Schindler's List may be the most important movie made this year.

It is certainly one of the best.

Steven Spielberg's Holocaust epic spans the scope of those horrible years with amazing sensitivity and artistry, bringing to light man's inhumanity to man.

In more than three hours, the film follows the financial and moral rise of Nazi opportunist Oskar Schindler (Liam Neeson) as he evolves from a failure to the owner of a massive slave-labor driven industrial complex.

It also chronicles, with graphic clarity, the struggle of Krakow's Jews in the ghettos and camps of Hitler's Third Reich.

As a chronicle of the past, Schindler's List presents a ledger of horror with uncompromising frankness, but as a work of art, it takes some amazing chances -- and succeeds.

Spielberg's choice of the Holocaust as subject matter is unorthodox, to say the least. This is not warm and cuddly subject matter; Schindler's List is brutal and violent.

Spielberg's maturity -- long-awaited after his departures in the kiddie-fare Hook and Jurassic Park -- is evident here.

Stripped of glitzy special effects, Spielberg relies on a cast of thousands, on-location shooting and riveting cinematography to prove that he is more than a consumate showman -- he is a master of realism.

The black and white format offers a challenge to both a director and audience accustomed to Technicolor.

The film moves to black and white when the Nazi invasion begins and as hope for the Jews dims.

Until salvation nears at the film's close, the bulk of the work is black and white -- with one audacious exception. During the terror of a ghetto roundup, a young girl in a red coat wanders innocently through the black and white chaos.

The violence here -- and there is plenty -- is not cartoonish or excessive. Every murder, every blow and every body is necessary to reinforce the horror of the Holocaust. Do not expect to laugh or feel good; Schindler's List is far too realistic for that.

The nudity in the film is also brutal and frank -- and effective. Spielberg forces audiences to look at the human body as an object, just as the Nazis saw it. The naked bodies are not erotic, they are tragic.

Documentary-style titles and combat-style cinematography also reinforce that realism. The camera runs along with German shock troops, mimicking the chaos and tension captured in wartime footage.

The cast also does an incredible job. Neeson brings both arrogance and sensitivity to a morally complex role, and his performance will merit him a well-earned nomination for Best Actor.

Ben Kingsley plays the role of Schindler's accountant and friend Itzak Stern with remarkable restraint, a role to which the Gandhi veteran is well suited.

But it is the cast of thousands swarming through the film that make the film's point. These are real, human faces, both haggard and beautiful. They are the doomed and the triumphant and, as Spielberg so eloquently presents, they are us.