Movies to Watch With Dark Comedies (Page 2)

Given current events, there’s no denying that the discussion around abortion rights can be a bit tense. That being said, this tension isn’t new. It’s been in debate for decades, which is why there aren’t many films that handle the topic. As such, Citizen Ruth is a rare film. It’s a rare film that possibly got released not because it makes the case for one or the other– but rather because the lead doesn’t even make a definite decision as to whether or not to push through with it. It’s a brilliant narrative choice as it drives home the way the discussion surrounding abortion has become so loud, both sides have actively interfered in what supposedly is a personal decision to make. The titular citizen might not be the perfect person, but Citizen Ruth perfectly satirizes how heavy that decision has become, and in many ways, how heavy that decision still remains to be.

When the country rises in rebellion against your dictatorial rule, we imagine that could be quite difficult. After a series of failures and atrocities committed to keep power, no one in the world would empathize with the dictator in question. Doing exactly this, however, made for a striking movie in The President. Never naming an actual country, but based generally on real world revolutions, the film plucks a dictator and his grandson into the poverty that his regime has inflicted upon its people. It’s quite cathartic to see the two reap the karmic consequences of what the dictator has done, but it’s also thought-provoking, as the film straightforwardly demonstrates the way revolution eventually takes cyclical form, especially for the movements that allowed the very atrocities they sought to end. It’s not a film with an easy-to-match metaphor, though, given the production country and the director Mohsen Makhmalbaf’s home country, one could guess certain influences, but The President nonetheless is a striking portrait of a city violently changing hands.

Bad Boy Bubby is not an easy watch. Within the first ten minutes, the indie drama seemed to be one of those films created only to provoke the viewer, and not much else. We won’t deny that the intro is provocative– in fact, we’re warning you outright that it includes domestic violence, abuse towards the disabled main character that’s implied to have started since childhood, and the killing of a cat– but with such a harrowing introduction, Bubby being thrown into the wider world actually becomes something optimistic. His escape is written to be full of possibilities, the possibilities that we ordinary folk take for granted, but possibilities nonetheless. There’s nowhere to go but up, for him. Writer-director Rolf de Heer matches this unusual characterization with unusual style, with 30+ cinematographers shooting with different styles as Bubby learns from each person he meets, and with the binaural audio recorded to simulate what Bubby would actually hear. It makes for a very weird, experimental film, but Bad Boy Bubby also reveals to be a surprisingly hopeful drama that celebrates the goodness of ordinary life.

If it weren’t for the people involved, the English-language remake of the Korean sci-fi comedy Save the Green Planet might have gone the direction of many English-language remakes– that is, not well. Good news is that producer Ari Aster got the best people involved. Of course, that includes the original director Jang Joon-hwan, who had to step down from directing due to health issues, but their team-up with Greek filmmaker Yorgos Lanthimos, who too is known for twisted comedies, was truly inspired, as the original story’s off-kilter, eclectic alien plot fits in just right with Lanthimos’ distinct style. Bugonia is the insane and terrific consequence of such an incredible collaboration.

Grand gestures, over-the-top declarations of love, and elaborate gifts… These normal romcom acts can sometimes make it seem that romance can only be done by the wealthy. But, in reality, love can happen anytime, and the first film of Aki Kaurismäki’s Proletariat Trilogy suggests that love is ultimately necessary in a world where two lovers are disenfranchised. As Nikander tries to woo a slightly disinterested Ilona, and as Ilona decides to depend on him for support, Shadows in Paradise might not have the usual frills of a romcom, but Kaurismäki finds the bare essentials in a depressing Finnish town, and captures the small ways it blooms in spite of it, through the lovers’ humorous blunt dialogue and the color their love adds to their world.

When falling in love with another, or when another person falls in love with you, the relationship is formed by the ideas in your and their heads, specifically about your dynamic, your respective personalities, and the potential outcome of this love. Law of Desire is centered on this idea, unfolding through a chaotic gay love triangle that demonstrates the ways the ideas and fantasies can differ. And as the characters inevitably go through fairly melodramatic reactions when they realize the desires of another person, in the most colorful fashion (literally and figuratively), Pedro Almodóvar creates an amusing and daring examination of the genre it’s inspired by.

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.

It can be very frustrating to watch something, hoping that the show, play, or film would be worth watching, and find yourself feeling worse after the experience. Most of us end up just changing the channel, leaving the theater, or finding something else to watch, but instead of doing any of this, Yannick depicts the titular audience member interrupting the show with a gun. You can already imagine how tense the situation is, but Quentin Dupieux infuses a comedic, meta touch in the way Yannick questions and holds the audience hostage, as his conversations with them and the cast reveal the different expectations we have from art.

There are a few instances that prove the merit of one’s friendship, and one of those instances is a roadtrip. Withnail and I is considered one of the greatest British comedies of all time, but there’s a certain melancholy to it, as two unemployed actors have gone on holiday due to an offer from one of their uncles, though this offer doesn’t come without strings, which the titular “I”, Marwood, whose name is never mentioned, has only found out on the trip. As the holiday goes wrong, with the two making the worst of every new situation, the two share somewhat of a dysfunctional, slightly homoerotic relationship, as Withnail deals with everything in the most drunken, unserious manner, and Marwood anxiously realizes how much he’s outgrown their friendship. The film’s humor may be a tad too dry for those outside the country, but cult favorite Withnail and I still resonates with its endlessly quotable lines, memorable scenes, and its bitter understanding of how life can diverge.

A young Steve Buscemi leads this wry farce about a calamitous film set where nothing goes right. The sardonic script skewers the ins and outs of low budget film production and the various personalities on set from belligerent directors, pretentious cinematographers, and egotistic actors. 

A playful three-act structure and trips into dream sequences keep things light, while a strong supporting cast, including a cheeky appearance by Peter Dinklage and the fantastic Catherine Keener, gives the film the backbone it needs. 

Harold and Maude may ostensibly be about death—so much so, that by Harold’s 10th fake suicide attempt, you’ll be rolling your eyes—but it’s also a sweet tale that celebrates life’s small joys and everyday people. The film’s two sides are personified by the titular characters. Harold seems tired of life, while Maude is all about it. And yet, Harold comes from privilege, while Maude hides a dark past. They learn about and from each other, but ultimately it’s the kindness they show one another, in a society that treats them as outsiders, that gives the film its heart. It sounds simple on paper, but Harold and Maude is packed with the kind of style, sound, and deadpan wit that dominates modern independent cinema (see: The Submarine, or Rushmore). It didn’t make waves back in 1971 when it premiered, but decades later, it remains a cult favorite for these reasons.

This fun drama is about a 90-year-old who’s still searching for answers to life’s existential questions. Lucky smokes, drinks, and is pretty angry (a not-so-chill atheist); but he’s still around.

Harry Dean Stanton, in what feels like an extension to his character Lucky, passed away a year after the film premiered in 2017. This was the last role of the legendary Alien and The Godfather actor.

While terrible in nature, there’s always a curiosity towards serial killers, even if only in hope to identify and protect one’s self from a potential one. The Young Poisoner’s Handbook depicts one such killer named the Teacup Murderer, but while the usual serial killing tropes are present (e.g. the fascination towards death, the disregard for others, and the possible psychosis), the film is equal parts creepy and funny. It doesn’t really delight in the gore, with poison as his weapon, but it mostly takes pleasure in how captivated he is with his experiments– the meticulous method he recorded, the thought he placed into his endeavors, and the way he was able to escape detection, even from those who knew him. One should obviously not follow The Young Poisoner’s Handbook, but one can’t deny how Hugh O’Conor makes said poisoner a fascinating watch.

With plenty of old men having extramarital affairs, taking advantage of younger women and leaving them forlorn in love, it can feel deceptively easy to take sides in the first forty minutes of He Loves Me… He Loves Me Not. Who wouldn’t side with Angélique, especially with the innocent, childlike face of Audrey Tautou? And yet, when the twist occurs, the film fills the gaps in totally unexpected ways, gradually escalating to a terrible and sad conclusion about this seemingly romantic girl. It’s hard to further talk about He Loves Me… He Loves Me Not without getting into spoiler territory, so if this is the first time you’ve heard of the movie, go and watch it without any context.

Among the sea of class satires released in the last year, Triangle of Sadness is one of the better ones. Directed by Ruben Östlund (The Square, Force Majeure), the film follows an ultra-rich group of people who get stranded on an island after their luxury cruise ship sinks. The social pyramid that has long favored them suddenly turns upside down when a crew member (a glowing Dolly de Leon) effectively runs the group of sheltered castaways.

Triangle of Sadness may not be as sharp as Östlund’s previous work, and it may not add anything particularly new to the saturated discussions of social class, but it remains a darkly humorous and engaging watch, masterfully helmed by a strong script and ensemble.

From the brilliant minds of Jean-Pierre Jeunet and Marc Jano comes a utopian vision for the ages. After having worked together before on the short sci-fi film The Bunker of the Last Gunshots, the duo-turned-longtime-collaborators pick it up a notch in one of the best dark comedies to come out in the 90s. 

In Delicatessen, Jeunet and Jano disguise the wretchedness of modern society in a post-apocalyptic world where food is the global currency, given how scarce it’s become. We follow Louison (Dominique Pinon), an everyday man who falls in love despite all the hubbub and squalor surrounding him. But nothing comes in the way of love, and instead of discovering a salve, he encounters a snag, one that pulls him deeper into society’s most complex ethical dilemmas. 

Many films have already been made about inequality and hierarchies, but none have been quite as darkly funny and unapologetic as Delicatessen.

It wouldn’t be too far of a reach to evoke Kids (1995) while diving into Mid90s. But instead of taking on the HIV crisis, Mid90s is a much more tender, poignant reflection on coming of age in 90’s skate culture. Jonah Hill, writer and director, examines the complexities of trying to fit in and the difficult choices one has to embrace individualism. From an opening of physical abuse to scenes of drug usage and traumatic experiences, Mid90s is a meditation not only on culture, but also a subtle examination of what it means to be human, to reach emotional and physical limitations, and to seek acceptance. Filmed in a 4:3 aspect ratio, Mid90s doesn’t concern itself with grandiose filmography, but instead the aspect ratio almost reflects the tonal and metaphorical aspects played out on screen. With a smaller dynamic range of color and the familiar dust/scratches, the 16mm film compliments gritty and emotional moments of Mid90s. The emotional range of the film will take the audience from the depths of empathy to laughing out loud, but there is no compromise to the weight of each moment. Jonah Hill’s directorial debut is beautiful in every sense of the word.

Better known through its original Spanish name El Infierno, Hell is an underrated crime thriller that satirizes Mexico at the time of the Drug War. It follows an immigrant, Benjamin Garcia, who subsequently dives into a life of crime, though it’s not as lucrative as he expects. What ensues ends up becoming a darkly humorous, Western-inspired take on the issue, flipping from funny to dramatic at a turn of a hat, and smartly pointing out the absurd in the violence that still grips the country today. While underseen abroad due to its NC-17 rating, it’s a fitting installment for director Luis Estrada’s penchant for bold political satires, garnering a cult following in the country itself.

Four Lions is as black and as dark as a movie can ever get, mixing cultural relevancy with humor and ridiculousness. It is insensitive to Islam, insensitive to terrorism and insensitive to the viewer. But it is hilarious. The director spent three years talking to Imams, terrorism experts and basically everyone. The result? A legit 97 minutes that will dazzle even extremists with its knowledge of Islam and the accuracy of its lines. Needless to say that it will upset quite a few people, but that is always a good sign for black comedy movies, right?

The Fundamentals of Caring is an offbeat comedy/drama starring Paul Rudd as a man attempting to overcome his looming divorce by becoming the caretaker for a teenager with muscular dystrophy (Craig Roberts, Submarine). The two develop an unconventional relationship based largely on sarcasm and profanity, delivering many laugh-out-loud moments, while also slowly exposing the pain each is carrying inside.

Together, at Ben’s urging, they embark on a road trip across the western United States for Craig to see the world. It’s somewhat formulaic but fun and touching road movie that covers much familiar ground, but also offers a fine illustration of caregiving, personal growth, and emotional healing. Paul Rudd is as good ever, and Roberts is utterly superb. One of the best movies on the Netflix Originals catalog, and an undeniable winner, all-in-all.

Admittedly, the English dub of Riki-Oh: The Story of Ricky can sound quite goofy. The American-accented voices don’t quite match the Asian characters, and because the characters are easily provoked into violence, they all talk in an exaggerated way. As such, the film is absurdly funny. It’s unclear whether or not that was intended. The action sequences are equally intense, choreographed and staged in order to maximize ridiculous spurts of blood, so it’s possible that the campy approach was on purpose. However, underneath this over-the-top, violent veneer, is a surprising premise that tackles the worries towards a privatized prison system albeit through some of the most wacky stunts ever put on film. Riki-Oh: The Story of Ricky won’t be the prison film for everyone, but there’s no denying its ludicrous appeal.

Before anything else, there’s something special watching the people behind The Quiet Family. Not only was this the directorial debut of filmmaker Kim Jee-woon (who later created A Tale of Two Sisters and I Saw The Devil), it also had Choi Min-sik and Song Kang-ho just before stardom. But if the talent alone isn’t enough to convince anyone to watch this dark comedy, there’s a wacky sort of energy that makes this unfortunate mountainside stay much more humorous than scary. As the titular ensemble keeps bumping into so many unexplainable, gruesome freak accidents, the sheer number of bodies they have to hide become hilarious inconveniences rather than terrifying mysteries. The Quiet Family makes surprisingly humorous use of the usual cabin in the woods.

While love and longing can transform people into their best selves, it has famously transformed couples into their worst selves too, and this change captivates our imaginations of how the relationship was formed. Deep Crimson revisits the Lonely Hearts Killers, dramatizing their exploits with a darkly comic flair. As Mexican auteur Arturo Ripstein brings their tale to Mexico, he and his screenwriter wife Paz Alicia Garciadiego dive deep into these undeniably evil characters, spotting the ways their jagged edges fit and make them whole, which creates a twisted bond that isn’t easily torn apart. Profundo Carmesí is an unforgettable take on an unforgettable crime duo.

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.

A Canadian film with a title based off Cockney rhyming slang meaning “it’s all gone a bit wrong,” it’s All Gone Pete Tong is an offbeat and bleak comedy. Starring Paul Kaye as Frankie Wilde, a successful club DJ who begins to go deaf at the height of his fame. As news of his disability surfaces, he tries to record a new album, but is hampered by his drug habits and infighting. Quickly, the trappings of fame abandon him: the gigs in Ibiza, the money, the cocaine and his trophy wife. The film makes use of cameo interviews with famous DJs, and chugs along like a fantastic Behind the Music.

Music competitions aren’t really new, but usually, the goal is to find the best performers in exchange for a cash prize and a chance to make even more great music. The Saddest Music in the World is an eccentric choice to base a competition on, especially during the Great Depression and Prohibition era happening all at once, and it gets even weirder in as a film in the hands of writer-director Guy Maddin, as a beer baroness transforms it into a cultural Olympics hijacked by a strange family who should probably go to therapy for their dual love triangles. Fans of old black-and-white films would love the classic vignette and grain, but rather than wax nostalgically about the past, The Saddest Music in the World takes a more bizarre, ridiculous route on talking tapeworms and literal beer legs.

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.

As much as we’d like to think everyone can be redeemed, there are terrible, awful people that do exist that make it hard to believe in change. Idiots and Angels takes one such person named Angel, and forces him through a highly unusual, creepy, and cynical redemption tale that involves a body transformation that’s less heavenly and more Kafkaesque. As he pulls feathers from his body, Angel’s miserable, terrible self has no choice but to act decently for once. It’s a unique transformation, one we wish our curmudgeonly acquaintances would have, and with no words spoken, Bill Plympton’s unique cross-hatched animation takes center stage. Idiots and Angels may not be the most perfect animated film out there, but it’s certainly one of its kind, something you’ve probably never seen before.

In this office comedy of errors, Javier Bardem plays Blanco, the titular boss, but whether he is actually good is what the movie wryly examines.

As head of a small manufacturing company, Blanco treats his employees intimately, going so far as make their problems his own. He believes this is why his company is nominated for an excellence certification, but as he waits for the possible award, cracks start to appear in his “work is family” facade as everything that could go wrong, starts going wrong. The Good Boss is an anxiety fest for Blanco to be sure, but a winning tragicomedy for us all.

Admittedly, it’s hard to watch the first twenty minutes of Dinner in America. The slurs are gratuitous, the suburban families are superficially satiric, and it seemed at first glance the leads were, too. But when the punk singer and his awkward fan meet, and they start driving around the Midwest, there’s a charming chemistry formed between these two weirdos, portrayed with a dynamic back-and-forth between Kyle Gallner and Emily Skeggs. This chemistry makes their ridiculous character flaws work, too– as Simon’s random destructive quirks end up being the perfect response for Patty’s life and Patty’s deranged fan letters turn out to be the kind of lyrical genius Simon’s been looking for. There’s no denying that the film is brash and rough at the edges like its leads, and even with this, some viewers might still turn up their noses at the two. But the over-the-top humor, the memorable dialogue, and the surprising sweetness of Dinner in America makes for a scrappy, edgy romcom that might actually be punk.

Empirical truth is something that is observable, objective, and verifiable. However, without the ability to observe, one must find other means to obtain a set of observations– repeated, consistent answers to eventually parse out the reality. One must obtain proof. Proof is an Australian drama about a blind photographer named Martin, who uses his photos to get multiple viewpoints of what was present in that specific moment. Writer-director Jocelyn Moorhouse brilliantly uses that idea to craft a character that wields objectivity in order to protect himself and keep himself distant, as seen through the way he instantly trusts Andy due to his straightforward demeanor, and the way he attempts to drive away his housekeeper Celia to get her to see the worst of him, instead of the idealized, perhaps fetishized, image she creates of him. Proof challenges the photograph as a medium of truth, as well as the idea of complete honesty and trust in another person.

While marked as a comedy, Zegen isn’t the kind of film that would make you laugh freely– it is, after all, a film that mocks the real-life sex trafficking of impoverished Japanese women during both world wars. This makes it a challenging film to watch, especially to viewers outside the country. But to Shohei Imamura’s credit, the butt of the joke isn’t on the women being sold, but rather, on the titular pimp Iheiji Muraoka, the delusions and lies he told himself and others, and the twisted nationalism he uses to exploit his ladies. Zegen is based on Muraoka’s supposedly true autobiography, but Imamura uses the text to mirror the follies (and consequences) of imperialism.

Normally, when your beloved wife dies in a car crash, you would be angry at the driver responsible, maybe even avoidant, sad, or incredibly triggered. Instead, in A Zed & Two Noughts, the twin zoologists with dead wives become addicted to the idea of life and death, obsessed with watching and rewatching the origins of life, captivated in photographing decay in time lapse, and strangely attached to the one-legged driver. Because of this, the film is quite bizarre, grotesque, and it definitely wouldn’t be for everyone, even for fans of Peter Greenaway. But the way it’s all filmed is striking, which is probably why Greenaway continued collaborating with cinematographer Sacha Vierny, until his death, and with the film’s unpredictability and excellent scoring, it’s hard to look away.

Best friends Val (Jerrod Carmichael) and Kevin (Christopher Abbott) have had enough of living; desperate and depressed, they make an agreement to kill each other. On the last day of their lives, they set out on an unlikely journey tying up loose ends and meeting up with the people who’ve impacted them the most.

Depicting suicide onscreen is already a scary gamble in itself, but to try to add some good-willed humor to it is an impossible task. Still, director and star Jerrod Carmichael pulls it off, thanks in large part to his empathetic know-how of the subject matter. Carmichael explores the nuances of his topic with impressive deft, touching on oft-overlooked factors such as mental health, class, and abuse in plain and realistic terms. What he captures most effectively is the anger that comes with this strong and sometimes irrepressible urge. Abbot is explosive and Carmichael is subtle; both turn in rich performances and, together, concoct a delicate two-hander oozing with chemistry, empathy, and thrill.

Sure, it takes a special type of crazy to try to make it in the movies, especially if you’ve been at it for ten years without any sort of premiere, but the strangely persistent four-man production of Why Don’t You Play in Hell? takes this to even crazier heights, involving a yakuza gang war and potentially their lives. Writer-director Sion Sono infuses his signature gore with much more playful comedy, slinging together chaotic action scenes through the pure power of cool, and the entire roster’s enthusiasm for cinema is just so infectious, it’s compelling to watch, even when the plotlines don’t fully mesh well. Why Don’t You Play in Hell? is such a fun tribute to gritty action filmmaking.

After receiving virtually unlimited funding from a wealthy businessman, Lola (played by the always excellent Penelope Cruz) sets out to mount an ambitious adaptation of a bestselling novel. To make her vision work, she employs renowned actors Ivan Torres (Oscar Martinez) and Felix Rivero (Antonio Banderas), knowing full well that their opposite philosophies in art and life will clash. What follows is a series of preps and rehearsals that play out like social experiments in their twistedness, which all in all speak to the outrageousness of film, art, and life itself.

In this Spanish dark comedy, no one is spared from satire—from the idiosyncratic auteur down to the sell-out actor, all are parodied in equal measure, each of their egos broken down in great and hilarious detail.

I didn’t know anything about the movie before watching it (this was my husband’s pick for ‘one of us picks something that the other knows nothing about’ night). It is Korean, sweet, funny, touching, unique, odd, poignant. I think the fact I knew nothing about the movie when I watched made it even more enjoyable so I hesitate to write more details in this review! Since watching it I have read that an American remake may be in the works, so I would recommend watching it before there is too much info out there about what is destined to be a less charming and successful version

The Square is a peculiar movie about a respected contemporary art museum curator as he goes through a few very specific events. He loses his wallet, his children fight, the art he oversees is does not make sense to an interviewer… Each one of these events would usually require a precise response but all they do is bring out his insecurities and his illusions about life. These reactions lead him to very unusual situations. A thought-provoking and incredibly intelligent film that’s just a treat to watch. If you liked Force Majeure by the same director, The Square is even better!

There’s a lot to think about in Dream Scenario, which posits the possibility of collectively seeing the same real man in your dreams. Norwegian filmmaker Kristoffer Borgli drops the painfully ordinary Paul (Cage) in an extraordinary reality to show us how easily one can spiral into insanity, how dangerous groupthink can be, how fickle cancel culture is, and how anything can happen to anyone, even to someone as unsuspecting as Paul. But Borgli doesn’t just experiment with ideas here, he also expertly plays with sounds and transitions, sometimes even cutting a scene before someone is done talking, to capture the skittish and unreliable language of dreams. More impressively, he takes into account how this phenomenon would play in our real, profit-oriented world. The capitalistic urge to make Paul an advertising tool, for instance, or to create tech that makes it possible for others to appear in dreams too, is both uncanny and depressingly realistic. Some might feel that Borgli is biting off more than he can chew but there’s a balance and ease to Dream Scenario that makes it feel inevitable. That’s thanks to Borgli’s brilliant direction but also, in no small part, to Cage’s inspired performance as a pathetic but harmless loser.

In the year of the Netflix TV Show Maniac, another absurdist title stole critics’ hearts. Sorry to Bother You is a movie set in an alternate reality, where capitalism and greed are accentuated. Lakeith Stanfield (Atlanta) is a guy called Cassius who struggles to pay his bills. However, when at a tele-marketing job an old-timer tells him to use a “white voice”, he starts moving up the ranks of his bizarre society. A really smart movie that will be mostly enjoyed by those who watch it for its entertaining value, and not so much for its commentary. It is like a Black Mirror episode stretched into a movie.

Going by the Book is quite absurd. Of course, most people would understand not to take an assignment like this too literally, so when this deadpan, fastidious cop does so, it brings this mere simulation into an unpredictable, fascinating situation. It’s so funny. The film leans into the humor by depicting the horrifying possibility before pulling the curtain to the silly actions he actually does. It’s a clever concept that pokes fun at his colleagues’ complacency, as it highlights the gap between the needs of a situation and how unprepared institutions are to meet it, as well as how rules are made and practiced. While not as fast-paced as the original, Going by the Book is a hilarious thriller comedy that’s so fun to watch.

Director Thomas Vinterberg (The Hunt) reunites with Mads Mikkelsen to tell the story of four teachers going through a mid-life crisis. They’re not sad, exactly—they have homes and jobs and are good friends with each other—but they’re not happy either. Unlike the ebullient youth they teach, they seem to have lost their lust for life, and it’s silently eating away at them, rendering them glassy-eyed and mechanic in their everyday lives.

Enter an experiment: what if, as one scholar suggests, humans were meant to fulfill a certain alcohol concentration in order to live as fully and present as possible? The teachers use themselves as the subjects and the tide slowly starts to turn to mixed effects. Are they actually getting better or worse?

With an always-satisfying performance by Mikkelsen and an instant classic of an ender, it’s no surprise Another Round took home the award for Best Foreign Film in the 2020 Academy Awards.

It’s slower and stranger than most comedies you may be used to, but there’s still lots of heart to be found in the way Classmates Minus follows the lapsed hopes and wishes of its core characters. Beneath all its stereotypically male yearnings for control and romantic wish fulfillment, there are potent ideas here about how a tired economy and jaded political culture can turn those in their middle age into completely different people. Writer/director Huang Hsin-yao provides narration for his own film, but rather than being distracting or conceited, his words add a level of needed sympathy to everything we see on screen.

Break-ups aren’t the easiest thing to overcome, but how we deal with them usually doesn’t get as ludicrous as the events Pepa goes through in Women on the Verge of a Nervous Breakdown. The film makes said nervous breakdown chaotic– it includes spiked gazpacho, a frantic call to the police, and being held at gunpoint– but as Pepa and the women around her try to put off each fire, at least one of them literally, writer-director Pedro Almodóvar ensures sympathy for them, with Pepa’s snappy dialogue cutting through the lies of a smooth-talking womanizer refusing to face them. And it’s all paired with a suitably dramatic score, meticulous staging, and exaggerated, colorful frames mostly occurring in the wreck of a fabulously styled penthouse.

Director Noah Baumbach’s autobiographical film is a strikingly realistic take on divorce and the turmoil it sets on an already-dysfunctional family. Bernard (Jeff Daniels) is a selfish decadent writer who’s splitting with his unfaithful wife Joan (Laura Linney). Their two sons, Walt (Jesse Eisenberg) and Frank (Owen Kline), are taking different sides that reflect their personality. This separation only reinforces their insecurities as they quickly fall into depression and grow away from their friends. The parents, however, find unconventional lovers just as quickly, Bernard with a student of his, and Jane with her son’s tennis coach. The Squid and the Whale is a funny, emotional, and gripping story that finds a perfect balance in tone despite dealing with bitter divorce and troubled adolescence.

Director Bong Joon-ho (Snowpiercer) does something quite amazing with the $50 million budget Netflix gave him: he makes a simplistic movie. But man, is it good. Okja tells the story of a “super pig” experiment that sends genetically modified pigs to top farmers around the world. In Korea, a farmer’s granddaughter forms a special relationship with one of these super pigs (Okja). When the company who originally ran the experiment want their pig back (performances by Jake Gyllenhaal and Tilda Swinton) – the two find an ally in an animal advocacy group led by Jay (Paul Dano). This is a straightforward movie, but nevertheless it is entertaining and full of thought-provoking themes and performances from an excellent cast.

Before anything else, your mileage of The Brand New Testament will likely depend on your beliefs. We would say, however, that for most people, this satire is frankly so absurd that it’s more likely to baffle rather than offend. That’s because of its central premise– what if God is just a modern day man on his computer? It makes for a novel way to depict divinity, to reinterpret Judeo-Christian thinking, and to reckon with the question of evil through stylistic shots and whimsical fantasy rather than philosophical dissertations. Playful, irreverent, and mostly bizarre, The Brand New Testament won’t be for everyone, but it’s certainly going to be a unique experience.

Many films centered around a mother’s love rarely dares to question it. For most people, the fundamental relationship between mother and child is a given, so viewers might be shocked at the way this murder mystery explores how much this bond can be tested. Centered on a murder case with a mentally disabled suspect, Mother unfolds in ways we rarely expect, with the unnamed protagonist going so far in her devotion that leads to darker and terrible discoveries for this small town, not just about the family in question. It’s not the cathartic pursuit of justice Hollywood is accustomed to, but it’s what makes Mother such an outstanding crime thriller.

Frances (Greta Gerwig) lives in New York – but not the glamorous NYC of Woody Allen movies. Taking place primarily in the gritty and rapidly gentrifying North Brooklyn, the black and white film paints a picture of an extended adolescence. Focusing on the goofy and carefree Frances, who loses her boyfriend, her best friend and her dream of being a dancer. She moves in with two guys, both of whom are more successful than her, and becomes even more determined to fulfil her goals, impractical as they may be. Fans of HBO’s Girls and other odes to not being a “real person” yet will love this film.