100 Best Movies on Kanopy Right Now

While Shakespeare has written most of the romantic plays that dominate theater today, there was one play from across the English Channel that also keeps its hold in the public consciousness, namely Cyrano de Bergerac by Edmond Rostand. Cyrano, My Love depicts the process of creating the iconic play a la Shakespeare in Love, that is, by taking the actual play’s history and jumbling it up with the plot of Cyrano, with art reinventing life and vice versa. It’s a bit of a corny approach, but the way writer-director Alexis Michalik adapts his play is entertaining, leaning more on the frenzy of creation and collaboration rather than cramming Rostand’s romance with his wife into a cinematic plot. This makes Edmond a much more dynamic profile of the titular playwright.

In adapting hardboiled detective novel Falling Angels, writer-director Alan Parker mixes the story’s original noir with the New Orlean supernatural in 1987’s Angel Heart. The gamble mostly pays off. Mickey Rourke brilliantly brings hapless Harry Angel to a terrifying reveal, stoked by the mystery presented by an inscrutable Robert de Niro, while Lisa Bonet makes a striking debut as fresh-faced Epiphany Proudfoot. But what makes Angel Heart work is mixing the post-war disillusionment towards humanity with entities that people can’t ever hope to control, leading the film with the noir-like investigation into a terrifying descent into hell. It’s no wonder Angel Heart eventually garnered cult classic status, even becoming influential to the likes of Christopher Nolan.

Electric Shadows is often deemed something like a Chinese Cinema Paradiso. It has the friendship with an older film projectionist, the small town gathering around outdoor screenings of foreign film, a childhood friendship between a boy and girl that meet again unexpectedly, and of course, it wears its heart for the movies right on its sleeve. It doesn’t quite compare to the Italian classic, and there are some moments when the film slightly drags, but Electric Shadows does capture the feeling of awe that you get when you watch your first movie, whether that be when you’re a kid taking your first steps in the world, or when you’re an adult hoping for something more despite the life allowed to you.

There’s plenty of things happening in folk horror film November. With devils snatching livestock, magical automatons called kratts, and trying to trick the Plague while in the form of a pig, love surely can’t bloom strong in these circumstances. And this would be correct, but the way this tragic romance unfolds is through eerie, yet captivating, black-and-white dream sequences made up bits and pieces of Estonian folklore, and the film shines best when focused on these sequences. The love triangle will be familiar, but the approach, the offbeat humor, and the raw practical effects would be bewitching until the end.

With plenty of old men having extramarital affairs, taking advantage of younger women and leaving them forlorn in love, it can feel deceptively easy to take sides in the first forty minutes of He Loves Me… He Loves Me Not. Who wouldn’t side with Angélique, especially with the innocent, childlike face of Audrey Tautou? And yet, when the twist occurs, the film fills the gaps in totally unexpected ways, gradually escalating to a terrible and sad conclusion about this seemingly romantic girl. It’s hard to further talk about He Loves Me… He Loves Me Not without getting into spoiler territory, so if this is the first time you’ve heard of the movie, go and watch it without any context.

When the country rises in rebellion against your dictatorial rule, we imagine that could be quite difficult. After a series of failures and atrocities committed to keep power, no one in the world would empathize with the dictator in question. Doing exactly this, however, made for a striking movie in The President. Never naming an actual country, but based generally on real world revolutions, the film plucks a dictator and his grandson into the poverty that his regime has inflicted upon its people. It’s quite cathartic to see the two reap the karmic consequences of what the dictator has done, but it’s also thought-provoking, as the film straightforwardly demonstrates the way revolution eventually takes cyclical form, especially for the movements that allowed the very atrocities they sought to end. It’s not a film with an easy-to-match metaphor, though, given the production country and the director Mohsen Makhmalbaf’s home country, one could guess certain influences, but The President nonetheless is a striking portrait of a city violently changing hands.

Given that it is a modern day, colored film remake of a classic, Hara-Kiri: Death of a Samurai was always going to be compared to the 1962 film, especially since it’s considered one of the greatest Japanese films of all time. Admittedly, there’s not a lot added aside from the 3D filming, and for fans of director Takashi Miike, the remake is much more restrained than his other films. However, Nobuyasu Kita’s cinematography is striking, Ryuichi Sakamoto’s score is impeccable, and the performances still deliver on the film’s contemplation of honor, sacrifice, and the self-interest of the elite. Hara-Kiri: Death of a Samurai doesn’t compare to the classic, but it’s nonetheless a decent introduction for the generations that missed the original story.

Tuvalu is a pretty weird film. It’s definitely inspired by old silent expressionist films– Barely anyone speaks in it, the scenes play out in a variety of sepia tones, and the expressions everyone takes are hyper-exaggerated– but it’s the plot points that can feel cryptic and loopy for some viewers, considering the wacky ways Anton improvises some quick fixes for the pool. It’s because of this that the film won’t be for everyone. However, cinephiles looking for something outside the mainstream fare might enjoy Tuvalu, because the strange plot is depicted through interesting frames shot in the beautiful sets of the dilapidated pool, in a unique style that most viewers would rarely see today. Tuvalu is eccentric, but it’s not bad, and no one can deny its originality.

When depicting a novel, book adaptations on film, especially earlier on in the medium, tend to be quite lengthy. The film version of Pelle the Conqueror does have this quality, and the storylines that aren’t directly connected to Pelle and Lasse do feel randomly stitched in. But, when this epic film focuses on Pelle and Lasse– their struggles immigrating to another country, dealing with harassment from the Danish majority, and the rare moments of joy once they finally figure things out– it shines. The legendary Max von Sydow and Pelle Hvenegaard (who was one of the many boys named after the title character) share a tender father-son dynamic that easily stirs one’s heart, and it’s all beautifully captured within Denmark’s lovely countryside. Pelle the Conqueror may only adapt the first of four volumes of the iconic Danish novel, but it does compassionately capture the struggles of the country’s impoverished immigrants.

The people you love have different people, sometimes different worlds, in their lives that we don’t necessarily get to know about, though it depends on your loved ones. While most of the time, we would introduce the love of our lives to our families, sometimes, it’s not possible, especially if you’re not out to them yet. Hong Khaou’s debut feature film is centered on that idea, and he handles this topic with the pace it needs, allowing Ben Whishaw and Cheng Pei-pei to carefully forge a gentle, genuine connection between two very different people bridged through Vann’s translations and their love for Kai.