20 Best Movies on Starz Right Now

This Oscar winner is an offbeat romantic comedy that still feels like a standard romantic comedy! It’s best that you go into it without many expectations, because many people enjoy it for different reasons and it’s best if you find your own. It’s also a movie that needs to be seen as a whole, despite having so many components to it. Fresh out of a mental institution, Pat (Bradely Cooper) moves with his parents and tries to get his ex-wife back. Hel he meets Tiffany (Jennifer Lawrence) a girl with complex problems of her own. Silver Linings Playbook is funny, so well-acted, and takes on interesting issues and perspectives.

Coming of age films are a staple in cinema, but rare is a great depiction of growing up on the internet, chatting with friends, and learning about the world through just a small screen. Dìdi is one of those rare films that remembers that pivotal era, which is why it’s often likened to Bo Burnham’s Eighth Grade, but Sean Wang depicts a more angsty than anxious Asian American kid with a mother and a grandmother less able to relate to the wider Western town they live in, and with nothing he wants to do but to skate, shoot skating, and try to fit in with people he thinks are cool. It’s both funny and self-critical, as if Wang was looking back to remember the times he screwed up, but it’s also just comforting to watch him own up to who he really is, even if it doesn’t garner the exact response he’s been hoping for. It’s also precisely why Dìdi found its audience.

The bare bones of The Limey’s story — vengeful Cockney ex-con Wilson (Terence Stamp) flies to LA to investigate the suspicious death of his daughter Jenny — are gripping enough, but what Steven Soderbergh does with them elevates this neo-noir thriller into something utterly singular and stacked with layers upon layers of meaning. An icon of London’s Swinging ‘60s scene, Stamp is pitted against laidback symbol of ‘60s American counterculture Peter Fonda (as Jenny’s sleazy older boyfriend), giving their face-off grander cultural stakes. The extra-textual significance of the casting is deepened by Soderbergh’s ingenious references to the actors’ heyday: in flashbacks to Wilson’s happier past, for example, we’re shown the actual Stamp in his younger years (courtesy of scenes borrowed from 1967’s Poor Cow).

The Limey is also a brilliant showcase for editor Sarah Flack’s technical inventiveness: though the narrative is largely linear, the film cuts to and from scenes and sounds at unexpected points, giving the film an almost David Lynch-like sense of eerie fragmentation. Conjuring up a nightmare LA atmosphere isn’t all the editing does, either, as the film’s puzzle pieces are expertly reassembled to reveal an emotional gut-punch of an ending. In short, this high point in Soderbergh’s filmography is a must-see for any fan of cinema.

I’m Not There is an unusual biopic in that it never refers to its subject, Bob Dylan, by name. Instead, Todd Haynes’ portrait of the singer mimics his constant reinvention by casting six separate actors to play as many reincarnations of the same soul. It’s an ingenious spin on a usually stale genre, one that liberates the film from the humdrum restrictions of a literal retelling of Dylan’s life.

If there’s anyone who warrants such an inventive approach to biography, it’s Dylan, whose public and private personas are so numerous that it’s only by angling six different mirrors at him that Haynes can hope to catch some of his essence. Impressionistic editing toggles freely between these vignettes, each visually distinct: from the 11-year-old Woody Guthrie-obsessive (Marcus Carl Franklin) and the black-and-white Super 16mm-shot poet (Ben Whishaw) to the aging cowboy outlaw (Richard Gere), all by way of Christian Bale, Heath Ledger, and Cate Blanchett’s incarnations. To be sure, this is a somewhat challenging film, reflecting, in places, the enigmatic surrealism of Dylan’s lyrics and his refusal to be pinned down to one thing. But, as Blanchett’s embodiment says, “Mystery is a traditional fact,” and that’s no more true than of Dylan, making Haynes’ film a fascinatingly fitting spiritual biopic.

Filmed with a perfect blend of realism and embellished style, Fresh is a coming-of-age story set in the poverty of the New York City projects, wherein the protagonist “grows up” only by learning to become dangerous and losing his sense of self. There’s no satisfaction in watching 12-year-old Michael (or “Fresh,” as he’s called) use his supposed innocence as a tool to manipulate his way to a safer position. The system continues to reign supreme and Fresh only buries himself into a deeper hole. Boaz Yakin’s direction is direct and expressive, the city stirring to vibrant life in every scene, and the tremendous performances from Giancarlo Esposito and a then-teenage Sean Nelson drive home the tragedy with full force.

At the same time a fun, crazy, and meaningful movie about Malcom and his friends, high school teenagers and proud geeks who suddenly find themselves immersed in the underground LA drug scene. It’s a 2015 Superbad meets Boyz in the Hood. But in its essence it mostly resembles another beautiful film, Juno, in the way it evolves around a character played perfectly who you get to know, agree and disagree with, and ultimately learn from and relate to. Above all it’s an outright enjoyable film, a smart one too, with a great soundtrack to boot.

In this romance from 1997, a photographer and a poet meet in an upscale nightclub in Chicago.

They quickly get together and connect on music, poetry, and photography, but Nina, the photographer, decides to go to New York to mend her relationship with her ex-fiance.

It’s so well-acted, funny, and because it’s been enough time that this has become noticeable, a great depiction of big-city life in the 90s. There is smoking inside, riding a motorcycle without helmets, and top-notch fashion.

The producers said they wanted to make “a contemporary film about African-American life that did not deal with guns and drugs,” and probably because they didn’t make compromises, the film was a commercial failure. In recent years, however, it has been quietly growing into a cult classic.

In case you didn’t know, Speak No Evil is based on a Danish film of the same name, released only two years ago. Given that the latter was already a hit among horror fans thanks to its unrelentingly bleak approach, it’s tempting to chalk this remake up to narcissism. As was the case with the movies Otto and Let Me In, maybe Americans just wanted something of their own. While that may be true, it has to be said that this remake, in a word, is good. It’s thrilling and terrifying in its own right, and it adds enough new elements to keep you on your toes. Apart from the new twists, the characters are also more utilized and the social commentary on class and masculinity feels more pointed. Through these additions, among others, it’s able to imagine an alternative storyline that will speak to a lot of audiences.

I mean its Denzel Washington, ain’t that enough of a reason? The GOAT baddass delivers once more in Flight, a 1/3 action, 1/3 drama and 1/3 ethical quandary movie. Denzel’s performance is nuanced and exquisite and the story has so many layers you’ll stay entranced. Definitely a movie to watch with friends so you can debate the many questions this movie brings up.

Elisabeth Moss is in it. Calling The One I Love a romantic-comedy, looking it up, or trusting anyone else about it — especially my review, will ruin this film for you. Just watch it. If one’s penchant is typically opposed to titles with ‘love’ in them, then it’s for you. Just hit ‘play’, or ‘start’, or whatever. The initial wtf-ness that attracted me to it is compelled further by excellent acting. And Elisabeth Moss is in it.

The work of two people stand out here: the actor Christian Bale and the cinematographer Masanobu Takayanagi (Silver Linings Playbook, Warrior, The Grey, Spotlight, etc.) Bale plays an Army Captain who agrees to escort a dying Cheyenne war chief and his family through treacherous lands. The general and the chief, being old enemies, embark on a journey where their conflict seems the least of their worries. The cinematography is lush and reminiscent of the classics of the Western genre. It is a harshly stunning film you should watch.

It’s always refreshing to see people in esteemed positions let their guard down, not to mention smoke a vape or gossip feverishly, as we mere mortals do. But Conclave is more than just a candid look at what goes down in a process as elaborate as a papal election. It’s a portrait of man’s innate thirst for power. And since it has more to do with humanity than divinity, it’s also rightfully silly. Cardinals are scrambling for votes and fighting over politics. They can be peaceful and reasonable, but they can also be petty and spiteful, just like any person pressured to vote for their future (or just like any person, period). Conclave is far from perfect—its intentions are murky at times and the visuals, though beautiful, are oddly sparse—but it works because no one in the film, not even the protagonist, is infallible. It’s a welcome reminder of our limitations, regardless of faith.

The dystopian survival thriller isn’t concerned about the reasons behind its death marathon, only giving a short speech about a war, an economic depression, and a show to inspire the rest of the nation. Instead, The Long Walk is more interested in its poor contestants. It’s likely to remind one of director Francis Lawrence’s Hunger Games franchise, as this journey pushes them to bond, to get to know each other, to reveal the reasons they chose to join this supposed voluntary journey. It’s what they reveal that makes each death all the more brutal, and what makes the changed ending all the more devastating.

We mostly think of objects as just stuff to buy, to sell, to give, and to throw away, but for many musicians, their instruments are quite important to them. The Red Violin takes it to the extreme– with the titular instrument infused with the life force of a human– but the film justifies this passion, the pain, and the cost through one of the most beautiful violin scores ever made, and through an ambitious series of vignettes spanning across four centuries and five countries. As the object passes hands, and the owners live, and play, and die, The Red Violin suggests that while these artists’ lives are fleeting, there’s still something human and important in chasing the sublime, and this instrument is just proof of it.

Not everyone gets to go after their ambitions without any reservations, but everyone is free to dream. Hustle & Flow depicts a unique midlife crisis of a pimp that’s been in the game for too long, but while the premise somewhat seems superficial, the way writer-director Craig Brewer depicts it is not. It takes familiar plot points, but understands the more realistic consequences after. It recognizes ambition, not as a pipe dream, but as a means of ordering one’s life. It’s because of this that the cast gets to delve deeper into their roles, with Terrence Howard still garnering sympathies for DJay despite his initial profession. And it helps that the songs aren’t terrible either. While not perfect, Hustle & Flow is a familiar underdog tale, with a novel twist to its beat.

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.

While it plays the standard beats of the musician biopic, Ray is a fairly entertaining biopic centered on Ray Charles, the man that pioneered soul music, mixing in rhythm and blues, jazz, and gospel into a brand new sound. It goes through plenty of the melodramatic moments familiar to the genre– the prior hardships, the drug addiction, and of course, the moments of musical bliss– and there are some fictionalized moments, but Jamie Foxx’s excellent portrayal and Charles’ tunes are able to carry the film all the way through. Though the way Charles was parented in childhood is a tough watch, and isn’t the best way to parent, Ray sticks true to the singer’s life, with every scene personally approved by the legend before his death.

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.

With a pretty much boilerplates plot, there is one thing that makes this movie worth watching and she’s called Melissa McCarthy. She is hilarious. Seriously, she’s the best.

Together with Sandra Bullock, they manage to show off fantastic chemistry, out buddy-copping even Gibson and Glover at the height of their powers. This female duo is very entertaining so it’s an easy choice if you want a light-hearted night full of laughs and popcorn.

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.