My nominee for Best Picture of the year -- maybe the best picture ever, because it’s essentially made up of and is an ecstatic love letter to all other movies -- is Christian Marclay’s endlessly enticing must-see masterpiece The Clock. This elliptically simple, spectacularly dazzling 24-hour film is made up of thousands of scenes and snippets from films, all marking the passage of time, minute by minute, sometimes second by second, on clocks and sundials and people speaking the time and, in one case, a child drawing a timepiece on his arm. It's all synchronized so that whatever time it is onscreen is the actual time in New York, and it has played to packed audiences at the Paula Cooper Gallery since Jan. 21, 2011. A metaphysical tour de force of untethered meaning and involuting interlocking contrapuntal rhythms, The Clock is more than a movie or even a work of art. It is so strange and other-ish that it becomes a stream-of-consciousness algorithm unto itself -- something almost inhuman.