My Fair Lady is a timeless romance, yet one that does not feature sex, kissing, or much in the way of physical contact. If ever there was a case of movie characters falling in love with their eyes, their mannerisms, and their verbal jousting, this is it. The pace is far less frantic than that of this decade's "musical revivals," but, for true lovers of the genre, the tone and length couldn't be more perfect. Like a crackling fire on cold winter's night, My Fair Lady brings light, warmth, and a touch of romance. What more could anyone ask of one of Hollywood's greatest all-time musicals?

For some reason, when I was a child, I was under the bizarre and mistaken impression that "Bridge Over Troubled Waters" was the theme song for The Bridge on the River Kwai. By the time I was old enough to have enough interest to watch the film, I was no longer expecting to hear Simon and Garfunkel. But I was also ill-prepared for the sheer power of this film. And, as forceful as The Bridge on the River Kwai was in a commercial-interrupted copy on a small TV, its impact was greatly magnified when I had an opportunity to watch a copy of the restored print in a theater. My opinion of David Lean has waxed as my knowledge and appreciation of film has increased. And, while I am not a huge fan of all the director's works (I find Dr. Zhivago to be overlong and self-indugent), I believe that both The Bridge on the River Kwai and Lawrence of Arabia are among the best movies ever made in their respective categories. All students of film will see this movie because it is a classic, and no one can properly call themselves a cinematic scholar without having experienced The Bridge on the River Kwai at least once. But I would encourage non-cineastes to seek out the movie as well. It is invigorating in a way that many older, revered works are not, and stands the test of time as a sweeping adventure. Many movie-lovers will have this title in their personal Top 100.

I consider High Noon to be the best Western ever made. Better than The Good, the Bad and the Ugly. Better than The Magnificent Seven. Better than The Searchers. Better than The Wild Bunch. And better than Dances with Wolves. As good as all those movies are, none trumps Fred Zinnemann's best directorial effort. In fact, High Noon is the movie that got me to appreciate Westerns, rather than view them as relics of a bygone day. One of the reasons this movie is so good is because it's deeper and more complex than the average Western. Heroism isn't all it's cracked up to be, and... gasp... the protagonist is actually afraid of the bad guy. He wants to run. His wife wants him to run. But duty won't let him. Another unique aspect of High Noon is that it transpires in real time. This heightens the suspense as the clock ticks away the seconds. Then there's Grace Kelly, my favorite actress from the '50s. Blond, cool, and regal, she was one of the queens of the Silver Screen in an era when that title meant something. In terms of acting, this isn't her high-water mark, but she's a joy to watch, even when her performance isn't much better than that of the nearest hitching post. You won't find any Westerns in a higher slot on the Top 100. This one's as good as they get.

There are many times when the sequel to a beloved movie fails to live up to the hype. Such was not the case with 1980's The Empire Strikes Back, which didn't just equal the excitement and derring-do of its predecessor, Star Wars, but exceeded it. Regarded by some as the best sequel of all-time, it's not hard to understand how The Empire Strikes Back earned that distinction. The film's shocking revelation – that Darth Vader is Luke's father – became the biggest topic of conversation in my circle for most of the summer. (I knew the film's secret before seeing it, because the book was available three days before the movie opened. Less than 48 hours after getting my hands on the paperback novel, I had completed it. This foreknowledge did nothing to dim my enjoyment of or enthusiasm about the movie.) And, at the time, it seemed intolerable that we would have to wait three long years for the conclusion of the trilogy. (Return of the Jedi - or Revenge of the Jedi, as it was originally known - never looked better than before I saw it.) For a year or two, The Empire Strikes Back was my favorite movie (taking that coveted spot from Star Wars). Thousands of films later, it's still in the Top 30 – a testament to the enduring power of this singular science fiction experience. Not only is The Empire Strikes Back the best of the Star Wars pictures to-date, but it's the most accomplished science fiction movie to have come out since the genre was re-popularized by George Lucas' 1977 cinematic gem. The darkest and bleakest of the series has proven to be its most enduring.