The 100 Best Indie Movies of All-Time

Heart Attack is a romantic comedy, but instead of the hijinks being caused by the usual dating, miscommunication, and wooing, Yoon’s struggle here is to finally get a hold of his overbearing schedule and figure out how to relax and recover from burnout, and it’s all inspired by wanting to impress his doctor Imm. It’s funny, but it’s also all too real. Writer-director Nawapol Thamrongrattanarit recreates the overwhelming frenzy to complete a job through a magnificent jazz soundscape and Sunny Suwanmethanon’s internalized monologue, and it’s such an effective cinematic translation that the moments of rest, the moments where Yoon and Imm finally take a break feels like a relief. Heart Attack works precisely because it empathizes and understands the experience of workers in today’s gig economy.

Good parents, of course, try to push their children to better outcomes, but abusive parents, under the guise of this idea, turn this into restrictive control, where failure is irredeemable, expectations become orders, and the said child is blamed for everything that goes wrong. Udaan depicts this fraught father-son relationship realistically. It’s a tough watch because of how realistic the abuse was portrayed, but the film soars with the way it doesn’t paint Rohan only as a victim, but rather as a boy able to find his way through empathy and kindness despite the terrible way his father treats him. There’s a sense of genuine hope Udaan has that many other films forget, and it’s an important perspective we should try to remember.

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.

Ever wondered how much your life will change when faced with the reality that death is about to come? That’s normal, and not nearly as life-altering as being told you only have a few more moments to live. Because of a terminal illness, Uxbal (Javier Bardem) is driven to this situation and tries to right his wrongs in the wake of modern Barcelona. This melodrama is supercharged by Bardem’s unearthly performance as the story’s only hero, demonstrating the selfless love of a destroyed and dying father to his children – paired with cinematography unlike any other, this film is exceptionally beautiful. Directed by González Iñárritu’ (Babel, Birdman, The Revenant).

Director Wong Kar-Wai made this loose sequel to one of the best films ever made, his 2000 classic In the Mood for Love. Much of the story is set around Christmas eve.

In the far future, people take a train to the world of 2046, where no sadness or sorrow can be experienced. No one has ever returned from that world except for a lonely Japanese writer, who narrates the first part of the film.

There are four acts to the story and as is common to Wong Kar-Wai, they are listed in non-chronological order. Not that you will care but 2046 is far from confusing. Instead, it functions as a dazzling visual poem on unreciprocated love.

The story that Whale Rider tells is a familiar one: that of a young girl challenging the expectations of a patriarchal community in order to claim her rightful place in a position of authority. But this isn’t a superficial girl-power movie; writer/director Niki Caro maintains the utmost reverence for this Māori community, even if its customs might not appear fair to an outsider’s point of view. It’s a film full of realistically flawed people, whose struggles are all borne from a common love for their culture in their little corner of the world. What could have been generic and simplistic is made beautiful—especially thanks to a truly moving performance from Keisha Castle-Hughes, who at the time became the youngest nominee for the Best Actress Oscar.

Vague statement alert: Burning is not a movie that you “get”; it’s a movie you experience.

Based on a short story by Murakami, it’s dark and bleak in a way that comes out more in the atmosphere of the movie rather than what happens in the story.

Working in the capital Seoul, a young guy from a poor town near the North Korean border runs into a girl from his village. As he starts falling for her, she makes an unlikely acquaintance with one of Seoul’s wealthy youth (played by Korean-American actor Steven Yeun, pictured above.)

This new character is mysterious in a way that’s all-too-common in South Korea: young people who have access to money no one knows where it came from, and who are difficult to predict or go against.

Two worlds clash, poor and rich, in a movie that’s really three movies combined into one – a character-study, a romance, and a revenge thriller.

An instant classic, Beast of No Nation is a unique and uniquely-paced war drama which ranges in patterns from explosive visual storytelling to calm character studies. A child joins a rebel group consisting almost entirely of children and led by a charismatic leader credited as Commandant. As you get to witness the conflict through the child’s eyes, his own development and his commander’s, the film unfolds as an exploration of the never ending state of war in Africa. It takes you to varying conclusions, most of which you will have trouble admitting you’ve reached. As Commandant, Idris Elba is transfixing, and the whole cast of almost entirely non-actors, as well as the deeply authentic staging by True Detective and Sin Nombre director Cary Fukunaga, are enthralling.

Many films have tackled the violence of racism in the South, but none are as rich and restrained as Mudbound. The epic follows two families, the white McAllans and the black Jacksons, as they live side by side on the same parcel of land in 1940s Mississippi. The McAllans own it while the Jackons till it as sharecroppers, but the film’s story isn’t as straightforward as it sounds. The matriarchs of both families (played by Carey Mulligan and a revelatory Mary J. Blige) form a bond borne out of grief and love, the kind exclusive to mothers, while the patriarchs display different kinds of toughness. Landowner Henry McAllan (Jason Clarke) is forcibly tough while farmer and pastor Hap Jackson (Rob Morgan) is resilently tough. Then there are the younger members of the family, Jamie (Garrett Hedlund) and Ronsel (Jason Mitchell), WWII survivors who are traumatized beyond repair. Both bond over the backwardness of their town, having come from a world that tore itself apart and built itself back from scratch. Mississippi, meanwhile, was frozen time. Like mud, the film sinks you in with its weighty themes, but director Dee Rees displays incredible restraint. It’s dramatic, but never overbearingly so. It’s clear-eyed but never too obvious. Most of all it’s rich—with meaning, beauty, pain, and relevance, sadly enough. It may be a period film, but it will ring true today as it rang true in 2017, when it was first released.

Boy is the highest-grossing New Zealand film of all time, and a masterpiece of compassion and good humor. Set in New Zealand’s rural East Coast in 1984, the film’s protagonist, Boy, imagines a world outside, dreaming of meeting Michael Jackson and having adventures. These fantasies serve to distract him from the sad circumstances of his life, living with his grandmother while his father serves out a prison sentence. However, adventure comes to Boy suddenly when his ex-convict father returns to find a long hidden bag of money. Written, directed, and starring Taika Waitit and featuring the new comer James Rolleston as Boy, it’s a hilarious and heartwarming tale.