20 Best Movies on Hoopla Right Now

Hallmark movies aren’t automatically bad if they’re cheesy and on the cheaper side; there are ways to make these characteristics work, of course. But these qualities definitely don’t help if the story they’re telling is uninteresting and if the actors in front of the camera couldn’t be compelled to deliver convincing emotions if their lives depended on it. Watching Gilded Newport Mysteries: Murder at the Breakers kind of feels like watching people rehearse a family-produced parody of an Agatha Christie novel, or like visiting Westworld and seeing the robots play-act a fictional scenario. Every line over-explains everything that happens on screen, and the mystery elements just aren’t coherent enough for them to lead to a satisfying conclusion or interesting statement about the characters and their world.

It’s admirable how A Taste of Love keeps to the gentle pace of a slice-of-life story instead of blowing things up with unnecessary drama, but it’s ultimately just too thinly drawn for any of its moments to become charming in their simplicity. There’s nothing particularly wrong with any of its plot threads—emotionally they’re all pretty level-headed and easy to understand—they just don’t seem to coexist for any reason, or within any larger framework. As a result, spending time with this film doesn’t just feel like hanging out with total strangers, but hanging out with people who are strangers to each other as well.

The opening titles of this French procedural drama explicitly tell us that the crime it chronicles will go unsolved, confessing that it’s about one of the approximately 160 murder cases that police don’t crack each year. An ambitious and intriguing opener — suggesting that, in the absence of a clean resolution, the film will nonetheless offer us something equally compelling, as Zodiac does. 

In following the investigation of the brutal murder of 21-year-old Clara (Lula Cotton-Frapier) — for which the police interrogate various of her exes, all misogynistic potential murderers in their own ways — the film seeks to explore the society-wide “problem between men and women” that has given the police its surplus of suspects. Alas, it’s much more interested in the psychological impact cold cases have on policemen like frustrated captain Yohan (Bastien Bouillon). There’s something deeply ironic about making a movie about the systemic dehumanization of women just to center male perspectives, especially when their only insight into the epidemic of toxic masculinity is Yohan’s clunky “We can’t find the murderer because all men killed Clara.” The film’s treatment of the victim herself — incurious and downright gratuitous in the depiction of her murder — cements it as a shallow, un-self-aware, and failed attempt to reckon with a subject that deserved its full focus.

The suggestion that life gets better if only you stand up for yourself is a helpful one. After all, self-confidence is something young kids could use a lot more of. But it’s also not true, and for Sid to instantly get his dream life once he starts applying himself just doesn’t ring true. Things unfold a little too smoothly and conveniently in this movie, making it less of an actual coming-of-age journey (which is complicated and messy) and more of a young boy’s simpleminded fantasy (that is, idealistic and egotistic). I just don’t buy that Sid, a kid who has been shy and avoidant all his life, gains all the wisdom, courage, and charisma of a hero overnight. And it certainly doesn’t help that everyone in his high school looks like they’ve long graduated from college. Ultimately, Sid is Dead lacks the authenticity to stand out from the wealth of excellent teen dramas we’ve been spoiled with in recent years. 

Girl in the Closet is a low-budget TV movie that gives us a peek into the lives of trafficked children, but nothing more beyond that. There is no compelling story or drama; no suspense as to how the children might possibly escape, or rousing speeches about how the system failed these kids. Instead of a real plot, the movie strings together one shocking abuse after the other and constantly jumps forward in time (one year later, five years later, nine months after) in an attempt to rush towards its predictable ending. It would’ve been thoroughly unwatchable if it weren’t for some dedicated performances, namely by Peters and Roman, who give much more than what the flimsy script and loose editing deserve. 

There is a version of Moon Students that solely focuses on the students of color themselves, victims of racial profiling and injustice, instead of their white teacher and his overbearing white guilt. That would’ve been a slightly better movie to watch, but even then, Moon Students seems broken beyond repair. The film is riddled with technical blunders. The timeframe is confusing, the pacing is off, and the dialogue is unrealistic (and unintentionally funny, because what young person actually says, with full sincerity, “You know what time is it? Party time!”). The actors deserve credit for breathing a bit of life into a limp script, and the cinematography can be nice at times—fuzzy and hazy like an LA dream. But the film’s misguided sense of justice ultimately brings it down.

There’s a powerful drama in here somewhere, where the toll of wrongful imprisonment tests the resolve of an Armenian repatriate, as he clings to traces of hope that he can see just beyond his prison cell window. Unfortunately, Amerikatsi constantly overstates itself through corny jokes and music choices, and it overestimates how compelling its mostly single-location narrative can be. This is a film that, for all its good intentions, relies far too heavily on fish-out-of-water quaintness and Rear Window-esque storytelling from a distance—downplaying the emotional and psychological toll of imprisonment and the violence inflicted upon other Armenians during this time. Amerikatsi doesn’t really tell us much about the situation in the country at the time; it only ever tries too hard to make us feel something.

You can tell that Blaze director Del Kathryn Barton is an award-winning visual artist first and foremost. The images that she puts together in this film are frequently stunning—making use of the camera in fascinating, freeing ways, and with lots of practical and computer-generated/animated effects that paint her young protagonist Blaze’s world in glitter and feathers and lush colors. The imaginary dragon, which acts as a shorthand to symbolize Blaze’s complex psychological response to her trauma, is a wonderfully tactile life-size puppet that lead actress Julia Savage responds to in an entirely convincing way.

But you can also tell that this is Barton’s debut feature. Ultimately her visuals don’t do enough to shake off or give meaning to the graphic scene of rape and murder that occurs at the beginning of the film. And the way she structures the movie threatens to make it feel like a series of music videos or video art pieces. Despite its originality and the level of commitment displayed by both Savage and Simon Baker, Blaze has difficulty communicating a coherent message about trauma—the film strung together by heavy-handed scenes that spell out various ideas and lead to the most obvious conclusions.

Fairytale parodies reimagine these classic tales to reexamine or question its related themes. Once Upon a Crime attempts to do this by imagining Little Red Riding Hood as a detective investigating the murder of a hairdresser in Cinderella’s ball. The campy glamor of the costumes and sets, as well as the incongruence of Little Red’s detective mindset, makes the film watchable. However, the film takes strange twists that stray too far from the original stories. And while the cut locks make an intriguing metaphor, the resulting ending betrays any sense of justice for the characters, most especially the abused Cinderella.

First shown in 2021 Madrid International Film Festival, Support Group Olympus made its US debut early 2023 through Prime Video. Given the wacky premise, it was easy to assume that the film would be humorous, and there are moments when its dry humor shines. However, the film takes a more contemplative approach, as the unchanging gods refuse to change, though they crave the status and power they used to have. This slow-paced approach feels appropriate, and had the film’s internal logic worked, the film could have contemplated the changes that happened not just to the gods, but to human livelihood as well. It’s definitely a unique story that needed more work on its execution.

With inconsistent pacing and a deeply unpleasant protagonist, it’s hard to recommend The Seeding to every viewer. It’s really slow-paced, deeply uncomfortable, and it starts with, of all things, a baby eating a finger. But there’s an interesting style to this arthouse horror, a marriage of desert survival thriller and folk horror that restricts all possible modes of escape through its claustrophobic canyon. As Wyndham gradually discovers a secret community driven back to primitive instincts, director Barnaby Clay inverts the idea of what it means to be one’s fundamental self. Most viewers might not appreciate the story, and the ideas aren’t as cohesive as it could be, but horror fans looking for something new in the genre might find The Seeding fairly interesting.

In a time where the Metaverse feels more and more a looming presence, hoping to crown our complex realities with its utopian promise, it’s only natural to expect a film set precisely there. Director L.E. Staiman took a chance with Love Virtually, but his attempt to make a zany, absurdist rom-com (riffing off the title of your aunt’s annual Christmas rewatch) simply fails. The premise sees a few couples on the brink of breaking up reconnect with the help of VR headsets, challenging each other’s commitment, or cheating with each other (without knowing it of course). A rather funny gambit gets sucked into a vortex of dullness when the characters speak, their dialogues irksome to the point of second-hand embarrassment. Instead of exploring the possibilities of VR relations through an ironic lens, the film seems to not even care enough to look for the genuine comedic potential of the Metaverse as a concept-turned-space. Even the three separate references to Timothée Chalamet don’t make a difference to how surprisingly retrograde and somehow banal all of this feels.

With a boring wedding, attended by a guarded woman and a spontaneous man, starting a series of shared recollections of past heartbreak, Which Brings Me to You has all the elements needed for an early aughts romcom, releasing at a time when Y2K is trending. The original novel’s epistolary format is interestingly translated into flashbacks told in one whole day, with Will and Jane visually popping within the sequences as the two get to know each other through their past heartbreaks. It’s a unique idea, but the execution feels lackluster, with the dialogue and direction that can’t be saved through Lucy Hale’s or Nat Wolff’s efforts. There’s certainly something here about romance being a possible avenue to open up, but Which Brings Me to You doesn’t build the chemistry to get there.

It is one of those movies in which you cannot separate fun from sincerity and poetry from pain. 100 Girls is a good teen movie, and those are becoming very rare. The beauty and diversity of the other students is presented through the eyes of a romantic young man, with their own particularities, contradictions, hopes, secrets and desires. While the main character is trying to find who he think is the love of his life, we discover with him, and thanks to his comments (with a delicious sense of humor), we also catch the complexity of each character. The film has the amazing skill to see the beauty in each one of the characters, both girls and boys. Hope you will enjoy!

Editor Note: This movie has low ratings, A Good Movie to Watch exceptionally adds low-rated movies when reviewers show passion about the suggestion. Our rationale is that if they firmly consider it a good movie, others are likely to share the same opinion. 

To be fair to this visibly low-budget adaptation of H. G. Wells’ seminal science-fiction novel, it doesn’t always settle for the cheap way out. Though it still leaves much to be desired in its visual effects, awkward action scenes, and generally unimaginative direction, Fear the Invisible Man makes a valiant effort to deepen its story by placing a strong, unlikely protagonist at its center (played in all seriousness and with admirable resolve by Mhairi Calvey). Since the titular villain isn’t actually the star of the show—nor is he made out to be an ever-present threat, like in the modern 2020 adaptation—this version of The Invisible Man is able to circle relatively newer ideas about a woman’s “invisible” place in the world, and how she’s tempted to go down a path of pride and violence. If only the rest of the film could keep up with the script’s ambition.

A fascinating kernel of certainty is padded out with giddy speculation in this documentary about a pair of unlikely art thieves. The facts are as such: 32 years after a $160 million painting by abstract artist Willem de Kooning was crudely cut from its frame in an Arizona gallery, a trio of small-town antique dealers discovered it in Jerry and Rita Alter’s estate sale. The Thief Collector is less interested in the painting itself  — in fact, it’s openly dismissive about its artistic value — and more curious about how it fell into the hands of the mysterious couple, who frequently took exotic trips around the world despite their modest teacher incomes.

There are certainly intriguing questions raised by the Alters’ possession of the painting and compelling evidence that places them as the thieves, but this documentary can’t offer any convincing original theses of its own. It does try, by suggesting that the short stories Jerry wrote — about more thefts and gorier crimes — were thinly disguised autobiographical recollections, but it finds nothing to back these theories up except for a few loosely relevant anecdotes from relatives. With too many what-ifs to go on, it all makes for an intriguing but ultimately unsatisfying deep dive.

With the success of Killers of the Flower Moon, there’s a renewed interest in authentic and respectful depictions of Native American stories. Low budget supernatural horror might not be the best approach, considering its history of stereotyping, but The Windigo is a fairly sincere stab at reframing the genre. The wicked looking, titular creature pulls together plenty of the issues Native Americans currently face, such as forgotten culture, violence, and institutional negligence, but the film also surprisingly delves into past collective trauma some of these communities have experienced. The Windigo plays out the way you would expect a creature feature to be, but the film could have been so much more with better execution.

As a sluggishly paced, three-hour spiritual drama with little dialogue and even less plot, Inside the Yellow Cocoon Shell certainly won’t convert anybody who isn’t already interested in slow cinema. Even those who don’t mind these types of films in which “nothing happens” might feel that it doesn’t weave its themes of faith and suffering tightly enough. But there’s more than enough beauty to contemplate here, courtesy of Dinh Duy Hung’s stunning cinematography, which invites us to simply inhabit the world and to stop looking for answers. This may sound like a copout, but it’s quite the experience to have a film force you to rethink how you’re viewing it, as you’re viewing it.

Come for Paul Rudd, stay for Paul Rudd. Yes, Paul Rudd is absolutely amazing in this. Not only is his acting smooth, believable and innocent; his profile fits the role perfectly. Backed with a strong supporting cast, and a great story line as well as a fair amount of laughs, this movie is simply charming!

There are plenty of things that The Thicket does well. For starters, the performances are great, with Game of Thrones’ Peter Dinklage taking his charisma to a wintry Western, and Juliette Lewis matching this intensity as his raspy, iron-willed rival. The style is certainly great too, with excellent costumes, dynamic violins, and lingering, meticulously framed shots. But there’s just something off about the way everything comes together. This tale of misfits certainly takes familiar Western tropes, and brings them together in fairly interesting ways as it gets going, but it starts off with a disappointing start, without a compelling dynamic between Jack and his sister Lula, and without a compelling dynamic between everyone on the ride. The Thicket isn’t terrible, but it’s a tad uneven at times.