75 Best Foreign Movies on Criterion Channel Right Now

Jia Zhangke (who NPR critic John Powers once called “perhaps the most important filmmaker working in the world today”), directed this movie based on the story of a gangster he knew while growing up.

And he is far from being the only noticeable talent here. Actress Tao Zhao shines as a character called Qiao, a dancer who infiltrates the crime scene in Northern China by way of her boyfriend (the gangster). When a boss leader is assassinated, Qiao finds herself in jail after she refuses to incriminate her boyfriend. 

This is a gangster movie but it’s also about how Qiao processes her time in jail and what she does once she gets out. It serves more as a character study and a picture of modern-day China.

Written like a stage play, directed like the viewer is a fly on the wall, and shot with a love for deep shadows and warm candlelight, Flowers of Shanghai is about as immersive a chamber drama as one could ask for. Having most of the “action” take place off screen, director Hou Hsiao-hsien draws our eye instead to how his characters (including one played by an exceptionally stoic Tony Leung) continue to negotiate for their own freedom against patriarchal norms, pushing against cultural notions of proper decorum. It’s a film brimming with repressed emotion, but without ever raising its voice. The vibes, as the kids say, are immaculate.

When it comes to darker subjects such as suicide, an emotionally resonant, minimalistic film like this leaves an impression. The film follows Mr. Badii, a middle-aged man contemplating suicide, as he drives around Tehran searching for someone willing to bury him. Abbas Kiarostami’s meticulous framing creates a sense of intimacy and introspection, allowing the audience to delve into the profound existential questions raised. The sparse dialogue, breathtaking landscapes of Tehran, and the use of natural warm lighting enhance the visual beauty and contemplation of the film. Poignant and hopeful in just twenty-four hours and one car.

In modern day Europe, demonic possession seems to be a thing of the past, something most likely to be attributed to mental illness, and something that can be dealt with through modern medicine, not exorcism. Still, exorcisms are conducted in certain areas in the continent, and some instances don’t go the way they should. Inspired on the real life Tanacu exorcism, Beyond the Hills doesn’t depict the event through a horror or melodramatic lens– instead the film is stoic, naturalistic, with long single takes that linger uncomfortably and repetitively. As Alina pleads to Voichița to help her, to choose her and their bond, Voichița grapples with wanting the modern yet isolating freedom she knows Alina has found elsewhere, while still wanting the refuge religious tradition has granted her, but also has made her dependent on. It does take a while to reach its conclusion, but Beyond the Hills is a deeply unsettling and striking movie to watch.

When power shifts from one hand to the other, there’s a sense of possibility that can happen. It’s this sense of hope that drives Platform, and at the start, it seemed like the four teenagers of the Fenyang Peasant Culture Group had the world as their oyster, being free to play any new play, or even the new rock-n-roll that was popular in the era. However, Platform also depicts this shift as somewhat of a tragedy. Sure, it takes a while to get there, with writer-director Jia Zhangke taking jumps across years to check in on the troupe, and really, the lives the kids end up living aren’t terrible ones to live in. But, in contrast with the hopes the kids had, and knowing the slow pace that change came to their town, Platform reveals how lost and confused their generation felt, and how the train for freedom and liberation seemed to arrive too late for them.