100 Best Movies on Kanopy Right Now

It’s difficult to try to capture the truth of who a person really is, especially when there’s already preconceived notions or previous depictions about said person. Released a year after Capote (2005), Infamous inevitably drew comparisons to the biopic, especially with the stark difference between their tones. It starts off with a more gossipy, idle tone, introducing novelist Truman Capote first through documentary-like interviews, just before Toby Jones as Capote charms his way through droll chatter about some famous people. It seems much more vapid than Philip Seymour Hoffman’s depiction, but much more warm too, making Capote’s tendencies to gab and tell other people’s stories, in part due to fame, but also due to a certain joie de vivre of storytelling, once that inevitably breaks him when he finds the story of what his life could have been. Infamous might not be as acclaimed as its preceding Capote depiction, nor is it more truthful, but it’s certainly a fascinating portrayal of a fascinating man.

Though it’s a bit chaotic in structure—it’s chronological but all over the place—The Stones and Brian Jones is a compelling and crucial portrait of The Rolling Stones’ co-founding member and original leader. Jones’ life is typical of rock stars, from the misunderstood childhood and philandering habits to drug dependence and luxurious lifestyle, but director Nick Broomfield tries to paint more nuance into his character. We’re reminded, through interviews with past lovers and even letters from a family that disowned him, that he was also ambitious, insecure, sensitive, affectionate, gentle, and moody. Too often, Broomfield will relish in Jones’ tragedy, when he could’ve focused more on his musical prowess and technical knowledge, but it is overall a fair picture. It’s sympathetic to Jones of course, but Broomfield doesn’t forget to include excerpts from Mick Jagger and Keith Richards, who ‘till now seem to harbor mixed feelings over Jones (he did have Jagger arrested after all). There’s drama and tension and a good deal of great music, which are always fun to watch.

Christine is about Christine Chubbuck, an awkward and complex reporter who was the first person ever to commit suicide on live TV.

Rebecca Hall is terrific as Chubbuck and goes to great lengths to communicate the personality of her subject matter. The movie might seem slow at times, and her acting off, but it’ll all make sense once she immerses you in the complex reality of the character.

An interesting story and an incredible performance.

It’s been years since Fahrije and the women of her village lost their husbands to the war. It’s one thing to move on after their passing, but quite another to never be sure about their whereabouts, dead or alive. Hive tells the story of how, in the wake of this inexplicable loss, the women of a Kosovo village reluctantly band together and make a new life for themselves and their families.

Thanks to its grit and restraint, Hive avoids the cheesy trappings of a melodrama. The dialogues are straightforward and the performances taut but affecting. Their battle with poverty and misogyny is sadly a familiar tale, but told through the lens of single mother/burgeoning entrepreneur Fahrije, it is rendered deeply personal and illuminating. 

When artists or musical bands make films, it’s usually a tour documentary or a biopic of some sort, where fans can go in depth with their music, their background, or anything that would explain what makes their music so great. When Talking Heads’ lead vocalist David Byrne made a film, it wasn’t about his hometown in Maryland or his birthplace in Scotland at all– Instead, it was about True Stories, compiling a series of vignettes in a fictional North Texan town. It’s a strange choice, but Byrne manages to capture the bizarre in ordinary small town America, that can get a bit surreal, but nonetheless holds a weird charm that’s excellently scored by the band. True Stories came out of nowhere, but it’s a decent watch.

From Edward Zwick (Blood Diamond), Defiance is the unheard and untold true story of Polish Jewish brothers who defied all odds during World War II and built a community in the woods of Belarus to escape Hitler’s persecution and save around a thousand civilians from certain death. Interestingly, the film tries to avoid the dramatization of characters and events. Because of this, those who go into it expecting a pure and unprocessed reproduction of facts might be disappointed. It’s a film that takes a storytelling-for-storytelling approach to try and study the challenges that come with any situation where the saying “if you save a life you must take responsibility for it” would be applied.

This documentary is about the life of New York rapper Nas around the time of the release of his first album, Illmatic.

It spans a quick and summarized 74 minutes and, while embellished by the direction of street artist One9, it remains a great snippet of recent American history. Nas’s album was a reflection of many realities that characterized his upbringing, while the movie serves to further explore those very realities.

The choice between practicality and passion is the subject of many a drama, but A Thousand Times Good Night depicts that passion stemming from a different place. Rather than pure expression, or creativity, director Erik Poppe depicts the passion of his former profession of photojournalism stemming from social importance– not just status, but in possibly changing the course of history. The semi-autobiographical story clearly has an understanding of the craft, and with her moving performance, Juliette Binoche proves to be an effective proxy, as her character takes risks her family find it hard to tolerate, and as continually choosing those risks, also entails influencing your family to make that same sacrifice. Some viewers might not agree with these choices, but nevertheless A Thousand Times Good Night is a palpable character study of someone whose career is personally interlinked with their advocacy, their identity, and their philosophy of what the world should prioritize.

Xavier Dolan’s emotionally charged directorial debut centers on the complex relationship between 16-year-old Hubert and his mother, brought to life by Dolan himself and Anne Dorval, respectively. The film paints an authentic and all-too-familiar picture of two people who love each other yet clash in similarly self-centered and stubborn ways.

The mother-and-son duo vacillate between love and hate in a screenplay full of drama. The cinematography, relying much on negative space, perfectly evokes a sense of disconnect and animosity. However, there is little subtlety to be found here, much like Hubert’s sexuality being embodied by a poster of River Phoenix displayed in his bedroom. The rawness and heightened telling of events indicate that this story is as fresh and unpolished as then 19-year-old Dolan’s own feelings about family dysfunction, particularly mommy issues. The heavy-handedness and moments of exaggeration in his quasi-autobiography are obvious, a fault of execution that one can attribute to lack of experience.

Still, the powerful visuals and dialogue hint at a vision of what more to expect in Dolan’s now-celebrated career. I Killed My Mother, by all accounts, fulfills its role as his promising directorial debut.

When thinking about buying something, it’s easy to only think about price and quality, but with many investigations around the world about inhumane labor practices, it’s no wonder that more people would like to look at the companies they’re buying from, or at least buy secondhand when possible. One such investigation is depicted in Letter from Masanjia. While it starts first at the discovery of the letter in Oregon, the true story continues on the other side of the world, through the difficult experiences Sun Yi and his fellow detainees were forced to go through when the Falun Gong movement grew greater in number than the Chinese Communist Party. It’s a harrowing tale, with certain sequences being animated due to a natural lack of footage, and it’s one that needed to be made.

Biopics usually try to capture the entirety of a life, but on occasion, they try to capture that life in a snippet, in a short period of time that could encapsulate what the subject did and what they stood for. One such film that does this is Marshall. It’s not a bad idea to depict the first African-American Supreme Court justice through one of his numerous civil rights cases. It’s a straightforward way to depict his brilliance while also capturing the tangible stakes of every case he took on, and Chadwick Boseman captured that charisma through his excellent performance. That being said, given Marshall’s legacy, it feels disappointing to see his landmark cases only tacked on as a postscript epilogue. While a juicier case could have better captured the man, Marshall nonetheless works because of its performances.

As Nicole Holofcener’s directorial debut, Walking and Talking stands out not only for its honest dialogue and wonderful performance from the young Catherine Keener, but also for its portrayal of female friendship in a genre which too often portrays mindless cliches. The movie focuses on two best friends as one of them gets engaged and the other fears their friendship is getting lost in the middle of the excitement around her friend’s marriage. Catherine Keener does a brilliant job as the likable but depressed friend and Anne Heche does an equally as good job playing her sympathetic half. A great movie if you’re in the mood for something sweet, honest and sometimes sad.

This movie is a wild ride, literally, since it mostly takes place on a bus driving really fast. It’s about one Russian-American social worker who gets hung-up between helping his community driving a group of elderly Russians to a funeral or helping the people he’s hired to help.

In its essence, Give Me Liberty is a comedy where the chaos doesn’t stop escalating, but thanks to impeccable character work and excellent acting, it’s a relevant and poignant movie. You will find yourself in the same position as the social worker, trying to decide who needs his help more.

To call Going to Mars a somewhat shapeless documentary isn’t a criticism. If anything, its flexibility of structure feels entirely appropriate for the woman at its center, who doesn’t necessarily defy categorization so much as she remains on the pulse of history as it continues to shift in unexpected ways. Nikki Giovanni is a person who knows who she is and knows that she stands for the essential dignity of Black people, and it’s inspiring to see how she not only remains hopeful and articulate through every critical moment, but that she insists on being ambitious for what Black people deserve to achieve in the future. As her son tells her at a speaking engagement, Giovanni doesn’t just dream of going to space; she feels that it is her people’s imperative to be there.

Directors Joe Brewster and Michèle Stephenson tell her (still ongoing) life story in a strikingly impressionistic way—cleverly playing with archival footage, but more importantly having Giovanni’s candid words blending seamlessly into her poetry. This is a credit to how connected to the milieu Giovanni’s work actually is, of course, but the film does a very good job defining her as someone who can bring beauty and grace out of every experience.

For the longest time, women dedicated their lives to the family. So, after a divorce and after the kids grow up, it can be hard to imagine what happens after. Some choose to remain single, but for many women, it can feel like the start of another life totally lived for one’s self. Gloria was, then, one of the few depictions of a woman at this time, but writer-director Sebastián Lelio depicts this slice of life as is– without over-sentimentality, but with honesty; without pretentiousness, but with a calm and even direction. The slow, naturalistic approach might not be to everyone’s taste, but Gloria is a charming character study, made much more real with Paulina García’s excellent performance.

Given how plenty of the issues mentioned still linger today, The Baader Meinhof Complex is hesitant to take a side and condemn or defend the group it depicts. That’s not necessarily a bad thing. Having some distance from the subject helps keep the accuracy of the events, which is already thrilling and controversial enough on its own. It’s what makes the film interesting. Rather than choose a side, Director Uli Edel and writer-producer Bernd Eichinger take their story to explore what it means to fight for one’s ideals in a modern world, raising more questions than providing conclusive answers. It’s this intricacy makes The Baader Meinhof Complex not an easy watch, but an intriguing one nonetheless.

When travelling to another place, another city, another town, there’s a certain anonymity that frees one’s self. No one knows who you are, so you’re not expected to maintain a certain personality, and that can be necessary for young people trying to find their way. The Breaking Ice shows this in a fairly sentimental way, juxtaposing the wintry, snowy landscape with the warm but fleeting connection forming between three lonely adults, but there’s just something honest in the way the three try to hide but still share the same youthful ennui, even if they come from vastly different backgrounds. The Breaking Ice might not be daring enough to delve into the queer aspect of this trio, but it’s still a lovely, well-crafted drama contemplating the youth’s melancholy.

Some bigots like to equate genitals to one’s gender and sexual orientation, but in practice, it’s not always a straightforward equation, especially for the rare, but natural, occasion when people are born with both male and female sex organs. XXY isn’t the first film to discuss the intersex experience, but it’s one of the first features that managed to be critically acclaimed. Unlike some of its predecessors, XXY is much more grounded, taking place in the modern era, and is mostly centered on Alex’s gender and sexual exploration. The film isn’t a perfect depiction– at the time, intersex wasn’t even the most common term, and sex-reassignment surgery was often the default action– but there is a lot in the film that dared to question certain ideas, such as having to choose only between a binary. Not many intersex films were created after this, in part due to how rare intersex is, and how broad the term encompasses multiple conditions, but XXY stands out all the more because of it.

One of the worst aspects of war in general is that it always interferes with the hopes and dreams of the people that are living through it. The Road Dance depicts a small Scottish village in World War I, and a woman whose plan had been interfered with. It’s a bleak story, one that’s been inspired from an anecdote passed down through generations, but while the film doesn’t claim to be accurate, it does depict a tragedy that is difficult to talk about with sensitivity and the rare compassion that was granted sporadically to real life survivors. Writer-director Richie Adams softens some of the dark parts from John MacKay’s original novel, and while some of the plot veers a tad too much to melodrama, the three leading women– Hermione Corfield, Morven Christie, and Ali Fumiko Whitney– depict the central family with grace amidst the stunning landscape of the Outer Hebrides. The Road Dance can be triggering, but it’s worth watching for people that love period dramas.

Picked by Roger Ebert as the fifth best film of the decade. An observant, tender film about the little details in loneliness and then in relationships as we move through life. It’s funny, at times darkly so, and features a great performance by John Hawkes as Richard, an eccentric shoe salesman dealing with an ended marriage trying to turn his life around. He meets another eccentric character, Christine, played by the writer/director of the movie Miranda July. It’s a quirky film that wants you to relate to it, and the moment you do, gives you scenes that you might just remember forever.

If you like movies without plot, you’ll love Korean master Hong Sang-soo’s work in Grass. Sang-soo likes to write the script for his characters and not the other way around: he hires actors, then writes a script that would fit them every morning of the shoot.

The result is a personal movie that feels improvised and experimental, despite being quite simple: it’s about a small café and a woman who observes the interactions of the guests.

This funny and charming movie is about a Palestinian slacker named Salam who works on a famous Israeli soap opera. Each day, he has to pass a tough Israeli checkpoint to get to work and in an attempt to make things easier for himself, he agrees to change the ending of the soap opera to please the officer in charge of the checkpoint. At the same time, a temperamental French actress and his Palestinian love interest wish for opposite endings to the show. Stuck between love and politics, Salam has to navigate a complex situation to please all sides. There are a lot of hummus jokes.

Has there ever been a relationship dynamic more complicated than The Marriage Circle? It’s not made out of one or two love triangles, it’s actually a whole pentagon between two married couples and one of their friends. This convoluted tangle of relationships makes for a rather surprising comedy. As they interact, not just through silent intertitles, but also through scribbled letters and lip reads, the film transforms the original play into an entertaining romp. Director Ernst Lubitsch expands past the witty dialogue through provocative innuendo, with shots that hint at the heady emotions they shouldn’t feel for each other. But what makes the film surprising is its ending, as it pushed against marital boundaries, long before no-fault divorce. The Marriage Circle might not be as prominent as Lubitsch’s talkies, but it’s the witty silent film that hinted at his future mastery over the comedy of manners.

While the enemy of my enemy is my friend, the two leads in The Gangster, the Cop, the Devil are more like an uneasy alliance of rivals competing to hunt down a serial killer. This isn’t a new concept. Filmmakers all over the world are fond of putting together two opposite characters and making them butt heads. But in the hands of writer-director Lee Won-tae, a criminally powerful Ma Dong-seok and an intense Kim Mu-yeol still prove to be a compelling match to watch. The slick fight scenes, the brutal kills, and the intense chases all capture their dynamic performances in a stylish and moving way.

As much as we’d like to think everyone can be redeemed, there are terrible, awful people that do exist that make it hard to believe in change. Idiots and Angels takes one such person named Angel, and forces him through a highly unusual, creepy, and cynical redemption tale that involves a body transformation that’s less heavenly and more Kafkaesque. As he pulls feathers from his body, Angel’s miserable, terrible self has no choice but to act decently for once. It’s a unique transformation, one we wish our curmudgeonly acquaintances would have, and with no words spoken, Bill Plympton’s unique cross-hatched animation takes center stage. Idiots and Angels may not be the most perfect animated film out there, but it’s certainly one of its kind, something you’ve probably never seen before.

In Fatih Akin’s In the Fade, Katja is seeking justice after the killings of her Turkish husband and their young son in a terrorist bomb attack. Diane Kruger in the role of Katja delivers a powerful and rather grueling performance, for which she was awarded Best Actress at Cannes Film Festival. Her grief is vivid and forces viewers to bear witness to her inescapable pain. In the Fade also won the Golden Globe Award for Best Foreign Language Film, beating astonishing films such as Andrey Zvyagintsev’s Loveless. This moving story about a fearless woman determined to take justice into her own hands to fight the cruelty of others delivers a message that needs to be heard.

Treeless Mountain is a depressing film. The premise is already sad enough, but it’s more heartbreaking to actually witness the kids slowly reckon with their mom abandoning them, clinging to her lie that she’ll return when their piggy bank gets full, and resorting to grilling grasshoppers for petty change. This mostly works because writer-director So Yong Kim honors that hurt by depicting their journey naturally. The camera shoots at their eye level, capturing the subtle realizations these girls have as they try to make sense of the world without guidance. Treeless Mountain understands their pain, simply letting the experience speak for itself.

When Émilie finds a new roommate in Camille, she also gains a friend and a lover. Still, the parameters of their relationship are never quite sure, causing a complicated chasm that both divides and arouses them. Eventually, they meet Nora, who brings her own desires and insecurities into the mix. Experimentation ensues as the film follows the trio coming into their own as sexual and human beings.

Shot in rich black and white against the backdrop of Paris’ urban Les Olympiades neighborhood, Paris, 13th District is a finely balanced film that never overstays its welcome in the contrasting ideas it takes on. Classic love stories offset modern setups of romance, while fast-paced city life levels out the uncertainty of its inhabitants. Paris, 13th District is an engaging watch, not despite but because of its bold attempt to be many things at once.

Ballet has always captivated with its grace and poise, so of course it captivated cinema as well, with classics such as The Red Shoes and Black Swan centered on the dance, the culture, and of course, the drama. The juxtaposition of the ideal feminine form and the ugliness of competition, the sabotage, and the objectification are regular topics, but The American adds the national identity into its themes, tackling the anxieties of a young American in an academy that isn’t friendly to outsiders. It’s stunning. It gives justice to the journey of the real ballerina Joy Womack, portrayed excellently by Talia Ryder with breathtaking ease, and given dramatic flourish through the direction of James Napier Robertson. While it doesn’t quite surpass classic ballet films, Joika proves that real life ballet can be more emotional, more traumatic than any drama made about the dance.

Nicole Kidman, Aaron Eckhart, and Miles Teller star in this subtle drama about the state of a couple eight months into dealing with the sudden loss of their son.

The movie is based on a David Lindsay-Abaire play by the same name which won a Pulitzer Prize. It deals with the timeline of grief, and whether such a thing even exists: can the couple attempt to move on after 8 months? What about 8 years, like another couple they meet in a counseling group?

It’s also about how the differences in grief create tensions: the mother wants to donate the clothes and sell the house because she doesn’t want to be reminded of the event. The father wants to hold on the memory instead.

Rabbit Hole, like its source material, is sad, but its realistic approach and excellent performances make it nothing more than a perfect reflection of how complicated life can be.

In certain heartbreaking instances, children are separated from their parents by the State, supposedly in hopes of finding them a better home. But for plenty of British and commonwealth orphans, the government process is, at worst, systematically designed to separate families to support the Kingdom’s colonies. While the film isn’t really focused on the details and the rationale behind the program, Oranges and Sunshine is much more concerned with the fact that it happened– that it has harmed hundreds of thousands of children for hundred years, and that it only took someone who cared enough to pay attention for things to actually change. It’s a decent depiction of Margaret Humphreys’ work, and it does a great job in promoting the Child Migrants Trust.

Visual artist Ann Oren’s first foray into feature-length filmmaking is a sensual delight and a gift that keeps on giving. Oren approaches her film with sincere dedication to every single building block: Piaffe looks, sounds, and feels sensational while being a fairly modest production. A true indie film, Piaffe verges on experimentation as a young woman named Eva (Simone Bucio) takes over the job of a foley artist from her sister. Even though she’s under-qualified, she tries her best t0 come up with the sounds for a horse-themed commercial to no avail. However, in the process, she notices a bump on her lower back that grows into a horse’s tail. Piaffe is a tale of metamorphosis, not only of the flesh, but also of the heart, as the themes it explores are also directly related to sexuality, submission, and, of course, love as a manifestation of all those things.

It’s immediately apparent that there are more carefully made documentaries out there than Remembering Gene Wilder. The film is riddled with pixelated photos for one, and the overall tone is fawning for another. But Wilder is too great of a man to be affected by mediocre filmmaking, and so Remembering Gene Wilder still makes for an entertaining and insightful watch despite its small faults. The film is less about his life and more about his work—a chronological account of his career with nuggets of wisdom for performers, comedians, and writers tucked neatly in between. It still dives into his personal life, to be sure, but as Wilder will readily admit, his creative decisions spell out all you need to know about him.

Much like its monster, Brotherhood of the Wolf is quite a hard movie to pin down. It’s an unscary French creature feature but it’s a rather refreshing period drama romance, made much more action-packed courtesy of a randomly placed, supposedly Iroquois, talented martial artist. Yet somehow, it works. Perhaps it works because it was released ahead of many other early aughts action horror films, and perhaps, at CGI’s infancy, it’s a bit easier to suspend disbelief over the wolf, but the wacky experimentation writer-director Christophe Gans brings in depicting this historical beast is just so entertaining to watch. Brotherhood of the Wolf is just pure bonkers.

This is one of the most compelling and personal documentaries I’ve seen, revealing a side of life most people never consider. It’s the story of a young man recovering from a head injury and the obsession he’s developed with models and action figures. Not content with merely collecting, we see the man develop elaborate story-lines and plots between them – in short, the creation of an all new world. While not a commercial success, this film was beloved by critics and is highly recommended for AGMTW fans.

A character study in the absolute purest sense, Anne at 13,000 Ft. doesn’t even have the kind of satisfying closure one would expect from any story, nor does it explain anything about its protagonist’s difficult, erratic behavior in the context of mental health. It’s an exercise in testing how much empathy a character can earn solely on account of their being a human being having a hard time. Appropriately, the filmmaking on display makes for a deliberately uncomfortable experience, with tension ratcheting up in practically every given situation, enhanced by the fact that director Kazik Radwanski and star Deragh Campbell improvised much of the movie as they were making it.

The divorce of one’s parents can be difficult, but more so when that relationship is messy and emotionally fraught. And when the parent one ends up living with turns out to be homophobic, it’s so much harder to accept the possibility of not being straight. Stephen Dunn’s film feature debut Closet Monster is centered around this experience, one inspired by Dunn growing up in Canada, and while the symbolism is on the nose, the emotions feel real, maybe even too real. On top of the fear of not being accepted, there’s the resentment of being left behind, the disdain towards the adults who should know better, and the fear of becoming exactly like them. Closet Monster doesn’t shy away from these difficult feelings, even when it does so through the whimsical way Oscar imagines talking to his pet hamster.

Why do we cling to the people that we love, but who clearly don’t treat us well? It’s a common question in romance films, one that often leads to a conclusion that people shouldn’t feel shackled to partners that don’t treat them right, but sometimes other films seem to shame these unfortunate lovers for making the wrong choice. My King doesn’t do that. Sure, Georgio can seem like an obvious asshole (he is), but writer-director Maïwenn makes clear that the same things that make him erratic– his spontaneity, his enjoyment of life, and his open acceptance– which Vincent Cassel superbly embodies, are also the same things that attracted Tony in the first place. And as Tony recovers her knee, the careful interstitching between her time at the center and her romance with Georgio visually parallels the physical and emotional wounds in an interesting way. Mon Roi is familiar romance stuff, but it’s the approach that makes the film work.

Tsotsi, a delinquent from Johannesburg, South Africa, realizes after shooting a woman and stealing her car, that her baby is on the back seat. A movie with very few words but which manages to be extremely touching. As you witness the transformation of Tsotsi, through his increasing affection for the baby, you will be astonished by the amazing actor, who manages to communicate so many feelings through his sight. This film won the 2006 Academy Award for Best Foreign Language Film.

When a group of percussionists illegally carry out a city-wide performance act, it’s up to policeman Amadeus Warnebring to stop them. The musical fugitives perform on stolen objects and disrupt public spaces, but Warnebring has his own reasons to pursue them so determinedly: he’s tone-deaf for one and born into a family of snobby musical geniuses for another, making this case all the more meaningful and consequential to him.

Sound of Noise is more than reminiscent of Stomp, what with its playful symphonies subsisting on random borrowed objects, but it is livened up with the suspense of a caper, the dry wit of a Swedish comedy, and the abundant charms of a light romance.

Real life serial killers are interesting to see on screen because the very crime they committed is so unusual, that you can’t help but wonder what the heck pushed them to do such a thing. However, doing so can be tricky because a bad depiction can seem to glorify their drama at the expense of the real life victims. Thankfully, Nitram doesn’t do that. Based on the 1996 Port Arthur massacre, it does depict the killer’s perspective, but director Justin Kurzel just depicts it as is, never dramatizing or sympathizing or blaming anyone else for the killer’s actions, keeping the camera solely on Nitram himself. And it works because Caleb Landry Jones captures the killer’s off-putting intensity, and resulting loneliness, through his excellent performance. It’s not an easy watch, but Nitram is an intriguing character study that doesn’t mine drama from tragedy.

Picture this: Hugh Grant falls for an American out of his league. Helping him boost his confidence are his long-time friends, a clique that includes a sibling and a kooky roommate. Grand professions of love are made and timing plays a crucial role in how Grant gets the girl. What you’ve just read may remind you of Notting Hill, but it’s actually true, too, of the lesser known but equally beloved Four Weddings and a Funeral. Both are written by Richard Curtis, but while Notting Hill is sleeker and smoother—more accessible to a wider audience—Four Weddings feels grungier and riskier. As the title suggests, it follows Charles (Grant) and his friends as they get invited to one wedding after another, which forces them to think about love and what it means in this day and age. Do people get married just to feel less lonely? Is true love a naive figment of our imaginations or is it real? Charles thinks it may be the latter when he meets Carrie ( MacDowell), but circumstances, bad timing, and his musings on love and relationships prevent him from fully committing. It’s a delightful romp, tempered with that trademark British wit and the genre’s irresistible sweetness. Four Weddings may not have gained the same box-office fame as Notting Hill, but its status as a cult classic tells you all you need to know about its quality.

This documentary is about filmmaker Lacey Schwartz, who stands out from her devout New York Jewish family with her darker skin tone. For most of her life, the family attributed this to genes from a distant Sicilian ancestor.

But suspicions have always been there, what a family member calls “the 500-pound elephant in the room”. Schwartz embarks on a journey of untangling family secrets, self-discovery, with fascinating questions on race and identity. If you like family history documentaries like Stories We Tell, you will love this.

Loosely based on the 1909 novel, Martin Eden is a stunning film about the hollow success of individualism. The plot points remain the same: Eden, a self-taught sailor, wants to win the heart of the wealthy Elena Orsini. To do this, he strives to break into the upper class with his writing. However, in this film, writer-director Pietro Marcello adds another dimension to the anti-individualist story: he transports Eden from his original California setting to Naples—allowing for views of different cultures, languages, and classes. By intercutting between old film stock and lingering close-ups, Marcello draws from his documentary background to masterfully evokes the process of remembering. And in refusing to define the time period, Marcello recognizes that Eden’s struggle is still ongoing today—and that his success is still hollow.

While adoption doesn’t have the same stigma as it did back in the day, it doesn’t mean that the process is worry-free. There’s still a host of issues surrounding the process, plenty of which have been depicted in film. So, it’s no surprise that True Mothers holds more or less the same themes we’ve seen before, but where some films focus on mining the melodrama, filmmaker Naomi Kawase’s writing is much more restrained, keeping its take as naturalistic and detail-oriented as possible, and thus, demystifying the process. The slow pace may not be to everyone’s taste, but True Mothers is a thoughtful, sensitive portrayal of Japan’s adoption system today.

It’s not fair to say if you’ve read the book, you’ve seen the movie, but it’s also not wholly untrue. Greg Sinise’s version of the classic tale by John Steinback adds little new details to the story, so the actors have some heavy lifting to do in bringing it to life. Thankfully, they do a fine job. Sinise and Malkovich strike an affecting camaraderie, believable till its tragic end. Malkovich has the meatiest role as the mentally challenged Lennie, and to his credit, he gives the character sensitivity and grace. He isn’t always believable (or maybe I’ve just seen him in too many wry and manipulative roles), but his turn as a sweet giant is always touching. For a more recent generation, the film might bring to mind the ethical question famously asked by the NBC series The Good Place: what do we owe each other? What does George owe his disabled cousin and how far is he willing to put his life over his own? Though the parable at the core of this film is familiar, it’s nonetheless thought-provoking and heartbreaking.

An equally interesting and terrifying must-watch documentary about the state of food in the United States, Food Inc is a sobering tour of where the stuff you eat comes from. Spoiler alert: it’s gross, and should be illegal but that shouldn’t stop you from watching this film, which showcases the food industry’s vile practices and overt corruption. Don’t worry though, even at its most muckraking, Food Inc manages to mix entertainment with its information.

Set in the 1930’s English Countryside, the story of the eccentric Mortmain family is told from the daughter Cassandra’s point of view. Her father, a once acclaimed and famous writer has written nothing in years, leading the family into bankruptcy. Themes such as first love and financial troubles are explored from Cassandra’s comic and intelligent point of view. A classic and a must-see.

The Wave is a movie about manipulation, National Socialism and the authoritarian development at a German school. The well-liked teacher Rainer Wenger presents a social experiment to his students which quickly expands to a much larger scale. His experiment, named “Die Welle” (the wave), is part of a project week at the school about different forms of governments. During his pedagogical approach to the topic Wenger goes through an alarming process, which is fascinating to observe as a viewer. The screenplay is based on a Californian experiment “The Third Wave” from 1967 and its novel from 1981 which became a classic piece of literature in German-speaking countries such as Germany, Austria and Switzerland.

A biopic is only as big as the personality at its center, and what a personality Pavarotti had. The Opera singer that crossed into the mainstream from his humble upbringings in Modena, Italy, exuded happiness and had a great outlook on life. And even as the attention he would eventually attract takes its tole, he’s able to maintain his positivity and his dedication to his art. This documentary on his life and his work will be even more interesting to you if like me you didn’t know who Pavarotti was, or the impact he’s had.

Sincere and direct, Ana Rocha de Sousa’s debut feature is a tragic portrayal of an immigrant family in the United Kingdom. Known best abroad for her role in Love Actually, Lúcia Moniz shines as devoted mother Bela, who, along with Jota (Ruben Garcia) struggles to keep their family together. The couple and their three children, including the deaf middle child Lu (Sophia Myles), come under the scrutiny of social services, especially after the unexplained bruises. While at times heavy-handed, the film raises important questions on family separation and social services, especially with their limitations with children with disabilities.

In this day and age, it thankfully has become less risky to come out as gay, due to the struggle of many LGBTQ+ people from the past. However, this struggle was hard won– while gay people were persecuted in the Nazi regime, it was only until decades later people started to discuss it, and one reason why research and education about it increased was due to the play Bent, depicted in film in 1997. The screen version admittedly falters compared to the West End original, with static staging and focus on the dialogue over action, but the performances are fairly decent, with an unexpected collection of cast members that maximize each moment they’re in. It’s quite depressing, and sometimes heavy handed, but Bent is a needed perspective.

Fourteen-year-old Segundo dreams of being just like his father Noé, a revered tableau artist in their small Peruvian town. The teenage apprentice follows Noé’s every move and instruction, that is until one day, he discovers a shocking truth about Noé’s identity. Hurt, angered, and incredibly confused, Segundo starts detaching from his family, as well as from the life he thought he’d wanted to live. 

Retablo is a slow but vibrant film, set in Peruvian locales and spoken in the country’s indigenous tongue, Quechua. Its limited dialogue smartly reflects the people’s own silence when it comes to sex and gender ideas, although the movements themselves—from traditional parties to teenage fights—have a lot to say about masculinity, conservatism, and the dangers of their excess. Retablo might be a difficult watch for some, but it’s just as necessary and enlightening.

Even those who aren’t baseball aficionados should find something interesting and human in this straightforward, brainy documentary Fastball looks at the titular type of pitch not just from a place of scientific curiosity but as a symbolic goal that players all over the world chase after. Through many clear-eyed discussions and testimonials, we begin to see how a large part of the sport has been structured around the idea of understanding speed—and how some careers have been made or broken by trying to catch up with the greats. But in the end, Fastball takes a surprisingly subjective position on the matter; instead of definitively stating who’s the fastest on earth, it affirms that everyone has their own legends they look up to, pushing them to be greater.

Artists take what’s intimate and personal and transform it into art, but, especially for those who became famous for their work, it can feel challenging to tackle certain subjects, profit from it, and make it part and parcel of your artistic identity, especially when it stems from personal trauma. Things Behind the Sun depicts a rock singer who became famous on her song about rape. It’s a tad harrowing, and the flashbacks get rather graphic, but through focusing primarily on Sherry’s journey and not forcing forgiveness between the characters, Things Behind the Sun is able to capture what it means to survive the horrible, to confront it again, and to actually heal.

Like many films about beloved pets, your enjoyment of A Street Cat Named Bob depends on how much you love the titular animal. As such, cat people would delight in how cute the actual true-to-life ginger feline looks on screen, while dog people would disapprove at the gruff way dogs are portrayed here. But for viewers who don’t have a preference for either animal, A Street Cat Named Bob might go through fairly cliché feel good moments, but it’s somewhat justified given the way it depicts that real human-pet relationship not as just a cute thing, but as a lifeline, as a crucial redirection of love and care that couldn’t have been given to by one’s self, and a connection that was necessary. A Street Cat Named Bob is familiar feel-good stuff, but it’s sincere and cute enough to still be enjoyable.

This quirky 1988 adventure drama is newly available on Amazon Prime. It’s the classic that never was, the story of a rundown gas station motel in the Southern US where a lonely West German lady called Jasmin Munchgstettner ends up by accident.

The owner of the operation, a short-tempered woman by the name of Brenda, doesn’t really take to Jasmin. However, the longer the West German guest stays at the motel, the more a friendship forms between the two.

In this raw, psychedelic drama, an American drug dealer living in Tokyo with his sister is killed at a night club. His spirit continues to float above the city and past, present, and future are woven together to complete the tale of his life. Taking a page from the Tibetan book of the dead, the film aims to explore one answer to life’s most epic question: What happens when we die? Definitely not for the faint of heart, there is drug use, gore, and challenging themes throughout the movie. Its unique cinematography also captures Tokyo quite well.

This Norwegian documentary in English is about Magnus Carlsen, the current world champion who became a chess grandmaster at age 13. It might be tough to believe but Magnus’ ascension was slowed down significantly by many crises in self-confidence and difficulty to cope with the pressure at a young age.

With home footage and interviews with everyone from his adversaries to the champion himself, Magnus the movie tries to be a complete portrait of the prodigy. Yet, crucial aspects are missing, such as an explanation for a sudden change in character, and perhaps more importantly, explanations of Magnus’ genius in chess. His techniques and approaches are mostly attributed to intuition, but the movie fails to explain how that intuition is reflected in the game.

College seems to be teeming with possibility, in a more substantial way than adulthood or high school feels, since for many people, it’s the only time where one lives alone and makes decisions for their lives selfishly. Shithouse captures that moment with a candid sentimentality, all marked by a shared late night that changes the way the whole college life feels. Cooper Raiff captures this time of a freshman uncertainty with actual palpable emotions, acting, writing, and directing with a freshness that filmmakers aspire to but never seem to get on screen, and it’s this mumblecore-inspired feature debut that made him a filmmaker to look out for. Shithouse is pure college nostalgia.

There are plenty of LGBT stories made in film, but not all of them have to end in tragedy– some, especially in recent years, are relatively sweet, lighthearted, and merely focused on the simple experience of a first love. Boys has the classic coming-of-age romance moments we’re familiar with, such as the first kiss, training camps, and after school fair dates, and even though it’s just made for television, it’s beautifully captured, including that stunning overhead lake shot where Sieger and Marc swim together. If you’re craving for a sweet and easy LGBT romance without the heartache, or if you’re new to watching LGBT films altogether, Boys is a decent entry-level movie to start with.

Ida, the 2015 Academy Award for Best Foreign Language Film, is a stark black & white drama set in the early 60’s about a young Polish nun-to-be and her bawdy Aunt Wanda searching for the truth behind her family’s demise at the hands of the Nazis. What initially comes off as a painfully slow sleep-inducer pretty quickly evolves into a touching and lively contrast between the two lead characters; one virtuous and pure, the other boorish and hedonistic. Their journey is equal parts amusing, insightful and heartbreaking, with Ida’s personal exploration of self playing out as a remarkably humanistic affair. The cinematography by Lukasz Za and Ryszard Lenczewski is particularly striking, each shot a work of art in it’s own right. Logging in at just 82 minutes, the entire story whizzes by in a flash. The kind of film that will stay with you long after you’ve watched it.

The Witch hardly reinvents the thriller wheel. In fact, part of the fun in watching it is calling out the cliches. Cold-blooded villain? Check. Antihero who defies death? Check. Senseless, bloody killings for minutes on end? Check, check, check. The Witch has everything you’d expect from an action movie, and yet, the viewing experience is all the better for it. 

By trimming all the unnecessary fat and zeroing in on the action, director Park Hoon-jung delivers a no-nonsense, no-holds-barred film that could hold a candle to the John Wick franchise. Like those films, the movements here are sharp and the gore relentless. The only difference is that The Witch is led by a teenage girl—seemingly flimsy but deliciously deranged, Kim-Dami is magnetic in her breakout role as the titular witch Ja-yoon. It’s also a bit like Stranger Things in that sense, but comparisons aside, The Witch stands out as a razor-edged entry into the genre. 

In another country, you can forge a completely different life from the one you had in your hometown. For closeted LGBTQ+ individuals, moving to a more tolerant society allows you to explore facets of your sexuality that wasn’t possible previously. In Goodbye Mother, first generation immigrant Nau Van is confronted with the secrets he hid from his hometown, the secret that isn’t a secret in America. The conflict plays out in a familiar fashion, going through plenty of the usual experiences that coming out entails, but, while these are familiar, Goodbye Mother tugs at the reality Asian immigrants experience, and does so in a sweet and empathetic way.

One of those long-lost mid-budget dramas that’s content with observing the rich yet uneventful lives of average folk, Nobody’s Fool reminds us that nothing exciting or shocking needs to happen to make a good story. The late, eternally charismatic Paul Newman leads an ensemble of character actors in relaxed, memorable roles—Bruce Willis, Philip Seymour Hoffman, Margo Martindale, and Jessica Tandy, among others. It’s the authentic, neither-love-nor-hate relationship among all these characters that drives all their individual drama forward and keeps the film from stagnating into anything less than endearing. Here, the idea of things never really changing in this small community is meant to be a comfort, not a lament.

This Swedish movie is the story of Astrid Lindgren, one of the most translated children book writers of all time. Her work of over 100 books includes Pippi Longstocking and The Brothers Lionheart.

Away from the quiet existence of the characters she would later create, Astrid had a turbulent life. Her troubles start when she falls for the editor of the paper she worked at when she was young, a man 30 years her senior. This results in an unwanted pregnancy and Astrid is pushed to immigrate.

From The Babadook director Jennifer Kent comes another horror, although this one is more about the horrors of humanity. Set in 1825 Tasmania, The Nightingale follows Irish settler Clare as she seeks bloody revenge on the monsters who wronged her and her family. She teams up with an Aboriginal guide named Billy to accomplish her goal.

Because of its often violent and disturbing tone (the film is rated R for its potentially triggering scenes), The Nightingale understandably polarized audiences upon its release. But it’s also an excellent conversation piece, best watched with friends or anyone up for a discussion-filled movie night.

In An Officer and a Gentleman, Richard Gere (Pretty Woman, Chicago) plays an aspiring aviation officer hoping to make it in a rigorous navy program. He’s mentored by the strict but well-meaning Sergeant Emil Foley, played by Louis Gossett Jr. in an Oscar-wining performance (the first African-American to win in this category). An Officer and a Gentleman is a realistic take on military training and how its intensity can affect one’s personal affairs and mental well-being. Gere’s character is also inspiring in his determination to get in the navy at all costs. It’s no surprise the film was a box-office sensation and nabbed multiple Oscar nominations, but perhaps its biggest source of pride is that it arguably, indirectly influenced the success of Top Gun, released four years after this film. Entertaining military propaganda was never the same since.

Following is the first movie Christopher Nolan ever directed, a mesmerizing low-budget effort that introduced the world to the genius who will later give us Memento, Inception, The Dark Knight, and many other classics. Shot in “extreme” conditions to quote Nolan himself, for just over £3000, it had to be filmed in the span of a year on Saturdays only and in friends’ houses. But almost none of that is visible in the sharp camera work, the magnificent acting (most of it was first or second takes), and the twisted script. It tells the story of an unsuccessful writer (The Young Man) who tries to find inspiration in following random people in the street, and doing it via strict rules. One day he follows a man in a suit (Cobb), who catches him and becomes intrigued by him. It turns out that Cobb has his own fascination with people’s intimate lives, of criminal nature, which he lets The Young Man into. Using the same non-linear plot technique as in Memento, this movie is halfway between a thriller and a film noir. The inspiration for it came when Nolan’s own apartment in London was robbed, and he was fascinated by the act of strangers going through his personal items. If you take into consideration the conditions of its making, this movie is a masterpiece.

Whether because of absent family or nefarious criminals, there are children around the world that have to work, sometimes in risky, dangerous jobs. Sun Children follows one such group of children. It’s a sadly familiar tale, taking notes from neorealism in depicting this important issue, but what makes Sun Children stand out is the way it shows how child labor can easily erode a kid’s soul, having to prioritize survival over being taken care of. It’s tragic to see how its ensemble has trouble simply accepting regular schooling, because they had to keep up defenses to live. Sun Children is one of many social issue dramas about child labor, but it’s unfortunately necessary in a world that has failed many kids this way.

Making a film is sort of a miracle– to make one can sometimes come into fruition through a lucky combination of connections, creativity and circumstances all perfectly aligning as if by fate. But making a film takes cash to do it. In the Soup is an independent comedy centered on an aspiring auteur meeting an eccentric, creative gangster that’s willing to do everything (including crime) to fund it. The film does mostly depend on conversations between characters, witty repartee and Steve Buscemi’s voice-over, but it does capture the importance of patrons in the artistic process, how silly some lofty artistic aspirations can be, and to never forget the human side of the filmmaking process, not just the solitary brainstorming.

Good Bless America is a deeply ironic and violent action comedy from folk legend Bobcat Goldthwait. In a turn of events sure to ring true to many viewers, the protagonist, Frank Murdoch (Joel Murray), after being informed of his terminal brain cancer, sets out on a killing spree out of sheer distaste for the vile, rude, and materialistic culture that surrounds him. Large swaths of the movie are pure rage fantasy, a cathartic blend of violence and humor as the cretinous bogeymen of the modern era are gleefully dispatched. Obviously not a fantastic date movie, but perhaps a good one for a bad mood.

There’s no shortage of media depicting alcoholism, but many of them come across as preachy, sanctimonious, and coming from someone that hasn’t gone through it. Steve Buscemi’s directorial debut is another character study of an alcoholic pushed to drink because of losing both his job and his girlfriend, but the way Buscemi writes, directs, and acts as this Long Island town drunkard has an unassuming realism that doesn’t paint Tommy’s life as the worst thing ever, but rather as a steady toleration of having life left unfixed, of continuing to indulge in self-destructive behavior, because it’s not bad enough to actually do something about it. Trees Lounge might not be the most exciting debut, but it’s one that’s honest.

On his first day of class in the remote village of Lunana, the city teacher Ugyen asks his students what they want to be when they grow up. One of the children, a young boy named Sangay, answers that he aspires to be a teacher “because a teacher touches the future.” Lunana: A Yak in the Classroom, however, subverts this thematic by spending most of its runtime showing how the villagers touch Ugyen’s heart through genuine acts of kindness, forcing him to rethink his long-term dream of becoming a singer in Australia.

Not only does Lunana: A Yak in the Classroom succeed in its heartfelt dramatization of a Gen Z finding his place in the highlands, it also serves as a propagandistic validation of Bhutan’s “happiest country in the world” epithet. In doing so, the film presents the Bhutanese mountains in as breathtakingly picturesque a manner as possible, limning a paradise through the grassy meadows and children’s faces.

Through her irreverent, no-bullshit point of view, Chinese documentarian Christine Choy balances out The Exiles’ painful reckoning with a traumatic event that shaped a generation of Chinese immigrants: the student-led protests and subsequent massacre of civilians in Tiananmen Square, Beijing in 1989. As Choy reconnects with the subjects of a documentary she stopped making 30 years ago, they help provide a fitting conclusion and new insights into the aftermath of the incident. And while the film eventually loses Choy’s brash spirit and settles into a more conventional tone of storytelling, the testimonies and analyses of nation and home that we get to hear are still heartbreaking. After such a reprehensible violation of human rights, it becomes clear that the countries who refuse to condemn wrongdoing are just as guilty.

Life can get tough if you move to another country. You have to adjust to the language, to the culture, and to the community you choose to move to, and that’s just if you decided to make the move intentionally. But some of these difficulties can be made much easier to bear with a good friend. Shun Li and the Poet is centered on a friendship between two immigrants in a Venetian island town, and although they come from other sides of the world, the kindnesses they share as strangers, and the intimacy they keep when they share more of their life stories, prove to be lovely. It might be a tad slow for some viewers, but the contemplation and celebration of their shared humanity makes for a lovely watch.

This rough-hewn indie centers on Irene, the lead singer of an Austin punk band and all around mess of a human being. She’s about to be kicked out of her band when she receives a call that her grandfather has passed away and left her his dilapidated row-house in Pittsburgh. Irene immediately takes off for Pittsburgh and begins drunkenly “renovating” the house, with the help of her equally lost cousin, Cam. The film is sparse on plot, but features a strong central performance by Rachel McKeon — if you’ve ever spent time around fellow Irenes, then you’ll instantly recognize them in McKeon’s portrayal of a charismatic but utterly irresponsible and unstable youth. The film also perfectly captures the ambiance and magical geography of Pittsburgh, PA, along with the aesthetic(s) of those living on the fringes of American culture. It was largely filmed in the city’s Bloomfield neighborhood, and uses that area’s cramped and colorful architecture to good effect.

This is a slow but well-made movie about a Jehovah’s Witness family, directed by a former member of the organization.

The family is made of Alex, her mother, and her older sister. Alex follows her mother and her religious teachings with the utmost loyalty, especially as she refuses a blood transfusion that is crucial to her health. Her older sister starts showing signs of independence by lying to her friends about her family’s faith and dating a Muslim man.

Apostasy is about family bonds versus belief bonds. It’s not a movie that judges or preaches, rather it simply portrays the complex situations that structured religion creates.

There are two ways to sum up this documentary. One will make you decide against watching it. Here’s that pitch: This is the story of a homeless woman who was found dead.

Here’s the better pitch: That woman was highly educated and generally lived a happy life. But she also left behind a detailed journal that recounts her final days in one of the coldest winters on record. She lived on apples and rainwater and fought off insanity.

Her heartbreaking story is one of disappointment and betrayal by society at a time when she was most vulnerable. A haunting and compelling documentary that is sure to stay with you for a long time and, in a way, might help you take on adversity.

Albert Maysles’ penultimate film celebrates fashion icon Iris Apfel, who charms everyone with her quick wit, no-nonsense attitude, and love for the craft. There’s something brilliant in the way the movie starts not by rehashing facts about her, but with Apfel herself going through the process of choosing what to wear. She’s doesn’t just pick clothes; there’s a kind of careful consideration made with each item she chooses, that she remembers every detail about (from where she got them, to the culture and history behind them), and that she intentionally picks in the name of joy. While the documentary doesn’t dive too deep into Apfel’s life, the woman is just undeniably cool. Simply going through her processes and listening to her talk is already an inspiration.

Usually a film like this wouldn’t care to take the perspective of the perpetrator, and would instead dramatize a heavy, unsettling feeling around a victim being caught within their operation. But Felicia’s Journey doesn’t take that route– instead, at the same time, we meet both serial killer and potential victim through a snapshot of their lives, with writer-director Atom Egoyan adeptly intercutting Felicia’s Journey with Hilditch’s video-recorded childhood and Felicia’s much more natural flashbacks. It’s an interesting visual take on the 1994 novel, that doesn’t take the usual thriller motifs and that would rather linger on studying the characters. Felicia’s Journey might be Egoyan’s first non-R rated film, but it still delivers his signature uneasiness and eeriness he is known for.

War during Christmas makes for a depressing time. It’s hard to think about goodwill for all when you’re hungry, tired, and at risk for getting shot every time you see the enemy. So given the setting, it’s no surprise that A Midnight Clear goes the same way. Still, the film becomes more heartbreaking because there was hope. As the American squad try to decipher the strange, decidedly not violent, actions of a German squad, and they cobble enough Yiddish to make some sort of understanding, the film steadily builds up the possibility that maybe something good would come out of that Christmas. A Midnight Clear creates hope by trying to solve the mysterious other. It takes it away once the squad fails to do so.

When something like a World War happens, the generation that grew up at the time inevitably would be changed, and this change sticks to that generation, even if the ones that follow don’t immediately understand. The Last Suit is centered on this idea, but it does so through a relatively lighthearted and humorous way, as Abraham Bursztein goes on a cross-continental trip to see a childhood friend from the war, and meet people with different perspectives along the trip. With at least six different languages, two different timelines, and a compelling protagonist, The Last Suit is a new take on the Holocaust that might be a tad too sentimental for some viewers, but is a poignant reminder of the history that still haunts the world today.

An earnest, simple documentary with an equally as simple premise: four friends travel to Guatemala for 8 weeks and try to live on one dollar a day each. What starts as an experiment for them quickly becomes an illustration of levels of poverty some of us will luckily never experience. More than 1.1 billion people (almost four times the population of the U.S.) do live on less than one dollar a day, and this film is a journey into their world. Other than making you realize the luxury you live in, this film will leave you wanting to do more for your fellow humans.

Given the topic, there’s no surprise that Beauty and the Dogs is a harrowing watch. The gang rape itself is thankfully not depicted, but the journey to getting help– trying to get medical attention, going from station to station, and finally getting a report done in the very station the police perpetrators are parked in– is absolutely horrifying. Through nine long shots, writer-director Kaouther Ben Hania shows each step in real time. It’s a brilliant way to hone into the subtle details, such as the way the police protected each other, or when some took the accusation seriously, there were no measures to ensure Mariam’s safety. Beauty and the Dogs is not an easy watch, but it’s a necessary one to highlight the system’s deficiencies in addressing this crime.

This Danish movie is about a failed 38-year-old bodybuilder who lives with his mom and has never left Denmark. In an expected move, and while telling his mom he’s going to Germany, he travels to Thailand in hopes of finding love.

It might at first seem like a disastrous storyline (of sex tourism), but that part of the movie is almost accidental. Teddy Bear is actually a sweet and likable story of a man who wants to break away from his domineering mother, and a journey of someone who starts growing up later in life.

This drama from France and Canada is about Matthieu, a 33-year-old from Paris who never knew his father. One morning he gets a call to go to Montreal, where he is told his dad has passed away and where a funeral will take place.

To add to his confusion, upon arrival Matthieu is asked to conceal his identity from his step-mother and step-brothers.

A Kid is made as though the filmmaking styles from the countries it’s set in were mixed together. There are complicated family dynamics reminiscent of Xavier Dolan movies; and identity issues and comments on different compositions of families like the films of Mia Hansen-Løve.

For kids and kids-at-heart who find Jim Henson’s technical mastery of puppets riveting, this documentary on the classic and still-contemporary Sesame Street provides a ton of behind-the-scenes footage that’s endlessly fun to watch. Street Gang rebuts any arguments that could be made about children’s TV being low-effort—showing just how much craft is needed in a show like this. But more importantly, the film’s first act illustrates the risky process of building Sesame Street from the ground-up, specifically as programming for inner-city Black children who weren’t getting the education they deserved. It’s nothing short of an inspiration to see this ragtag group of creatives and communication experts—none of whom wanted to take sole credit—coming together like a superhero team to create one of the most iconic and enduring TV shows in American history.

It won’t be a surprise that a movie titled Violent Cop would have a police officer smacking people left and right. But upon its release, Violent Cop surprised viewers when comedian Beat Takeshi took it upon himself to direct a moody, serious neo-noir where blood splatters come sparingly, knives are drawn on occasion, and the camera is much more interested in lingering between the men inflicting violence rather than flashy choreography– and somehow end up with a pretty solid effort. The film does have a somewhat familiar plot, but its bleak, depressing portrayal of how mundane violence has become makes Violent Cop such a brutal debut to watch.

Given the mix of real life and faux interviews, 24 City isn’t quite a documentary, but it’s not a totally fictional narrative either. Director Jia Zhangke adeptly mixes both forms to beautifully capture the multigenerational impact of the sweeping changes China made within the last few decades, encapsulated through the experiences with regards to an actual location. Some viewers might find the film a bit slow, as Zhangke doesn’t rely on narration, instead hearing out the stories of each of his interviewees (real or scripted). Still, the way 24 City depicts them feels genuine because it’s more observant than prescriptive, and has a lot more to say about ordinary people in the face of history.

From the director of Drive comes Bronson, the true story of a man who was sentenced to seven years in prison but ends up spending three decades in solitary confinement. Tom Hardy is phenomenal in this dark comedy. His character is so likable and you quickly feel sorry for what he is going through. No one can help him no matter how much he asks for it. Bronson has class, great acting, hilarious comedy, and a true story backing it up. There is nothing not to love about this film.

This Danish film which was the country’s submission to the Oscars is about a delicate subject. A lawyer who specializes in defending children, and who is used to developing closeness with her clients including meeting with them in her home, starts having an affair with her teenage step-son.

There is inherent tension to this obviously very explicit plotline: how would a serious, non-erotic (or not-only-erotic) movie like this one portray such attraction. And of course, afterwards, what are the implications?

The Cider House Rules is the 1999 adaptation of John Irving’s best-selling novel, about a young man named Homer Wells (Tobey Maguire) who is raised in an orphanage in Maine during WWII. Trained from an early age in obstetrics (and abortions) by the kindly Dr. WIlbur Larch (Michael Caine), Wilbur yearns to explore the world and eventually embarks on a spirit quest that finds him working as a day laborer on an apple farm in rural Maine. The cast of characters that Wilbur encounters (utterly superb across the board) and the unexpected challenges that he faces throughout the film really imbue this tale of self-discovery with warmth and heart. It’s incredibly touching and borderline heartbreaking at times, yet never loses its air of utter compassion and humanity. A true must-see.

Logan Lerman (The Perks of Being a Wallflower) and John Hawkes (The Sessions) star in this easy road drama about a father who tries to rekindle with his son. After the mother passes away, they try to execute her dying wishes of spreading her ashes in her home country of Ireland. The son, Lerman’s character, is freshly released from jail and accepts to take the trip on the one condition that he never sees his father again. This premise makes for a fun mix between a family drama and an adventure movie. Both characters have a lot to discover in Ireland: about the country, each other, and themselves.

For better or worse, The Reason I Jump isn’t a documentary made for autistic viewers but for a neurotypical audience that may not be very knowledgeable about autism. This means the film doesn’t really offer anything new to the conversation, and it misses the opportunity to truly let its main characters express themselves in their own unique ways, uninterrupted. That said, The Reason I Jump still structures itself smartly (with stunning filmmaking to boot) by having each of its five characters introduce us to different aspects of the autism experience, from sense and memory to communication and community.

It’s easy enough to pitch Moonstruck with the promise of Cher and a young Nicolas Cage getting hot and heavy in 80s New York, but it’s so much more than its two outsized leads. Loretta (Cher) is on track to marry Johnny (Danny Aiello) when he tasks her with inviting his brother Ronny (Nicolas Cage) to their wedding. Before long Loretta and Ronny are having a whirlwind affair that threatens to derail everything. 

Despite the somewhat risque premise, Moonstruck is a lighthearted, sentimental, romance fit for the holidays. A big cast playing the warm-hearted family rounds things out, and some of the best moments are digressions that explore the romantic entanglements outside of the central couple.  At times Moonstruck feels a bit too big, too over-the-top, too cheesy, but it’s a New York slice cheesy, it’s a ‘That’s Amore’ cheesy, it’s a cheesy that tucks you in at night after a  helping of manicotti and a big bottle of wine.

Shattered Glass tells the unbelievably true story of Stephen Glass, a popular and promising young journalist at The New Republic. Stephen’s storytelling skills are sought out not just by his admiring colleagues but by other publications as well, so when a rival journalist from Forbes finds holes in one of Stephen’s stories, no one takes the accusation seriously at first—except perhaps for Charles Lane, Stephen’s editor. Immune to Stephen’s charms, Charles digs for the truth and tries, despite an alarming lack of support, to pursue what’s right.

Set in the ’90s, Shattered Glass may be a throwback to old-school journalism, but its ideas about the integrity of facts still hold water, especially in an age fraught with rampant disinformation.

There are many ways through which a friendship can form, but sometimes, it’s due to compassion for someone who needs help. Despite the somewhat fantastical clairvoyant premise, Beautiful Beings is mostly about this simple friendship formed with a bullied kid, which turns out not to be so simple at all. From a bummed cigarette, the friendship grows into a protective support system, filling up parental neglect with teaching each other how to live, but while some of these moments are totally wholesome, other moments lean into mischief, and sometimes violent danger. It may be a fairly familiar coming-of-age premise about male friendship, but Berdreymi executes it well, has a compelling cast, and isn’t afraid to go dark when necessary.

Nostalgia for the Light is a documentary about Atacama desert and the two activities that go on there: astronomers in ALMA space observatory examine the sky, and the relatives of murdered people dig the ground hoping to find their loved ones. The way the director compares these seemingly totally different topics (searching the sky and searching the sand) is pure poetry. It’s a serious, but not depressing nor boring movie. All the interviewed people are amazingly relevant and have great insight. They made me feel like I want to get to know them personally. If you’re looking for a detailed “for dummies” introduction about Chile, ALMA observatory or Pinochet’s concentration camps, this movie is not for you. It’s for viewers who want to learn to appreciate the beauty of life and history, and the surprising parallels they sometimes offer us.

The Dark Crystal is a fantasy film that follows Jen (Stephen Garlick), who is tasked to save his people by restoring the cracked dark crystal before it’s too late. It’s a typical heroes tale, the story and dialogue nothing you’ve never heard of, but The Dark Crystal has since garnered a cult following and continues to stand the test of time because it’s a technical wonder. The first live-action film to feature zero humans, it features special effects, physical contraptions, beautiful scenery, and of course impressive puppets crafted by director Jim Henson, the same pupeteering mastermind behind The Muppets and Labyrinth. The film’s magical world of Thra was expanded in the Netflix series of the same name, which itself has garnered great acclaim from critics and fans alike.