100 Best Foreign Comedies of All Time

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.

One of Studio Ghibli’s overlooked gems, My Neighbors the Yamadas is a charming anthology film about a modern-day Japanese family. The film sets itself apart from other Ghibli films through its unique doodle-like watercolor animation and its short piano themes. While the vignettes may just depict regular family conflicts, the scenes still feel compelling due to the Yamadas’ imagination of the metaphors that they use. Exaggerating the metaphors keeps the audience breathless in certain strategic moments – most notably in the wedding day speech of the mother of the bride. While not as fantastical as Ghibli’s other offerings, the completely digital My Neighbors the Yamadas finds humor in and celebrates the mundane.

Aggressive, grungy, and rebellious, writer-director Fruit Chan’s debut film captures teen nihilism amidst abandonment in uncertain times. Immediately, the first look of this film is reminiscent of Wong Kar Wai with its use of character narration, hazy green scenes, and over-exposed film. However, Chan pairs these aesthetic techniques with the storyline of a revenge film mixed with an us-against-the-world mentality. While the protagonists Autumn Moon (Sam Lee), Ping (Neiky Yim Hui-Chi), and Sylvester (Wenders Li) start the film with teenage concerns like dealing with wet dreams, dating, and bullying, it’s clear that they go through them aimlessly, without the guidance of their fathers, almost as if with no hope at all due to their specific circumstances. In Chan’s hands, how every kid reacts to each change feels like an outburst against the adults in their life, and of the life outside of the film. It’s as if the words “fuck you” were made into a movie.

Fast and funny with surprisingly tender moments in between, Mixed by Erry doubles as a fascinating period piece and a heartfelt family comedy. On a larger scale, it tracks the rise of musical piracy, which Erry and his brothers accidentally stumble onto with their cassette-copying business, Mixed by Erry. But what starts out as an innovative trade fueled by Erry’s love for music—Erry himself is like a Spotify algorithm come to life, instantly creating mix tapes for people based on what they like—soon transforms into a legal threat that catches the ire of record labels and finance regulators alike. It sounds thrilling and complicated, but the film’s lofty premise is grounded by the relatable dreams Erry and his brothers share. They genuinely believe they’re doing nothing wrong by distributing music and boosting the local economy, and as naive and misguided as that may be, there’s something heartwarming about their intentions. The film itself doesn’t take sides. Instead, it acknowledges the situation for what it is—a landmark case in musical history ripe with educational and entertaining moments.  

Unlike in other films that only seem to evoke a previous era to make a target demographic feel warm and fuzzy inside, there’s something vaguely artificial about Death of Nintendo’s air of nostalgia—which is exactly what helps it tell its story. There isn’t anything particularly novel about this movie’s plot or characters, but Raya Martin’s direction has us consider various themes between all the stuff you’d expect to see in a young adult movie. In moments of quiet unease that seem to punctuate every other sequence, we’re drawn towards the absence of father figures, the inability of the women to get through to their sons (already embedded in patriarchal customs), and the idea that one’s childhood in a Catholic country seems to be marked by physical pain. Beyond the film’s feathery lighting and colorful production design, there’s a surprising amount to think about.

While produced by Wong Kar Wai, Chinese Odyssey 2002 isn’t a moody, melancholy drama that we’re used to. Instead, the Ming Dynasty-set adventure directed by Jeffrey Lau comically spoofs plenty of the beloved genres that captivated Chinese audiences– wuxia epics, musical dramas, and historical romances. The ludicrous crossdressing plot is played in such an over-the-top way, with Lau visually delivering his jabs, with a narrator providing droll commentary on the events, and with intercuts of faux interviews and excerpts from everyone, even including the disgruntled innkeeper spying on the crossdressing princess and the confused restaurant owner. It’s actually quite impressive how the ridiculous plot leads to such a wholesome, moving conclusion.

We’ve seen anthology films with three, four, sometimes even five parts, but Songs from the Second Floor comprises forty six separate vignettes, quickly shifting in and out without any connecting thread inbetween, except for the dull gray color palette. Yet, even as the film abruptly transitions between vignettes, from tanning beds, construction sites, cars, trains, or buildings, writer-director Roy Andersson crafts meticulously framed breakdowns of modern day living, some of which works based on individual experiences, but all coming together as several miniature portraits of how absurd and depressing our lives have become. Songs from the Second Floor is a bold way to return after a twenty five year hiatus.

Modern day coming-of-age ennui isn’t a new subject at all, but there’s a charm to the way this was presented in Güeros. In his first film, Alonso Ruizpalacios beautifully shoots each scene in black and white, forming striking images of what the capital used to be and taking new approaches in depicting certain scenes (for example, that panic attack with the POV shot covered in feathers!). The cast also excellently portray this millennial emotion well, with their eyes glazed over as they try to seek moments of connection and grounding, as they try to make sense of it all. While some of the politics might fly under the radar to people outside the country, Güeros nevertheless serves as an interesting portrait of the time, as well as an interesting debut for one of Mexico’s avant-garde filmmakers.

When vampires choose not to kill a human, it’s usually played up with so much drama, angst, and maybe a bit of romance. Humanist Vampire Seeking Consenting Suicidal Person on the other hand takes this choice as a comedic one. It may be a tad ludicrous for a vampire to refuse to drink blood on ethical grounds and trauma, but writer-director Ariane Louis-Seize takes this silly situation with a compelling sweetness, depicting Sasha with a familiar teen uncertainty made much more captivating with Sara Montpetit’s gothic ingénue charisma. Humanist Vampire does take a more quirky YA romance approach than expected from the title, but it’s funny, charming, and totally something new.

Given the subject matter of Charles Perrault’s Donkeyskin, it’s not surprising that Disney didn’t adapt this one. It’s not just that it’s too similar to Cinderella, with a donkey instead of a goose that lays gold, it’s also most probably because of the strange incestuous wedding proposal presented at the start. Yikes. But filmmaker Jacques Demy proves that no tale can be truly unadaptable, and the best way to adapt such a weird fairytale is by going even weirder, albeit in the most grandiose and colorful way possible. So yes, this means helicopters, plastic, and unusual sets and costumes that could only exist in the modern era, but with Demy’s colorful style, his muse in musicals Catherine Deneuve, Michel Legrand’s fantastic music, and the surreal understanding how beauty has been the true cash cow (or rather cash donkey) of both the monarchy and film, Donkey Skin is a fanciful, fantastic fairytale film for the adults to enjoy.