100 Very Best Movies on Hulu Right Now

Not one but two Oscars as well as a Golden Globe are among this movie’s never-ending list of accolades. It was the first Iranian film ever to get an Oscar and the first non-English film ever nominated for Best Screenplay. Originally titled The Separation of Nader from Simin in Persian, it homes in on the dissolving relationship of a middle-class couple from Teheran – and the unintended consequences of tragic events.

However, this film is so intense, well-acted, and well-written, it defies categorization. To be sure, the movie does offer a painful look at a deteriorating marriage. It’s also timely, dealing with the politics of theocracy, economic underdevelopment, and social alienation. It presents tense moral dilemmas without pointing a finger. If you’re curious to learn about the humans of Iran and, by cultural extension, the humans of the Middle East beyond the scope of global politics, A Separation is also for you.

But please don’t call it world cinema, because this is no Slumdog Millionaire. Above all, it is a searing portrayal of human conflict, relationships, and morals. It is an almost perfect depiction of how many bad people are simply good people running out of options.

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.

American folk singer Sixto Diaz Rodriguez recorded two albums in Detroit in the 1970s, which he played live across the city, but never to critical acclaim or commercial success. Disappointed, he soon quit his musical career, bought a run-down house in the Motor City, and lived a simple life working in construction. So far, this sounds like the biography of many musicians that never quite made it, talented or otherwise.

However, a strange thing happened. By the mid-1970s, his albums were getting significant airplay in countries like Australia, Zimbabwe, and Apartheid-era South Africa, where he was soon considered a musical voice on par with the Beatles. While living a reclusive life in Detroit, Michigan, he unwittingly became a star on the other side of the globe. This engaged and visually appealing documentary by the late Swedish director Malik Bendjelloul tells his story and spells out a fascinating footnote of global music history.

A slow-burning Argentinian thriller about a retired legal counselor and the one case he investigated that just would not die, The Secret in Their Eyes is a taut and sharp mystery. As layers of mystery unfold, the story draws the viewer in and becomes entangled with the deteriorating political situation in Argentina. Notably, the film features a single-take 5 minute shot – a fantastic technical achievement and a testament to the directorial vision and skill.

Mary and Max is the tale of an overlooked 8-year-old girl from Australia starting an unlikely friendship via mail with a middle-aged Jewish man from New York. Shot completely in monocromatic claymotion, it is the first feature film by Australian stop-motion animation writer, Adam Elliot, and the first ever animated film to score the opening slot at Sundance Festival. In all its playful absurdity, Mary and Max is an emotional and wise gem of a film that examines the human condition through the eyes of a troubled child and an autistic American. In contrast to its clay-based animation, it deals with some pretty dark and adult themes, but succeeds in balancing those with happiness and absurd humor. Moreover, Elliott gathered an ensemble cast to do the voice-overs, which includes Philip Seymour Hoffman, Toni Collette, and Eric Bana. We recommend it 8 condensed milks out of 10.

Memento is a right of passage movie – the kind of movie 19 year olds watch and decide, “holy hell, cinema is cool.” Call it the most cinematic mainstream film or the most mainstream serious film of the last 20 years, Memento also marks the beginning of the reign of Christopher Nolan. A deep and gripping meditation on forgetting helmed by a technical virtuoso, Memento is a puzzling emotional trip.

One of the most relevant movies to come out in the past years, Moonlight is a celebration of onscreen aesthetics and delicate screenwriting, acting and directing. In the poorer area of Miami, snippets of the life of a gay African-American man are shown in three different ages, states, and attitudes. Throughout the movie, and as you witness him progress and regress, you become almost enchanted by what is happening in front of you. You find yourself in a state of understanding and not understanding, of thinking you know what’s going to happen in the next scene, but also of having no idea of what is to follow. Winner of the Best Picture Oscar, Best Supporting Actor (for Mahershala Ali who plays one of the main character’s early role models), and Best Adapted Screenplay.

Fire of Love is a documentary that follows Maurice and Katia Krafft, a scientist couple who’ve dedicated their entire professional lives to studying (and marveling at) volcanoes. The two met at university and have been inseparable ever since, chasing explosions around the world until their death at the Mount Unzen eruption in 1991.

The fiery passion the title refers to is as much about Maurice and Katia as it is about their dedication to volcanoes. Like any love story, it tracks how they were first wonderstruck by the formation and how that awe shaped their lives and led them to each other, as well as how they came to discover hard truths about it and dealt with the heartbreak that soon followed.

Combining the breathtaking footage the couple left behind with lovely writing and artful animation, director Sara Dosa creates a moving documentary about passion, adventure, and the world itself.

In a world where mortality has been overcome, people watch in awe as the as the 118-year-old Nemo Nobody, the last mortal on Earth, nears his end. He is interviewed about his life, recounting it at three points in time: as a 9-year-old after his parents divorced, when he first fell in love at 15, and as an adult at 34. The three stories seemingly contradict each other. Utilizing non-linear cinematography, Belgian director Jaco Van Dormael presents each of these branching pathways as a version of what could have been. The result is a complex, entangled narrative. That and the movie’s ensemble cast, featuring Jared Leto, Sarah Polley, and Diane Kruger, have turned Mr. Nobody into a cult classic. The soundtrack, featuring several of the beautifully restrained music by Eric Satie, is also considered a masterpiece. While it is surely not for everybody, this is trippy, intimate, and existential sci-fi at its best.

More simply called La Vie d’Adèle in its native language, this French coming-of-age movie was hugely successful when it came out and was probably one of the most talked-about films of the time. On the one hand, the usual puritans came to the fore, criticizing the lengthy and graphic sex scenes. On the other hand, Julie Maroh, who wrote the source material that inspired the script, denounced Franco-Tunisian filmmaker Abdellatif Kechiche for directing with his d*ck, if you don’t mind me saying so, while also being an on-set tyrant. Whatever you make of this in hindsight, the only way to know is to watch this powerfully acted drama about the titular Adèle (Adèle Exarchopoulos), and her infatuation with Emma, a free-spirited girl with blue hair, played by Léa Seydoux. The film beautifully and realistically portrays Adele’s evolution from a teenage high-school girl to a grown, confident woman. As their relationship matures, so does Adèle, and she slowly begins to outgrow her sexual and philosophical mentor. Whatever your final verdict on the controversial sex scene, Blue Is the Warmest Color is without doubt an outstanding film as are the performances from Exarchopoulos and Séydoux.

Nothing about Saint Omer is easy. A female Senegalese migrant (Guslagie Malanga) is put to trial for committing infanticide, but throughout the film, it becomes clear how much of a victim she is too, of an uncaring and deeply prejudiced society. “What drove her to madness?” Her attorney asks at one point. We’re not sure. We’re not necessarily asked to side with her, nor answer the many hard-hitting questions brought up in the film, but we sit with the uneasiness of it all and, in that silence, confront our ideas about motherhood, womanhood, personhood.

This confusion is what makes the film so compelling. Despite the court’s best efforts, Laurence isn’t meant to be understood. She’s meant to be an example of the ever-ambiguous, forever-complicated, always-hurt person. It’s human nature after all to be this complex and messed up. The film shows us that the best that we can do in situations like this is to listen, understand, and as our protagonist Rama (Kayije Kagame) does, make peace with the noise.

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.

Donnie Darko is a cult film by director Richard Kelly, starring Jake Gyllenhaal. It’s about the troubled teenager Donnie who lives in a suburb and suddenly faces a person in a giant rabbit costume who tells him that the world is going to end in 28 days. If that didn’t make sense to you, don’t worry – it’s not about making sense. The film is a gorgeous exploration of a bizarre chain of events, a deep rabbit-hole of meaning and expression, fate and acceptance that practically begs for a second, third, or fourth watching.

The visceral pain at the center of this adaptation from period drama powerhouse Merchant-Ivory comes not from fading or unrequited love but unrealized affection. Try as he might to repress his feelings, devoted butler Mr. Stevens (Anthony Hopkins) can’t stifle the blossoming attachment he shares with housemaid Miss Kenton (Emma Thompson). And yet, at every opportunity she gives him to do something about it, he balks, squandering the potential for something truly beautiful — something that actually belongs to them, not their aristocratic employer.

The Remains is partly told in flashbacks to the period leading up to the Second World War. From his stately home, Stevens’ master Lord Darlington and his peers play at international relations and try to avoid another war by pandering to the Nazis, but find they’re woefully under-equipped to decide the fate of Europe in this changing world. One of the many brilliant things about The Remains is the way this political drama doubles the devastation of Stevens’ die-hard commitment to his job — because now, he’s sacrificing his one chance at love for something that won’t even survive the decade. Sublime filmmaking and performances turn Stevens’ every minute choice into a pillar of profound tragedy, giving us a maddeningly heartwrenching life lesson for the ages.

This is the type of famous movie that doesn’t feel like one. So if you haven’t yet seen it, avoid watching the trailer. Kate (Emily Blunt) is an FBI agent who is enlisted to aid in the war on drugs at the Mexican border. She is introduced to Alejandro (Benicio del Toro), a quiet  and secretive agent working on the Mexican side.  The reason you shouldn’t watch the trailer is that Sicario is much more than just another crime action movie, which its marketing will lead you to believe. It’s gorgeously made, with scenes that will catch your breath starting from the color composition to the amazing performances by Blunt and Del Toro. It’s intense, intelligent and very realistic in its approach to action sequences.  Directed by Denis Villeneuve (Prisoners, Incendies, etc.)

Summer of Soul would already be remarkable if it was just a collection of some of the greatest live performances ever put to film. Boasting a roster that includes Stevie Wonder, Nina Simone, Gladys Knight, and Sly and the Family Stone, the nearly-forgotten 1969 Harlem Cultural Festival featured in the documentary was an all-star catalog of some of the biggest names in popular music, all at pivotal moments in their careers. Seeing them at the height of their powers, in front of a Black audience that meant so much to them, makes for an unexpectedly emotional experience.

But Summer of Soul also expands beyond the actual concert, using the Harlem Cultural Festival to represent a turning point in Black culture and history, especially after the death of Martin Luther King Jr. Through the film’s pristine, electric editing and gorgeous archival restoration, music becomes a communal act of mourning, a rallying cry to face the uncertain future, and a celebration of a people and a heritage continuing to fight against erasure and persecution.

The worst possible things that could happen, happen to orphaned twins Gracie and Gilbert but still they power on, motivated solely by the hope of being reunited once more. It’s a sweet premise, young siblings on opposite ends of the country encouraging one another with heartfelt letters. And with the soft-spoken Gracie (Snook) narrating the whole thing, it’s easy to be lulled into a sense of ease and comfort. But those familiar with director Adam Elliot’s work know that it’s never that simple. The film is as dark and edgy as it is sentimental and hopeful. It’s a complex piece of work, one that asks: is life worth living? After all the hardships, misfortune, depravity, and brutality, must we go on? You probably know what answer the movie will give you, but how it gets there is a heart-shattering journey that’s worth taking nonetheless.

The craft of filmmaking is a personal one. Many a film has touched upon how jarringly vulnerable it can be to carve out something from the heart for others to look at. Sentimental Value does the same. It does, except it expands past the one character and widens its focus to include their family. This domestic drama deals with the way the craft is so tied down by the artists’ relationships, from being the reason for the family’s connection and literal separation, to exposing the real emotion of an artist, even when they take great pains to conceal it. Sentimental Value balances it all with subtle grace.

Moon is a sci-fi movie that doesn’t care that it’s a sci-fi movie. It’s not about space exploration or aliens. It’s about a man struggling to understand what and who he is and the dehumanizing effect of industrialization. Moon leaves you with a pit in your stomach and an incredible feeling of melancholy. It is perfectly acted by Sam Rockwell and the voice of Kevin Spacey. Moon keeps you guessing and deeply enthralled. A true masterpiece I would recommend to anyone, whether they are sci-fi nerds or just movie lovers.

A masterpiece in every possible way: its striking balance between simplicity and effectiveness, its innovative value, the commitment of its maker, and just overall beauty. Boyhood was filmed over a span of 12 years, something never attempted before in film. The result is a captivating, breathtaking tale with almost unparalleled plausibility. The emotions it incites as well as the natural flow it has will feel a lot like life itself, and will leave you with ideas you can dwell on for long after the credits roll. Directed by Richard Linklater, and nominated for 6 different Oscars.

Kathryn Bigelow has a knack for action-packed scenes without compromising on the affective qualities of film style. It is precisely this combination that makes her a rare gem in American cinema, where the values of entertainment soar high. Point Break is one such example of controlled chaos, impeccable framing, and a convincing use of fast-paced editing to really get you as close to the action as possible. But what gives the film its flavour is how developed and synced the characters are and the Reeves-Swayze duo here belongs in the pantheon of equally hot frenemies, providing an apt, but subtle comment on the dangers of toxic masculinity. 

Oscar-winner Emerald Fennell got a lot of free reign with her debut, Promising Young Woman, which was a slightly modest ordeal even with a lead of Carrey Mulligan’s calibre. But now, with her sophomore film, she go to have some fun. Assembling a devout cast of particularly skilled actors—Barry Keoghan, Jacob Elordi, Rosamund Pike, and Mulligan again—seems like an obvious decision, but the mix of them all is unlike anything we’ve seen before. A class satire, a psychological thriller, and a psychosexual drama, Saltburn is high class entertainment, with a snappy script, and many tricks up its sleeve. Brace yourselves for some bath-action, grave-action, and full-moon-menstrual-action and many other scenes you may have not ever pictured shown on the screen. Actually, it’s impossible to prepare for a film like this one, but being open certainly helps digest the shock and provocations that are there for you to behold.

The Seed of the Sacred Fig bravely takes on the increasingly violent patriarchy and theocracy in modern-day Iran. It follows a family of four—Iman, Najmeh (Soheila Golestani), Rezvan (Mahsa Rostami), and Sana (Setareh Maleki)—and reveals how the political can creep into the personal. Iman, the father, has just been promoted at work (he’s one step closer to being a judge), while his two daughters are budding revolutionaries. The educated girls see through the lies of state television and challenge their conservative parents’ ideas on government and religion. It sounds straightforward, but director Mohammad Rasoulof lets everything unfold subtly and sharply. By the second half, the film transforms into a slow-burn thriller as the family home becomes a microcosm of Iran itself. It’s a brave film helmed by even braver people. Rasoulof and his cast, who filmed in secret to avoid the film ban in Iran, had to escape to Europe after they were interrogated and sentenced in their home country. The Seed of the Sacred Fig can’t encapsulate the entirety of Iran’s troubles, nor does it try, but it’s a good place to start.

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.

Based on a true story, The Whistleblower is the biography of a once Nebraskan police officer who volunteers for the U.N. peacekeeping mission in post-war Bosnia. Once there, she uncovers a human trafficking scandal involving peacekeeping officials, and finds herself alone against a hostile system in a devastated country. Rachel Weisz plays the whistleblower in a powerful lead role, but the true star of the movie is its director, Larysa Kondracki, who thanks to near documentary-style film-making delivers a perfectly executed political thriller with utmost authenticity.

What’s great about this highly inventive film is that it doesn’t look like it was shot through three iPhone 5s. Instead of using shaky cameras and static shots, Tangerine glides us through saturated, orange-toned scenes that evoke the Los Angeles sunset. Launching director Sean Baker into prominence, Tangerine is an innovative film that, at heart, is a nuanced comedy about the trans sex worker community. Newcomers Kitana Kiki Rodriguez and Mya Taylor run the show, and their performances create a vivid, electric drive that powers the whole movie. But it’s the quieter moments, the moments after betrayal, the moments of recovery, that make this movie truly special.

For public toilet cleaner Hirayama, “enjoy the little things in life” is more than just an adage: it’s a philosophy. Every day, he follows a strict routine of watering his plants, going to work, taking a break at a nearby shrine, and having dinner at his favorite stalls. It seems unexceptional, and yet Hirayama manages to find small, meaningful joys in between (and at) those very moments. A tree branch dancing in the breeze and shadows making funny shapes are enough to make him chuckle, while it seems like a good book and a trusty cassette are all he needs to be at peace. Hirayama’s mundane miracles are life-affirming, but make no mistake: this isn’t one of those cheesy films that push you to be happy no matter what. Director Wim Wenders (Paris, Texas, Wings of Desire) infuses the film with a certain gloom so that the overall tone is one of deep, poignant melancholy. Through vague clues about Hirayama’s past, we learn that his attempts at capturing joy might also be bids to escape a traumatic life. All this builds to a powerful ending that speaks to the complexity of human emotion. We can be happy and sad, peaceful and troubled, lonely and content all at the same time, and it’s okay. At the end of the day, we’ll still have our favorite book passage, our favorite singer, a great artwork, or a beautiful park to return to, and sometimes that’s all the reminder you need that life can be worth living.

La Chimera is often meandering. Scenes flitter about and move at different paces, resembling dreams more than they do reality, but they’re hardly trivial. Just the opposite, they enchant you with their beauty and confront you with deep, existential questions that haunt you long after the film’s run. You won’t find obvious answers here though, and you might even leave more perplexed than when you began. But that is the beauty of a film like La Chimera, it cracks you open to different realms and possibilities.

It’s been acclaimed as one the best Kung Fu movies ever made. You are probably wondering why this contemporary movie made that short list when its genre had its peak decades ago: it is visually striking and at the same time surprisingly story-oriented. As you would expect of course, there is quite a fair amount of action scenes, but the characters are also brilliant which is very uncommon in this type of movie. It is an exciting movie, and worthy of any compliment or good rating it may get.

Since the 1990s, Japan has offered the service of pretending to be one’s family, friend, or lover. Rental Family isn’t the first time the West has ever depicted this service, but at a time of increased isolation, division, and loneliness worldwide, the very concept directly addresses that need for perceived connection. Why is there a need to fake it, rather than to form it for real? With Hollywood’s own Brendan Fraser, this comedy-drama considers how that perception has been tied closely to the outcomes of one’s life, gently recognizing how difficult it is to balance it with other concerns. Rental Family doesn’t fully resolve its client characters, but like director Hikari’s previous work, it asks its audience to reconsider the notions surrounding the rental family service.

Full of twists on classic horror themes, this hilarious and gory comedy will have your sides aching, and still you’ll want more. The plot centers on two rednecks who are trying to have a good time while fixing up a summer home. True to horror movie form, a group of college kids set up camp nearby, and naturally evil begins to happen. This well-written, entertaining story even has some heart to it.

An offbeat film with a more than decent amount of suspense. To that it adds really good music and unexpected animation, to make for a very audacious, interesting and mostly fun film. It uses all this to show how life can change in a twist and how it can be influenced by weird connections of otherwise unrelated events.

This is the type of movie I completely fell in love with but cannot articulate exactly why. Maybe it’s the mixture of beauty and pain portrayed, maybe it’s the intricate sounds and beautiful imagery, maybe it’s the story, maybe it’s all of the above. A woman is hit with sudden disability after an accident and calls on an unlikely companion, a night club bouncer by the name of Ali. Together they explore her new predicament and its implications, while forming a special bond. This is a movie that will call upon your internal strength, while portraying how us humans can become strong together. Most of all it provides an immensely powerful, ultimately simple story that is both touching and will stay with you for a very long time. Directed by Jacques Audiard (A Prophet).

This is a hilarious political comedy starring the ever-great Steve Buscemi. Set in the last days before Stalin’s death and the chaos that followed, it portrays the lack of trust and the random assassinations that characterized the Stalinist Soviet Union. Think of it as Veep meets Sacha Baron Cohen’s The Dictator. Although to be fair, its dark comedy props are very different from the comedy that comes out today: where there are jokes they’re really smart, but what’s actually funny is the atmosphere and absurd situations that end up developing.

There are only two main characters in Good Luck to You, Leo Grande: Nancy, a retired teacher who was recently widowed, and Leo, an adept sex worker with a mysterious past. They’re almost always in one place and work on a single goal: pleasure. But despite the seeming monotony, the movie is crackling with wit and sensuality every step of the way. It doesn’t waste any time getting to the heart of the matter. Nancy and Leo go back and forth about their past, with Nancy divulging much about the stigma of aging and Leo about the stigma of sex work. They also dive into the shame attached to pleasure, ultimately revealing more than just their naked bodies to each other and to the audience.

You don’t have to be a theater kid to enjoy this feel-good mockumentary set in a summer camp for junior thespians. While there are plenty of in-jokes here for those who might have spent a summer or two somewhere like AdirondACTS, Theater Camp also good-naturedly lampoons every instantly recognizable stereotype of theater kids and the classic failed-performer-turned-teacher. 

Amongst the note-perfect ensemble, particularly hilarious standouts include co-writer Ben Platt and co-director Molly Gordon as camp instructors and best friends Amos and Rebecca-Diane. Both are Juilliard rejects with codependency issues and a classic case of actorly self-indulgence — as encapsulated in the moment they accuse a young attendee of “doping” for using artificial tears during a performance (“Do you want to be the Lance Armstrong of theater?”). But even seasoned performers like Platt and Gordon can’t pull the spotlight away from the film’s absurdly talented young ensemble, who are just as game for poking fun at their passion: standouts include Luke Islam, Alexander Bello, and Minari’s Alan Kim as a pint-sized “aspiring agent” who skips dance class to make business calls. All this self-satirising never obscures the movie’s heart, though; what begins as a self-deprecating ribbing of theater-heads ultimately becomes a rousing love letter to those very same misfits.

The Royal Hotel sees Hanna (Julia Garner) and Liv (Jessica Henwick) resorting to take up a dire live-in job behind the bar in a remote desert part of Western Australia. Although they’re warned that they’d “have to be okay with a little male attention” in the outcast mining town, their financial precarity overrides the potential fear. Curiously enough, the fiction film is based on a real story, already told in the 2016 documentary Hotel Coolgardie by Pete Gleeson, but The Assistant director Kitty Green pulls no punches when representing how suffocating it must feel to be encircled by such unmediated male aggression. The brawls, the spilled beer, the c-word as a greeting all form the unnerving paraphernalia of life then and there. For Australian independent film devotees, there is actor Toby Wallace, who reprises his bad boy role from Babyteeth, and he’s joined by the ranks of Herbert Nordrum (The Worst Person in the World) and an utterly terrifying Hugo Weaving (The Matrix).

It’s hard not to watch The Unknown Country and think of Nomadland: along with similarities in their Terrence Malick-inspired visuals, both films follow lone women seeking catharsis on the road as they grieve profound losses. But Morrisa Maltz’s debut feature is a decidedly lower-key, more spiritual affair — and is all the better for it.

The film is light on plot exposition, but it’s clear from her soft melancholy that Tana (Lily Gladstone) has set off on this road trip following a personal loss, a meandering journey that takes her from freezing Minnesota to Oglala Lakota reservations in South Dakota and down through Texas. Along the way, she reunites with loved ones and crosses paths with total strangers, all of whom are played by charismatic non-professional actors whose real life stories earn as much of the spotlight as Tana’s impressionistically shot journey. These moments of documentary, Gladstone’s naturalistic performance, Andrew Hajek’s contemplative images of lush American landscapes, and the film’s aversion to outright drama enrich the fictional elements by grounding them in earthy reality. There aren’t many more emotionally rewarding ways to spend 80-ish minutes than watching this poignant meditation on the tangled richness of human lives and the land we live on.

A calm and cute story about a manic-depressive father in late 70’s Boston taking care of his two daughters. Starring familiar-face Mark Ruffalo in the lead. The film is inspired by its director’s own experience as one of the two daughters, which added to the amazing performances, makes for a movie made and filled with love. But as it manages to keep a smile on your face most of the time, it also doesn’t shy away from hard and moving sequences. A Sundance movie filled with heart.

A wonderful, witty teen comedy—possibly the best the genre has known in a long time! In a powerhouse performance, Hailee Steinfeld plays Nadine, a high school junior at peak angst and awkwardness. Her roller coaster journey through family, friends, lovers, or lack thereof, gives her that all-too-common impression for people her age that life is unbearable. Things get more complicated when Nadine’s dad passes and her only friend hooks up with an unexpected person. Her temperament and humor will help her see past her demons to understand what’s important in life, putting you in privileged spectator mode to this highly smart and exciting coming-of-age story.

Director Zhang Yimou, who already has remarkable wuxia films like Hero and House of Flying Daggers under his belt, delivers another exceptional epic. Set during China’s Three Kingdoms era (220–280 AD), Shadow revolves around a great king and his people, who are expelled from their homeland but will aspire to reclaim it. The story requires a fair amount of patience at first, as it slowly builds a world consisting of various characters with different motives, before the real action begins. The journey through Shadow is visually pleasing thanks to its stunning cinematography, impressively choreographed combat, and overall brilliant production design. Packed with sequences that will take your breath away, it is an inventive martial arts epic with one amazing scene after another.

On the one hand, How to Blow Up a Pipeline is a tense thriller—an excellently set-up heist that makes you wonder, until the end, whether the low-budget operation succeeds or not. On the other hand, it’s a thoughtful rumination on the evil and influence of Big Oil, which despite its relentless destruction of environments and communities, continues to run scot-free. 

Together, these parts make for a powerful, nerve-racking film about both the danger and necessity of eco-terrorism—a radical act that is impressively humanized and spared from caricature here. How to Blow Up a Pipeline’s themes may be big and its means explosive, but its rich characterizations of the young activists ground it into a relatable reality. One is dying due to toxins released by the nearby plant, another is forced to give up his property to make way for the construction of a pipeline. All are tired of the fruitlessness of government promises and peaceful protests. Rousing and relevant, there’s never been a more timelier film than this. 

Focusing squarely on two families and a select few health workers, The First Wave gets intimate access to the fears and anxieties of individuals trying to contend with the effects of the initial outbreak of the coronavirus in New York. That these characters also tend to belong to already vulnerable sectors in the United States isn’t a superfluous detail—as director Matthew Heineman illustrates (without the use of detached talking heads interviews) how proper responses to a global pandemic like this one are still hampered by capitalist interests, and racist and xenophobic institutions built into American society. All of these obstacles make every setback and every moment of progress in these characters’ lives feel absolutely crucial, making for an emotionally overwhelming experience.

Aptly for a film partly set in a fortune cookie factory, Fremont deals with luck — specifically, the other side of good luck: survivor’s guilt. Donya (played by real-life Afghan refugee Anaita Wali Zada) is a former translator for the US Army who fled her home city of Kabul on an emergency evacuation flight when the Taliban took over in 2021. Now living a safe, if drab, existence in the titular Californian town, insomniac Donya struggles to embrace her freedom, tormented by the knowledge that she lost some of her old colleagues to reprisal attacks and that her loved ones are still living under repressive rule in Afghanistan.

As Donya shuttles between her little apartment in Fremont, her job writing cryptic one-liners for a fortune cookie factory in San Francisco, and appointments with her eccentric psychiatrist (Gregg Turkington), Fremont balances a moving study of her melancholy with deadpan humor. Despite its black-and-white cinematography and tight Academy ratio, this is no austere drama, but an endlessly warm and understated portrait of someone rediscovering themselves and all of life’s unexpected moments of connection, like chance romantic encounters and sudden tears at karaoke.

The award-winning third feature by director Ava DuVernay, Selma, was released around the 50th anniversary of the historically significant marches (Selma to Montgomery) that aided the civil rights movement’s efforts to assure African-American citizens can exercise their constitutional right to vote, harassment-free. The film has been celebrated not only as an artwork, but also as a historiographically accurate one. While it features the role Martin Luther King Jr. played in the marches, it does not reduce the activists’ effort and struggle to make it come to fruition. With her uncompromising directorial approach, DuVernay crafts a thrilling period film that has all the markers of a well-done genre feature, but uses its mechanisms to tell an emotionally potent story about both the peaceful marches and the nation-wide outcry resulting from the violence they were met with.

Good movies usually aren’t lengthy movies, unless we’re talking about cases like Toni Erdmann. It’s a supremely smart German-Austrian comedy that depicts the story of a Father-Daughter tandem in light of life’s weirdest, most inconvenient moments. Deciding to visit his daughter on a whim after his dog dies, Winfried (Peter Simonischek)—a man known for his outrageous pranks and many a disguise—flies to Bucharest. Ines (Sandra Huller), the daughter, buzzing with work to the brim in a very challenging job, to say the least, isn’t impressed. This leads to even more uncomfortable encounters as the estranged father poses as the title character, life coach to the disapproving daughter’s boss. On top of being a shrewdly observed and relevant movie, the brilliant writing by Maren Ade crafts something thoroughly enjoyable and heartfelt here, highlighting the importance of family bond in an oddly sweet way, and criticizing modern-day work ethic and the toll its taking on us. The beginning is a bit slow, but if you’re a bit patient you will be surprised how much this movie will reward you.

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!

A crazy, anxiety-inducing thriller that turns Adam Sandler into a thrill-generating machine, which in its own speaks volumes about the rhythm of this movie. It follows a jeweler who gets himself in trouble with what feels like all of New York – a gang, Kevin Garnett (the NBA player), other jewelers, his family, odd twins that appear out of nowhere – everyone. This all happens in the backdrop of him feeling he has “hit big” and is on the verge of receiving a lot of money.

If you watched Good Time, you know what to expect from directors Safdie brothers: excruciating tension that keeps building up when you thought it wasn’t possible. And that might be the only problem with Uncut Gems; the tension doesn’t feel that different from Good Time, and having watched one you can guess where the other one is going.

Andy Samberg, Cristin Milioti (Modern Love, Black Mirror), and J.K. Simmons star in this easy but original rom-com that takes place in a wedding time loop. Nyles (Samberg) finds himself living the same day over and over again, so he gives in to the monotony and the fact that there is no way to escape it. 

When he is about to hook up with one of the guests, Sarah (Milioti), he is attacked by a mysterious character. The routine of his time-loop is broken. 

Palm Springs is often surreal and philosophical, which are not adjectives usually used to describe rom-coms. It offers just enough twists to be original without jeopardizing the things that make it a good rom-com.

Shot on a hand-cranked silent camera with all the sound and dialogue added in during post, Bait immediately stands out as a film that appears lost in time. With the visual texture and slightly displaced audio of an independent film made during Hollywood’s infancy, the movie manages to convey its character and class conflicts with an additional air of surreality, even in its simplest sequences of shots. But writer/director/cinematographer/editor Mark Jenkin doesn’t approach this project with an ironic or flippant attitude. Through the most fundamental techniques of an art form that’s constantly changing, he crafts a story about the inevitability of change and those who really stand to lose the most from the passage of time.

The Last Duel propped high expectations as the Closing Film at the 2021 Venice Film Festival, but its theatrical release later that year proved to be a flop. Ridley Scott blamed it on millennials, but both critics and streaming audiences have been much more favorable than moviegoers. As a film, it’s a rather monumental project: quite a dark period piece set in Medieval France, dealing with harsh and offensive themes. Or better said, it deals with ethics and morality through these harsh and offensive themes. There are many ways where this could have gotten wrong—and it’s evident from the labels that have been circulating from the very beginning, that Scott has made his “MeToo” movie—but the truth is much more nuanced. From Eric Jager’s 2004 book to a script co-written by Ben Affleck, Matt Damon, and (most importantly) the astute Nicole Holofcener, The Last Duel is really the best of both worlds: action-packed and devoted to the right side of history.

With the anonymity of the internet, it’s hard to trust that the stranger on the other side would be a good person. There’s catfishers and scammers and trolls, oh my! Once in a while, however, you do meet someone cool. Bob Trevino Likes It was inspired by a real life friendship writer-director Tracie Laymon had, and that lends to how personal the entire film feels. Bob and Lily feel real. It’s in part to how Laymon introduces their loneliness in a world that doesn’t treat them right, but the tender, pseudo-parental chemistry formed between Barbie Ferreira and John Leguizamo carries the writing in such a realistic way. The kindness that they share feels transformative, and it’s genuinely moving to see them work towards caring for themselves because of it.

Alex Honnold might not be the most relatable guy ever, but his obsession with free solo climbing and his single-minded approach to life makes him so interesting. He’s precisely the type of person that chooses to follow his goals, at the expense of everything else. To a certain extent, he has to be — without whole-hearted commitment to the sport, he could literally die. It’s no wonder someone decided to document his climb of Yosemite’s El Capitan wall—a wall that’s 3,000 feet high and hasn’t been free-climbed alone before. The journey is visually stunning and a technical marvel in and of itself. However, what’s most memorable about this film is the character study of Honnold: he has an indescribable instinct that outsiders could only call a death wish. His emotional detachment might make this a frustrating film to watch, but Free Solo serves as a unique portrait of a man who spits at the face of death.

In 1961, Francisco de Goya’s portrait of the Duke of Wellington was stolen from London’s National Gallery, but the theft was no slick heist pulled off by international art thieves. No, the improbable culprit was (the improbably named) Kempton Bunton, a retired bus driver and aspiring playwright who pinched the painting — which the gallery had recently acquired for £140,000 of UK taxpayers’ money — as a Robin Hood-esque “attempt to pick the pockets of those who love art more than charity.” The principled Bunton (played here by Jim Broadbent) was, at the time, waging a one-man campaign to convince the government to grant pensioners and veterans free TV licenses, and the Goya theft was his way of publicizing those efforts. It was an eccentric plan, but Broadbent leans fully into his status as a UK national treasure here, making oddball Bunton a deeply sympathetic and warm figure because of (not despite) those quirks. Thanks to his performance — and the note-perfect direction of the late, great Roger Michell — a quirky footnote of history becomes a sweet, unexpectedly moving story about solidarity and the power of the underdog.

Few lived a life as extraordinary as the late Jane Goodall had, and even fewer are captured with such tenderness as this 2017 documentary. Of course, that’s partially because of the material. This film came about when Nat Geo unearthed around 140 hours of lost footage from wildlife photographer Hugo van Lawick, who shot Goodall’s expeditions after intense scientific scrutiny over her observations and methods. But what makes this film compelling is the way director Brett Morgen pieces together that footage. As Goodall fell deeper in love studying chimpanzees, Morgen pairs this devotion with the glimpses van Lawick captured as he and Goodall were falling in love with each other. So even without the insistent score, it’s easy to get swept by Jane’s passion and the confident way she set forth towards her calling.

Before the Devil Knows You’re Dead is Sidney Lumet’s last film, and in many ways, it distills what the director explored in his prolific body of work: What is justice? And does everyone deserve it? Shot digitally at a time when the concept was still quite new, Before the Devil moves fast and takes us uncomfortably close to the lives of three desperate men: cash-strapped Hank (Hawke), corrupt Andy (Seymour-Hoffman), and vengeful Charles (Finney). The same tragic events unfold through their perspectives, but in any case, we get to see what drives them to do such horrid things. Are we suppose to sympathize with them? It’s a question that will nag you long after the credits roll.

Sure, many of the tropes in this feel-good romcom would be familiar. Naveen, a shy Indian doctor, loves Jay, a white photographer, though of course, like in many gay and interracial romances, his family is reluctant to support them. However, writers Eric Randall and Madhuri Shekar take these tropes and weave them into something new. Like the oft-referenced Dilwale Dulhania Le Jayenge, A Nice Indian Boy sets out to resolve the conflict by emotional honesty not just expressed by its characters but also by the unabashed sincerity the filmmakers have for their story. A Nice Indian Boy remains funny and sweet all the way through, without sacrificing any respect for all of the characters.

From 1964-1985, Brazil was under a military dictatorship. If you’re looking for films about this period of time, you can check out 2024 Oscar winner I’m Still Here, which poignantly depicted the memoir in a straightforward manner. But if you’re looking for another approach, you should check out this political thriller. The Secret Agent takes on a more exhilarating spin, with the main character Armando right in the action. Narcos’ Wagner Moura delivers an excellent performance of a former professor who isn’t actually an agent, but is somewhat forced to act like one, with his role to forge his passport and to find information on his missing mom. And as he tries to flee the country, his story echoes the genres of the time, with slow, intense zoom-ins that remind us of Cold War spy paranoia albeit more sunny, and a series of tiger shark attacks that reminds us of thrillers like Jaws (1975). It’s this approach that makes The Secret Agent an exciting and original take on this tense time period.

Led by Rosy McEwen’s commanding performance brimming with fear and self-loathing, Blue Jean pours all of the anguish and defiance felt by the LGBTQ+ community under Margaret Thatcher’s administration into a single character. Writer-director Georgia Oakley keeps her plot light, but through conversations with other beautifully portrayed queer women (especially those played by Kerrie Hayes and Lucy Halliday), she piles on one conflicted emotion after another about what this lesbian woman’s responsibility is toward herself and her community when they find themselves threatened. But even as the film takes a definite stance, it validates every response as authentic—borne out of a need to protect the people whom one loves.

Strange things are happening in the sleepy cul-de-sac where Cameron Edwin (comic Jim Gaffigan) lives: cars are falling from the sky, space rockets are crash-landing in his backyard, and his doppelgänger has just moved in next door and stolen his job. Unnerved by all these weird occurrences and feeling like a failure in light of his looming divorce, Cameron goes full midlife crisis and decides to rebuild the damaged rocket as a last-ditch attempt to fulfill his lifelong dream of being an astronaut. It’d be giving too much away to say anything more about the plot, but suffice it to say that the uncanniness lurking under Linoleum’s surface comes to mind-bending fruition as the rational and the fantastic meld into one. Though it’s already deeply affecting on first watch, this is the kind of movie you’ll immediately want to rewind to absorb the full weight of.

At 80 minutes, Smoking Causes Coughing is another slice of perfectly paced absurdist fun from Quentin Dupieux, the zany mind behind Rubber (in which a car tire turns serial killer) and Deerskin, the tale of a motorcycle jacket that wants to rule the world. This time around, the protagonists aren’t inanimate objects: they’re Tobacco Force, a Power Rangers-style band of lightly idiotic superheroes who harness the toxic power of cigarettes to defeat Earth’s enemies, and are each named after one of their harmful components (Benzene, Nicotine, Mercury, Ammonia, and Methanol). They’re led by Chief Didier, a rat who inexplicably dribbles green goo — and, even more inexplicably, casts an intense erotic spell over Tobacco Force’s female members.

Smoking Causes Coughing leans deliriously, hilariously far into its absurdist premise. Citing a lack of “group cohesion,” Chief Didier sends the Force to the woods on a team-building retreat. While they swap “scary” stories over a campfire, however, a reptilian galactic supervillain plots to put Earth “out of its misery” because it’s a “sick planet” (can’t really argue with that). Full of insane plot twists and without a tired trope in sight, Smoking Causes Coughing never approaches the realm of predictability — no small achievement in this era of superhero fatigue.

As the third instalment in Paul Schrader’s “man in a room” trilogy after First Reformed (2017) and The Card Counter (2021), Master Gardner rounds up the issues at stake in a most profound way. For anyone who’s seen a film either scripted by Schrader (such as Taxi Driver) or directed by him, there will be no surprises here: lost men, despairing men, men who are desperate to believe in something. But the salvation of love lurks around the corner and the new film makes no exception. An unconventional couple, Joel Edgerton and Quintessa Swindell (as Maya) make up the beating heart of this suspenseful drama with an emotional push and pull delivered in small doses. What could have been a kitschy, insensitive work blossoms into a treatise on how gentle the harshness of life can be. 

So far, chemical waste hasn’t mutated amphibious creatures enough to create giant monsters large enough to swallow people whole… yet. This sort of monster film premise is familiar, especially for fans of 1950s sci-fi movies, but in the hands of director Bong Joon-ho, The Host transforms what could have been B-movie schlock into a drama examining the ways generations within a family, as well as generations within a country and within the world, have failed each other. As the Park family try to save their own, the actions they take feel all the more important, knowing what’s at stake on multiple levels. While at the time, there were doubts that Bong Joon-ho and the Korean film industry could pull off the monster, The Host proved that there was more to come from the then emerging film giant.

Twinless starts off something like one of those quirky indies in the 2010s about awkwardly navigating grief and sharing that with someone, unexpectedly. Roman meets Dennis in a support group like The Fault in Our Stars, though with a sibling dynamic a la The Skeleton Twins, filling the void of losing their other half. It’s wholesome, it’s cute, and Dylan O’ Brien and James Sweeney have an instant chemistry that makes their friendship easy to root for. But after the twenty minute mark, this comedy veers into an unexpected direction. For the sake of spoilers, we won’t elaborate, but Twinless cleverly twists what could have been a millennial mumblecore drama into a clever, provocative Gen Z dark comedy that isn’t afraid to go there. Twinless is truly one of its kind.

You can probably predict from the title that an accident starts this thriller but what happens after is totally unexpected. Of course, a car accident requires a visit to the auto mechanic, but in this film, this car check-up ends up becoming an unintended encounter with unexpected consequences. That’s because the mechanic recognizes the customer’s peg leg, the very same leg that he’s heard while being tortured in prison. Everything that happens, then, is a result of that past. Part of it is actually funny, with the tragicomedy poking fun at how totally unprepared Vahid is to enact his revenge, to the point he’s not even 100% sure he got the correct man. Still, however messy it gets, It Was Just An Accident never forgets the wrong that’s been done, and highlights the reparations Vahid and his fellow inmates should’ve gotten.

In an age where recent horror films mostly use the jump-scare as a crutch to make their CGI-spawned (not to mention generic) creatures seem scary, The Babadook portrays real scares, relatable characters and a moving story. Jennifer Kent (director and writer) sets this on the backdrop of heavily Lars von Trier-inspired cinematography, elevating The Babadook from a shot at an amazing horror to a resemblance of an art house film. The unease felt during this film only increases as it creeps towards its conclusion. Whenever the Babadook (the monster of the film) is seen lurking in the peripherals of the camera, appearing in television sets and the shadows to create a sense of omnipresence that disturbs the viewer on a deeper, more primal level than that of so many recent horror films could even hope to reach. It leaves the audience with the sensation that they are being lowered onto a lit candle, spine-first. In short; the seamless acting, the beautiful shots, the slow-burning terror together creates a masterpiece that strides past any horror film of the past decade (maybe even further) and stands toe-to-toe with the greats without even breaking a sweat.

Jim Jarmusch’s latest film is the story of a pair of vampires, Adam and Eve (Tom Hiddleston and Tilda Swinton), married for thousand of years and living thousands of miles apart, subsequently reunited in modern-day Detroit to find Hiddleston in state of disrepair and depression. Their lives are shaken up by the sudden appearance of Swinton’s wayward young vampire sister Ava (Mia Wasikowska) that sets their lives into tumult. It’s the type of evenly-paced and wryly amusing dramedy that only Jarmusch could craft. I loved the atmosphere and sensibility of this film, not to mention the various literary allusions along with the dark, somber soundtrack. Less of a narrative and more of a modern-day-vampire-slice-of-life, this is one of those films that gets under skin and stays awhile (and not in a bad way).

If it’s true that to cook is to love, then Dodin and Eugenie must be enraptured by one another. They use the exquisite language of food to express their feelings for one another, and watching their exchange, you can’t help but feel honored, if not embarrassed, to witness such an intimate and love-filled act. Food is everywhere here, delicately prepared and sumptuously consumed, but the film is more than just a glorified Food Network program. It’s a painting come to life, a love letter to craft, and a beautiful example of a life fully lived.

In rural Korea a policeman starts to investigate peculiar and violent events that most of the people in his village attribute to the arrival of a new Japanese resident. As the occurrences keep multiplying, and different perspectives in the film are shown, you start to lose touch with reality in the face of what can only be described as genius film-making. As critic Jada Yuan puts it, the film operates on a level “that makes most American cinema seem clunky and unimaginative”. For this reason, and while The Wailing is a true horror flick with a great premise, it’s also more than just that: it boosts a mind-boggling, interesting plot that will have you thinking about it long after the credits roll. Protip: grab the person next to you and make them watch this movie with you so you can have someone to discuss it with after!

Rye Lane knows it’s treading familiar ground by having its charming leads fall in love as they walk and talk their way through a beautiful city. So instead of experimenting on a tried-and-tested setup, it smartly focuses on specificity. It hones in on the characters’ Gen Z woes and cranks up the British references, giving itself character and charm for days. It also finds other ways to be inventive as it trades plot twists for bold editing and camerawork. Rye Lane is a refreshing entry into romcom cinema, but it is also obviously a big fan of it as it holds plenty of homages and subversions of the genre. This one is made for and by romcom fans, and it’s always nice to see a modern love story set during our times.

That this film, an adaptation of a beloved classic and girlhood staple for 50 years and counting, is able to retain the same power, charm, and wisdom as the source material by Judy Blume is impressive in and of itself.

Director Kelly Fremon Craig (Edge of Seventeen) turns the must-read novel into a must-see film, as urgent and relevant as ever in its frank portrayal of feminine woes and joys. Buying your first bra, getting your first period, losing a friend, doubting your faith, seeing—really seeing—your family for the first time, and knowing in your heart what you stand for…these are some of the thorny requisites of womanhood, and Craig navigates them with a bittersweet ease that never feels pandering nor patronizing. Like the book, the film honors this young person’s big feelings by centering them in a sprawling story that involves other characters, who are just as fleshed-out as the lead. Rachel McAdams deserves special mention for turning in a sweetly nuanced performance as Margaret’s mother Barbara, an artist attempting to balance her domestic role with her career goals.

The film may be 50 years in the making, but it tells a timeless tale that will continue to hold the hands of teenage girls for generations to come.

As its title suggests, Steve James’ documentary isn’t shy about its sympathy for its subject. Physicist Ted Hall was just 18 when he was recruited to the Manhattan Project and underwent a crisis of conscience when it became apparent that the atomic bomb’s ostensible target — Nazi Germany — was on the brink of defeat. Concerned by the possibility that, post-WW2, the US would achieve a nuclear monopoly and become a new kind of imperialist power, Ted and friend Saville Sax leaked key information to the USSR.

James’ film takes a decidedly intimate approach: while it dips into archival interviews Ted gave before his death and provides background context via scholars, it’s mostly led by Ted’s wife Joan, a spirited interviewee. Her moving contributions expand the film’s scope, making it as much a portrait of a marriage as a study of the political impact his actions had. James also interviews their children — as well as those of his partner-in-espionage, Saville — to explore the conflicted personal legacy their actions left. In not limiting itself to a macro perspective, the film opens itself up to be more than a look in history’s dusty rear-view mirror, making it a welcome tonic to the Wikipedia-style approach commonly employed for subjects like this.

The director of one of the few esteemed horror sequels (Wrong Turn 2: Dead End) adapting H. P. Lovecraft? Yes please. Joe Lynch reimagines “The Thing on the Doorstep” with the tropes of 90s erotic films and a tribute to classic possession horror cinema, meriting all our admiration for his effort. Suitable Flesh (even the title is erotic!) is fun, daring, very dark, and very horny. Heather Graham (Boogie Nights) delivers a strong lead performance, but Judah Lewis’s (The Babysitter) sleazy Asa is what stands out here. Because of the horror’s nature, all the actors will have a go at playing a demonic version of their characters and it’s mostly good fun, but Lewis channels a certain scary nihilism that fits in very well with the film’s attitude towards sex and possession… Without revealing too much hereafter, I must say that the film takes the phrase “an out of body experience” to the next level, when relating it to sexual pleasure.

Partially based on the 860-page memoir, “A White House Diary”, and on the actual audio recordings Claudia Alta Taylor Johnson made during her time as first lady, The Lady Bird Diaries is an intimate reworking of a past we still know very little about. Told from the vantage point of First Lady Johnson candidly and in detail, the audio track shapes the whole film. All the archival footage is nicely complemented by hand-drawn animations to fit the missing images, but all the visuals are always in service of the narration. In this way, the documentary becomes a piece of history and an archive in itself, its illustrative functions – a crucial storytelling tool for posteriority.

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.

In The Promised Land, director Nikolaj Arcel (A Royal Affair) and Mads Mikkelsen reunite to create another intense, enjoyable drama based on true historical events. Mikkelsen is reliably gripping as Captain Ludwig Kahlen, but it’s his back-and-forths with the diabolical landowner Frederik Schinkel (Simon Bennebjerg) that are the standout scenes here. And though The Promised Land resembles modern Westerns in its macho standoffs and sweeping backdrops, it has a surprising and satisfying feminist bent to it. It’s a historical epic that doubles as a revenge thriller and succeeds in both cases.

Too Funny to Fail isn’t just a documentary about funny people. It’s a documentary that’s hilarious in its own right. Director Josh Greenbaum assembles the comedic powerhouse behind the short-lived Dana Carvey Show and has them recall the idiosyncratic, subversive skits they did on the show. They are, of course, naturally funny, but it’s the questions Greenbaum asks them off-cam, the clips he shows, and the titles he picks for them (Bill Hader, as a fan who used to watch the show in lieu of going to classes, is stuck with “once skipped school”) that gives the documentary its own comedic signature. The spectacular failure of The Dana Carvey Show is also an inspirational story of sorts, given the astronomical success its staff and cast have and are continuing to enjoy since its cancellation.

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.

Warning: this film is incredibly gory, terribly gruesome, and horrendously disgusting. We urge you to go in without any food. However, if you do have a strong stomach, Send Help is such a fun ride. Flipping the corporate dynamic through an island survival tale, Send Help gleefully toys with the nature of power, as the new environment proves who truly has the capability, smarts, and guts to survive. It certainly brought out another side to Rachel McAdams, whose previous polished roles make her unkempt Linda rather unexpected, but she thrives in her character, totally transforming from awkward office worker to self-reliant final girl with a dark twist. Send Help isn’t afraid to get nasty, especially at the expense of a workplace bully.

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.

Amongst the google searches for this one you’ll find “Is Slotherhouse a real film?” and that says a lot. When the first poster and trailer dropped, I suspected it the work of AI, but now that the film is out on streaming, we should be glad it exists. A ludicrous horror-comedy that hits all the right notes in gore, cringe, and puns, Slotherhouse is quintessential fun cinema. It may be set in a college where internalized misogyny is completely off the charts as young women bruise and batter each other’s egos in service of the queen bee Brianna (Sydney Craven) and may attempt just a tiny bit of character development to keep the ball rolling, but honestly, who cares? It’s a film that completely leans into the absurd, the over the top, the ridiculous, and it does it surprisingly well.

Feminism has made plenty of strides in multiple areas, but even in the era of free love, talking about sex was difficult, and certain figures were dismissed just because of it. The Disappearance of Shere Hite reexamines the titular forgotten feminist figure that simply focused on the female orgasm, giving a second look at her immediate rise and fall in the American media, and the reasons for her leaving the country. With Dakota Johnson’s soft voice, an excellent selection of archival footage, and Hite’s deeply personal words, the film paints a portrait of a mild-mannered, self-possessed woman, but it also reveals the heartbreakingly repetitive vitriol that affects these open discussions today.

Small Things Like These is the kind of film that doesn’t have a grand resolution, a dramatic climax, or a widespread shift that would change the world forever. What happens might not even change the country, or the town Bill Furlong lives in. But that doesn’t mean the film is unimportant. While Cillian Murphy masterfully reckons with Furlong’s conscience, the community is silent… So too is the score, but it challenges the automatic flinch when we hear the background– the screams, the wailing, and the pain. It challenges the way we, and the town of New Ross, try to make sense of the sounds, explaining it away with more plausible, more palatable reasons, or justifying them with excuses. Small Things Like These can be a tad understated in its approach, but it’s a smart comparison to the way community can silence the conscience, and how abuse can lay rampant in secret.

Code 3 is a comedy about a crazy night out, though the craziness doesn’t stem from drunkenness, drugs, or bad decisions– it comes from the way anything can happen in the shift of a paramedic. And we mean, anything. That means the needle stabbing and projectile vomiting occurs organically. But the crazy night that happens isn’t presented for comedy’s sake only. At the heart of the humor is the understanding of how thankless the job can get, and how much strain the healthcare system is handling even without a pandemic. Code 3 acknowledges their troubles and rightfully honors their work.

There’s an elephant lurking in the room from the outset of Biosphere, in which two men are the last survivors of an apocalypse: how will humanity live on? Best friends Billy (Mark Duplass) and Ray (Sterling K. Brown) have only survived thanks to the ingenuity of Ray, who built the glass dome in which they live, insulated from whatever it is that’s keeping the sky perpetually black outside. But the dome’s protective glass increasingly needs patching up, and their last female fish (responsible for the continuation of their food supplies) has just died, setting their clocks ticking.

What happens next — to the remaining male fish and humans — is an astonishing evolution that speaks to the strangeness of nature, which will break its most rigid laws in pursuit of its ultimate goal: furthering the species. Biosphere undergoes a similar metamorphosis: while its zany twist (which we won’t spoil) seems to direct it towards gross-out bro-comedy territory, it transforms, surprisingly, into something more profoundly philosophical. Like the dome, Biosphere’s structure isn’t as solid as it could be — it often meanders — but, with its thoughtful meditations on gender, sexuality, and evolution in all its forms, it’s easy to forgive this quirky indie gem that flaw.

For people having difficulty bearing a child, artificial insemination is one way to go for parenthood, but going to sperm banks can be expensive, shrouded with too much anonymity, and have had many incidents of malpractice. Some people would rather take things into their own hands. Spermworld explores the journeys of three different internet sperm donors, who meet with hopeful parents. It can be awkward, even when the donors are fairly ordinary guys with fairly decent motives, but the way director Lance Oppenheim approaches the community is disarmingly human, acknowledging the strange quirks that come with the donation, but also the interesting parental desires human beings do have.

When modern systems like law enforcement and forensics fail to come up with definite answers to a murder, loved ones of the victim usually have no recourse, which is the fear at the heart of Irish horror film Oddity. To lose someone you care about, forever, hurts. So when Darcy takes more strange and esoteric means of investigation, and when writer-director Damian Mc Carthy slowly reveals through personal effects, psychic images, and an excellent pace, the hurt and the pain intensifies the murder mystery and the hope that she would receive justice for her loss. Oddity feels genuinely unsettling, because Mc Carthy understands what’s truly scary about losing a loved one.

Labyrinth is a fantasy film starring a young Jennifer Connelly as Sarah Williams, a teenager who wishes her infant brother away to the goblins. Immediately regretting her decision, she pleads to the Goblin King, played by David Bowie, for his safe return. He agrees, but only on the condition that she escapes his massive, trap-filled labyrinth. Connelly is charming as a young woman learning an important lesson in family and appreciation, while Bowie is dazzling as a maniacal ruler, but the film’s true magic comes from the puppets that populate the labyrinth. They’re the handiwork of director Jim Henson, the man famously behind the Muppets and Dark Crystal universe. Labyrinth stands the test of time thanks to the intricate designs of the goblin world and the lively movements of the puppets. In an era where CGI reigns supreme, and AI threatens to smooth out hard work, Labyrinth is proof that there’s beauty to be found in the fine, hand-crafted details.

Most people know Sally Ride as the answer to a trivia question: first American woman in space, 1983. What they don’t know, and what this documentary is really about, is that Ride spent 27 years with a woman named Tam O’Shaughnessy and told almost no one, because NASA and the era gave her no room to. Sally is a solid, moving telling of both stories, the public triumph and the private life she had to keep in a separate box.

It’s conventional in form, the usual archival-and-talking-heads build, but the material is strong enough that it doesn’t need tricks. Tam’s interviews are the heart of it. It’s a reminder that the barrier-breakers we put on posters were paying costs the poster never showed. Worth it for her story finally being told whole.

Kenneth Branagh’s third Hercule Poirot movie does everything it can to divorce itself from the quaintness of a typical Agatha Christie adaptation. Loosely based on the novel Hallowe’en Party, this outing swaps exotic locales for the claustrophobic confines of a gothic Venetian palazzo and flirts outright with horror. The film, shot through more Dutch angles than an Amsterdam maths class has ever seen, uses the genre’s visual language to credibly suggest that this mystery might actually have paranormal undertones. Forcing Poirot to reconsider his die-hard loyalty to rational explanations is an interesting twist — it punctures the idea of him as a mystery-solving god and gives the film bigger questions to chew on than whodunnit.

What that does, however, is sap the satisfaction of watching him expertly crack the puzzle, because the movie spends so much time centering Poirot’s crisis of confidence. A Haunting in Venice’s tone switch to serious horror is also at odds with the campily bad accents and mostly overwrought acting from the (much less starry than usual) cast. It’s not the same kind of reliable guilty pleasure we expect these vehicles to be, then, but this outing of Branagh’s Poirot is at least an interesting experiment in expanding these stories’ usual limits.

It’s kind of amazing how Johnson, who writes, directs, and stars in this feature, narrowly escapes narrative holes by being so darn self-effacing and likable. The female lead Maddy (Anna Kendrick) should be denounced as a Manic Pixie Girl, but because of Johnson and Kendrick’s overflowing charm, you don’t question the flimsiness of her character until much later on. The game itself should not make sense, but because Johnson is so committed in his physical performance, and so arresting in his charisma, all is forgiven. Self Reliance is like a tasty souffle that looks great at the moment, but left for longer, poofs and deflates. As long as you don’t take it too seriously, the film should be a fun if forgettable ride.

When everyone around you is cheating, the temptation to join in is tempting, especially if you’re not confident in your own abilities. 12th Fail is the story of IPS officer Manoj Kumar Sharma, and it’s a story about how one instance of honesty sets him on a path to become the same honest police officer that helped save his brother’s life. While it does take a fairly standard message, and the pace falters a bit as it goes on, the biopic depicts this from an understanding of how things are unfairly stacked against people like Manoj, but also with an understanding that the country needs more everyday people in their ranks. 12th Fail may be a familiar underdog story, but it’s lovely, well-made, and unironically sincere in its message to be honest, even when the odds are stacked against you.

There are plenty of versions of the Cinderella story, but none as brutal and nauseating as The Ugly Stepsister. For one, it’s not a lovely fairytale that rewards the perseverance of good people through a royal romance. Instead, this European folklore inspired body horror takes the perspective of its titular character, a stepsister who is forced to undergo invasive procedures for the sake of her family. It’s absolutely gruesome. Every single terrible thing Elvira goes through eerily recalls today’s plastic surgery and diet culture except without modern-day tools and anaesthesia. Those new to horror, or those who would be triggered by these topics, would find the film hard to watch. Still, The Ugly Stepsister deeply understands the dark side of this oft-told fairytale, especially at how marriage used to be the only means to upward mobility for women.

Quick flag before anything else: Gary isn’t really a movie. It’s a standalone episode of The Bear, the flashback that follows Richie and Mikey on a road trip to Gary, Indiana, released on its own. Judge it on those terms and it’s a small gem.

Jon Bernthal and Jeremy Allen White get a whole stretch to just be two guys in a car, before the grief and the restaurant and everything The Bear becomes, and the show has always been at its best when it slows down and lets people talk. It’s funny, it aches, and it deepens characters you already thought you knew. If you don’t watch The Bear, none of it will land. If you do, this is the series operating at the top of its game, quietly.

From The Babadook director Jennifer Kent comes another horror, although this one is more about the horrors of humanity. Set in 1825 Tasmania, The Nightingale follows Irish settler Clare as she seeks bloody revenge on the monsters who wronged her and her family. She teams up with an Aboriginal guide named Billy to accomplish her goal.

Because of its often violent and disturbing tone (the film is rated R for its potentially triggering scenes), The Nightingale understandably polarized audiences upon its release. But it’s also an excellent conversation piece, best watched with friends or anyone up for a discussion-filled movie night.

Bryan Cranston, best known for his role as Walter White in the Breaking Bad series, stars as Robert Mazur, a federal agent, who goes undercover to infiltrate the trafficking network of Colombian drug kingpin Pablo Escobar. With the film based on Mazur’s memoir, Bryan Cranston gives an impressive lead performance that captures the intense distress that deep cover can bring. Besides Cranston, co-stars Benjamin Bratt, Diane Kruger, Amy Ryan, and an exceptional John Leguizamo are entirely persuasive and make the film experience enjoyable and intense. The Infiltrator is entertaining and maintains a good pace, with a great cast that makes it a true joy to watch, especially for those who enjoy stories based on real criminals. 

An essential documentary for sports fans but one that may be too specialized for casual viewers, The League continues director Sam Pollard’s project of tracing Black history and civil rights through various vantage points. This time he trains his eyes on baseball, and though the film gets bogged down in information that threatens to come off as mere namechecking, Pollard still manages to steer the discussion towards the forgotten (and often actively concealed) struggles of pioneering Black players shut out by their own industry. The documentary is at its best when it debunks preconceived notions we have about baseball, such as its popular styles of play and the extent to which a superstar like Jackie Robinson actually became a beacon for other Black players (hint: representation alone isn’t change). Though it may take some digging to get to these revelations, Pollard’s diligence is admirable all the same.

Is this the most thrilling head-scratcher we’ve seen in a while? No. Is it a rousing take on the feminist cause? Not really. But what Wicked Little Letters lacks in intrigue and relevance, it more than makes up for in entertainment value. Not that anyone needs convincing, but here Colman and Buckley further prove why they’re some of the most in-demand actors right now. They’re raw and fiery and hilarious, energizing every scene with their limitless energy. They make the film a breeze to watch, so if you’re looking to pass the time with enjoyable performances, Wicked Little Letters makes for a solidly entertaining watch.

Kinds of Kindness is three different short films stacked into one. They don’t share a lot of similarities, except that their characters are played by the same actors, all of whom excellently display varying degrees of isolation and desperation. None of these people are likable—in fact, they’re despicable—but damn if they don’t make you stop and think about what you’re watching. There’s a hitman who struggles with his guilty conscience, a plane crash survivor who may or may not have infectious cannibalism, and a cult member obsessed with cementing her status in the group. You’ll need about a day to process this deeply disturbing movie, but you won’t for a second doubt seeing it in all its glorious weirdness.