100 Best Movies on Kanopy Right Now

Best known for landmark cyberpunk anime Akira, Katsuhiro Otomo crafted strange and terrifying visions of a world that has not yet come, imagining technology that surpassed that of today, but in much pessimistic light compared to that of the genre. Three of his manga short stories are depicted in Memories, with Otomo partnering with Kōji Morimoto and Tensai Okamura to direct each segment, and with Satoshi Kon in writing, just before Kon’s own iconic surrealist films. Kon-written Magnetic Rose has been universally acknowledged as the best of them, being much more emotionally poignant, but the other two does have its charms, as Stink Bomb takes a relatively silly premise to its fairly logical, but scary conclusion, and Cannon Fodder takes the beauty of Otomo’s art into such a hollow and ugly world. All three deliver terrifying omens of death through technology used against the everyday man, whether by accident or design.

With many iterations of Faust, Jan Švankmajer’s own take on the deal with the devil isn’t absolutely terrifying, and can feel bizarre, sometimes even goofy, to those unfamiliar with the animation director. However, Lekce Faust is quite creepy, as he brings the legend to modern day Prague with a mysterious map and visually disturbing puppets that brilliantly mixes live action with stop-motion and claymation into folklorish cinematic magic. It’s not the most faithful rendition of the classic tale, but it’s one of the most inventive, proving that while the deals like this pop up only in past folklore, the devil still lingers in fairly absurd ways.

Modern day coming-of-age ennui isn’t a new subject at all, but there’s a charm to the way this was presented in Güeros. In his first film, Alonso Ruizpalacios beautifully shoots each scene in black and white, forming striking images of what the capital used to be and taking new approaches in depicting certain scenes (for example, that panic attack with the POV shot covered in feathers!). The cast also excellently portray this millennial emotion well, with their eyes glazed over as they try to seek moments of connection and grounding, as they try to make sense of it all. While some of the politics might fly under the radar to people outside the country, Güeros nevertheless serves as an interesting portrait of the time, as well as an interesting debut for one of Mexico’s avant-garde filmmakers.

As a woman, it’s risky enough to trust a male gynecologist, but to have him seduce, manipulate, and experiment on you? That’s a horror all on its own, but Dead Ringers operates on several levels beyond the political. It’s also psychological and sexual, and because this is a Cronenberg film, it’s done with an unsettling amount of gore. But perhaps the most impressive part of Dead Ringers (apart from Irons convincingly playing twins with just a deft change of inflection, of course) is the eroticism it contains. This element seems to be lacking in many films nowadays, or forced in a way that feels even more uncomfortable than gratuitous sex. The fact that this Reagan-era movie was and continues to be subversive says a lot about how potent it is, and how unfortunately slow we’ve been to tolerate sensuality in film.

Crushes seem much more important when you’re young, and when you and your sibling share one, it easily alters your dynamic, with the jealousy, comparison, and the insecurity it can foster. The Man in the Moon tackles this childhood crush with care. Writer Jenny Wingfield and director Robert Mulligan characterize each kid with consideration befitting their ages, with an understanding of the different priorities they would have with a three year age gap, the feelings they would have, and the misunderstandings they would have with each other. And this all works because of Reese Witherspoon, who even then held a screen presence that made her into a star.

While Lewis Carroll’s Alice in Wonderland is widely considered a classic, there’s just something inscrutable, mysterious, and even a bit weird about the tale. Czech director Jan Svankmajer’s version takes a distinctly unsettling approach, with everything but normal-sized Alice animated into creepy stop-motion, including, but not limited to, cards, puppets falling apart, and actual dead animals, and with every dialogue coming literally from Alice’s mouth, but it’s through this approach that makes the fantastical novel more like a strange dream rather than the Disney-fied fairy tale we’ve come to know. Něco z Alenky is a refreshing take that finally acknowledges the dark side of Alice in Wonderland.

Certified Copy starts straightforward enough as it follows an unnamed shopkeeper (Juliette Binoche) and a writer (William Shimell) taking a stroll around picturesque Tuscany, debating the merits of authenticity and simplicity. They’re strangers flirting under the guise of an intellectual debate, and for a while, you think you’re watching a film like Before Sunrise, that is until a mysterious, almost magical, shift occurs, and suddenly, you’re witnessing something entirely different. For better or worse, director Abbas Kiarostami never makes it clear what happens, and that very mystery gives you a lot to think about. Are they pretending to be copies or is it the other way around? Neverending questions run through your head as you watch them banter, but whatever actually happens might be beside the point. At the moment, you get deeply felt, wonderfully rendered, as-real-as-can-be performances from Binoche and Shimell, and you can’t help but surrender.

With an acrobat in a sanitarium, elephant trunks spouting blood, and a religious cult whose patron saint is a rape victim, Santa Sangre isn’t going to be an easy watch, especially with the avant-garde direction of the iconic Alejandro Jodorowsky. It’s tough to watch the explicit scenes, both of Fenix’s childhood circus reality and his adult hallucinations, with the hallucinations visually recalling his childhood trauma. But through these terrifying, freaky images, Jodorowsky takes his own memories and crafts it into a twisted, but deeply personal psychosexual nightmare, confronting the exploitative nature of faith and family through various circus acts. Santa Sangre is one of its kind.

There are moments in cinema when the character and actor are irrevocably linked– to think of one is to think of the other, to the point that the line is blurred between both. One such pair is Spock and Leonard Nimoy, and, after his death, it was inevitable that the documentary about Nimoy would also be a documentary about Spock. For the Love of Spock is the first of two Nimoy documentaries, made by his son Adam, and it’s a lovely tribute to the iconic sci-fi legend that shifted the entire genre and the fan culture that emerged, but it was also a personal film where the family reckons with the fame that occurred as a result. Superfans might not learn that much about Spock (some of them are interviewed in the film), but For the Love of Spock is an excellent profile, even if it’s not as objective and logical as the character itself.

When striving towards your life goal, some concessions have to be made in order to get there, e.g. you would forgo some wants in order to fulfill that higher purpose. But how much are you willing to sacrifice? Mario is a sports drama about an aspiring football player that wants to make it higher up in the league, but it’s also a queer drama, since to be that professional means to stick to a rigid notion of masculinity for the fans, for the sponsors, and sometimes for fellow homophobic teammates competing against them. At two hours, the naturalistic depiction of Mario’s experience might be a tad too long for some viewers, but the film understands the fear, the pressure, and the compromises gay athletes are forced to go through.