100 Best Dark Comedies to Watch Right Now

With ‘Wild tales’, writer-director Damían Szifrón explores exactly how thin the proverbial veneer is on the passions of the human heart. Or rather he gleefully rips it off. Visually dazzling and laced with social critique, violent revenge is the theme joining the six vignettes together. Each one starts off in a relatable everyday situation, including an airplane, a wedding, and a coffee shop, which quickly propels into complete savagery of Roald Dahlian proportions.

Like the famous author of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, Szifrón writes great satirical characters, which he relishes in hurting and throwing in the ditch. And much like the rage of its protagonists, featuring Ricardo Darín as a family man articulating his by way of explosives, this movie does not know peaks and valleys. It’s a dark comedy thrill ride that will have you gasping for air!

Former activists Ben Cash (Viggo Mortensen) and his wife Leslie drop out from modern consumerist society to raise their six children in the wilderness of the Pacific Northwest. They teach them how to raise and kill their own food, to survive in nature through boot-camp-like workouts, and homeschool them in literature, music, and left-wing philosophy. Instead of Christmas, they celebrate Noam Chomsky’s birthday. Then, one day, this unusual family life is shaken by a phone call and they are forced to leave their life of adventure to reintegrate into American life.

Directed by Matt Ross, who also brought you Good Night, and Good Luck, the film offers a poignant look at alternative living, the effects of modern technology, and the nature of good parenting. Viggo Mortensen is indeed fantastic as the grizzled father and was rightly nominated for a Golden Globe and the Academy Award for Best Actor. George MacKay and the entire cast of “children” also deliver terrific performances. As emotionally raw and thought-provoking as it is funny, Captain Fantastic will have the viewer decide if Ben Cash is the best father in the world or the worst.

Mary and Max is the tale of an overlooked 8-year-old girl from Australia starting an unlikely friendship via mail with a middle-aged Jewish man from New York. Shot completely in monocromatic claymotion, it is the first feature film by Australian stop-motion animation writer, Adam Elliot, and the first ever animated film to score the opening slot at Sundance Festival. In all its playful absurdity, Mary and Max is an emotional and wise gem of a film that examines the human condition through the eyes of a troubled child and an autistic American. In contrast to its clay-based animation, it deals with some pretty dark and adult themes, but succeeds in balancing those with happiness and absurd humor. Moreover, Elliott gathered an ensemble cast to do the voice-overs, which includes Philip Seymour Hoffman, Toni Collette, and Eric Bana. We recommend it 8 condensed milks out of 10.

Told through a series of flashbacks and personal archival footage, Beginners gives us the story of Oliver (Ewan McGregor), a 38-year-old graphic designer from Los Angeles, and his two parents across three timeframes. Oliver has never had a meaningful relationship. Six months after his mother dies, his father, Hal, played by the amazing, Academy Award-winning, and, sadly, late Christopher Plummer, comes out to Oliver. He lives the last days of his life in liberation and, well, gaiety, before protracting terminal cancer. Some months later, Oliver meets Anna at a party, a young French actress (Mélanie Laurent) who is beautiful and warm-hearted, and they start an affair. Through this all, there’s Arthur, a Parson Jack Russell. But don’t worry. He doesn’t talk. Beginners is a beautiful and intricate film about finding love and happiness. It’s funny, warm, and sincere. A beautiful movie.

Based on Fredrick Backman’s 2012 best-selling book of the same name, this Swedish hit comedy-drama introduces us to Ove, an elderly man who feels like his life is over. After losing his wife, the short-fused retiree spends his days grumpily enforcing block association rules in his neighborhood. He is your typical unhappy, old neighbor, somebody you would try to avoid. One new family does not give up and befriends Ove, played by an impeccable Rolf Lassgård, despite his best intentions to put them off. As the plot unfolds, however, you learn more about the story behind the man, and, in classic walk-a-mile-in-his-shoes fashion, start to find him rather loveable. After all, nobody is born grumpy and cynical. Naturally, this is a sweet and sentimental film. But an amazing lead performance and a charming, darkly funny script rescue it from drifting too far off the shore. The result is a wholesome, fun, and thoughtful dramedy with a beautiful message.

Goon is funny, violent, and sweet as hell. You’ll be surprised by how nasty it is but at the same time you won’t care. What you will want to do, on the other hand, is rip through the screen, and hug the main character. It is also a great example of a feel-good movie that isn’t solely focused on being a feel-good movie. It’s also great love story, with all its absurdities and highly emotional load. The story shines a light on the players who join hockey teams not for the game but for the fights that may erupt. They are called goons. Doug Glatt (Seann William Scott) is a new goon and this movie is his journey towards success both on the ice and off.

A Spike Jonze classic. Funny, smart and a quirky cult-favorite comedy, it tells the story of unemployed New York City puppeteer Craig Schwartz (John Cusack) who reluctantly takes a temp job as a filing clerk for the eccentric Dr. Lester (Orson Bean). While at work, Craig discovers a portal that leads into the mind of renowned actor John Malkovich. It will have you asking “who the f*** came up with this plot?” once you’re done admiring just how smart everything about this movie is.

Adam Sandler, though currently imminently marketable, incredibly played out and boring, used to be a real actor. This is the film by which his legacy will be judged, where we see the funnyman drop the mask and actually show real feelings besides bumbling rage. Sandler’s hurt and confused performance is beautifully vulnerable and true and is complimented by P.T. Anderson’s incomparable direction (the man behind Boogie Nights and There Will Be Blood), creating a true masterpiece of American cinema. This beauty also stars Philip Seymour Hoffman and Emily Watson.

With its 69-minute runtime, ultra-minimalist approach to camera movement, and dialogue so sparse it could fit onto a single page, the first word that comes to mind when describing The Match Factory Girl is “lean.” The second word is “bleak”: for most of the film’s slight duration, we watch as the lonely titular character (Iris, played by Kati Outinen) passively endures a relentless barrage of cruelties, whether from her coldly detached parents, callous love interest, or simply fate itself. 

And yet, these words — apt descriptors of the film as they are — only capture part of what makes The Match Factory Girl such a magnetic and unforgettable watch. When a late twist sees the film swerve into even darker territory, director Aki Kaurismäki’s twin approaches fuse into one that’s greater than the sum of its parts. Rendered in his characteristic deadpan style, the shocking event becomes sardonically funny — a gutsy move that only a real master of tone, as Kaurismäki is, could pull off.

Robert Downey Jr’s triumphant return to film, this movie is a satirical take on film noir and detective movies in general. The screen chemistry between Gay Perry the private eye, played by Val Kilmer, and Downey Jr’s robber turned actor, Harry Lockhart, is hysterical, and the film’s tongue in cheek nature is witty, smart, and delivers. Directed by the man who directed Lethal Weapon, the action is top notch, the laughs are pretty much constant, and the mystery is compelling. It’s mind boggling that nobody saw this when it came out.

Will Ferrell plays a well organized IRS agent named Harold Crick who seems to have figured out everything in his life to the dot. Little does he know his life is being run by someone else, a nervous and morbid novelist, famous for ending her works with the death of the main character. As the nature of his life and eventual doom, he decides to lay back and enjoy the ride, breaking all his ingrained and boring habits. While this film is recommended for everyone, Will Ferrel fans, especially, need to watch this to see Will’s acting variety.

Martin Scorsese — plus screenwriter Paul Schrader, editor Thelma Schoonmaker, and cinematographer Robert Richardson — reimagine nocturnal New York City as an eternally flaming circle of hell in this darkly funny fever dream. Frank Pierce (Nicolas Cage) is an insomniac paramedic who’s haunted by the ghosts of all the lives he couldn’t save and is on a nightmarish run of losing every patient he tries to help. There’s no respite for him anywhere; he’s so burnt out he begs to be fired, but the city is so desperate they won’t let him leave their tired ranks of medics, who are mostly jaded, sometimes sadistic, and yet still addicted to the euphoric high of saving a life.

As Frank is pushed ever closer to breaking point, the film takes on the hallucinatory qualities of his perspective, the cinematography growing feverish and the editing powered by a wild, manic energy. What stops the movie from feeling like a spiral into actual hell is the strange light that keeps Frank returning to work — the perpetual need for redemption and grace that prevents him from becoming cold to his job but makes his sanity fragile. In typical Scorsese-Schrader style, this is a raw, visceral, and very human search for grace in an unsparing urban hellscape.

Martin Scorsese had just spent a year prepping for The Last Temptation of Christ when Paramount Pictures unceremoniously pulled the plug on the movie just one month before production was due to start. After Hours was Scorsese’s way of exorcising all that disappointment and frustration, and you can feel it: this black comedy vibrates with manic intensity as it charts a night from hell in the life of Paul (Griffin Dunne), a somewhat scuzzy yuppie living in ‘80s New York City.

In keeping with its title — which suggests the movie is suspended in temporal limbo — After Hours feels like it takes place in some mythological hellscape, a demonic underworld in which everyone Paul meets has been sent forth with the express mission to make his life more miserable. Surreal coincidences pile up, deepening his paranoia and turning his simple goal of returning home into a labyrinthine quest for survival on the deserted, rain-soaked streets of SoHo. It’s the kind of celluloid nightmare that terrorizes and thrills you at the same time (a la the Safdie brothers’ best works, which draw inspiration from After Hours). Only a director of Scorsese’s caliber could turn profound professional disappointment into such a win as this.

An early gem from Finnish maestro Aki Kaurismäki, Drifting Clouds is a deceptively simple story. The aftermath of job losses for wife Ilona (Kati Outinen) and husband Lauri (Kari Väänänen) holds a series of misfortunes, all of them tests to their marital bond. But this is only the beginning: as with Kaurismäki’s endearing use of flat irony and detached performances by regular actors of his, things can only get worse before they get better. Humanism has always shined through the director’s films, and this first part of a “Finland” trilogy makes no exception to the rule: the fact that labor and closeness are the two main themes (and are equally important for one’s survival) already elevates the absurdist comedy to something way more caring, engaged, and ultimately, tender.

Here’s a biopic that focuses on capturing the feel of the era it depicts, rather than all the facts — and is all the better for it. 24 Hour Party People takes the same punk approach to storytelling as its subjects did to music, playfully throwing off the dull constraints that often make based-on-a-true-story movies feel like uninspired celluloid translations of a Wikipedia page. 

In the film’s opening scene, Steve Coogan’s Tony Wilson breaks the fourth wall to address us directly and semi-spoil the movie’s ending. But it doesn’t matter, because the ride is so fun: we’re taken on an immersive trip through the heyday of the Manchester music scene: the births of Joy Division, New Order, the Happy Mondays, and Wilson’s Factory Records label and legendary Hacienda nightclub, an incubator for acid house and rave culture. The era’s hedonism is brought to life by the movie’s frenetic editing, documentary-style cinematography, and strobe-heavy visuals. For all its onscreen anarchy, though, the movie remarkably never feels loose or self-indulgent. Its irreverence is grounded by the ironic filter of the meta filmmaking, which frequently breaks the fourth wall to draw attention to its own conceits. A refreshing rejection of biopic tropes, but also a thrilling transportation into and evocation of the Madchester era.

Oscar-winner Emerald Fennell got a lot of free reign with her debut, Promising Young Woman, which was a slightly modest ordeal even with a lead of Carrey Mulligan’s calibre. But now, with her sophomore film, she go to have some fun. Assembling a devout cast of particularly skilled actors—Barry Keoghan, Jacob Elordi, Rosamund Pike, and Mulligan again—seems like an obvious decision, but the mix of them all is unlike anything we’ve seen before. A class satire, a psychological thriller, and a psychosexual drama, Saltburn is high class entertainment, with a snappy script, and many tricks up its sleeve. Brace yourselves for some bath-action, grave-action, and full-moon-menstrual-action and many other scenes you may have not ever pictured shown on the screen. Actually, it’s impossible to prepare for a film like this one, but being open certainly helps digest the shock and provocations that are there for you to behold.

Four Lions is as black and as dark as a movie can ever get, mixing cultural relevancy with humor and ridiculousness. It is insensitive to Islam, insensitive to terrorism and insensitive to the viewer. But it is hilarious. The director spent three years talking to Imams, terrorism experts and basically everyone. The result? A legit 97 minutes that will dazzle even extremists with its knowledge of Islam and the accuracy of its lines. Needless to say that it will upset quite a few people, but that is always a good sign for black comedy movies, right?

The Fundamentals of Caring is an offbeat comedy/drama starring Paul Rudd as a man attempting to overcome his looming divorce by becoming the caretaker for a teenager with muscular dystrophy (Craig Roberts, Submarine). The two develop an unconventional relationship based largely on sarcasm and profanity, delivering many laugh-out-loud moments, while also slowly exposing the pain each is carrying inside.

Together, at Ben’s urging, they embark on a road trip across the western United States for Craig to see the world. It’s somewhat formulaic but fun and touching road movie that covers much familiar ground, but also offers a fine illustration of caregiving, personal growth, and emotional healing. Paul Rudd is as good ever, and Roberts is utterly superb. One of the best movies on the Netflix Originals catalog, and an undeniable winner, all-in-all.

Forgoing the typical catastrophic approach to the apocalypse, writer, star, and director Don McKellar opts for a grounded tone in Last Night, a film about the end of the world. In it, various Torontonians figure out how best to celebrate and mourn their final hours on Earth. While McKellar’s character Patrick originally planned to spend the day alone, he finds himself gravitating to Sandra (Sandra Oh), a stranger who he gets to know in a series of conversations.

Last Night is more like Before Sunrise than The Day After Tomorrow in that way, filled as it is with thought-provoking dialogue and interesting insights into everyday characters. Whether it was intentional or due to the obviously limited budget, the decision to leave out details like why the world is ending and how is a clever one since it allows us to hyperfocus on everyone’s psyche and inner workings. There is desperation, longing, and anxiety, but also relief, gratitude, and joy. 

If you’re watching it for the first time, you’ll be delighted to find surprise stars populate this lo-fi production—apart from McKellar and Oh, well-regarded auteurs Sarah Polley (Stories We Tell) and David Cronenberg (Crimes of the Future) also make welcome appearances. 

A healthy mix of despair and self-deprecation has always been Bo Burnham’s signature, but Inside takes it to the next level. It’s a deconstructed film, rather than a simple one-night special; a one-man-show that constantly undercuts itself. Even more so, it sabotages its own immersive qualities and explores the depths of self-loathing by turning oneself into comedy material. Some may say, it’s a classic move, but the pandemic reality and Burnham’s unkempt look predispose us to embrace all the cringe (YouTube reactions), quirkiness, (the sock puppet), and frightening angst (suicide jokes) he puts forward. Emotional rawness and a polished DIY look fits the Netflix bill, but as far as the content goes, this one goes straight to the world heritage lockdown archives.

The debut feature by Palestine’s most well-known director, Chronicle of a Disappearance is an unusual movie about the decades-long Israel-Palestine conflict in that it’s closer to absurdist comedy than anything else. The only physical violence we see here are men cat-fighting in the street or arm-wrestling each other in cafes, and Israeli presence is limited to a couple of bumbling police officers. Chronicle is full of slapstick cinema touches — right down to the Buster Keaton-esque eyes of director Elia Suleiman, who appears here as a silent wanderer — and yet we feel the bitter reality of the occupation framing every deadpan gag. 

Structured as a series of vignettes, Chronicle’s loose form is both a way to depict the stagnation and dry repetition in which Palestinians are stuck and a wry metaphor for all this listlessness. Suleiman speaks plainly in some chapters — such as the one following a woman who is repeatedly turned down from renting an apartment in Jerusalem because she’s Arab — and more obliquely in others, forcing you to recall the movie’s setting to understand his often-understated commentary. A singular film from an utterly unique director, Chronicle of a Disappearance is both a portrait of a country’s erosion and a quietly defiant act of resistance.

Director Thomas Vinterberg (The Hunt) reunites with Mads Mikkelsen to tell the story of four teachers going through a mid-life crisis. They’re not sad, exactly—they have homes and jobs and are good friends with each other—but they’re not happy either. Unlike the ebullient youth they teach, they seem to have lost their lust for life, and it’s silently eating away at them, rendering them glassy-eyed and mechanic in their everyday lives.

Enter an experiment: what if, as one scholar suggests, humans were meant to fulfill a certain alcohol concentration in order to live as fully and present as possible? The teachers use themselves as the subjects and the tide slowly starts to turn to mixed effects. Are they actually getting better or worse?

With an always-satisfying performance by Mikkelsen and an instant classic of an ender, it’s no surprise Another Round took home the award for Best Foreign Film in the 2020 Academy Awards.

Putting the inherent eeriness of stop motion animation to perfect use, Charlie Kaufman and Duke Johnson’s Anomalisa create a legitimately disturbing experience of a man’s paranoid delusions, as he tries desperately to make a real human connection while perceiving everyone around him as the same person. It’s that (unfortunately) rare animated film that understands that this medium can tell complex, even terrifying, stories for grown-ups while respecting their intelligence. And it’s still gorgeously put together, with seamless movements from the character puppets and evocative lighting and cinematography that puts the film firmly in the uncanny valley. It’s a tougher watch than it looks, but the depth of feeling it captures is nothing short of totally human.

There is nothing quite like The Substance right now. It’s unsubtle, it’s provocative, and its satirical humor can be a hit or miss for some viewers, but it strikes at the one thing that’s fundamental to everyone, that can make or break their lives, yet that is rarely given grace and consideration– that is the body. Legions of people have yearned for youth and beauty, but The Substance systematically outlines how much these have been intertwined with our livelihoods, opportunities, and identities, and how other entities would capitalize on this yearning and push many of us to take that out, suck that out, literally, from ourselves. The Substance does this all with insane, frenetic energy.

In the year of the Netflix TV Show Maniac, another absurdist title stole critics’ hearts. Sorry to Bother You is a movie set in an alternate reality, where capitalism and greed are accentuated. Lakeith Stanfield (Atlanta) is a guy called Cassius who struggles to pay his bills. However, when at a tele-marketing job an old-timer tells him to use a “white voice”, he starts moving up the ranks of his bizarre society. A really smart movie that will be mostly enjoyed by those who watch it for its entertaining value, and not so much for its commentary. It is like a Black Mirror episode stretched into a movie.

Full of twists on classic horror themes, this hilarious and gory comedy will have your sides aching, and still you’ll want more. The plot centers on two rednecks who are trying to have a good time while fixing up a summer home. True to horror movie form, a group of college kids set up camp nearby, and naturally evil begins to happen. This well-written, entertaining story even has some heart to it.

A film written by screenwriter Charlie Kaufman, about screenwriter Charlie Kaufman as he struggles to adapt a book about poaching a rare plant into a successful movie. Through Kaufman’s clever writing and Spike Jones’ unique style of directing, the film unfolds using “mise en abîme” as the viewer sees the lessons the writer in film comes across to improve his script more or less subtly influence the events he encounters as the narrative advances. Nicolas Cage’s performance is also particularly good as a highly intelligent and self-obsessed screen writer with low self-esteem.

Based on Michael Lewis’ 2011 non-fiction book, The Big Short follows several disparate Wall Street insiders who predicted the housing market crash of 2007-2008, and bet against the market for huge financial gains. It’s a fascinating look into the inner workings and disrepair of the modern banking industry. A great cast of big names (Bale, Carell, Gosling, Pitt) carry the viewer through all of the intricate complexities of mortgage backed securities, collateralized debt obligations, etc.— and make it all both enthralling and highly enjoyable. Kudos to director/co-writer Adam McKay for making it work so well: balancing the humor, frustration and absurdity, punching it up with off-the-wall yet effective asides, and giving us a comprehensible education on the economic meltdown that affected so many millions of people so dramatically. It’s a legitimately important film that everyone should see.

This is a hilarious political comedy starring the ever-great Steve Buscemi. Set in the last days before Stalin’s death and the chaos that followed, it portrays the lack of trust and the random assassinations that characterized the Stalinist Soviet Union. Think of it as Veep meets Sacha Baron Cohen’s The Dictator. Although to be fair, its dark comedy props are very different from the comedy that comes out today: where there are jokes they’re really smart, but what’s actually funny is the atmosphere and absurd situations that end up developing.

Remarkably for a movie about women being shunned and exploited by those more powerful than them, I Am Not A Witch is often wryly funny. That’s because this satire about Zambia’s labor camps for “witches” is told with a matter-of-fact-ness that brings out both the heartbreak and absurdity of the film’s events. The bitter gravity of the predicament nine-year-old Shula (Maggie Mulubwa) finds herself in — she’s been accused of witchcraft on the back of some very flimsy evidence — is never glossed over, but neither is its farcicality. Appropriately for its subject, there are also touches of magical realism here, notes that elevate the film into something even more complex than a wry commentary on this morbidly fascinating form of misogyny. This hybrid tonal approach is executed with the kind of fluidity filmmakers might hope to one day master late on in their career — which makes the fact that this is director Rungano Nyoni’s debut all the more extraordinary.

A unique movie about a near-future society obsessed with couples; viewing couples as the norm, as opposed to single people who are viewed as unproductive and undesirable. In that way, the film shows David (Colin Farrell), a newly single person who is transferred to the Hotel, a place where single people have just 45 days to find a suitable mate, and if they fail, they would be transformed into animals of their choice. While the film’s original premise may not be everyone’s cup of tea, The Lobster will prove a goldmine for people who are into a Kafkaesque, absurdist mentality, or anyone looking for an idea-driven experience.

Director Bong Joon-ho (Snowpiercer) does something quite amazing with the $50 million budget Netflix gave him: he makes a simplistic movie. But man, is it good. Okja tells the story of a “super pig” experiment that sends genetically modified pigs to top farmers around the world. In Korea, a farmer’s granddaughter forms a special relationship with one of these super pigs (Okja). When the company who originally ran the experiment want their pig back (performances by Jake Gyllenhaal and Tilda Swinton) – the two find an ally in an animal advocacy group led by Jay (Paul Dano). This is a straightforward movie, but nevertheless it is entertaining and full of thought-provoking themes and performances from an excellent cast.

It wouldn’t be too far of a reach to evoke Kids (1995) while diving into Mid90s. But instead of taking on the HIV crisis, Mid90s is a much more tender, poignant reflection on coming of age in 90’s skate culture. Jonah Hill, writer and director, examines the complexities of trying to fit in and the difficult choices one has to embrace individualism. From an opening of physical abuse to scenes of drug usage and traumatic experiences, Mid90s is a meditation not only on culture, but also a subtle examination of what it means to be human, to reach emotional and physical limitations, and to seek acceptance. Filmed in a 4:3 aspect ratio, Mid90s doesn’t concern itself with grandiose filmography, but instead the aspect ratio almost reflects the tonal and metaphorical aspects played out on screen. With a smaller dynamic range of color and the familiar dust/scratches, the 16mm film compliments gritty and emotional moments of Mid90s. The emotional range of the film will take the audience from the depths of empathy to laughing out loud, but there is no compromise to the weight of each moment. Jonah Hill’s directorial debut is beautiful in every sense of the word.

A razor-sharp script and beautiful scenery make this one of the best road movies in recent memory.

When their cynical best friend dies, Seph and Alex embark on a journey to scatter his ashes over four spots he wants to go back to. Tupperware of ashes in the glove-box, they start their big adventure.

Burn Burn Burn, an expression their friend quotes from Kerouac, is a chance for the two friends to escape their hectic city life and to discover themselves. It’s a beautiful movie.

From the brilliant minds of Jean-Pierre Jeunet and Marc Jano comes a utopian vision for the ages. After having worked together before on the short sci-fi film The Bunker of the Last Gunshots, the duo-turned-longtime-collaborators pick it up a notch in one of the best dark comedies to come out in the 90s. 

In Delicatessen, Jeunet and Jano disguise the wretchedness of modern society in a post-apocalyptic world where food is the global currency, given how scarce it’s become. We follow Louison (Dominique Pinon), an everyday man who falls in love despite all the hubbub and squalor surrounding him. But nothing comes in the way of love, and instead of discovering a salve, he encounters a snag, one that pulls him deeper into society’s most complex ethical dilemmas. 

Many films have already been made about inequality and hierarchies, but none have been quite as darkly funny and unapologetic as Delicatessen.

Break-ups aren’t the easiest thing to overcome, but how we deal with them usually doesn’t get as ludicrous as the events Pepa goes through in Women on the Verge of a Nervous Breakdown. The film makes said nervous breakdown chaotic– it includes spiked gazpacho, a frantic call to the police, and being held at gunpoint– but as Pepa and the women around her try to put off each fire, at least one of them literally, writer-director Pedro Almodóvar ensures sympathy for them, with Pepa’s snappy dialogue cutting through the lies of a smooth-talking womanizer refusing to face them. And it’s all paired with a suitably dramatic score, meticulous staging, and exaggerated, colorful frames mostly occurring in the wreck of a fabulously styled penthouse.

Visiting a relative can feel strange, because especially when the loved one you share is gone, the visit will inevitably bring up feelings of grief, nostalgia, and being stuck because of it. But no visit would be as strange as the 1977 cult horror classic House. It’s a classic not because it’s particularly scary– in fact, most of the time, the film is much more bizarre than terrifying– but because this grief manifests in the eccentric estate through unusually unrealistic, but undeniably stylish psychedelic visions that stem from the kind of nightmares one would get as a kid as well as the real-life devastation Nobuhiko Obayashi faced as a Hiroshima survivor. It’s because of these absurd images that House escapes explanation, yet still became Obayashi’s definitive work. Hausu is simply a film that you have to visit for yourself.

Murder is terrible, of course, but it proves to be surprisingly hilarious in Kind Hearts and Coronets. On top of all the ridiculous schemes Louis Mazzini cooks up, this ironic comedy of manners sets up its unfortunate deaths through Louis narrating his memoir in a detached tone, explaining away the deeds as if it was a natural consequence for the aristocratic snobs in his family. But the dry tone doesn’t quite conceal Louis’ wickedness. In fact, it highlights the horrible desires he’s dreaming of, poking at the fascination around British nobility without the usual melodrama these stories tend to have. It’s this brilliant twist that made Kind Hearts and Coronets so delightfully wicked.

After a man spends his entire trust fund, what is there to do for the poor bachelor? One might think he might try to get in the good graces of his family, or perhaps work for a living (the horror!). Instead, Henry Graham decides he must marry a wealthy woman in A New Leaf. What occurs next is a witty turnaround of the gold-digger tale, as his initial straightforward plan to marry-then-murder awkward heiress Henrietta Lowell accidentally turns him into a better person, or at least, a person with the willingness to do something other than spending. Pitting Henry’s self-interest against Henrietta’s love for botany and her disinterest in her own inheritance, A New Leaf crafts a clever comedy with a cynical yet charming romance.

Director Noah Baumbach’s autobiographical film is a strikingly realistic take on divorce and the turmoil it sets on an already-dysfunctional family. Bernard (Jeff Daniels) is a selfish decadent writer who’s splitting with his unfaithful wife Joan (Laura Linney). Their two sons, Walt (Jesse Eisenberg) and Frank (Owen Kline), are taking different sides that reflect their personality. This separation only reinforces their insecurities as they quickly fall into depression and grow away from their friends. The parents, however, find unconventional lovers just as quickly, Bernard with a student of his, and Jane with her son’s tennis coach. The Squid and the Whale is a funny, emotional, and gripping story that finds a perfect balance in tone despite dealing with bitter divorce and troubled adolescence.

The Square is a peculiar movie about a respected contemporary art museum curator as he goes through a few very specific events. He loses his wallet, his children fight, the art he oversees is does not make sense to an interviewer… Each one of these events would usually require a precise response but all they do is bring out his insecurities and his illusions about life. These reactions lead him to very unusual situations. A thought-provoking and incredibly intelligent film that’s just a treat to watch. If you liked Force Majeure by the same director, The Square is even better!

There’s a lot to think about in Dream Scenario, which posits the possibility of collectively seeing the same real man in your dreams. Norwegian filmmaker Kristoffer Borgli drops the painfully ordinary Paul (Cage) in an extraordinary reality to show us how easily one can spiral into insanity, how dangerous groupthink can be, how fickle cancel culture is, and how anything can happen to anyone, even to someone as unsuspecting as Paul. But Borgli doesn’t just experiment with ideas here, he also expertly plays with sounds and transitions, sometimes even cutting a scene before someone is done talking, to capture the skittish and unreliable language of dreams. More impressively, he takes into account how this phenomenon would play in our real, profit-oriented world. The capitalistic urge to make Paul an advertising tool, for instance, or to create tech that makes it possible for others to appear in dreams too, is both uncanny and depressingly realistic. Some might feel that Borgli is biting off more than he can chew but there’s a balance and ease to Dream Scenario that makes it feel inevitable. That’s thanks to Borgli’s brilliant direction but also, in no small part, to Cage’s inspired performance as a pathetic but harmless loser.

With a title like this, it was expected that Do Not Expect Too Much from the End of the World would be critical of today’s current circumstances, but the film takes a more startling approach. Radu Jude’s longest narrative feature is a day in the life of a disgruntled, underpaid production assistant, and as she drives between interviewees injured from work accidents, the film alternates between the black-and-white, terribly mundane reality, her Tiktok-filtered satirical rants as Bobiță, and an old colored film of a Romania decades past. It’s a cynical depiction of how vulgar it is to be alive today, but it’s also more honest as Jude refuses to cling to the past.

Murdering your spouse is bad, so it’s slightly bizarre how Drowning by Numbers has an unbothered, even amused, attitude towards its murders. Moments seem randomly placed, like the first scene of a girl jumping rope while listing the stars by name, and the film can be hard to follow, even if the production design and cinematography keep you drawn in. But as the film progresses, and Madgett’s son Smut enumerates the fictional games as if he was a historian of sorts, writer-director Peter Greenaway meticulously crafts a quirky, twisty crime comedy, where, like children’s games and the men in their lives, the murdering wives do what they do because they can get away with it. Drowning by Numbers cleverly plays with the way we treat folklore, structure, and rules, even down to the very medium Greenaway works with.

Another indie zombie movie? Far from it. One Cut of the Dead, written and directed by Shin’ichirô Ueda, became a global sensation following its small theatrical run in Japan for its creative and original screenplay. A hack director and film crew are shooting a low-budget zombie movie in an abandoned WWII Japanese facility when they are attacked by real zombies. That’s all you need to know about the plot, as the film is full of surprises that will catch you off guard. Wondering how an independent film with a budget of just $25,000 was able to gross over $30 million worldwide? The answer lies in the film itself. 

After receiving virtually unlimited funding from a wealthy businessman, Lola (played by the always excellent Penelope Cruz) sets out to mount an ambitious adaptation of a bestselling novel. To make her vision work, she employs renowned actors Ivan Torres (Oscar Martinez) and Felix Rivero (Antonio Banderas), knowing full well that their opposite philosophies in art and life will clash. What follows is a series of preps and rehearsals that play out like social experiments in their twistedness, which all in all speak to the outrageousness of film, art, and life itself.

In this Spanish dark comedy, no one is spared from satire—from the idiosyncratic auteur down to the sell-out actor, all are parodied in equal measure, each of their egos broken down in great and hilarious detail.

Among the sea of class satires released in the last year, Triangle of Sadness is one of the better ones. Directed by Ruben Östlund (The Square, Force Majeure), the film follows an ultra-rich group of people who get stranded on an island after their luxury cruise ship sinks. The social pyramid that has long favored them suddenly turns upside down when a crew member (a glowing Dolly de Leon) effectively runs the group of sheltered castaways.

Triangle of Sadness may not be as sharp as Östlund’s previous work, and it may not add anything particularly new to the saturated discussions of social class, but it remains a darkly humorous and engaging watch, masterfully helmed by a strong script and ensemble.

Given today’s access to cameras, it’s so easy to peek into the lives of other people. Sometimes those peeks seem much more exciting than our entire lives, but as most people know by now, what we see on screen can be so different to what’s really happening. Rather than social media, however, the two broke nobodies in The Great Buddha+ get their entertainment from the dashboard camera of their rich and famous boss, Kevin, though the recordings eventually reveal a darker side to the artist-philanthropist business owner. Alternating from their black-and-white lives to their boss’ colorful one, this dark comedy satirizes that gap between classes, the ones being watched and the ones who could only watch, with the narrator, and sometimes the characters, helpfully explaining on occasion what you’re seeing on screen. The Great Buddha+ gleefully mocks its ensemble, while still being cognizant of the real injustices they face. 

Many films centered around a mother’s love rarely dares to question it. For most people, the fundamental relationship between mother and child is a given, so viewers might be shocked at the way this murder mystery explores how much this bond can be tested. Centered on a murder case with a mentally disabled suspect, Mother unfolds in ways we rarely expect, with the unnamed protagonist going so far in her devotion that leads to darker and terrible discoveries for this small town, not just about the family in question. It’s not the cathartic pursuit of justice Hollywood is accustomed to, but it’s what makes Mother such an outstanding crime thriller.

Frances (Greta Gerwig) lives in New York – but not the glamorous NYC of Woody Allen movies. Taking place primarily in the gritty and rapidly gentrifying North Brooklyn, the black and white film paints a picture of an extended adolescence. Focusing on the goofy and carefree Frances, who loses her boyfriend, her best friend and her dream of being a dancer. She moves in with two guys, both of whom are more successful than her, and becomes even more determined to fulfil her goals, impractical as they may be. Fans of HBO’s Girls and other odes to not being a “real person” yet will love this film.

Two brothers played by Channing Tatum and Adam Driver decide to rob a local NASCAR event, the Charlotte Motor Speedway in North Carolina.

They put together a team to help them, with Daniel Craig as the demolition expert and Katie Holmes as the gateway driver. Other big names behind this project are actors Seth MacFarlane and Hilary Swank; and director Steven Soderbergh, who is best known for Ocean’s Eleven, Ocean’s Thirteen, and Magic Mike.

The main characters are cheerful and just goofy enough to be completely unpredictable. Their heist is as chaotic as it is random, which inevitably leads to many funny moments. The performances by the whole cast are amazing, Daniel Craig is almost unrecognizable.

A friend once described this movie as Ocean’s 7 Eleven, and it’s hard to come up with a better line.

The Banshees of Inisherin is an Irish dark comedy film that begins with the breakup of longtime friends Pádraic (Colin Farrell) and Colm (Brendan Gleeson). Averse to the sudden split, Pádraic tries to repair their relationship, but instead of achieving goodwill, he inadvertently sets off even more unrest in their little town of Inisherin. Set in 1923 against the backdrop of the Irish Civil War, the film doubles as a fable about the consequences of war. 

The last time Farrell and Gleeson were together was in the expert thriller In Bruges, and their reunion in The Banshees of Inisherin shows how powerful and chemistry-filled their pairing is. Theirs is a knockout turn, but it’s also far from the only good thing in the movie. Packed with gorgeously lush images of rural Ireland, strong performances from an all-Irish cast, and a whipsmart script from writer-director Martin McDonagh, The Banshees of Inisherin is an impactful watch that will give you lots to unpack long after the credits roll. 

Of the many violence-inflected black comedies that Pulp Fiction spawned, Grosse Pointe Blank ranks among the best. Though it’s patently inspired by Tarantino’s magnum opus — John Cusack plays a sardonic, amoral hitman, and the film features bursts of stylized violence and a retro soundtrack — it never feels derivative. The film finds its own identity as a quirky romcom when Cusack’s character, Martin Blank, returns to his hometown for a 10-year high-school reunion on the advice of his terrified therapist (Alan Arkin).

Martin is experiencing professional disillusionment as part of the quarter-life crisis that often takes hold when one realizes it’s been a whole decade since high school. His profession puts a darkly comic spin on that convention, but the film doesn’t treat that element entirely flippantly. Unlike Martin — and so many of the film’s Pulp Fiction-inspired brethren — Grosse Pointe Blank isn’t nihilistic, but quite sincerely romantic. Its hybrid nature and surprising heart come to the fore in Martin’s renewed relationship with the girlfriend he jilted at prom: Debi (Minnie Driver), now a ska-loving radio DJ. Cusack and Driver have sparkling chemistry, which makes the sincerity with which their characters grapple with the possibility of a second chance at happiness all the more absorbing to watch.

After Jackie and Spencer, the dark satire El Conde is a surprise new entry in Pablo Larraín’s stacked filmography. Already, the film has prominent differences– it’s shot in black and white, starting with narration from an unseen and posh Englishwoman that makes the film’s events feel like entries in Bridgerton’s scandalous newsletter. The subject is far from the beloved wives of presidents and princes– it’s centered around a notorious Chilean dictator who remains unpunished for his crimes. However, as his fictional vampire version deals with his rightfully ruined legacy, El Conde proves to be a witty satiric twist to Larraín’s usual themes. Through familial squabbles over ill-gotten wealth, confessions and exorcism conducted by a nun, and certain foreign interventions, El Conde paints an everlasting greed that continues to haunt Larraín’s homeland.

The three leads residing in the Edinburgh flat of Shallow Grave are terrible people. They’re obnoxious snobs that like to lord over potential roommates simply because they can. So you can imagine that it’s rather hilarious to see them get torn apart– not just because of themselves generally, but precisely because their snobbish roommate selection process chose the absolute wrong person to room with. Director Danny Boyle captures that meltdown with excellent shots and an electronic soundtrack, with compelling performances that balances the dark humor with the thrill, pairing the seemingly silly contempt they have for others with the real mistrust that lays between them even before money enters their lives. There are certain moments that do feel familiar, but on the whole, Shallow Grave digs deeper than expected.

Better known through its original Spanish name El Infierno, Hell is an underrated crime thriller that satirizes Mexico at the time of the Drug War. It follows an immigrant, Benjamin Garcia, who subsequently dives into a life of crime, though it’s not as lucrative as he expects. What ensues ends up becoming a darkly humorous, Western-inspired take on the issue, flipping from funny to dramatic at a turn of a hat, and smartly pointing out the absurd in the violence that still grips the country today. While underseen abroad due to its NC-17 rating, it’s a fitting installment for director Luis Estrada’s penchant for bold political satires, garnering a cult following in the country itself.

Robin Hood might be a centuries old folk hero, but his reincarnations seem to pop up in real life, including the true story behind Dying to Survive. Alternatively translated as I’m Not A Medicine God, the modern day Chinese iteration is initially less concerned over the common good and more concerned with money. It makes for a much more humorous take, as the ordinary peddler bribes, smuggles, and asserts his desire for profit, but it also sets up the real desperation created by a medical drug industry that hopes to incentivize research and protect consumers, but inadvertently blocks the very people that needs said drugs. Dying to Survive might focus more on the smuggler than critiquing this conundrum, but nonetheless it understands the real recurring tragedy that modern life can’t seem to completely solve.

Twinless starts off something like one of those quirky indies in the 2010s about awkwardly navigating grief and sharing that with someone, unexpectedly. Roman meets Dennis in a support group like The Fault in Our Stars, though with a sibling dynamic a la The Skeleton Twins, filling the void of losing their other half. It’s wholesome, it’s cute, and Dylan O’ Brien and James Sweeney have an instant chemistry that makes their friendship easy to root for. But after the twenty minute mark, this comedy veers into an unexpected direction. For the sake of spoilers, we won’t elaborate, but Twinless cleverly twists what could have been a millennial mumblecore drama into a clever, provocative Gen Z dark comedy that isn’t afraid to go there. Twinless is truly one of its kind.

If you like any of the following: Irish accents, Woody Harrelson, Pulp Fiction, or dark comedy;  then this is the movie for you. This mix of violence, mafia, existential talk, and painfully comical situations might not be for everyone, but it has every component to make its target audience very pleased. And given how chaotic and crazy it can get, it should be enjoyed one take at a time, focusing on each delightful scene rather than the overall plot. Directed by Martin McDonagh, Seven Psychopaths makes a perfect comeback after In Bruges, without veering very much from it (consequently if you like this movie make sure you check out In Bruges too).

This is an inexplicably and philosophically dark comedy.

Its protagonist, Larry, is a lackluster professor at a dull university. Then his life starts to unravel: his wife decides to leave him for one of his more successful colleagues; his unemployed brother moves in to stay on his couch.

So Larry ventures on a quest for meaning and clarity within his Jewish community.

All Cohen Brothers fans will appreciate the movie’s aesthetics and comedic strength. The protagonist’s struggle will resonate with anyone who has had a religious upbringing: guilt is a big theme here.

I felt like I had to rewatch it to understand it. But I also enjoyed that weird sense of not understanding everything that’s going on. Much like life itself.

The film rightfully earned itself two nominations for the Oscars, including Best Picture.

More than a decade before she made Toni Erdmann, German filmmaker Maren Ade turned her eye on a small-town school, a socially awkward teacher, and the inarticulate in between. Even with her debut, Ade showcased a talent for spotting the hidden comic potential of situations that can be wounding, turning vulnerabilities into power through comedy. The Forest For the Trees is a dilemma-film, in the ways in which it both invites and rejects identification with Melanie. A frighteningly optimistic person, she misreads most if not all social cues and finds herself in embarrassing situations. Even more, her devotion to making it all work, after moving away from the big city for said teaching job, is something a lot of viewers can recognize and support, but her borderline unlikeability is sometimes too hard to ignore. However, a majestic finale crowns the film with a scene that is worth rewatching again and again, like a dream you wish to appropriate for yourself.

The colloquial phrase “May-December” refers to romantic partners with a large age gap, but leave it to Todd Haynes to craft a poetic and unsettling world out of this (slightly troubling) banality of life. His new film is loosely based on the real case of Mary Kay Letourneau, who in 1997 was convicted as a sex offender after being caught having a relationship with a minor, a student of hers, 12 years old (22 years her junior). May December begins twenty years after the tabloid scandal surrounding the marriage of Joe and Gracie has died down. Elizabeth, an actress, is conducting research in preparation to play Gracie in a film production, but she doesn’t know what to expect. Alongside her, we are welcomed into the family home, meet their teenage children, sit through their family dinners, marvelling at the levity and nonchalant atmosphere in the air. Something is missing, or at least that’s what Elizabeth suspects. A psychological drama-thriller-black comedy, May December is impossible to pin down. A profound film on human confusion, identities, and past traumas, it unites two of the best Hollywood stars, Julianne Moore and Natalie Portman, in a delightfully eerie play of doubling and revelations.

When falling in love with another, or when another person falls in love with you, the relationship is formed by the ideas in your and their heads, specifically about your dynamic, your respective personalities, and the potential outcome of this love. Law of Desire is centered on this idea, unfolding through a chaotic gay love triangle that demonstrates the ways the ideas and fantasies can differ. And as the characters inevitably go through fairly melodramatic reactions when they realize the desires of another person, in the most colorful fashion (literally and figuratively), Pedro Almodóvar creates an amusing and daring examination of the genre it’s inspired by.

It’s both sad and amazing that a film about toxic masculinity and corporate culture released in the ‘90s remains relevant today. In the Company of Men is about two incels who exact polite revenge on women by attacking a deaf office worker named Christine (Stacy Edwards). Of course, things don’t go exactly as planned since this is the kind of film that twists and turns in unexpected curves. It’s also the kind that can fly with the barest of budgets, proving that sometimes all you need is a blistering script, skilled performers, and an eye for what visually works to make an effective film. In the Company of Men is a black comedy, so it’s not always easy to watch, but it’s profoundly thought-provoking as it asks relevant questions about the violence of fragile masculinity, the entitlement of supposed “nice guys,” the soul-sucking cruelty of corporations, and the dog-eat-dog-world of modern-day capitalism. That a small team can pack all these big ideas in its modestly budgeted indie is a wonder in itself.

Elisabeth Moss is in it. Calling The One I Love a romantic-comedy, looking it up, or trusting anyone else about it — especially my review, will ruin this film for you. Just watch it. If one’s penchant is typically opposed to titles with ‘love’ in them, then it’s for you. Just hit ‘play’, or ‘start’, or whatever. The initial wtf-ness that attracted me to it is compelled further by excellent acting. And Elisabeth Moss is in it.

A young Steve Buscemi leads this wry farce about a calamitous film set where nothing goes right. The sardonic script skewers the ins and outs of low budget film production and the various personalities on set from belligerent directors, pretentious cinematographers, and egotistic actors. 

A playful three-act structure and trips into dream sequences keep things light, while a strong supporting cast, including a cheeky appearance by Peter Dinklage and the fantastic Catherine Keener, gives the film the backbone it needs. 

Lee Holloway (Maggie Gyllenhaal) is compassionate and diminutive, but her social awkwardness hinders her as she attempts to navigate young adulthood. After recently being hospitalized for self-harm, Lee is determined to prove she is capable of autonomously taking care of herself. She begins working as a secretary for E. Edward Grey (James Spader), a meticulous attorney.

It’s not long before both Lee and Edward realize they’re attracted to one another’s opposite natures: Lee’s obedience and Edward’s dominance. They begin a mutually consensual BDSM relationship, with both experiencing a sexual and emotional awakening. 

The premise may sound familiar: 50 Shades of Grey is widely acknowledged as, at the very least, owing its title to Secretary. But while 50 Shades of Grey portrays an unhealthy, toxic, and superficial idea of a BDSM affair, Secretary maintains that consent must be at the core of any relationship. And ultimately for Lee and Edward, BDSM becomes a way for them to communicate and overcome their individual pain, and unite stronger as a vulnerable, loving whole.

In this office comedy of errors, Javier Bardem plays Blanco, the titular boss, but whether he is actually good is what the movie wryly examines.

As head of a small manufacturing company, Blanco treats his employees intimately, going so far as make their problems his own. He believes this is why his company is nominated for an excellence certification, but as he waits for the possible award, cracks start to appear in his “work is family” facade as everything that could go wrong, starts going wrong. The Good Boss is an anxiety fest for Blanco to be sure, but a winning tragicomedy for us all.

A Korean police comedy built on a premise so dumb it’s brilliant: a group of bumbling cops who are so bad at their job that they accidentally start an amazing fried chicken restaurant while undercover. All of the suspense and excitement that should be going into their actual mission is spent on this new job that actually begins to give them coordination and a greater sense of purpose. There may not be much of a deeper meaning to be found here, but the characters are lovable enough—and the filmmaking sharp enough—to get you invested in their personal happiness, and to get you to appreciate how strong editing and performances can make even the smallest throwaway line spit-take hilarious.

There are a few instances that prove the merit of one’s friendship, and one of those instances is a roadtrip. Withnail and I is considered one of the greatest British comedies of all time, but there’s a certain melancholy to it, as two unemployed actors have gone on holiday due to an offer from one of their uncles, though this offer doesn’t come without strings, which the titular “I”, Marwood, whose name is never mentioned, has only found out on the trip. As the holiday goes wrong, with the two making the worst of every new situation, the two share somewhat of a dysfunctional, slightly homoerotic relationship, as Withnail deals with everything in the most drunken, unserious manner, and Marwood anxiously realizes how much he’s outgrown their friendship. The film’s humor may be a tad too dry for those outside the country, but cult favorite Withnail and I still resonates with its endlessly quotable lines, memorable scenes, and its bitter understanding of how life can diverge.

Grand gestures, over-the-top declarations of love, and elaborate gifts… These normal romcom acts can sometimes make it seem that romance can only be done by the wealthy. But, in reality, love can happen anytime, and the first film of Aki Kaurismäki’s Proletariat Trilogy suggests that love is ultimately necessary in a world where two lovers are disenfranchised. As Nikander tries to woo a slightly disinterested Ilona, and as Ilona decides to depend on him for support, Shadows in Paradise might not have the usual frills of a romcom, but Kaurismäki finds the bare essentials in a depressing Finnish town, and captures the small ways it blooms in spite of it, through the lovers’ humorous blunt dialogue and the color their love adds to their world.

Admittedly, it’s hard to watch the first twenty minutes of Dinner in America. The slurs are gratuitous, the suburban families are superficially satiric, and it seemed at first glance the leads were, too. But when the punk singer and his awkward fan meet, and they start driving around the Midwest, there’s a charming chemistry formed between these two weirdos, portrayed with a dynamic back-and-forth between Kyle Gallner and Emily Skeggs. This chemistry makes their ridiculous character flaws work, too– as Simon’s random destructive quirks end up being the perfect response for Patty’s life and Patty’s deranged fan letters turn out to be the kind of lyrical genius Simon’s been looking for. There’s no denying that the film is brash and rough at the edges like its leads, and even with this, some viewers might still turn up their noses at the two. But the over-the-top humor, the memorable dialogue, and the surprising sweetness of Dinner in America makes for a scrappy, edgy romcom that might actually be punk.

If you’ve seen the trailer, or heck, even the poster of the film, it’s likely you already know that, surprise, Companion is centered on an AI robot girlfriend. Iris is played wonderfully by star Sophie Thatcher, so much of our sympathies are with her from the get-go, but the prior knowledge does undercut some of the tension– it makes the reveal less surprising. It’s understandable considering the current concerns over the tech, automatically being the draw to a fairly familiar tale of greed and betrayal. That being said, Companion still surprises not because of the sci-fi aspect, but because of the human aspect, directly cutting at the heart of the controversy with artificial intelligence. It does recognize the immediate way we would abuse this technology as a scapegoat for inhumane self-interest, the way that overcontrolling dynamic has already been inflicted upon women. But Companion also understands the awe of what that advancement could mean, echoing the freedom that many women the whole world over have already grasped for themselves.

Harold and Maude may ostensibly be about death—so much so, that by Harold’s 10th fake suicide attempt, you’ll be rolling your eyes—but it’s also a sweet tale that celebrates life’s small joys and everyday people. The film’s two sides are personified by the titular characters. Harold seems tired of life, while Maude is all about it. And yet, Harold comes from privilege, while Maude hides a dark past. They learn about and from each other, but ultimately it’s the kindness they show one another, in a society that treats them as outsiders, that gives the film its heart. It sounds simple on paper, but Harold and Maude is packed with the kind of style, sound, and deadpan wit that dominates modern independent cinema (see: The Submarine, or Rushmore). It didn’t make waves back in 1971 when it premiered, but decades later, it remains a cult favorite for these reasons.

If it weren’t for the people involved, the English-language remake of the Korean sci-fi comedy Save the Green Planet might have gone the direction of many English-language remakes– that is, not well. Good news is that producer Ari Aster got the best people involved. Of course, that includes the original director Jang Joon-hwan, who had to step down from directing due to health issues, but their team-up with Greek filmmaker Yorgos Lanthimos, who too is known for twisted comedies, was truly inspired, as the original story’s off-kilter, eclectic alien plot fits in just right with Lanthimos’ distinct style. Bugonia is the insane and terrific consequence of such an incredible collaboration.

Thunder Road is both a single-shot 13 minute short and a 91-minute feature-film expanding the story. Both are excellent and award-winning, but I really recommend the full experience!

Jim Cummings (above) is the director, writer, and main actor of this dark comedy. He plays a police officer having the worst day of his life as he tries to sing Bruce Springsteen’s Thunder Road at his mother’s funeral.

This sight is funny, and so is most of the story. But it’s also cringe-inducing, and because the main character is so sincere in his decline, will make you feel guilty about laughing so much. 

This artistic Australian coming-of-age drama stars Eliza Scanlen (Little Women, Sharp Objects) as Milla, a teen from a dysfunctional family. The father is a psychologist and the mother suffers from depression, so he medicates her under the table. Meanwhile, Milla, a 16 year old, starts dating a charismatic almost-homeless 24 year old drug dealer. Unusual circumstances make the family tolerate the relationship in this story where every character feels like the main one. 

If you’re looking for something different, you will love Babyteeth. Something happens to Milla in the 10 minute mark that descriptions and reviews online all mention – but is definitely a spoiler. Just know that it’s not all romance and coming-of-age, there is slow-burning darkness to this movie. 

When Mikey Saber’s porn career takes a dip in California, he returns to an estranged wife in Texas, where he meets new and old friends alike and attempts to rebuild his life through a couple of odd jobs. Though Mikey eventually earns his keep, his vanity and eagerness to succeed at all costs threaten to get the best of him.

All this happens against a vibrant backdrop of local sights, beautifully lit and framed by director Sean Baker (The Florida Project, Tangerine). Quaint, naturalistic, and ever-so-subtly political, Red Rocket is another great entry into Baker’s impressions of the vexed American Dream.

Amongst the google searches for this one you’ll find “Is Slotherhouse a real film?” and that says a lot. When the first poster and trailer dropped, I suspected it the work of AI, but now that the film is out on streaming, we should be glad it exists. A ludicrous horror-comedy that hits all the right notes in gore, cringe, and puns, Slotherhouse is quintessential fun cinema. It may be set in a college where internalized misogyny is completely off the charts as young women bruise and batter each other’s egos in service of the queen bee Brianna (Sydney Craven) and may attempt just a tiny bit of character development to keep the ball rolling, but honestly, who cares? It’s a film that completely leans into the absurd, the over the top, the ridiculous, and it does it surprisingly well.

It can be very frustrating to watch something, hoping that the show, play, or film would be worth watching, and find yourself feeling worse after the experience. Most of us end up just changing the channel, leaving the theater, or finding something else to watch, but instead of doing any of this, Yannick depicts the titular audience member interrupting the show with a gun. You can already imagine how tense the situation is, but Quentin Dupieux infuses a comedic, meta touch in the way Yannick questions and holds the audience hostage, as his conversations with them and the cast reveal the different expectations we have from art.

Given the time period, it’s easy to see The Teacher as a satirical critique of the communist regime. Through the parent-teacher conference in a small high school, director Jan Hřebejk depicts a community shaken by the placement of a new teacher aligned with the Party. The new hire in question is nasty. While outwardly amiable, the subtle way she tries to extract favors, from simple repairs to hard-to-get medicine, feels terribly slimy as the kid’s grades are held in the balance. Zuzana Mauréry balances that two-faced dynamic with excellent skill, making her character someone we’d love to hate. And it all culminates into an intriguing ending that proves that while corruption has flourished under the regime, the following administration hasn’t done much to address it. The Teacher is a hilarious black comedy that isn’t afraid to bite.

One of the many good movies from director Edgar Wright – if you loved Shaun of the Dead, then this Buddy-Cop Homage will make you double over (and question humanity – or lack, thereof) just as much. Sandford is a small English village with the lowest crime and murder rates, so when overachieving police Nicholas Angel (Simon Pegg) gets sent there because he was so good he intimidated those around him, he just about loses it. From car-chasing, bone-thrilling, head-blowing action, he graduates to swan-calling, thrill-seeking, sleep-inducing madness. But all that’s about to change – for the worse? For the better? You decide. An obscenely funny flick that has an intriguing plot and an even greater set of characters, Hot Fuzz wasn’t named the best film of the Cornetto trilogy for nothing, clearly cementing Pegg and Nick Frost as the ultimate action duo of the genre.

This Eddie Murphy comedy had all the ingredients to be both a famous movie and an award-winner, but neither happened. It tells the true story of Rudy Ray Moore, a comedian who became famous for creating a character called Dolemite, a pimp, and who later attempted to make his own movie based on the same character. Murphy plays Rudy, but there are also other recognizable faces in supporting roles: Chris Rock, Wesley Snipes, Keegan-Michael Key, Snoop Dogg, and many others. It’s above all a funny movie, but being Eddie Murphy’s first R-rated movie since 1999, it’s also a realistic portrayal of both 1970s L.A. and the struggles of being a black filmmaker at the time.

In The Kid Detective, Adam Brody stars as Abe Applebaum, a once-beloved child prodigy turned pathetic P.I. stuck in the glory days of his past. At 32 years old, he’s still solving petty mysteries and coasting on his parents’ money, but things start to change when he is finally dealt with a real, adult case: a murder that confounds even the local police. As Abe uncovers more details about the case, he also unwittingly finds a connection to his traumatic past and begins a long-overdue coming-of-age journey. 

Released during the first year of the pandemic, The Kid Detective understandably flew under the radar when it first came out, garnering sufficient critical praise but not enough fanfare. It will no doubt find a second life among film lovers, though; it’s too smart and riveting to go unnoticed. Most impressive is how director Evan Morgan, in his feature debut, deftly balances multiple genres in a movie that often feels as if Wes Anderson’s The Royal Tenenbaums, Roman Polanski’s Chinatown, and modern stoner humor were somehow rolled into one. The gags consistently amuse, the drawn-out mysteries pay off, and the human element persists throughout. Adam Brody, himself a kid celebrity back in the day, expertly carries this delightful and sobering film. 

Welcome to the Dollhouse tells the story of Dawn, an unpopular seventh-grader mercilessly bullied at school and ignored at home. Her day-to-day is painful to watch; her classmates make fun of her, her teachers never believe her, and her parents punish her, blatantly favoring her other siblings over her. But all this she puts up with, as if going through the murky in-between stage that is adolescence isn’t confusing enough. Dawn finds no respite elsewhere, except perhaps in her friend Ralphy (another target of bullying) and her crush, the high schooler Steve.  

A Sundance jury winner back in ’96, Welcome to the Dollhouse is as darkly funny as it is grim. It takes on a deadpan approach in handling its more serious topics; it doesn’t make fun of them so much as it shines them in a new and blinding light. It’s difficult to look away from this frank and well-balanced film; a sure good watch for anyone curious to know what it’s really like to be a teenage loner.

Before “burnout,” “bullshit jobs,” and “quiet quitting” became part of our everyday lexicon, there was a film in the ‘90s that prophesied the rise of these workplace problems. Office Space follows three co-workers who, having had enough of their dreary low-paying jobs, fight back against their company via an embezzlement scheme. 

Office Space makes the most out of its indie budget as it mostly takes place in the cramped quarters of a company, effectively bottling us into the cubicled windowless world of the characters. But the real beauty of the film is in the details, from its quick zingers and thoughtful takes on the essence of work down to its elaborate “planning to plan” scheme in the background and the employees’ forced politeness singing happy birthday to their boss. Modern viewers will notice that Office Space sits right in between the dystopian thriller Severance and the beloved sitcom The Office—a dark comedy that highlights the necessity of humanity in everyday work. 

They Cloned Tyrone is a genre-bending gem. It combines Deep State conspiracy theories with sci-fi and social commentary, all while looking like a futuristic 1970s Blaxploitation film. It’s outrageous good fun and pleasing to look at (here is a film that knows how to properly light Black actors), but there are times when it feels too far fetched. The science can get wonky and its commentary on gentrification lacking, but all is forgiven when you have such a strong trio of leads. One of the smartest things They Cloned Tyrone does is pair Boyega with Teyonah Parris, who plays the call girl Yo-yo, and Jamie Foxx, who plays the pimp Slick Charles. They have a fun-loving no-nonsense chemistry about them that makes them easy to attach to and root for. They’re also just very funny, which might be expected of Foxx but it comes as a pleasant surprise for Parris, whose popular turns in Mad Men and WandaVision prove that she’s been severely underutilized as a comic.

Familiarity breeds contempt, and Swedish Netflix’s new horror-comedy takes this idea to the extreme. Based on the novel by Mats Strandberg, who’s known as the Swedish Stephen King, The Conference is centered around a group of employees on their company retreat. With its ensemble, the film crafts a relatable dynamic, with the exact petty back-and-forth and the same exact corporate politics many adults have to deal with. It’s no wonder one of them snaps, and takes them out one by one. The film isn’t exactly new, with the decades’ collection of slashers all over the world, but this Swedish thriller is a fun take on it, with match cut transitions, quick paced sequences, and the gruesome murders of the group most adults spend time with – their colleagues. It’s an interesting watch as the world gets back to the office.

With plenty of old men having extramarital affairs, taking advantage of younger women and leaving them forlorn in love, it can feel deceptively easy to take sides in the first forty minutes of He Loves Me… He Loves Me Not. Who wouldn’t side with Angélique, especially with the innocent, childlike face of Audrey Tautou? And yet, when the twist occurs, the film fills the gaps in totally unexpected ways, gradually escalating to a terrible and sad conclusion about this seemingly romantic girl. It’s hard to further talk about He Loves Me… He Loves Me Not without getting into spoiler territory, so if this is the first time you’ve heard of the movie, go and watch it without any context.

When the country rises in rebellion against your dictatorial rule, we imagine that could be quite difficult. After a series of failures and atrocities committed to keep power, no one in the world would empathize with the dictator in question. Doing exactly this, however, made for a striking movie in The President. Never naming an actual country, but based generally on real world revolutions, the film plucks a dictator and his grandson into the poverty that his regime has inflicted upon its people. It’s quite cathartic to see the two reap the karmic consequences of what the dictator has done, but it’s also thought-provoking, as the film straightforwardly demonstrates the way revolution eventually takes cyclical form, especially for the movements that allowed the very atrocities they sought to end. It’s not a film with an easy-to-match metaphor, though, given the production country and the director Mohsen Makhmalbaf’s home country, one could guess certain influences, but The President nonetheless is a striking portrait of a city violently changing hands.

Bad Boy Bubby is not an easy watch. Within the first ten minutes, the indie drama seemed to be one of those films created only to provoke the viewer, and not much else. We won’t deny that the intro is provocative– in fact, we’re warning you outright that it includes domestic violence, abuse towards the disabled main character that’s implied to have started since childhood, and the killing of a cat– but with such a harrowing introduction, Bubby being thrown into the wider world actually becomes something optimistic. His escape is written to be full of possibilities, the possibilities that we ordinary folk take for granted, but possibilities nonetheless. There’s nowhere to go but up, for him. Writer-director Rolf de Heer matches this unusual characterization with unusual style, with 30+ cinematographers shooting with different styles as Bubby learns from each person he meets, and with the binaural audio recorded to simulate what Bubby would actually hear. It makes for a very weird, experimental film, but Bad Boy Bubby also reveals to be a surprisingly hopeful drama that celebrates the goodness of ordinary life.

Going by the Book is quite absurd. Of course, most people would understand not to take an assignment like this too literally, so when this deadpan, fastidious cop does so, it brings this mere simulation into an unpredictable, fascinating situation. It’s so funny. The film leans into the humor by depicting the horrifying possibility before pulling the curtain to the silly actions he actually does. It’s a clever concept that pokes fun at his colleagues’ complacency, as it highlights the gap between the needs of a situation and how unprepared institutions are to meet it, as well as how rules are made and practiced. While not as fast-paced as the original, Going by the Book is a hilarious thriller comedy that’s so fun to watch.

Given current events, there’s no denying that the discussion around abortion rights can be a bit tense. That being said, this tension isn’t new. It’s been in debate for decades, which is why there aren’t many films that handle the topic. As such, Citizen Ruth is a rare film. It’s a rare film that possibly got released not because it makes the case for one or the other– but rather because the lead doesn’t even make a definite decision as to whether or not to push through with it. It’s a brilliant narrative choice as it drives home the way the discussion surrounding abortion has become so loud, both sides have actively interfered in what supposedly is a personal decision to make. The titular citizen might not be the perfect person, but Citizen Ruth perfectly satirizes how heavy that decision has become, and in many ways, how heavy that decision still remains to be.

In cinema’s fight against AI, we’ve seen sci-fi spectacles, action-packed stunts, and the belief in sheer humanity that helps us win the day. But perhaps it’s that optimism that has led us here. Perhaps that’s why Good Luck, Have Fun, Don’t Die chooses to depict a bleakier, kookier version of this battle. Still, despite the hopelessness of it all, director Gore Verbinski has a lot of fun dumping a time-travelling Sam Rockwell in a full LA diner taken unawares, pushing him on a chaotic mission with unpredictable steps and surprisingly moving moments along the way. Thanks for the warning! We hope that certain AI tech overlords would hear it.

Starting with Columbia Picture’s intro syncing into a rave, director Doug Liman’s sophomore feature Go instantly establishes its ecstatic energy– both in the hyper happy and drug-fuelled way– that made it a cult classic. All in one night, the dark crime comedy culminates in a wild Christmas Eve in three separate storylines: one with dissatisfied checkout girl Ronna, who needs fast cash, another with her drug dealer co-worker Simon going to Vegas, and the last with soap opera actors Adam and Zack, who want to get high while staying out of trouble. The cast is excellent, with witty quips and the twenty-something ennui of that generation, and each decision their characters make to feel good all turns Christmas Eve into a truly awful, yet terribly entertaining ride. While some of the humor is definitely dated, Go captures the insane chaotic energy just right before the new millennium.

Empirical truth is something that is observable, objective, and verifiable. However, without the ability to observe, one must find other means to obtain a set of observations– repeated, consistent answers to eventually parse out the reality. One must obtain proof. Proof is an Australian drama about a blind photographer named Martin, who uses his photos to get multiple viewpoints of what was present in that specific moment. Writer-director Jocelyn Moorhouse brilliantly uses that idea to craft a character that wields objectivity in order to protect himself and keep himself distant, as seen through the way he instantly trusts Andy due to his straightforward demeanor, and the way he attempts to drive away his housekeeper Celia to get her to see the worst of him, instead of the idealized, perhaps fetishized, image she creates of him. Proof challenges the photograph as a medium of truth, as well as the idea of complete honesty and trust in another person.

Sure, it takes a special type of crazy to try to make it in the movies, especially if you’ve been at it for ten years without any sort of premiere, but the strangely persistent four-man production of Why Don’t You Play in Hell? takes this to even crazier heights, involving a yakuza gang war and potentially their lives. Writer-director Sion Sono infuses his signature gore with much more playful comedy, slinging together chaotic action scenes through the pure power of cool, and the entire roster’s enthusiasm for cinema is just so infectious, it’s compelling to watch, even when the plotlines don’t fully mesh well. Why Don’t You Play in Hell? is such a fun tribute to gritty action filmmaking.

While terrible in nature, there’s always a curiosity towards serial killers, even if only in hope to identify and protect one’s self from a potential one. The Young Poisoner’s Handbook depicts one such killer named the Teacup Murderer, but while the usual serial killing tropes are present (e.g. the fascination towards death, the disregard for others, and the possible psychosis), the film is equal parts creepy and funny. It doesn’t really delight in the gore, with poison as his weapon, but it mostly takes pleasure in how captivated he is with his experiments– the meticulous method he recorded, the thought he placed into his endeavors, and the way he was able to escape detection, even from those who knew him. One should obviously not follow The Young Poisoner’s Handbook, but one can’t deny how Hugh O’Conor makes said poisoner a fascinating watch.

After accidentally hitting a homeless man with his car on the way to his mother’s wedding, Detective Ko Gun-su is certainly having A Hard Day. No one would blame him if he took the next day off and took some time for himself. However, he doesn’t do that. Instead, he reacts so differently, leading to a series of increasingly chaotic consequences. It makes for an unpredictable crime thriller, finding some humor in the way he continues to dig himself further into trouble, while cathartically letting karma play out with each morally dubious action. A Hard Day is so fun to watch.

A Canadian film with a title based off Cockney rhyming slang meaning “it’s all gone a bit wrong,” it’s All Gone Pete Tong is an offbeat and bleak comedy. Starring Paul Kaye as Frankie Wilde, a successful club DJ who begins to go deaf at the height of his fame. As news of his disability surfaces, he tries to record a new album, but is hampered by his drug habits and infighting. Quickly, the trappings of fame abandon him: the gigs in Ibiza, the money, the cocaine and his trophy wife. The film makes use of cameo interviews with famous DJs, and chugs along like a fantastic Behind the Music.