50 Best Foreign Movies on Roku TV Right Now

Electric Shadows is often deemed something like a Chinese Cinema Paradiso. It has the friendship with an older film projectionist, the small town gathering around outdoor screenings of foreign film, a childhood friendship between a boy and girl that meet again unexpectedly, and of course, it wears its heart for the movies right on its sleeve. It doesn’t quite compare to the Italian classic, and there are some moments when the film slightly drags, but Electric Shadows does capture the feeling of awe that you get when you watch your first movie, whether that be when you’re a kid taking your first steps in the world, or when you’re an adult hoping for something more despite the life allowed to you.

When a film adaptation takes the story of a beloved Japanese children’s novel, and depicts the characters travelling to heaven as cats, it kinda seems like a random addition. Yet, this decision makes sense for Night on the Galactic Railroad, because while the magic and the dreaminess of the trip to the stars still remains intact, the cats keep a bit of the mystery in a visual manner and keep the touch of whimsy as the train ride leads into darker and heavier turns. The visual poetry and the thoughtful way the film contemplates the novel Kenji Miyazawa wrote in grief makes Night on the Galactic Railroad one to remember.

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.

Prior to being defined by that fateful bombing in 1945, Hiroshima was like any other city outside of Tokyo; small but full, quiet but busy, and in the midst of a slow-but-sure journey to modernization. We experience the rich and intimate details of this life through the kind-hearted Suzu, who herself is stuck between the throes of old and new. She is an ambitious artist but also a dedicated wife; a war-wearied survivor and a hopeful cheerleader.

Set before, during, and after the Second World War, the film starts off charmingly mundane at first, but it quickly gives way to inevitable grief in the second half. One stark tragedy follows another as it becomes increasingly clear how much we lose our humanity in war.

In This Corner of the World is the rare film outside of the Hayao Miyazaki canon that captures the latter’s heart for detail while still being graciously its own.

The Two of Us could have been a sweet romantic drama all about lifelong devotion regardless of the circumstances, but instead, first time director Filippo Meneghetti makes it feel more like an unsettling thriller that captures the paranoia and near insanity it feels to be closeted– with Nina having to beg Mado to tell her family, having to hide in what has become her own home, and having to bargain and manipulate her way to Madeleine’s side. Two of Us is quite a stunning debut with such a unique depiction of a lesbian relationship.

Where The Secret Garden championed the restorative powers of tending to a garden as well as one’s thoughts, Swiss novel Heidi touched on similar themes a few decades before, celebrating instead the natural beauty of the Alps mountainside, and the titular character bringing back joy and hope to her family. The film remains faithful to the novel, playing out the book’s events with a more sleek look and even more stunning landscapes of the Swiss Alps. While previous generations would inevitably compare the version of their time to this latest version, 2015’s Heidi is a decent adaptation, recreating the classic tale for today’s kids.

Films about drug dealing aren’t particularly new, but the way Pusher delves into their lives feels different– more realistic than glamorous, somewhat like a guerrilla documentary, with the handheld camera as a silent, unnamed witness. As the camera follows low-level dealer Frank through the course of a week, Kim Bodnia skillfully garners empathy with the way he holds himself through the pressure, and does the opposite when he does the same wrongs that were done to him. The story itself may be simple, but writer-director Nicolas Winding Refn made his mark through this debut, inadvertently creating a franchise and influencing Danish cinema.

The subject of the Catholic Pieta– the Virgin Mary cradling the corpse of Jesus– has captivated plenty of artists, most famously in the sculpture by Michelangelo in St. Peter’s Basilica. This time, however, director Kim Ki-duk twists the image into modern day Seoul, with a mourning mother and a loan shark in place of their more innocent inspirations. Though with more dialogue than his other works, Kim delves into this crime thriller with his signature slow burn, crafting an intense, emotional healing for the gruff, violent Lee Kang-do, while his past deeds come to catch up with him, and while he reckons with the way money has replaced all what makes life meaningful. While the (thankfully, pseudo-) incest may be hard to stomach, Pieta is nonetheless a haunting, compelling portrayal of revenge. Just don’t watch this with your mom, though.

Not to be confused with a similarly titled Japanese film, Memoir of a Murderer is an intense mindbender of a thriller. Like a cross between Memento (2000) and Seven (1995), the film follows a serial killer with Alzheimer’s, who starts to question his memory when a series of killings occur in the small town he lives in. The non-linear narrative helps recreate the sense of disorientation and confusion the lead experiences, racketing up the suspense, and pushing the audience to keep guessing each time the film goes through each of its twists and turns. This unique storytelling was why it’s one of the many films that popularized South Korean thrillers, becoming the first film in the country to get two million tickets sold.