100 Best 2024 Movies Released So Far

In case you didn’t know, Speak No Evil is based on a Danish film of the same name, released only two years ago. Given that the latter was already a hit among horror fans thanks to its unrelentingly bleak approach, it’s tempting to chalk this remake up to narcissism. As was the case with the movies Otto and Let Me In, maybe Americans just wanted something of their own. While that may be true, it has to be said that this remake, in a word, is good. It’s thrilling and terrifying in its own right, and it adds enough new elements to keep you on your toes. Apart from the new twists, the characters are also more utilized and the social commentary on class and masculinity feels more pointed. Through these additions, among others, it’s able to imagine an alternative storyline that will speak to a lot of audiences.

A big part of Strange Darling’s charm is its ability to surprise you with one twist after another, so it’s best not to get into too many details here. What we will say is that director J.T. Mollner and his cast execute those twists with great finesse, making sure not to waste even a second of your time. The non-linear approach might seem gimmicky at first, but once Mollner presents all the pieces of the puzzle, it ends up feeling like a satisfying payoff. Even if you manage to guess where the film is headed, it still makes for an entertaining watch. Willa Fitzgerald is especially captivating.

For the longest time, land was where people formed strength in community, where people were born, lived, died, and was buried in, but it was also how empires grew in power, often at the expense of the people that came before. Exhuma is centered in a haunted burial site of a Korean family that migrated due to the war, but as the shamans try to unearth the casket, they also uncover the psychospiritual ways in which Japan colonized Korea– haunting the land with their own ghosts, dividing its people through belief, and leaving deep scars that hasn’t yet been fully recovered from. While the double exorcism situation can be a tad confusing, Exhuma nonetheless elevates this folk horror drama with their respect and attention to detail for Korean shamanism.

We’re familiar with dick jokes from stand-up comedians, especially male stand-up, but Jacqueline Novak’s 90-minute show about the blow job feels completely new. Get on Your Knees feels like casual storytelling from someone experienced yet distant enough to be a cool authority on it (say, your best friend’s older sister’s best friend), but funnier. It’s like a gossip session about a first experience, except the breathless, dizzying stream of thought is peppered with philosophical thought and points out the absurdity around the language and common attitudes about sex. And as she does so, and as she talks about self-conscious fumbling and unanswered questions, she strides back and forth, in an easy, self-assured way, the way we’d like to feel going into the act.

At two hours and nearly 30 minutes, Stonewalling is quite long. The third film from spouses Ryuji Otsuka and Huang Ji takes place in slow, slice-of-life moments, centered around a female lead that mostly doesn’t actively make choices for her own life, so it can feel frustrating to watch. But as the film unfolds, Lynn’s passivity turns out to be the tragically familiar surrender of today’s working class. Lynn tries to make choices to pay out her mother’s debt, to ensure that she’s not indebted herself, through jobs that commodify her youth, her beauty, and even her body, but each move consequently limits her next options. She tries to bargain for other solutions, but it turns out these solutions were never there in the first place. All she can do is quietly adapt, with each failed promise culminating into a baby’s cry.

Frida Kahlo is an iconic Mexican painter, not just because of her outstanding art, but also because of her outlook in life, despite her ill health and tragic accident. Because of this, she has been talked about in multiple books, movies, and exhibitions, but a new documentary has popped up, this time from her own words. Carla Gutierrez’s directorial debut is a revelation, voiced primarily in Frida’s native Spanish and paired with key archival footage, vivid animations of her paintings, and an excellent acoustic score plucked from classical guitar. Being a biographical documentary, fans of the artist would, of course, be familiar with her life events, but Gutierrez’s approach is still worth watching, mostly because it’s Frida’s own words driving the film.

After you get back home, and you tuck your kids to bed, we search for some easy entertainment in the late-night talk show. Quips about today’s news and intimate conversations with guests are just the thing to wind down, but theoretically, anything can happen at late night. Late Night with the Devil plays as a pseudo-documentary centered on late show host Jack Delroy on a Halloween night, pairing the charged, uncensored atmosphere with a supernatural twist. The film alternates between the color-toned show and black-and-white behind the scenes, and as Delroy tries to lead the show to safe entertainment, with David Dastmalchian’s genial aura, things don’t go as planned as Lily becomes host to a scary demon with Ingrid Torelli’s terrifying physicality. It’s creepy and slightly comedic, with the classic selling of the soul for fame interrupted with words from their sponsors, and it’s certainly a fun twist to the late night we’re used to seeing.

There is a lot to appreciate and learn from this work, which is a streamlined history of queer standup with so many enlightening stories. There is a LOT of standup footage and commentary from different eras, and different flavors between them evoking crass, feel-good, and revolutionary — which is reason enough to dive in. It’s got a self-assured tone to it, thanks to all the unapologetic and quick-witted figures telling their story and choosing to make it one of inspiration. In a word, it’s an informative celebration of queer standup comics, of tapping into empowered selves on and off-stage, reminding us that activism is always within reach.

Written, directed, and scored by Viggo Mortensen, The Dead Don’t Hurt is a visually stunning, emotionally potent, but still impressively restrained period drama that flips the script on typical Westerns. On the surface, it looks like it could be one—there’s even a bad guy clad in black who slings guns outside a saloon—but the film decidedly focuses on Vivienne and her everyday life. Viewers might think nothing is happening, but in fact, everything is happening, such is Mortensen’s framing of the value of these overlooked aspects of life. Immigrants, too, who are usually just extras in Westerns populate this movie and make it their own—as they should. They’re the backbone of America after all, and yet they’re usually relegated to the background in period dramas. The icing on the cake is that the film is breathtakingly beautiful, each frame a transportive picture of 19th-century America.

The story here is kept stripped down and tense: just a capable hero trying to stand up to the big bad. We want to root for his efforts, but find no joy in it. We feel him be bold while holding back, creating more tension that we don’t quite know how to temper. So much of the story taking place in everyday government buildings pushes the atmosphere from tense to quite frankly depressing. Just when it seems like it’s too damn much, the 2nd act trails off into a more prodding action film, but by that point the film has left its mark enough. All in all, a suspenseful, poignant ride with decent action film tropes to prevent you from dissociating.