100 Best Movies on Fubo Right Now

Jules’ wacky premise — an extra-terrestrial crash-lands in eccentric widower Milton’s (Ben Kingsley) flowerbeds — is a bit of a misdirection. While the movie is technically a sci-fi (featuring, as it does, some very out-there alien engineering), it’s really a charming, mostly-human drama about the isolation and surreality of aging. 

Though the mute presence of the alien (nicknamed Jules and played brilliantly by a totally silent Jade Quon) is a constant reminder of the expansiveness of the universe and strange wonders yet to be discovered, the movie keeps its feet firmly on the ground with a sensitive exploration of just how small the worlds of lonely, dementia-struck Milton and two other isolated elderly townspeople (Jane Curtin and Harriet Sansom Harris) are. Rather than expand outwards into a story about the extra-terrestrial itself, Jules focuses on the painful disorientation felt by its lonely trio of protagonists, who all find therapeutic relief and connection by way of the alien and its “understanding eyes.” Though the movie’s zany forays into sci-fi territory do sometimes boggle the mind, they never undermine the genuine emotion in Jules’ raw grappling with the experience of aging, as well as give the movie a quirky charm that ensures you won’t see anything like this again soon — an increasingly rare experience in itself.

For a film made in the mid-90s, by a straight white man in his early 20s, Chasing Amy is startingly smart and sensitive, filled with more relatable moments than anyone would care to admit. Sure, by today’s standards, its exploration of sexuality is questionable at best and cringe-worthy at worst, but it’s also an honest depiction of how an era (and some people still) confront this reality. And for all the important issues it tries to address, like homophobia, racism, and toxic masculinity, it’s also at its core a confectionary romcom. If When Harry Met Sally asks, “Can women and men be friends?”, then Chasing Amy complicates it with a question of its own: “Can a lesbian and a guy who falls in love too quickly be friends?” You may or may not arrive at an answer by the film’s end, but you’ll find much to like in its earnestness and thoughtfulness.

Cheerfully outrageous yet heartwarmingly tender, the Adventures of Priscilla, Queen of the Desert was ahead of its time, daring to dive into drag and transexuality, when the rest of the world was still coming around to accepting homosexuality. On the bus which the title is named after, two drag queens and a trans woman have a road trip, that does have some difficult moments, when they drive through intolerant towns, but overall, becomes quite lovely, as the three forge a bond through drag, witty, sarcastic quips and sharing vulnerable moments. While all three leads are portrayed by cis men, and the role of Bob’s Filipino wife feels slightly stereotypical, overall, The Adventures of Priscilla is a grand ol’ time, a joyful film about finding family in a world where tolerance wasn’t a guarantee.

Charlie Chaplin has been called the most famous person of all time, soaring into global renown way before mass media and the internet made it all too easy, but only a few accounts have tried to paint a complete picture of the man behind the clipped mustache and bowler hat. This documentary by James Spinney and Peter Middleton comes very close, mainly because all sides of Chaplin’s complicated history are heard. The directors show grace to his stressed-out co-stars and groomed wives, especially poor Lita Chaplin, so we come out of the film learning how far from perfect Chaplin was. That’s what sets this documentary apart from all the Chaplin biographies out there: it strikes a very fine balance between celebrating the objective breakthroughs the actor has accomplished and criticizing the consequences of his less-than-ethical actions. This is a real person after all, not some beloved caricature. It helps that the animation and script are utterly delightful, and that narrator Pearl Mackie has the soothing and graceful voice of a patient educator.

Based on the 1976 novel of the same name, Ordinary People is an emotionally wrought film about a family on the brink of collapse. Upon the tragic death of eldest son Buck, the youngest and now only son Conrad (Hutton) reluctantly enters psychiatric care while his mother, Beth (Mary Tyler Moore), tries to force things back to the way they were with overwhelming positivity. Keeping things together as best he can is the father Calvin (Donald Sutherland), who is battling demons of his own. Before films like Good Will Hunting and shows like 13 Reasons Why made tropes like “caring therapist” and “angsty teen” into the cliches they are now, it was films like Ordinary People that broke barriers and dared to put up a mirror to our stark realities. Things like grief and depression, as well as strained parenthood and unhappy families, were taboo back day in the day, so it was somewhat of a miracle that Ordinary People didn’t just talk about them openly, but started a discourse surrounding them that continues to this day.

Based on the real-life experience of director Elegance Bratton, who was himself a Black gay marine soldier during the “don’t ask, don’t tell” period in the US, The Inspection documents the behind-the-scenes cruelty that goes on in training the armed forces. Specifically, it inspects how institutions like the marines are hardwired to promote a certain kind of masculinity and how people like Bratton, perennially in the margins, respond, react, and fight back. 

It’s moving and artful but also lighthearted and humorous, finding light even in the darkest corners. It’s self-contradictory that way, but the film is all the better and nuanced for it. Gabriel Union’s performance is also worth noting here; in a career-defining turn, she transforms into a character at once so hateful and loving, you’ll be hard-pressed not to give her your full attention onscreen.

One woman’s main character syndrome reaches shocking lows in this vicious Norwegian satire of social-media-era narcissists. Signe (Kristine Kujath Thorp) and her artist boyfriend Thomas (Eirik Sæther) are a deeply toxic couple who torture everyone around them with their constant, petty one-upmanship. When he lands a flashy magazine spread, though, Signe’s usual tactics for slyly redirecting attention her way don’t cut it anymore, and so this compulsive liar takes drastic action and begins overdosing on pills banned for their serious dermatological side effects.

Signe’s Munchausen-esque actions have their desired effect: the physically dramatic results instantly make her the center of attention — but not indefinitely. As she craves increasingly bigger spotlights, the film toggles between reality and scenes from her imagination, including a morbid sexual fantasy in which her funeral proves so popular the priest becomes a bouncer, turning away sobbing mourners whom Signe noticed hadn’t visited her in hospital. The rampant narcissism on display here is at turns hilarious and excruciating: Sick of Myself’s sharp social observation skills make it feel, in places, like a movie by cringe-master Ruben Östlund. That stomach-turning effect carries through to the ending, which darkly suggests that, for someone like Signe, even narcissism itself is a condition that can be weaponized for attention.

Theeb is set in the Hejaz (now part of Saudi Arabia) on the eve of the Great Arab Revolt against the Ottoman Empire in 1916 — but you don’t need to be clued up on its historical backdrop, because its protagonist isn’t. Jacir Eid plays the titular adolescent (the name meaning “wolf”), the youngest son of a now-dead Bedouin leader. When his older brother Hussein (Hussein Al-Sweilhiyeen) is called upon to help guide a suspiciously tense British soldier (Jack Fox) to a well, Theeb disobeys an order to stay put and follows them into the unforgiving desert. Then, tragedy strikes in the middle of nowhere, throwing him into an uneasy alliance with an enemy, without whom he won’t survive the treacherous journey home.

Era-ending political machinations are unfolding all around him, but Theeb lends the film his childlike perspective so that it plays out more like the coming-of-age story of a young cub than a Lawrence of Arabia-style epic. Even as it boldly subverts that classic, though, Theeb’s cinematography mirrors the haunting, hostile beauty of David Lean’s film — making the desert feel as much a character as the boy. Deftly balancing a sense of earth-shattering personal stakes with one of looming historical portent, Theeb earned a well-deserved nomination at the 2016 Oscars.

British director Adrian Lyne (9 1/2 Weeks) is famous for his uncompromising treatment of seedy eroticism and charged stories. Fatal Attraction is a staple of the erotic thriller genre and with good reason, it’s steamy and very 1980s in the best possible way. Like a good vintage, it has the whiff of old times, but with the pleasure of a spectacle that belongs to the past. That’s the lens through which you can view the story of a deranged mistress who won’t stop at anything to ruin your life and marriage, and still savour some sanity in the 21st century. Seen from a slightly removed perspective, the film becomes a stylized variation on conservative AIDS panic and a provocation to conservative heteronormativity. It has to be said that not all of the film has aged well, especially the gender politics at play. But if you can soothe yourself with a revisionist reading, it pairs well with Paul Verhoeven’s Basic Instinct: the things Michael Douglas’s characters do for (extramarital) thrills…

Organized crime and drug dealing has been a topic of many a film, sometimes even glamorizing the whole endeavor, but rarely do these depictions acknowledge the weight it can do to a culture, particularly indigenous cultures. Birds of Passage is a film about drug dealers, but it’s a much more distinct take, tackling Colombia’s reputation for the drug trade through the lens of an indigenous group that hasn’t been totally colonized, that still keeps its language, rituals, and legends, but is still pushed to the brink due to far more lucrative reasons. It does take fairly familiar plot points, but Birds of Passages transforms the narco crime drama with a different direction.