100 Best Movies of 2023 (Regularly Updated)

Jules’ wacky premise — an extra-terrestrial crash-lands in eccentric widower Milton’s (Ben Kingsley) flowerbeds — is a bit of a misdirection. While the movie is technically a sci-fi (featuring, as it does, some very out-there alien engineering), it’s really a charming, mostly-human drama about the isolation and surreality of aging. 

Though the mute presence of the alien (nicknamed Jules and played brilliantly by a totally silent Jade Quon) is a constant reminder of the expansiveness of the universe and strange wonders yet to be discovered, the movie keeps its feet firmly on the ground with a sensitive exploration of just how small the worlds of lonely, dementia-struck Milton and two other isolated elderly townspeople (Jane Curtin and Harriet Sansom Harris) are. Rather than expand outwards into a story about the extra-terrestrial itself, Jules focuses on the painful disorientation felt by its lonely trio of protagonists, who all find therapeutic relief and connection by way of the alien and its “understanding eyes.” Though the movie’s zany forays into sci-fi territory do sometimes boggle the mind, they never undermine the genuine emotion in Jules’ raw grappling with the experience of aging, as well as give the movie a quirky charm that ensures you won’t see anything like this again soon — an increasingly rare experience in itself.

There’s a remarkable harshness to every moment of I Have Electric Dreams, even if it doesn’t seem like much is happening. Beautiful textures in its cinematography and the dreamlike movement of its editing can’t mask the pain that protagonist Eva feels, as she drifts through the ruin of her own family in search of any shred of comfort or anything she can still call her own. There’s tension in every interaction she has, as this messy divorce has torn down any divide between parent and child—revealing Eva to be both more mature and more naive than she realizes, and revealing her parents as still stuck in their own insecurities. It’s frequently difficult viewing that gets surprisingly graphic, but the film’s ear for character is undeniable.

Teenagers forced to grow up quickly and spend their prime years wiling away at garment factories sounds like a grim reality, and it is, but in Youth (Spring), Chinese documentarist Wang Bing captures more than just the inherent tragedy of young labor. Here, they build friendships, find love, discover an affinity for their craft, stand up for themselves against exploitative bosses, and look for ways to have fun. Even if it’s just as simple as eating street food, spending the night at an internet cafe, or finding nice clothes, we’re with them in every way. Though it’s never explicitly political, the documentary makes you think about the conditions that put the kids there in the first place, such as our insatiable need for cheap and trendy clothes, governments turning a blind eye to child labor, and a skewed system that favors these above people’s—especially young people’s—well-being and welfare.

Given the title, it isn’t surprising that Falling in Love Like in Movies would be a metanarrative with the main romance mirroring the filmmaking and the filmmaking reflecting the main romance. It’s a familiar approach, and at first, Falling seems to follow the inevitable ending where the couple falls in love, but right on time, in around Sequence Four, writer-director Yandy Laurens chooses a more honest, less chosen path– a path that plenty of previous romance films hasn’t examined– that still falls within the eight sequence screenplay structure Bagus talks about. While Bagus is pitching his film to Hana, and to his producer, Jatuh Cinta Seperti di Film-Film pitches a new way of thinking about love, grief, and of course, filmmaking.

Nakedness has been demonized or at least, has been considered inappropriate outside of certain situations. One such situation is the sauna, as the steam and high heat is considered therapeutic, especially in colder regions. In her directorial debut, Anna Hints documents the Estonian smoke sauna, not just as a cultural tradition, but as a sanctuary for women to bare their bodies and their troubles. The women are, of course, naked, but the sauna’s smoke and darkness obscures and keeps identities hidden, focusing on their stories and allowing a glimpse of women’s bodies at their most natural, without the sexualization often placed with the male gaze. Smoke Sauna Sisterhood is a refreshing take, one where plenty of women can finally see themselves in.

The premise of Mars Express may not be novel, especially when films like Blade Runner have already gracefully explored the philosophical ramifications of the human-tech conflict. But the French animated movie’s richly built world, (digitally) hand-drawn characters, genuinely gripping action, and far-reaching ideas about space make it a refreshing watch. The plot is taut and tight, too, peppered with twists and grounded by character depth. It may look simple at first glance, predictable even, but by the end, you’ll be over the moon by the film’s imagination and ambition.

Since we live in a society, interacting with authority is inescapable. Terrestrial Verses depict fairly mundane day-to-day interactions– getting a birth certificate, settling a traffic violation, or attending a job interview– but through nine vignettes framed with a static camera, aimed at a person trying to negotiate with someone more powerful just outside the frame, these mundane interactions become satirically absurd. For those unfamiliar with the ideology behind the regime, these interactions are just so annoying. But for those in the know, the doublespeak in the dialogue reflects how finicky and arbitrary the rules set by the authoritarian regime are, and celebrates the wit and ingenuity of the ordinary people that have to navigate them. Terrestrial Verses seems utterly mundane at first, but it proves to be smart, incisive, and deeply insightful.

As one of the few animated Filipino films ever made, there’s a question as to why The Missing should use the animation in the first place. The animation here is much more rough than the ones from other countries, and while it’s a bit more pricey, the filmmakers could have filmed this in live action with practical SFX and CGI. But there’s a big reason why it was animated anyway– It’s because of the story. It’s not just because the protagonist Eric is an animator– it’s because animation, to that specific lead, was the way through which he was able to form a life after trauma, becoming the livelihood that allowed him to move out of his childhood home, and far far away from the trauma he faced. Writer-director Carl Joseph Papa also takes advantage of the medium by creating designs that match Eric’s current state of mind– regular, day-to-day life is rotoscoped, while the blank portions of his memory are traditionally drawn in the style Eric would have had during that age. It’s an unusual approach, but whether or not the story was adjusted to the budget, Iti Mapukpukaw is undeniably a touching and inventive drama that depicts the complexities of grief.

Going to school can be tough, moreso in a neglected, corrupt and violent town with not much opportunities to improve. But sometimes, once in a while, going to school can be great because of a good teacher. It’s a real teacher that inspired Radical (2023), a Mexican entry to Sundance that year, and while it does follow a familiar template, the crowd pleaser teacher drama is enjoyable to watch, especially with Eugenio Derbez’s charismatic performance as the star teacher. Being based on a true story, the third act might take on a surprising tone shift, but Radical nonetheless is inspiring stuff and understandably won Sundance’s Festival Favorite Award.

Led by Rosy McEwen’s commanding performance brimming with fear and self-loathing, Blue Jean pours all of the anguish and defiance felt by the LGBTQ+ community under Margaret Thatcher’s administration into a single character. Writer-director Georgia Oakley keeps her plot light, but through conversations with other beautifully portrayed queer women (especially those played by Kerrie Hayes and Lucy Halliday), she piles on one conflicted emotion after another about what this lesbian woman’s responsibility is toward herself and her community when they find themselves threatened. But even as the film takes a definite stance, it validates every response as authentic—borne out of a need to protect the people whom one loves.