100 Best Foreign Comedies of All Time

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.

C.R.A.Z.Y. is crazy good, so to speak. A portrait of a French-Canadian family in 70’s Quebec that will knock your socks right off, it’s the story of a boy struggling with his identity and his relationship with his father. Featuring a killer soundtrack (including but not limited to Bowie, Pink Floyd, Rolling Stones), it received Best Canadian Film in 2005 at Toronto International Film Festival. There are many things I would like to say about C.R.A.Z.Y. but I fear it’s one of those films you enjoy best when you go into them not knowing much.

Dear Ex is a family drama that explores LGBT+ issues in contemporary Taiwan. As much as it is a movie about how people cope with loss, it’s a powerful, heartwarming, and intimate portrait of the relationship between Jay and Song Zhengyuan and all the obstacles they face.

While the themes of Dear Ex are heavy, the director makes the viewing experience easier for the audience thanks to humorous and witty dialogue. Meanwhile, the history between Jay and Song Zhengyuan’s relationship unfolds in a very beautiful, almost poetic way, and by the end of the movie, we understand that everyone gets their own kind of forgiveness. The way the characters effortlessly show that love is something beyond genders is admirable, and it is great to see how everyone gets their own kind of forgiveness whether it’s from themselves or from others by the end of the movie.

Friday Night Plan resembles many a classic teen film (most notably, Ferris Bueller’s Day Off and Booksmart), but it also doubles as a thoughtful inquiry into the delicate bond between siblings who could not be more different from one another. Sid and his younger brother Adi (Amrith Jayan) have different ideas of what matters most in life, ideas that get tested when their mother’s car gets towed away during their night of fun. Sid thinks it’s only right to come clean and retrieve the car no matter what, but Adi believes this can all wait until tomorrow morning: tonight is Sid’s night to celebrate and finally connect with peers he’s shut off all his life. This tension comes as a surprise in what otherwise looks like an ordinary teen movie, but it’s also a welcome addition that helps Friday Night Plan stand out from the rest. 

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.

While the market for animation is mostly dominated by American 3D and Japanese anime, once in a while, a film outside the two industries comes up with an entirely new style of its own, with the design inspired by their respective countries. European animation has garnered some interest with Loving Vincent, but Chicken with Linda! takes it further, taking a more vibrant than impressionistic approach to its art. Somewhat like a neon-colored Fauvist Madeline, the film proceeds with a series of hijinks that wouldn’t be out of place in a children’s storybook, but it charmingly captures the mother-daughter relationship healed through the power of homemade food. It’s sweet and chaotic, much like childhood and the art movement that inspired the film, and it’s undeniably human. Chicken with Linda! is an unexpected delight for both kids and adults.

No one likes to be replaced. Even when it gets difficult, hardwork and years put in effort to take and keep these roles makes it feel precious, and that’s exactly how househelp Raquel feels in The Maid. It’s a funny domestic comedy, with a scowling Catalina Saavedra ready to protect the role she’s held onto for years, but Saavedra and writer-director Sebastián Silva crafts an empathetic, realistic character study of a woman so worn down from poverty, power imbalance, and having had no breaks that the rare instance of compassion feels like a threat. La Nana doesn’t quite critique the entire system that keeps Raquel in her role, but it’s a rare film that acknowledges the importance of rest and empathy in order to feel human.

Martial arts is awesome, comedy is awesome, but the idea of putting them together wasn’t really explored until the late 1970s, when a young Jackie Chan made his breakthrough. One of the films he starred in was The Drunken Master, where Chan’s mischievous character goes under the tutelege of the titular teacher to fight against his father’s assassin. It’s a funny film, one that presents a different, more playful side to a real-life master, but the hilarious, perfectly choreographed fights eventually formed the foundation for Chan’s action-packed slapstick style, and even moved the entire martial arts genre into a new direction. The Drunken Master hinted at the cinema that was to come.

There’s an experimental bent to To Sleep So As To Dream that might puzzle viewers, especially for a film made in the 1980s. Not only is the film made in black and white, but the protagonist detectives speak through 1920s silent film intertitles, while they solve a series of puzzles from a Riddler-like kidnapper, diving deep into a case that wouldn’t be out of place in 1950s noir. It’s a strange direction, but as the investigation progresses, and the detectives experience eerily similar encounters, the novel approach unfolds into a touching, spellbinding meditation of art, grief, and reality. It’s what makes this film a stunning vision to behold.

After the sudden death of a teacher, 55-year-old Algerian immigrant Bachir Lazhar is hired at an elementary school in Montreal. Struggling with a cultural gap between himself and his students at first, he helps them to deal with the situation, revealing his own tragic past. A strong portrait without any weird sentimentality. 11-year-old actress Sophie Nélisse makes her brilliant debut.