65 Best PG-13 Movies on Netflix Right Now

Based on Fredrick Backman’s 2012 best-selling book of the same name, this Swedish hit comedy-drama introduces us to Ove, an elderly man who feels like his life is over. After losing his wife, the short-fused retiree spends his days grumpily enforcing block association rules in his neighborhood. He is your typical unhappy, old neighbor, somebody you would try to avoid. One new family does not give up and befriends Ove, played by an impeccable Rolf Lassgård, despite his best intentions to put them off. As the plot unfolds, however, you learn more about the story behind the man, and, in classic walk-a-mile-in-his-shoes fashion, start to find him rather loveable. After all, nobody is born grumpy and cynical. Naturally, this is a sweet and sentimental film. But an amazing lead performance and a charming, darkly funny script rescue it from drifting too far off the shore. The result is a wholesome, fun, and thoughtful dramedy with a beautiful message.

TV’s Alan Partridge — Steve Coogan’s brilliant skewering of small-time celebrity vanity — gets the big-screen treatment in this suitably parochial action thriller. The premise feels like the kind of ridiculous scenario the radio DJ would fantasize about in between songs: Pat (Colm Meaney), an ex-employee of North Norfolk Digital, returns to the station armed and takes his former colleagues hostage, refusing to negotiate with anyone but Alan. Those familiar with Coogan’s painfully self-absorbed character will foresee that going straight to his already delusions-of-grandeur-filled head, and it does; as one character puts it, he’s like a puffed-up robin.

Much of the hilarity comes from the way Alan’s obvious glee at the heroic position he’s found himself in distracts him from actually saving the day, but there is equally sharply drawn satire in the supporting characters, too. Favorites from the TV series, like Alan’s put-upon assistant Lynn (Felicity Montagu) — herself a brilliant feat of perceptive comedy — make welcome returns here, but, like Alan, their eccentricities are made accessible enough that Partridge virgins won’t feel their ignorance. With all the original writers back onboard (including Armando Iannucci, the comedy genius behind The Death of Stalin and Veep), Alpha Papa is another reliably hilarious entry in the Partridge canon. Back of the net.

Many comedians use humor as a way to ease into more serious subject matter, though there always exists a risk that a comedy special can skew too far down the silly or the self-reflective route. Mike Birbiglia has come about as close to the perfect balance as possible, in this recording of his one-man Broadway show at the Vivian Beaumont Theater. Key to this is the fact that Birbiglia tells one very cohesive story throughout these 77 minutes, frequently branching off to other humorous anecdotes but always returning with a pensive self-consciousness to the real possibility of him dying sooner than he’d want.

This filmed version of Birbiglia’s show doesn’t give a full idea of its multimedia qualities (Birbiglia occasionally has words and images projected onto the curved screen behind him, which he also physically interacts with), but the comedian’s sincere style of storytelling more than makes up for the lack of audiovisual tricks we’re permitted to see. And don’t get it confused: this is a very funny stand-up special, whose jokes always come from the most unexpected places—it also just happens to contain some truly moving moments that come out of nowhere, but make total sense alongside all the laughter.

Funny, refreshing, and heartwarming, You Are So Not Invited to My Bat Mitzvah gives the seminal girlhood film Are You There God? It’s Me Margaret. a Gen Z update. Stacy and her friends are constantly on social media and watch each other for potentially politically incorrect terms, but they also struggle with period pain, crushes, and falling out with former friends. It’s a confusing time in a kid’s life, and  You Are So Not Invited, like Are You There God? before it, honors that. It never condescends, never strays far from the child’s perspective. It’s jubilant and heartwarming, and (to me at least) it’s always fun to see real-life families play themselves in movies. Judd Apatow experimented with this structure in his semi-autobiographical films Knocked Up and This Is 40, which first gave us a glimpse into his daughter Maude Apatow’s acting prowess. I feel You Are So Not Invited will do the same to its young star Sunny Sandler, whose effortlessly funny and charming performance will surely carve a path for a promising career in the future.  

Bank of Dave is a simple but well-told film that feels utterly satisfying from start to end. Dave is the little guy who only wants to give back to his community, but stopping him from achieving his noble goals are the big guys in suits with vested interests and too narrow a focus to appreciate the good that Dave is after. The film is David versus Goliath, countryside versus cityside, socialist versus capitalist (or, if you like, ethical capitalism versus unethical capitalism). You know who will triumph in the end, but that doesn’t detract from the film’s overall enjoyability. The dialogue is smart and stirring, and you can’t help but root for the film’s small heroes to win big. 

As southern movies go, Fried Green Tomatoes is inoffensively sweet and realistic—it’s not afraid to touch on the genuine issues that plagued America in the 1930s while also cushioning some blows, as feel-good movies are wont to do. But the film seems less interested in presenting a clear picture of the past than it is in telling a specific tale: that of outsiders forming bonds and making it together in an unforgiving society. 

The main narrator is Ninny, an 83-year-old woman seemingly forgotten by everyone except Evelyn, an unhappy housewife who is “too young to be old and too old to be young.” Ninny recalls the stories of Sipsey and Big George, Black laborers who dared to succeed in their deeply racist community; of Smokey, the town outcast, who still helped people even if he was denied it himself; of Ruth, the domestic abuse victim; and of Idgie, the tomboy who spat on the face of all decorum. Then, of course, there’s the unspoken relationship between Ruth and Idgie, which hint at something quite radical for its time. 

These are all the people conventionally denied happy endings, and in period films, you’d expect to be abandoned in tragedy. But here they sing; they win and lose in equal measure, and even though it might seem like light and familiar fare to some, it still goes down heartily and unforgettably—funnily enough, like a plate of fried green tomatoes.

With social media inextricably linked to our lives, the way we navigate relationships is different now. Kho Gaye Hum Kahan is a visually stunning debut that depicts this unique modern anxiety, and its different facets through three childhood friends. Adarsh Gourav, Siddhant Chaturvedi, and Ananya Panday have the easy, breezy dynamic that grounds the film. This, along with the chill soundtrack and stylish approach of writer-director Arjun Varain Singh took in depicting their issues, definitely match the aesthetic appeal we’re used to from the online world. The film’s conclusion doesn’t fully resolve things– after all, there’s no stopping the interconnectedness between real life and the online world– but Kho Gaye Hum Kahan’s struggles feel relatable, even if it’s as surface-level as the world it wishes to criticize.

Parenting is hard by itself, but it’s moreso hard when done alone, especially if there was supposed to be a partner alongside the journey. Thank You, I’m Sorry depicts this through Sara, who has to deal with her husband’s absence and difficulties in connecting with her husband’s family in his stead, on top of her pregnancy, but it’s her connection with her estranged sister Linda that can make or break her journey. The dynamic between the sisters is what drives the film. Sanna Sundqvist and Charlotta Björck manage to depict the strained yet clearly loving relationships naturally, and it’s lovely to see the mundane ways they reestablish their bond. It’s a unique story, though it does feel rushed and some of the humor can be totally off-putting.

After being blindsided by the trailer, it’s no wonder the newest Mean Girls shocked cinema viewers who were just expecting a rehashed version of the original, rather than a film version of the Broadway musical hit. This version misses some moments, like the iconic four-way phone call, and some of the numbers were staged quite strangely, but all-in-all, this film was not that bad. It still captures the core of the original, making the message of being one’s self more clearer, while making some updates to better match its new and younger audience. Mean Girls might still be trying to make fetch happen, but it’s still fun enough to watch, especially with its talented cast.

The plot of the Union feels insultingly childish. An undercover agency has to retrieve an important device before it falls into the “wrong” (i.e. non-Western) hands, and to achieve that, they absolutely must have Mike (Wahlberg) on their team. That nothing here seems plausible shouldn’t be the point–it’s an action movie anyway. But even the action isn’t thrilling. There’s no tension or buildup, no satisfying hits and falls. There’s nothing in here that you haven’t seen before. The potential saving grace lies in its A-lister leads, Wahlberg and Berry. They’re supposed to be lovers here but the chemistry they create is closer to “colleagues who have an unexplored spark” more than anything. The Union works as a mid-tier nostalgia-filled film. It’s a perfectly okay movie, neither bad nor good, which seems par for the course for streaming anyway.

Here’s a based-on-a-true-story courtroom drama that transcends the limits of its genre by virtue of an incisive and unexpectedly prescient script. Twenty years before 2016 sent us hurtling through the looking glass and into a post-truth era, the idea that you could deny the facts as you pleased teetered terrifyingly on the brink of legitimacy when author David Irving (a suitably odious Timothy Spall) brought a UK libel suit against Deborah Lipstadt (Rachel Weisz), an academic whom he claimed had defamed him for calling him exactly what he was: a Holocaust denier.

The case was complicated by the fact that, at the time, the UK placed the burden of proof on the defendant — in other words, Lipstadt’s hotshot legal team needed to prove that the Holocaust happened and that Irving had wilfully misrepresented evidence demonstrating this. Denial captures that terrifying farcicality and the defense’s cleverly counterintuitive strategy: not allowing Lipstadt or Holocaust survivors to speak. If that sounds unsatisfying — this is the rare courtroom drama with no grandstanding speech from the protagonist — that’s the point, something the film’s title cleverly alludes to. Perhaps unexpectedly, Denial’s relevance has ballooned since its release, a fact that might hobble its hopeful ending but that only makes the rest all the more powerful.

The Swimmers tells the true story of sisters Yusra and Sara Mardini (played by fellow sisters Nathalie and Manal Issa), Syrian swimmers trained to compete at the Olympics. When their athletic goals and overall safety are threatened by the increasing presence of war, the girls decide to take a chance and migrate to Europe, where they hope to live out their dreams and reunite with their family someday.

The Swimmers is a touching family drama that does right to center on the love and tension between the siblings. Yusra and Sara’s relationship perfectly encapsulates the envy and resentment but also the deep love and loyalty that are present in every sister bond. It’s tender in these moments, but it can also be equally searing—as a refugee drama, it chillingly tracks the complicated and inhumane processes of fleeing one’s country for a safer future.

You wouldn’t expect two old men discussing God and politics to be deeply intriguing, but I suppose it’s different when you have Hopkins and Pryce leading the whole thing. Nothing overly dramatic happens between the two (those parts are saved for the flashbacks, which are just as compelling), but they manage to make every discussion, every point, and even every word feel heavy with the weight of their guilt and hope. These two are proof that good acting can be carried by the tiniest lilt in tone and shift in gesture. You don’t have to be a Catholic or be interested in God at all to appreciate the great performance and touching vulnerability at the heart of The Two Popes.

After winning Oscars for their documentary work, filmmakers Elizabeth Chai Vasarhelyi and Jimmy Chin make their narrative feature debut with Nyad. The move to narrative fiction isn’t a monumental jump for the director duo, whose cinematic documentaries (among them Free Solo and The Rescue) play like nerve-shredding action thrillers and intense human dramas. Nor does Nyad’s subject — another extreme feat of human daring and endurance — make this feel a million miles away from their most famous works.

The most obvious departures from the directors’ documentary strengths — Nyad’s flashbacks and hallucination scenes, for example — do sometimes highlight their newness to narrative filmmaking, however. These scenes feel shallow and therefore disconnected from the movie’s otherwise deeper treatment of its subject, just as the performances dip into outsized cliches at times. Mostly, though, Nyad manages to float above the trap of trying too hard to be an inspirational sports drama thanks to its confrontation of Diana’s prickly personality. This flips the film’s perspective onto that of Diana’s team (including her coach and former girlfriend, played by Jodie Foster), who ultimately suffer the consequences of her stubbornness. That refusal to submit to hagiographic impulses gives the film a documentary-like edge of truth, making the rousing moments here feel genuinely earned.

Michael Keaton is the founder of McDonald’s. Well, not exactly, because this movie is the story of how the man he plays, Ray Kroc, took over the company from two very innovative brothers named Mac and Dick. Played by John Carroll Lynch and none other than Nick Offerman, the brothers put up a fight while Kroc works to franchise the name and make it into a billion-dollar empire. It’s a real-life story of the pursuit of the American dream through both persistence and ruthlessness, retracing Kroc’s history from a struggling salesman to a fiercely pragmatic business giant. A crazy story and a cautionary tale of sorts, this is a movie that showcases America for what it is.

I was surprised by how dramatically and deeply emotional this film was. While there is a love story included, it is not that of young puppy love. Rather, it the story of a man’s undying and perseverant love for his family. What would you do when given a problem to which there is no solution and everything beloved to you is at stake? I was in emotional agony experiencing the Depression with this family whilst ironically perched upon my plush bed devouring extensive amounts of food. Were I you, the person reading this, I would take the time tonight to watch it. It’s worth it.

An uplifting and inspiring movie with Felicity Jones and Armie Hammer. Jones stars as Supreme Court Justice Associate Ruth Bader Ginsburg in this biopic centered around her hallmark case against sex-based discrimination. While it doesn’t feel like it truly conveys the power of Ginsburg’s story, her determination, or all the odds that were stacked against her, it serves as a mellowed-down preview of her remarkable story. Watch this if you’re in need of a good dose of inspiration.

If you want a powerful, masterful rendition of the ill-fated space mission, go and watch Apollo 13 (1995). But the documentary more than half a century after the mission, and two decades after the feature film, is not half bad. Of course, being a documentary, Apollo 13: Survival is much more factual, but the true tale still manages to hold the tension, the high stakes, and the emotional pull of the actual spaceflight, with excellent editing stitching the never-before-seen archival footage and key interviews into an exciting, compelling account. That being said, older viewers that already watched the Tom Hanks drama would likely not find anything new in this film, but Apollo 13: Survival would be a decent documentary to those who have never heard of the spacecraft.

Unfrosted is the kind of bonkers treat filled with movie references, physical gags, and too-many-to-count stars that’s easy to sink your teeth into and enjoy for what it is—in the beginning, that is. It’s helped by snappy visuals and a colorfully accurate rendering of the ‘60s too. But then it wears you down with the same jokes and flimsy story, until eventually, you can’t help but ask: are you really dedicating an hour and a half of your life to watching *check notes* a Pop Tart get made? The filmmakers don’t make it any deeper than that sounds, sadly, even though there’s more drama and flavor involved in the real-life competition between Post and Kellogs. I’m not saying Unfrosted is a bad film—to be honest, I laughed out loud in many parts—just that you won’t be able to get over how overbudgeted and ultimately hollow it is.

An unsung hero of the civil rights movement gets the customary Oscar bait treatment in this biopic. Though he was instrumental in organizing the historic March on Washington — which helped force the US government to enshrine civil rights — gay Black activist Bayard Rustin isn’t the household name his peers are. In an inversion of that narrative, figures like Martin Luther King appear here as supporting characters to Colman Domingo’s Bayard.

Domingo’s energetic, commanding performance holds the center of the film, but he’s ill-served by the formulaic approach to storytelling that unfolds around him. More than a few scenes feel like they were written, directed, and performed with an eye to making awards ceremony clips, giving the film a disjointed, self-aware air. And yet, for all the limits of its by-the-numbers approach, Rustin does manage to pack in glints of insight. By virtue of who he was, Bayard will never not make for a compelling central figure — so even lackluster filmmaking can’t sap this inherently radical material of all its power. Though not without its flaws, then, the film is valuable for the light it sheds on the polarising effect Bayard’s identity as a gay Black man had within the movement and the intersectional depths he nevertheless brought to it. 

This groundbreaking documentary follows the USA Olympics sexual abuse case that made headlines in 2015. Through interviews with Olympians, their families, and investigative reporters, it’s also a documentary on the overall culture of abuse in gymnastics: sexual, physical, and emotional.

In one scene from the 1996 Olympics, gold medalist Kerri Strug has to run, vault, and land – all with a severe foot injury that was covered up by her coaches. She does this twice, limping between attempts and crawling off the mat on the second, crying. Meanwhile, her family, her coaches, the spectators – the World – is celebrating.

When she’s carried off, it’s Larry Nassar, the pedophile at the center of the documentary, who carries her.

Athlete A is groundbreaking exactly because it illustrates that the problem is not only with one doctor, or the 54 coaches who were also found guilty of sexual abuse, or the morally bankrupt leadership of USA Gymastics; it’s also about what went so wrong with society to see the abuse of young girls as cause for celebration.

In the first twenty minutes, The Remarkable Life of Ibelin seemed to be quite unremarkable, with the usual way a biographical documentary would go, that is, loved ones waxing poetic about how great the dead person was in life. But the documentary takes this to introduce Ibelin the same way his parents discovered the online life Mats Steen lived. It’s a unique documentary, mixing in the usual home videos with the animated gameplay of the archived life Steen lived in Ibelin, but it’s grounded by, and somewhat co-created through the words Steen himself typed about his life as a disabled man, and the game history he shared with the community he formed online. The Remarkable Life of Ibelin ends up being quite a remarkable depiction of living online, that feels much more honest, human, and creative than the condescending or cautious narratives we’ve previously heard about the online world.

Dick Johnson Is Dead is a heartfelt and unconventional portrait of how one can live life to the fullest even in their darkest days. Kristen Johnson’s follow-up to the highly acclaimed documentary Cameraperson, Johnson shows that her skills are no fluke as she crafts a witty film where she masterfully balances surreal tonal shifts to create a compelling experience. While it does have a repetitive nature, the final thirty minutes are heartbreakingly comedic, and make this one worth a watch!

Given a budget from Netflix to make a documentary on Korean film, some would have chosen instead to make one for big Korean filmmaking personalities like Academy Award winner Bong Joon-ho, who is featured here. However, director Lee Hyuk-rae instead creates Yellow Door, a love letter to the ‘90s film club that inspired a generation. The warm way each member tries to remember the club made decades ago, and the handy, almost cheeky, animations makes it feel like we’re there in the club with them, just listening to friends reminisce about the way they obsessed about film, even if it wasn’t the major they were studying in. It’s so nostalgic and sentimental, and in shifting its focus, it celebrates the lovely experience of finding a community of like-minded people that’s just obsessed with film as you are.

You don’t need to know a lot about baseball to appreciate The Saint of Second Chances. It has enough going on to keep you hooked from start to end, beginning with Jeff Daniels’ inimitable voice as the narrator and Charlie Day’s inspired casting as the younger Veeck, all the way down to the Veecks’ fascinating ties with American sports history and Mike’s inspiring and heartwarming second-chance philosophy. It all gets a bit too much at times, as if the filmmakers themselves were overwhelmed with their abundant material and creative decisions, but it’s executed with so much care and love that it seems as if this is the only way it could’ve come out: a wonderful mess.

When Toni Morrison taught at Princeton, she told her students, “Don’t write about your little life. Create something.” This documentary follows her instruction by being more than a simple biography. Apart from telling the story of her rich, fully-lived life, The Pieces I Am doubles as an artful and educational history lesson about the unique African-American experience. It’s dotted with beautiful artworks and insightful anecdotes shared by Morrison’s colleagues from the various schools and publishing houses she worked at. But most important of all, Morrison gets to narrate the film in her own beautiful, poetic words and, in the process, reveals different facets of herself. There’s Morrison the teacher, editor, writer, and mother, but also: the delightful baker, the supportive friend, the party enjoyer, the critical philosopher. The Pieces I Am is a great collection of many things, a moving collage that pieces together the most interesting parts about the beloved writer in question.

It’s heartbreaking that the case of Maria Soledad is as gruesome as it is common. We’ve all heard of or know about a woman who was raped, strangled, and beaten to death for no other reason than her gender. But even though Netflix’s Breaking the Silence tells Soledad’s story well enough, with detailed research and in-depth interviews, it’s ultimately hard to tell it apart from the hundreds of other true crime documentaries the streamer has produced. A cynic would say that Netflix’s interests lie not in advocacy or justice, but in riding the true crime fad. But a more hopeful viewer will want to believe in the film’s truth and stance against femicide. If you’re the former, then Breaking the Silence won’t do much for you. But if you are latter, and I kind of hope you are, then this documentary will be heartbreaking, frustrating, and more importantly, inspiring.

Pushing an already extreme activity even further beyond its limits, Ueli Steck and Dani Arnold have became the world champions of speed climbing—a variation of the sport that places much greater importance on direct competition over communing with nature. It’s fascinating to hear what drives Steck and Arnold to courting death like this, and to see how their vastly different backgrounds and processes have still made them equals in the field. The documentary eventually runs out of ideas, however, as it clumsily shifts tones leading into its last third, and concludes abruptly without much synthesis of everything that had come before. It’s still a worthwhile adventure whether or not one is into climbing; it’s just disappointing that this story of such a unique rivalry settles into a more generic rhythm by the end.

For the entirety of Where Was I, Trevor Noah is comfortably in his pocket—speaking to an audience that’s clearly familiar with his style and his views (if the respectful silences and occasional cheering are any indication) and branching off into sharing more serious facts between the jokes. And Noah’s style is clearly refined, as he speaks clearly and sticks to a coherent structure at all times. But at a certain point his level of comfort here also leads to punchlines that are too easy or unsurprising, with too much focus placed on the kinds of voices and accents he can put on rather than the content of what he’s saying. Noah remains a strong entertainer, but when you know how scathing he can get, this feels more like a warmup round.

Two twelve year olds: Sam, an introverted Khaki scout (Jared Gilman) and the sharp yet sassy Suzy (Kara Hayward), fall in love and run away to their own personal paradise they call “Moonrise Kingdom.” The young girl’s parents (Bill Murray and Frances McDormand) call the authorities. A search party compiled of the local Sheriff (Bruce Willis), Khaki Scout Troop Leader (Edward Norton) and his scouts along with an assortment of other characters try to track down the young runaways through the wilderness. The characters are as bright, quirky and colourful as their surroundings. The film’s trademark stylistic handmade art direction (Wes Anderson) and clever camera choices add character to the storytelling. Even with its sweet and playful demeanour, major real world issues such as bullying and infidelity are touched upon. Moonrise Kingdom is a delightfully charming film with a meticulously executed plot and sophisticated humour.

After two adaptations, with the 1982 version considered a Christmastime classic for Polish families, Forgotten Love can seem like a redundant take on the iconic Polish novel. With twenty more minutes, it seems like the new Netflix adaptation could only improve its take through better production design, and sure, it certainly delivers that pre-war aesthetic through period-accurate costumes, props, and sets. However, Forgotten Love takes a more streamlined approach to the novel’s plot, through changing certain character choices. Without spoiling too much, some choices paint certain characters in a better light, while other changes prove to add an entertaining twist, such as the humorous way the villagers defend Kosiba. Znachor takes the 1937 story into the present, bringing a new generation through the emotional journey of the cherished Polish tale.

When a man does things so different that it shifts the industry of an entire nation, but gets accused of shady business practices to get there, it can be tricky to create a compelling narrative to depict a complex man. It’s probably why Guru, suspected by most to be a depiction of one such polyester textile tycoon, is said to be fictional. But it’s also why while the first half is a dynamic, inspiring rags-to-riches story, the second half struggles to create a cohesive message. Still, Guru holds excellent performances, especially that from the film’s leads, and in writer-director Mani Ratnam’s hands, these performances are captured beautifully, scored wonderfully, and weaved into such a striking and memorable drama.

This lovely romance is about Ellie, a straight-A student who takes money from a classmate, Paul, to write love letters for him. Ellie does this to help with the household bills but there is one big problem: the girl Paul is in love with is also the girl Ellie has a crush on.

This might seem like the set-up for a standard Netflix comedy (and if you’re thinking Bergerac, you’re right, it is based on the famous play) but as the introduction of the film reads: “This is not a love story … not one where anyone gets what they want.”

It is in fact, personal work from a brilliant and quality-focused director, Alice Wu. Her last movie, Saving Face, a pioneering lesbian romance set in an Asian American context, was released a long 15 years ago.

An innocent-fun movie, Always Be My Maybe is a lovely thing to turn your brain off to. Sasha and Marcus are high-school best friends who dated briefly and went their separate ways. 16 years later, they meet again – Sasha is a famous chef, and Marcus is still living with his dad.

What really makes this movie is the writing from Ali Wong and Randall Park, who also play the two leads. The dialogue is sharp, believable and smart – going as far as covering themes of gender and parenting. But also, because a rom-com about two Asians from San Francisco is not exactly a common occurrence, the characters are fresh, the jokes are fresh – everything is fresh.

Watch out for the character who plays Marcus’ dad, he plays the character of an overly honest Korean dad perfectly. And also watch out for Keanu Reeves, he plays a crazy version of himself!

Two people with different thoughts on love discover a common ground: they’re both anti-romantics. Realizing they got off on the wrong foot, they spend more time with each other and bond over realistic ideas of modern love. At one point, Maria (Rosalie Thomass) and Karl (Laurence Rupp) even diss romantic comedies for their cheesy music and naive understanding of fate and destiny. Their conversations are engaging and thoughtful, even and especially when they oppose one another. But just when you think you’re watching something smart and novel, Maria and Karl fall into the same implausible trappings they claim to hate. Suddenly, the film turns soft and transforms into the romantic comedy it once criticized. If only it had pushed into anti-romance territory even further and allowed Maria and Karl to truly hash out their differences, thorns and tension and all, then this could have been a truly interesting romantic film. Instead, it’s a standard romantic comedy that’s worse off for pretending to be above the genre, even though it’s really not.

Sanitized, predictable, and utterly cheesy, Happiness for Beginners feels like one of those TV movies made to fill the time in between the stuff people actually watch. It’s baffling how wasted Kemper is here; the actress’ signature pep, which was fully utilized in shows like The Office and Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt, is nowhere to be found. She plays a grump who, by the sheer power of love and friendship, transforms into a happier person, but even then we see no trace of Kemper’s infectious energy. It was hinted that Kemper’s character, Helen, struggles with depression, but the film is either unwilling or incapable of digging further and offering Helen actual solutions, like therapy or medicine. The movie’s saving grace is the ensemble behind Kemp, who thankfully are able to exercise their comic chops. Nico Santos, Ben Cook, and Gus Birney deserve a special mention for their full-bodied and entertaining performances.

You don’t really have to watch the first two movies to get this third installment of the rom-com trilogy. Squared Love Everlasting is largely about how two people who are settled and secure in their relationship deal with a major curveball, in this case, the revelation that Enzo has some unfinished business with his ex, Ewa. The film works, in many cases, because the leads are charming, the script is lightweight, and the scenery is exquisite. It’s also not too focused on love as it touches on parenthood, too, and the potential trouble it poses to someone as bright, ambitious, and independent as Monika. In fact, Monika’s own story is so strong on its own that it often feels like it could be its own film. But sadly, this isn’t her film; it’s Enzo’s too. And his story, one of former and current flames, just never reaches the same level as Monika’s. It’s plain and generic, elevated only by his easygoing appeal and Ewa’s oddball antics. Apart from those, however, Squared Love is just your run-of-the-mill romcom you can stand to not watch.

In the grand scheme of streamer romcoms, A Family Affair is not too bad. Like The Idea of You before it, the film explores what it means to find love as a woman late in life while proving that it can be just as exciting and steamy as any other affair. The film is even occasionally funny, with Efron’s vain character banging out punchlines like “It’s one of a kind! I only have two of these!” But there are too many lapses that are hard to ignore, such as the glaring lack of chemistry between Efron and Kidman, and the sheer unlikeability of King’s Zara. Yes, they acknowledge her narcissism multiple times, but it doesn’t change how exhausting she can be, and how rushed her growth was. In fact, none of them seem to really develop, except Brooke, who is the most realized character in the film. A Family Affair is at its best when it’s parodying the franchise-hungry film industry and when it’s discussing the passions and pleasures of late womanhood. Unfortunately, they often feel like two separate films, and the filler in between feels exactly like that: filler, with nothing new, important, or forgivably funny to say.

A powerful but quiet movie directed by Paul Dano and based on a novel of the same name by Richard Ford. It stars Carey Mulligan and Jake Gyllenhaal as a couple who move to a new town with their only child during the 1960s. Their relationship transforms after Gyllenhaal’s character loses his job as a butler and chooses to leave for a more dangerous profession, firefighting. This movie is about his wife’s response to this event and the implications of both parents’ behavior on their kid. There are no twists or turns, exciting action or plot; but Wildlife doesn’t need any of that. This moving story about a decaying family unit is portrayed in the sadness that comes with such events. The only joy comes from watching the outstanding (but expected) performances of the cast.

Horror movies have always been creepier to me when they play on our fear of the “unknown” rather than gore. Under The Shadow does exactly that. The story is based around the relationship of a woman, Shideh, and her daughter, Dorsa, under the backdrop of the Iran-Iraq war. As widespread bombings shake the ground beneath their feet, the two grapple with a more insidious evil that is faceless and traceless, coming and going only with the wind. The movie’s dread-effect plays strongly on feelings of isolation and helplessness. The scares are slow and it’s obvious the director takes great care in making every single second count and in raising the unpredictableness of the action. Like the bombs, the audience never knows when or how the next apparition will materialize. The former is always on the edge of fear, wondering what is no doubt there, but is yet to be shown on the frame. In terms of significance, Under The Shadow features too many symbolisms to count and will most likely resonate with each person differently. But one thing remains relatively unarguable: this is a wonderful movie.

While we would like to think that we would do all we can to fight against a tyrannical regime, it’s not as easy as we think, and there are plenty of consequences that we wouldn’t foresee, living in relative peace. Diego Vicentini’s debut feature is a portrait of Venezuelan dissidents forced to flee the country, expanding on the short he made five years previously to flesh out the double lives most exiles go through– the angry yet hopeful protests they left behind in their homeland, and the peaceful, yet guilt-ridden, traumatized lives they now lead in another country. While it’s easy to expect certain moments, especially for people familiar with the country’s situation, Simón nevertheless was a film that needed to be made in order to shed light on this issue.

In the years since Fan Girl’s original release in the Philippines, its ultimate message and execution has become polarizing: is it enough that the film shows the corruption of a parasocial relationship into an abusive one, without offering much hope? Is its vision of justice actually constructive or disappointingly limited? No matter where you fall, it’s exciting that a movie can stir up these kinds of questions through a bizarre dynamic between characters, in a place that’s clearly set somewhere between reality and delusion. The narrative is circular and frustrating for a reason—a constant push and pull as the titular fan girl keeps getting drawn back into the celebrity’s orbit—and the film only grows more disturbing with each repetition.

Lion is the award-sweeping movie based on the true story of a kid in India who gets lost in a train and suddenly finds himself thousands of kilometers away from home. 25 years later, after being adopted by an Australian couple, he embarks on a journey through his memory and across continents to reconnect with his lost family. Dev Patel plays Saroo, and Nicole Kidman plays his Australian adoptive mother. Two truly amazing performances that will transport you to the time and place of the events, as well as its emotions spanning tear-jerking moments and pure joy. An uplifting, meaningful, and beautiful movie.

In most instances, Rez Ball isn’t all that different from traditional sports dramas. It features a down-on-their-luck high school basketball team–the Chuska Warriros– that gets better through sheer perseverance and teamwork. But as the title suggests, the Warriors play a slightly different kind of game. Rez Ball, according to the film, is faster and more points-focused. And the way the film lets the players (and us, the audience) learn about it by connecting the team with Navajo culture and practices is ingenious. As an intimate showcase of rez life, the film shines. But as a drama, it falters. The acting is rusty and uneven (though shoutout to Devin Sampson-Craig and first-timer Kauchani Bratt for getting it right), and the direction feels similarly wooden. The film is a promising entry, it just needs more time and polishing to be great.

Sometimes, there are events so absurd that it must be put into cinematic form. This is because these unusual experiences can be necessary warnings or hopeful reminders about what life can offer. The Penguin Lessons seemed to be the latter, at first. It’s a cute story about a depressed teacher who saves and then continues to be followed by a Magellanic penguin, which becomes an instant conversation starter that opens him up to new people. It’s fun to see the penguin, but also, we’re not sure the protagonist learned anything about responsibility, considering the ending doesn’t come about because of his direct actions. In fact, there’s a certain lack of initiative that led them there. At least Tom starts to admit that to himself, but The Penguin Lessons could have had more to teach before ending so abruptly.

With its celebration of Thai dances, excellent costumes, and two male theater actor leads, ManSuang seemed like it would be something akin to a Thai Farewell My Concubine, especially as it starts off with what could have been sex scene interrupted by a murder. The addition of the espionage storyline, as well as the dynamics between the Chinese and the mainland Thai, seemed like the film would be subtle social commentary through historical drama. However, the story feels haphazardly assembled, with characters acting contrary to their goals, and sadly, the film doesn’t showcase as much of Thai culture as we would like. Instead, the film spends more time establishing an overly complicated mystery that gets too hard to follow with its multiple plotlines. ManSuang has beautiful set design, costumes, and a handsome cast, but the writing wastes the potential the story had.

Art is a hobby for most people, but for musician Jon Batiste and writer Suleika Jaouad, art is part and parcel of this thing called life. Of course, it’s part of their work, and it’s how they make a livelihood, but it’s more than that– it’s almost a spiritual ritual they cling to, especially when Jaouad finds out that her leukemia has returned. American Symphony mainly depicts the creation of said orchestral work, but director Matthew Heineman translates the symphony into cinematic form, culminating in a performance played over the intimate moments between Batiste and Jaouad. It’s not just a documentary of a performance, but a documentary about art, about creation despite life’s pains, perhaps to survive life’s pains. It’s a powerful work that makes it easy to believe in art as imperative for life, and vice versa.

Forget everything you know about the music biopic. One-on-one interviews, chronological storytelling, silent moments with the subjects—Moonage Daydream isn’t that kind of movie. Just as David Bowie isn’t your typical pop star, this documentary about him, directed by Brett Morgen, forgoes the usual beats for something extraordinary and fun.

Moonage Daydream is a concert, a light show, and a masterclass in collage editing. It’s a feast for the senses, a fantastic neon fever dream that paints a picture of Bowie in his own words, drawn from archival footage, interviews, and concerts past.

We Are the World is a charity single created for African famine relief. It was a smash success– it inspired plenty of other charity singles and already has a TV documentary about it. But The Greatest Night in Pop reveals new behind-the-scenes footage with a home video flair, intercut with interviews from those who were in the booth on that fateful day. The anecdotes about that night might have already been said elsewhere, but director Bao Nguyen manages to capture the energy in the room, peeking into the emotions of the various personalities that helped shape the song. It’s an intriguing, if straightforward documentary, and it’s certainly a treat watching the decade’s best voices collaborate to make this one track.

The fantasy of being able to have the body you once had is impossible in real life, but we can watch it play out in fiction. While previous depictions of this idea rightfully point out ageism and how much worse people treat the old, Miss Granny also celebrates the wisdom and experience that could only come from the years Oh Mal-soon has gone through, through an engaging script and the quirky performance of Shim Eun-kyung. It’s so funny seeing people taken aback, surprised, and astounded by old Oh Mal-soon in her young body, but what makes it work is the way director Hwang Dong-hyuk introduces her to us bit by bit, crafting a character that at first glance seemed to be a rude and controlling grandma, but is actually a woman that didn’t get to enjoy her youth due to the sacrifices she made for her loved ones. Miss Granny makes the case that there are timeless things that we can return to and appreciate, but there are also things that we’re willing to let go of our youth for.

With its origins as a full-length rock monologue, it’s understandable if Tick, Tick… Boom! comes off as overly concerned with its protagonist’s personal anxieties and not the larger social and health crises happening right outside his door. But while it really doesn’t offer much insight into the AIDS epidemic, or even the art scene of 1990s New York, the helplessness that Jonathan Larson feels in the face of his own inability to save the world comes off as honest expression nonetheless. Andrew Garfield and a strong cast that includes Robin de Jesús and Vanessa Hudgens give purpose and energy to this somewhat messy character study that still manages to land its emotional beats.

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.

In 1980s Dublin, a young Irish catholic-school boy, whose family is facing financial problems starts his own band with the sole objective of impressing a mysterious femme fatale. The film takes you on a beautiful and witty journey through the band’s path to success and our protagonist’s quest in conquering his love all to the rhythm of some of the biggest 80’s pop-rock hits and the band’s own original soundtrack. Without a doubt this film is the long awaited passion project of filmmaker John Carney (Once, Begin Again).

This new documentary is about the exact scale to which social media is harming us, as testified to by people from the industry: ex-executives at Google, Instagram, Facebook, and even the ex-President of Pinterest. All have left their companies for (incredibly valid) ethical concerns that they share here.

It’s a blend of interview footage and a fiction film that follows a family who feels more distant because of social media. This allows to see the implications of what the interviewees are saying in real life but quite frankly it also serves as a welcome break from the intensity of their words. How intense? One of them predicts civil war within 20 years.

It looks like something you’ve already seen before: a student genius turns a simple high school cheating scheme into a full-blown, high-stakes heist. But layered with great acting, taut writing, and sharp observations about the ways in which education (and society in general) fails its students, Bad Genius turns a familiar premise into something genuinely exciting and impressively affecting. It’s everything you want a caper movie to be: smart and thrilling, with almost no moment to breathe, and of course, peppered with characters you can’t help but root and be nervous and excited for. 

If you’re expecting a twisty and thrilling look at a dangerous group of hackers who hide deep within a military bunker in Europe, and who refer to their entire operation as “straight from a James Bond movie,” then you might be disappointed with Cyberbunker, a dragging documentary that relies too heavily on talking heads for momentum. It takes 30 minutes to establish the relevance of these figures, and a full hour before it finally explains the actual crime and wrongdoings they’re complicit in. The most interesting parts of the case, like the FBI’s involvement, Cyberbunker’s links to the propagation of child pornography, and the group’s advocacy on internet privacy, are completely buried beneath a stack of unnecessary tidbits. I appreciate the effort of the filmmakers and the interviewees coming together to make something decently informative, but by the end of it, you’re left wondering whether all this was better off as a Wikipedia article.

This installment in Netflix’s series of sports documentary films, Untold, relies too heavily on information to pad its runtime. Even with intriguing parallel storylines that explain what Victor Conte was doing to secretly deal performance-enhancing drugs, and what investigators were doing to try and catch him, the story begins to repeat itself, forgetting to place more emphasis on analyzing this information and finding personal insights into the BALCO scandal. That said, Victor Conte himself is admittedly a fascinating criminal, seemingly remorseful for the lives and careers he’s damaged, but still fascinated by the idea of synthesizing substances to push sports beyond their physical limits. By the end, there’s a real moral grayness to this whole ordeal, putting into question what some athletes’ goals really are, and whether or not certain sports organizations willingly play along with fraudulence or not.

All the little twists in the case of Mirna Salihin’s murder are intriguing enough to speculate over, so Ice Cold is definitely a true-crime case worth revisiting. The problem is in how the documentary indulges sensationalist arguments and pure speculation with the same level of urgency as it does with expert counsel. A large part of the film has to do with how this trial started to become such a fixture in Indonesian public life, but it feels as if the movie would rather provoke even more baseless conspiracies through its gossipy tone than provide smarter analysis. There’s an appeal to how simple this case is relative to other true-crime stories, but this shouldn’t be an excuse to haphazardly throw opposing perspectives at each other for the sake of drama.

Narrated by the familiar voice of Jack Black, Apollo 10 ½ is a throwback story told with admirable specificity and imagination. Black plays a grown-up Stan, who looks back on his younger years with a mix of fondness and wonder: how did they get away with the things they did then? American suburbia in the 1960s was both loose and conservative, caught between a generation holding on to the reins of the earlier century and one eager to launch into the next. 

Stan, as the youngest child of a big, rowdy family, gives us a charming look into the times, as well as a projection of his own fascination: Apollo 11 and the space age. He inserts himself in this monumental narrative and generously brings us along in his fantasy. Sometimes it’s hard to tell whether Stan’s recruitment by NASA is actually fact or fiction, but that’s part of the fun, especially since Stan himself doesn’t seem to mind at all.

The big ideas swirling at the center of The Creator are about human heartlessness versus AI compassion, man’s coldness versus robot warmth. Unfortunately, the movie winds up being an unwitting example of the former: visual effects take precedence over emotion here, meaning you rarely feel any of the intended poignancy of this story about a soldier driven between warring sides by love.

Part of that effect might be because the premise is an iffy one to swallow, as The Creator drops during a time when the once-theoretical threats posed by AI start to become disconcertingly real. But mostly, the sterile feeling of the film is a product of the writing, as a shallow script prevents most of the cast from ever making their characters compelling. Though its lifelike effects are something to marvel at, The Creator never quite convinces us that any of its humans are real — a pretty gaping flaw for a movie that wants to sell us on the idea that robots might one day be sentient.

I’m sure the novel Uglies is based on makes a lot more sense since it has a lot of space to world-build and explore themes like external beauty, class, and identity. Unfortunately, the same cannot be said about the movie Uglies, which is almost impressively out of date in look and tone. The CGI is 2000s-level wonky and the premise is unconvincing. You’re telling me these Hollywood kids are supposed to be ugly? So ugly that they’re nicknamed after their defects— “Nose,” “Skinny,” and “Squint”? What would they call normal-looking people like us? Slurs? And don’t get me started on their “pretty” versions. It’s literally just them with layers of makeup and a touch of Botox, which I suppose could be the point, but also…just wear makeup? It’s mind-numbingly confusing. The world of the Uglies doesn’t even seem that bad—they’re fed, roomed, allowed to explore their environment, and create friendships. A lot of people in the real world would kill for that level of comfort. If freethought is what’s being killed here, then they should have focused on that more. Ironically, the movie itself seems too preoccupied with looks to get that, so what we get instead is this half-baked mess.

Less homage to Star Wars than it is a pastiche of that cultural juggernaut, a strong sense of déjà vu hangs over Zack Snyder’s Rebel Moon. Unfortunately, in plainly appealing to the memory of its vastly superior inspiration so many times, it inadvertently reminds viewers of how much better its muse is. There are far too many direct copycat scenes here for Rebel Moon to craft anything like an identity of its own, but its derivativeness might be forgivable were it not so self-consciously, humorlessly straining for epicness.

Rebel Moon rises with narration from Anthony Hopkins and an operatic score — a promise of grandness it never lives up to. At two-hours-plus, this dreadnought announces its lofty ambitions for future franchise status at every turn, but never once earns it: the dialogue is creakingly expository and the acting is spotty, ultimately making it feel like the film has lazily assumed it’s already secured all the interest it needs to justify a potential two further sequels and a galaxy of tie-in media. Though there are bright spots that suggest an actual movie lurks somewhere deep within its 134 minutes, Rebel Moon instead feels like a laborious couple of hours of scene-setting that arrogantly banks on you returning for more, despite doing little to deserve any more of your time.

Set in 1970s Italian countryside, this is a quirky movie that’s full of plot twists.

Lazzaro is a dedicated worker at a tobacco estate. His village has been indebted to a marquise and like everyone else, he works without a wage and in arduous conditions.

Lazzaro strikes a friendship with the son of the marquise, who, in an act of rebellion against his mother, decides to fake his own kidnapping. The two form an unlikely friendship in a story that mixes magical realism with social commentary.

When it comes to ghosts, plenty of films are centered around personal, unresolved business in the living world, but rarely do films examine how the spirit world would be, unless it’s for fantastical fights or horrific terror. The Parades instead focuses on a world of lost, but ordinary, and thankfully kind, souls. And as the film builds its calm world, Minako (and the viewers) get to meet the people who would form her eventual found family, whose various lives uncover the intimate and personal hopes of ordinary people, shaped by the events of their respective times. While the film doesn’t fully resolve all their stories, The Parades celebrates life, in all forms, and the powerful ways storytelling and community helps us go through it.

Historically, noble ladies get married to lords in order to strengthen existing alliances between their family’s domains. At best, they are able to broker peace, but at worst, they are hostages to the stronger family they married into. Damsel cleverly depicts a twisted version of this relationship through a reversed version of the fairytale, where instead of a wedding being the ultimate endgoal, it is the start of the princess’ misfortunes, placing Millie Bobby Brown into a fantastical survival stand-off against a dragon. It’s an intriguing idea, though the film mostly sticks to its PG-13 lane, leading to a fairly entertaining dark fantasy flick without delving deep into its horrors.