16 Best Smart Comedy Movies to Watch Now

This untamed, high-octane portrait of the Belfast hip-hop trio Kneecap follows real-life members —aliases Móglaí Bap, Mo Chara, and DJ Próvaí, all playing themselves—as they forge a path from lost teens to unlikely cultural icons. Being the first hip-hop act is their native Irish, they’re met with disdain both from their community who think they are misrepresenting the Irish cause (DJ Próvaí translates to DJ Drug Dealer), and from the British for things like playing the same venue where King Charles spoke the night before and one of them exposing their butt with the words “BRITS” and “OUT” written on either cheek.

The story ends up being as much as about the group as it is about identity, artistic freedom, even the Ireland of today – and yet the core of Kneecap, perhaps not just the movie but the group itself, seems focused solely on the importance of having fun while dealing with all of it. The ride is exhilarating, often very funny, and even in tough moments, upbeat. Hang tight.

This might just be the most insightful movie about men. Watch if you are a guy and you will cringe endlessly from seeing yourself in the characters, and if you are a girl  you should also watch it to laugh and understand the men around you better (yes, it is that insightful). Rob Gordon, a music fanatic who owns a record store, tells the stories of how his relationships ended, included the one ongoing. So if you are asking if this is a romantic comedy about a man trying to move on from a breakup, yes, it is. And it Works. High Fidelity is in fact funny, interesting and comes with a unique look at relationships. But it is mostly simple and entertaining, and with perfect performances from John Cusack and Jack Black as well as an immaculate soundtrack, it is a must-watch.

After his first serious role in The Truman Show in 1998, Jim Carrey got a shot at playing his idol, the late comedian and performance artist Andy Kaufmann, in Man on the Moon in 1999. When he got the role, a role of a lifetime, Carrey decided to honor Kaufmann’s legacy by transforming into him (and his alter ego Tony Clifton) and, in true method-acting fashion, never to leave character. Jim & Andy is the result of 100 hours of behind-the-scenes footage shot at the Man on the Moon set, which was withheld for 20 years over fears of Universal Studios that people would think Carrey was an a**hole. While Carrey was a complete and utter imposition to the film’s director, Miloš Forman, and everybody else on set, including Danny DeVito, his transformation (or obsession) was a unique, transformative experience for Carrey, who had been sick of fame and acting before he took on this gig. Whether you buy into this view or see it as a vanity piece of a complete maniac, this is one of the most unique and insane documentaries on Netflix. A mind-blowing portrayal of a complex mind.

Before the advent of cruel reality shows and their doomed attempts at realism, and before shows and movies like The Office and Borat made mockumentary the popular genre that it is today, there was a little Albert Brooks film called Real Life. In it, Brooks plays a version of himself obsessed with portraying the “real life” of a classic American family on film, and yet whenever he feels bored, he can’t help but meddle and poke at his subjects to start a fire. The results are unexpected. The humor is quick and deadpan. The satire is sharp and frighteningly prescient. It’s the perfect movie about how truth—no matter how hard we try—can never really be captured in a form like film. All the while Brooks keeps you on your toes with his razor-sharp script. Your favorite mockumentary films will suddenly feel small after watching this underrated great.

The entire premise of My Dinner with Andre is in the title. Nothing more or less happens physically—it’s literally two hours of pure conversation—and yet the film is more eventful and compelling than a lot of movies out today. That’s because there’s no pretension in the back-and-forth that happens between Wally and his friend Andre. They discuss meaning, spirituality, isolation, and fulfillment (life itself basically) but never in a gratuitous, self-congratulatory way. There’s genuine interest and curiosity between the two; both are artists hailing from the theater, but while Andre is well-traveled and interested in new age ideas that lean on superstition, Wally is a practical man who finds meaning in small details and domestic events. Whether one or the other is correct is not the point. Instead, My Dinner with Andre is a beautiful example of how a conversational film can be a masterclass in form. Their storytelling is so vivid and alive that it’s enough to have us conjure images beyond their sit down. The scenes are so carefully detailed and shot that they inject believable life into the austere setup. It goes without saying that the movie is smart—it has to be to rely on dialogue alone—but it’s also surprisingly poignant. Here are two friends who’ve drifted apart and likely judged each other at one point for being so different than their idea of normal. But they’ve come together for a meal and a cathartic conversation, which is sometimes all you need to get along.

Of the many violence-inflected black comedies that Pulp Fiction spawned, Grosse Pointe Blank ranks among the best. Though it’s patently inspired by Tarantino’s magnum opus — John Cusack plays a sardonic, amoral hitman, and the film features bursts of stylized violence and a retro soundtrack — it never feels derivative. The film finds its own identity as a quirky romcom when Cusack’s character, Martin Blank, returns to his hometown for a 10-year high-school reunion on the advice of his terrified therapist (Alan Arkin).

Martin is experiencing professional disillusionment as part of the quarter-life crisis that often takes hold when one realizes it’s been a whole decade since high school. His profession puts a darkly comic spin on that convention, but the film doesn’t treat that element entirely flippantly. Unlike Martin — and so many of the film’s Pulp Fiction-inspired brethren — Grosse Pointe Blank isn’t nihilistic, but quite sincerely romantic. Its hybrid nature and surprising heart come to the fore in Martin’s renewed relationship with the girlfriend he jilted at prom: Debi (Minnie Driver), now a ska-loving radio DJ. Cusack and Driver have sparkling chemistry, which makes the sincerity with which their characters grapple with the possibility of a second chance at happiness all the more absorbing to watch.

Demonstrating that a great stand-up routine should always stem from strong writing first and foremost, Brian Simpson makes common subjects for ridicule feel fresh again—just through how clever his writing is. Simpson seems to position himself from the same place where more controversial comedians punch down at women and at queerness. But he manages to push against expectations by keeping his focus on those who normally don’t get the brunt of the criticism, or by drawing us toward broader cultural problems that make people act the way that they do. None of this is all that novel, of course, and Simpson does end up dwelling on certain subjects for too long. But every line he speaks feels considered and is deployed with the perfect matter-of-factness, keeping the laughs consistent without ever complaining or intentionally trying to provoke.

It’s both sad and amazing that a film about toxic masculinity and corporate culture released in the ‘90s remains relevant today. In the Company of Men is about two incels who exact polite revenge on women by attacking a deaf office worker named Christine (Stacy Edwards). Of course, things don’t go exactly as planned since this is the kind of film that twists and turns in unexpected curves. It’s also the kind that can fly with the barest of budgets, proving that sometimes all you need is a blistering script, skilled performers, and an eye for what visually works to make an effective film. In the Company of Men is a black comedy, so it’s not always easy to watch, but it’s profoundly thought-provoking as it asks relevant questions about the violence of fragile masculinity, the entitlement of supposed “nice guys,” the soul-sucking cruelty of corporations, and the dog-eat-dog-world of modern-day capitalism. That a small team can pack all these big ideas in its modestly budgeted indie is a wonder in itself.

Unlike the many courtroom films of its time, My Cousin Vinny forgoes theatrics and drama for true-blue comedy. It stars Joe Pesci as the titular Vinny, a newly minted New York attorney who’s taking on a murder trial in Alabama as his first case, while Marisa Tomei plays Vinny’s fiancée, Mona Lisa Vito, in an Oscar-winning turn. The loudmouthed couple are decidedly out of place in Alabama, supplying the film with many comedic gems, but they’re also unexpectedly clever. Along with its humor and memorable characters, My Cousin Vinny has come to be known for its legal accuracy and flair.

While painfully accurate, Lost in America is a cutting satire of the white-collar mid-life crisis that’s so hilarious, but in a depressing sort of way. When denied his expected promotion and then fired, David Howard (director Albert Brooks) convinces his wife Linda (Julie Haggerty) that they should “drop out of society”, pursuing a freewheeling lifestyle to travel across the country. Brooks and Haggerty lead the film – their back-and-forth dynamic feels compelling, whether they’re arguing, pouting, or tenderly reconciling. And while the couple stays compatible with each other, the film reveals them (and us) at our most shallow.

Unlike other films about great inventions of a bygone era, BlackBerry isn’t nostalgic nor sentimental in the least bit. Instead, it’s chilly, calculating, and surprisingly comic (it has to be, with comedians Jay Baruchel and Glenn Howerton as leads). And it’s less about the brilliance of this one product than the cycle of greed, corruption, and vanity that eventually traps its too-ambitious creators. 

It’s a smart film that refuses to dumb down the tech and business side of things, and what it lacks in characterization (there is little to no backstory to be found), it more than makes up for in drama and a superb pace, which propulsively and practically brings you to its wonderful peak and bleak end. Equipped with a no-nonsense yet thrilling approach to facts, BlackBerry is a refreshing entry into the biopic genre.

Nanpakal Nerathu Mayakkam might not immediately make sense to audiences new to director Lijo Jose Pellissery, but it’s still an interesting film that depicts Tamil culture. Also known as Like an Afternoon Dream, the contemplative bilingual film is centered around a prejudiced Malayali tour guide who wakes up as another man, specifically someone fluent in Tamil, and walks into the nearby village. Through vignettes focused on the village inhabitants, the film slowly unravels the dynamics between each of the villagers, flitting back to the tour bus on occasion to see how they’re faring. While some of the comedy goes over viewer’s heads, especially for people unfamiliar with the state, the slow-paced film feels like a fond memory from Pellissery. The film doesn’t explain anything at all, in the same way strange dreams refuse to do.

Making a film is sort of a miracle– to make one can sometimes come into fruition through a lucky combination of connections, creativity and circumstances all perfectly aligning as if by fate. But making a film takes cash to do it. In the Soup is an independent comedy centered on an aspiring auteur meeting an eccentric, creative gangster that’s willing to do everything (including crime) to fund it. The film does mostly depend on conversations between characters, witty repartee and Steve Buscemi’s voice-over, but it does capture the importance of patrons in the artistic process, how silly some lofty artistic aspirations can be, and to never forget the human side of the filmmaking process, not just the solitary brainstorming.

A story about inspectors on the Hungarian subway and their struggle to get travelers to pay up. Skinheads with attack dogs, drunks and freaks are the harsh reality of these working-class heroes, who themselves of course are quite the weird bunch. Dark post-soviet humor, refreshingly politically incorrect characters and an abstract parallel love story which barely makes sense even at the end. Kontroll is a movie you will regret having waited 10 years to see.

It’s very interesting, if not startling, to see an earnest movie made about the white upper class these days. Metropolitan is one such film, and even though it was released in the ’90s, it still stands the test of time precisely because it neither judges nor defends the group of WASPs it follows. It simply shows them in all their elegance and sophistication, as well as their insulation and irony. 

Metropolitan takes place in the upper crust of New York debutante society, during Christmas vacation, where soirees are rampant and afterparties even more so. The young-adult leads who navigate the scene in their expensive clothes and self-important aura recall a Scott Fitzgerald novel, or if you like, Gossip Girl episode. But instead of falling into tragedies, these characters just end up in silly but relatable mishaps and misunderstandings: they’re just kids after all. And as high and mighty as they may seem, whiling away in tall Park Avenue apartments, they’re still prone to the universal pains that haunt and shape teenagers. Expect to see heartbreak, jealousy, and longing even among the brightest and wealthiest of New York. 

It doesn’t matter how many years have passed, Naked is the kind of film that’s sure to shock you with its wit and violence. There’s no plot, really, but we do follow Johnny (an explosive David Thewlis) as he drifts around London, announcing doomsday prophecies, conspiracy theories, and philosophical observations about the world. The thing is, unlike your usual street weirdo, Johnny is actually intelligent, eloquent, and dangerously charming. His forceful presence has varying effects on people, who are all bruised but undoubtedly affected by him. One of them is a hopeful nightguard, the other is a depressed waitress. He also meets homeless immigrants and a punk. They’re cynical and angry like Johnny (they make up the city’s underbelly after all) but unlike them, Johnny expresses all that he thinks and feels, even if those words just mask the fear and insecurity that’s eating him up inside. Naked angered a lot of people when it first came out in 1993, but its unfiltered portrait of the neglected sectors in Britain is sure to have the same dizzying effect on viewers today.