As post-9/11 audiences swarmed theatres in 2002 hungry for escape, they chose the realm of fantasy, sampling in record numbers those movies based on fantasies old (Tolkien) and new (Harry Potter). The other cinema of imagination, however -- science fiction -- suffered ignominy after ignominy, forcing its diminished fan base to sit through dreck (Pluto Nash) and more dreck (Star Trek: Nemesis). But caught in the gaps of this sci-fi black hole was the greatest, and perhaps most unappreciated, film of the year: Steven Soderbergh's shimmering remake of Tarkovsky's SOLARIS. The best work of science-fiction to hit movie screens in a decade -- a heart-rending chamber piece about love, missed chances, and life after death -- its quiet majesty recalled the great works of the genre, especially Kubrick's masterpiece 2001: A Space Odyssey. Like that film and others (including Tarkovsky's own), it has moment of breathtaking clarity and beauty. Featuring stellar performances and a director working at the top of his game, SOLARIS is a challenge for modern audiences -- especially those with short-attention spans and a preference for easy answers. But for those who realize that, sometimes, more happens in silence than in noise, and what-ifs are not academic questions but life lessons, SOLARIS was the gently shining diamond in this year's cinematic galaxy.

Kicking butt seven ways to Sunday, the cream-puff film adaptation of the musical CHICAGO is manna from musical theatre heaven -- energetic, well-performed, slightly hammy, and crisp as a new ten-dollar bill. Director Rob Marshall, in the year's most impressive debut, honors the memory of the legendary Bob Fosse but never plagiarizes him. Sure, it swims in the shallow end of the pool, but the cast's unrestrained glee (and Catherine Zeta-Jones' dance numbers) put its guns-and-girls pulpiness into a razzling, dazzling perspective.

The sequel to last year's #1 movie proves unquestionably that Peter Jackson, the shlubby New Zealander whose Heavenly Creatures only hinted at his genius, is making the major cinematic event of our age. THE TWO TOWERS builds on the formidable foundations of its predecessor: epic battles, gorgeous cinematography, superb acting, a magisterially expansive narrative, and cutting edge technology. Most important, in terms of history, is the creation of the character Gollum, the first CGI character to truly affect and move with its nuanced emotion. If you are one of the three people left on the planet who haven't seen it, turn off your computer and go right now.

As sloppy as it is compelling, the shaggy-dog of this year's film canon is BOWLING FOR COLUMBINE, Michael Moore's salient critique of American gun culture. Forget the medium -- and its self-aggrandizing director -- and listen to the message. Moving from the specificity of the Columbine shootings to the larger canvas of the commodification of fear, this endictment of our deepest secrets manages to entertain, edify, and enlighten all at once. The best populist documentary since Hoop Dreams is just, simply, required viewing.

After you knock it out of the park on your first try, what do you do for an encore? If you're American Beauty director Sam Mendes, you head for solid ground like THE ROAD TO PERDITION, a penitent gangster drama that offers ripe opportunity for magic realism and Conrad Hall's superb cinematography. Even if the style overwhelms the substance at times, one still can't fault the superb performances or theatrical design -- especially the work of its two Oscar-worthy supporting actors, Paul Newman and Jude Law.

Eloquent and plaintive, this charming Mexican import is nothing less than the finest coming-of-age drama since The Graduate, told with piercing adolescent veracity and admirable simplicity. An oddball trio -- two horny teens and a morose middle-aged woman -- form an unlikely family that develops in front of your eyes. Passionate, yes, and sexy too. But Y TU MAMA TAMBIEN is more...it is a celebration of transformation, of the uncanny human ability to change and change again.

The year's most beautifully made picture is also one of its most surprising, an ingenious exercise in technique that manages to affect and move any viewer. Utilizing elements made popular by Douglas Sirk in 1950's family melodramas like All That Heaven Allows, Todd Haynes sculpts a new reality that exposes race, class, gender, and sexual bias both then and now. Julianne Moore, as the Connecticut housewife caught between her husband's secrets and her attraction to her gardener, gives a bravura performance. Oscars should be immediately handed to cinematographer Ed Lachman, who makes suburban Hartford a visual marvel, and composer Elmer Bernstein, whose haunting score is one for the ages.

A folk tale shot on a shoestring budget with non-actors in the arctic north, ATANARJUAT could have failed in so, so many ways. Perhaps it is all the more extraordinary, then, that it is a minor masterpiece, with moments that remain indelibly in one's mind months after seeing it. Everything comes together in this tale of one man's struggle to redeem himself and claim the bride he loves. The first film ever made in Inuit, it is at once a glimpse into a fascinating, singular community and a universal testament to human perseverance. It may not be the best film of 2002, but it just may be the most satisifying.

Ecstatic joy nearly flings itself from the screen in MONSOON WEDDING, a colorful, energetic, and unconventional paean to true love. The examination of the Indian tradition of arranged marriages might be more damning if the movie weren't having such a good time -- themes of romance, individuality, and familial bonds intertwine in what could be described as a romantic comedy...but one with serious smarts on its side. Don't miss the truly marvelous performance of Vijay Raaz as the weasely florist who loses his heart, and can't figure out what in the world to do about it. The year's Best, and I do mean Best, Date Movie.

From the Best Date Movie to the Biggest Surprise of the Year -- Roger Michell's astounding investigation of the social contract. Blame the marketing department for the ads, which depicted CHANGING LANES as a mano a mano thriller; in truth, it is a sage look at our social interactions, a codified unspoken code of behavior that, once violated, may wreak untold damage on everyone involved. Meditative, powerful, and well acted by Ben Affleck and Samuel L. Jackson, CHANGING LANES deserves to be on your Rental List immediately.

Hot on the heels of his Oscar-winning All About My Mother, Almodovar gets even better with TALK TO HER, an intimate character study of grief and caring. As two men caring for terminally ill women in a hospital, Dario Grandinetti and Javier Camara turn in two of the best performances of any year.

ROGER DODGER belongs to Campbell Scott, an actor's actor who turns in the performance of his career as a self-anointed ladies' man teaching his teenage nephew the ropes. Backing him up is the best cast of the year: Isabella Rosselini in fine form as Scott's ex-girlfriend, and a jaw-droppingly brilliant scene contributed by Jennifer Beals and (can you believe it?) Elizabeth Berkley.

So maybe it's not the greatest of all time, or even Scorsese's greatest -- GANGS OF NEW YORK is still a damn fine film, deftly placing the ethnic and racial divides of 19th century Manhattan onto a grand, savage battlefield. Daniel Day-Lewis returns after years away from the spotlight, and reminds us all just what acting is as mob boss Bill The Butcher. That Leonardo DiCaprio's no slouch, either, nor is the rest of the powerhouse cast. My guess: when all of the footage that Harvey Weinstein cut out gets reinserted on the DVD set, we'll finally see the masterpiece that GANGS so desperately longs to be.

What exactly IS Burr Steers' debut film? Is it an adolescent rite of passage? A social satire of Upper East Side depravity? A pitfall-prone love story? A love letter to family bonding, no matter how weird your clan? Truthfully, IGBY GOES DOWN is all of these, and more. Kieran Culkin carries the weight of the world on his nimble shoulders, exposing through this very peculiar journey the essential truths of growing up and moving on. Forget the film's naysayers (they just don't get it, right Igby?), and check this gem out yourself. Bonus Points: Susan Sarandon as Mother, aka The Dragon Lady.

When a master is at work, you know it. Polanski, that supreme classicist whose camera observes the world with unambiguous clarity, is back on top in THE PIANIST, easily his best film since Chinatown three decades ago. Adrien Brody plays the titular musician, caught trying to survive in the Warsaw Ghetto during World War II. But Polanski never waivers, letting the atrocities speak for themselves, their raw power meaning more than in any Holocaust film since Schindler's List. The very definiton of a Must See.

Okay, yeah, I'm kind of cheating, but any list of the Best of 2002 wouldn't be complete without the hilarious UNDERCOVER BROTHER, indisputably the best time one could have at the megaplex this year. Comedy? It's got it in spades, and smart stuff too -- a witty skewering of race relations that is thoughtful enough to reach even the most obtuse audience member. John Ridley (Three Kings) based the film on his internet comic strip; here's to hoping that someone has the brains and the bravery to greenlight a smart-as-tacks sequel. Solid!

Vin Diesel was supposed to be the next James Bond. Or the next Arnold. Or the next generation. Whatever. What XXX proves -- beyond a shadow of the doubt -- is that the emperor has no clothes. Or soul. Or talent.

When a bad idea gets even worse...and the assembled talent, including Robin Williams, Edward Norton, Catherine Keener, and Danny DeVito, should have known better.

The complete triumph of style over substance...only the style wasn't that hot to begin with. I'm gonna go out on a limb here, and say that this film is the final nail in the coffin of Val Kilmer's career. Well, this and those awful Nikon commercials.

I'd like my time machine with a slice of Cheese, please...especially cheesy sets, cheesy costumes, and cheesy acting that even H.G. Wells' grandson couldn't love. Oh, wait...

Who the hell thought this was a good idea?