Best 2024 Movies on Hulu Right Now

One thing about director Sean Baker’s movies is that everything is rooted in class. Anora might charm as a romance, delight as a comedy, and dazzle as a realistic look into sex work, but at the end of the day, it’s a movie about labor, specifically exploitation labor, making the movie as painfully realistic as it is hopelessly romantic. It’s like the anti-Pretty Woman in that way. There’s no doubt it will have the same cultural impact (it’s already starting heated discourses on the internet) and will be remembered for just as long. The heated performances, breathtaking cinematography, and subtly hilarious script are all bonuses to this gem of a film.

“The healing power of art” sounds cheesy, but it’s a statement made beautiful and true in Ghostlight. It’s the sensitively told and wonderfully performed story of an ordinary man who, up until this point, doesn’t even know how Romeo and Juliet ends. That’s how detached he is from art. But when Rita (Dolly de Leon) pushes him into the arena, he surprises himself and his family by being receptive to it. It’s the only way he can get in touch with his feelings, which is vital since he’s gone through an unspeakable loss recently. What that loss is isn’t immediately revealed in the film, but the small details snowball and eventually pummel you to the ground with its sheer tragedy. You’re either grinning or crying watching this, there’s no in-between. But if there were, you’d probably be marveling at the trio at the heart of this film: the family played by a real-life family. Keith Kupferer, who plays Dan, Tara Mallen, who plays Sharon, and Katherine Mallen Kupferer, who plays their daughter Daisy, are all compelling and dazzling in their own ways.

It’s easy to laugh about an old lady being an unwitting lead in an action film, the joke being that they can’t possibly be that. But June Squibb’s Thelma is. She refuses to be infantilized and undertakes a journey that’s dramatized to great effect. It’s still funny, but without Squibb’s character being the butt of the joke. It’s also immensely charming, smart, and moving, without ever being too saccharine or pandering. The performances are wonderful across the board, but it’s Thelma’s intergenerational bond with her 24-year-old grandson Daniel (Fred Hechinger) that’s at the heart of the film. In some ways, both Thelma and Daniel have to prove their worth to a world that gives them little credit for their idleness, even though they’re both happy and make other people happy that way. Parker Posey, who plays Thelma’s daughter and Daniel’s mother, is equally commendable as the seeingly stable but perpetually harried “adult” that keeps the two grounded in reality. Equal parts sweet and bad-ass, Thelma is the movie to see if you want to feel the warm fuzzies (minus the cheese) with the family.

To plenty of countries around the globe, democracy has become so ubiquitous that we forget it’s relatively new, at least relative to the rest of human history. Bhutan is one of the last countries that became a democracy, and writer-director Pawo Choyning Dorji chose to depict a slice of how they made the shift in The Monk and the Gun. As Tashi sets out to obtain two weapons for his mentor, and Ron seeks a specific antique gun, Dorji presents slice-of-life moments of the beautiful Bhutan countryside, intercut with the subtle ways tradition still persists amidst modernity, and the funny ways change can clash with culture. It’s no wonder The Monk and the Gun was chosen as the Bhutanese entry for the Best International Feature at the 96th Academy Awards.

A Real Pain is a deceptively simple film. There’s not a lot going on on the surface, but Eisenberg’s smart script and tight direction, coupled with Culkin’s firecracker performance fuel the film with heart and infectious energy. A Real Pain shines when it focuses on the cousins’ bond​​at once pained and precious—but it also works as a strong ensemble of realistic characters, and as a heartfelt tribute to the Holocaust victims of the region. Eisenberg does an excellent job of tying the characters’ flaws and emotions with the horrors of the past. It deals with heavy stuff, but there’s an impressive restraint at play here, even during Eisenberg and Culkin’s big moments. They’re moving (but never overly sentimental) and truly memorable.

Once you get over the fact that A Complete Unknown isn’t like most biopics, the film becomes a blast to watch. It doesn’t extol the virtues of its hero, nor does it pretend to know who Dylan is at his core. Instead, the film relishes his enigma and puts forward his flaws alongside his genius. More importantly, it immerses audiences into the world surrounding Dylan—political and musical. This being a film about one of the most significant musicians in American history, it makes sense that the best parts of the film are the musical performances. The fact that the actors all use their own voices and play the instruments adds to the film’s verisimilitude (Monica Barbaro as Joan Baez is an outstanding highlight). Many parts of it are frustrating, to be sure. It can get trope-heavy, for instance, when Dylan is framed as the lonely tortured genius and the women around his adoring muses. And instinct will make us want to look for backstory. But as Dylan and his ‘60s peers would’ve probably put it, it’s all in the music, man. Just listen to the music, and you’ll find what you’re looking for.

After you get back home, and you tuck your kids to bed, we search for some easy entertainment in the late-night talk show. Quips about today’s news and intimate conversations with guests are just the thing to wind down, but theoretically, anything can happen at late night. Late Night with the Devil plays as a pseudo-documentary centered on late show host Jack Delroy on a Halloween night, pairing the charged, uncensored atmosphere with a supernatural twist. The film alternates between the color-toned show and black-and-white behind the scenes, and as Delroy tries to lead the show to safe entertainment, with David Dastmalchian’s genial aura, things don’t go as planned as Lily becomes host to a scary demon with Ingrid Torelli’s terrifying physicality. It’s creepy and slightly comedic, with the classic selling of the soul for fame interrupted with words from their sponsors, and it’s certainly a fun twist to the late night we’re used to seeing.

Babes tells the story of Eden (Ilana Glazer) and Dawn (Michelle Buteau), codependent best friends who are forced to reevaluate their relationship when Eden finally joins Dawn in becoming a mother. While Eden learns how to be more mature and independent, Dawn struggles to feel like herself again after two exhausting pregnancies. Burdened by these personal problems, they evaluate the boundaries of their friendship and ask themselves, what do they owe each other? It sounds like heavy stuff, but the script—co-written by Glazer and Josh Rabinowitz—has an uncanny ability to make even the most serious parts of the film feather-light. Glazer and Buteau are fiercely funny, charming, lovable, and relatable, and everything comes together seamlessly with Pamela Adlon, who makes her directorial debut with Babes, on the helm. Fans of Glazer’s Broad City and Buteau’s Survival of the Thickest will find much to laugh (and cry) at here.

Exhibiting Forgiveness does what it says in the title. The plot moves when a repentant family member returns to the protagonist’s life to reconcile with them, and in doing so, there’s hope that things would work out between them. Many a depiction would often treat this moment as a simple hurdle to jump over, but like what he does in other mediums, writer-director Titus Kaphar reconfigures this moment with a lived-in understanding of what other depictions gloss over. Through contrasting the present day actions of Tarrell with harrowing flashbacks of the past, and through an incredible cast, Exhibiting Forgiveness paints a more honest, heartwrenching depiction of what it means to truly forgive a parent.

At first, Marmalade just seemed like a good ol’ fashioned Bonnie and Clyde story being told by one inmate to another. As Baron tells Otis about his titular Bonnie in Joe Keery’s Southern drawl, there’s a charming bittersweet romance about a man pushed into crime because of healthcare costs and a compelling Camila Marrone as a manic pixie dream girl-flavored femme fatale. By its own, it’s already an intriguing twist to the film noir plot. But the second half turns this romance into something completely unexpected, pulling an insane set of interconnected plot twists that’s just fun to experience. There are certain moments that could have been tighter, but the performances were great, the images were stunning, and the plot was surprising. It’s such a daring move for first time writer-director Keir O’Donnell.