Movie Suggestions by Mood and Feeling

When the love triangle is set between the most popular guy in school, his tomboyish best friend, and the beautiful principal’s daughter, Kuch Kuch Hota Hai unsurprisingly goes through the inevitable who-would-he-choose romantic storyline. We’ll say it outright: It should be cliché. And yet, we’re surprised to tell you that it works. Part of it is because of how it’s framed– before we get into the youthful shenanigans that plague schools all over the globe, we learn about them from the future outcome, namely from Rahul’s child, reading a letter from the mother that passed away. But even when we get into the overly glowy memories of the time, Kuch Kuch Hota Hai still feels different because of the way it cares about its characters. Neither Anjali or Tina are made into villains for no reason– they’re all friends that have fun together, have incredible chemistry, and care about each other. Maybe in another universe, they would have been polyamorous. Kuch Kuch Hota Hai somehow does the impossible in such a refreshing way.

If you’re looking for a straightforward, reasonable plot for children, you’re not going to find it in this eccentric stop-motion animated comedy. That’s because from the reasonable panic over forgetting a friend’s birthday, A Town Called Panic spirals into a series of fantastical consequences, including an order of 50 million bricks, a journey to the center of the earth, and their unexpected detour to the northern tundra. But to be fair, logic is not really what children look for. If anything, the weirdness of Cowboy, Indian, and Horse’s adventures feels reminiscent of a child playing with mishmashed toy sets. Like the stop-motion medium, anything can happen, with enough imagination, and A Town Called Panic has quite the amount of frenzy to spare.

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.

For some reason or another, Korean scribes wrote down everything their kings did, even the instances that they wanted struck out of the record. So when a section of fifteen days is missing, one has to wonder: What happened in those fifteen days? Masquerade takes that missing section to craft a familiar fantasy where a king is temporarily replaced by a more kind-hearted lookalike. It’s pretty hilarious, since the film uses the situation to poke fun at the unusual practices of the royal household. And Lee Byung-hun seemed to have fun, depicting both the king and Ha-sun with ease. Ultimately though, the film works because of how it follows through with the premise. Ha-sun’s reign doesn’t completely transform the government, but the story demonstrates that it doesn’t really matter who sits on the throne, so long as they act for the common good.

What was popular back then isn’t popular today for a reason. In film, that’s because the technology’s improved, the audience gets too used to the trend, and what once worked fades into the background. Once in a while, however, someone brings back nostalgia for a certain style. This happened when filmmaker Michel Hazanavicius created The Artist. Set in the transition between silent film and talkies, The Artist cleverly takes on the silent film form, but makes it suitable for today’s moviegoers. The ears are never left empty, thanks to the bouts of score and few foley that focuses attention. The camera shoots mostly in black and white, but shoots in various styles across the Golden Age. Even the story itself is classic melodrama– Sunset Boulevards and A Star is Born comes to mind– but it’s treated with the genre mixing the 2010s started to play with, the postmodern revue that recontextualizes the past. The Artist brings back what cinema has long discarded, and remembers what made these styles classic.

Baran is a romantic drama, though unlike the grand gestures and declarations of love that are common in the West, the romance here is more subtle. It’s the kind of romance that blooms secretly, without any way it could be expressed. Lateef and Baran don’t even share a proper conversation. That isn’t to say that their connection is a shallow one because what they have together reveals what truly keeps them apart– their poverty, their employment despite being children, the way their society insists on the separation by genders, and their residency status. All they can share are a peek of each other’s face and the few glances of someone they can’t fully know. Baran beautifully illustrates how love can bloom in spite of all of it.

Given its status as a classic novel, The Home and the World was a tough story to adapt. The novel was written by India’s most revered writer Rabindranath Tagore, so the film has to honor the prose, and on top of that, it wrangles with the turbulent history of the early 20th century, the very same history that led to India’s revolution against colonial rule. Filmmaker Satyajit Ray was thankfully up to the task. Reintroducing the story generations later, the film beautifully depicts the marriage between traditionalist Bimala and her Western-education noble husband Nikhil, as well as her political liberation when she meets Nikhil’s more radical friend Sandip. Ghare-Baire masterfully grapples with that tug-of-war that changed India’s fate. 

After a man spends his entire trust fund, what is there to do for the poor bachelor? One might think he might try to get in the good graces of his family, or perhaps work for a living (the horror!). Instead, Henry Graham decides he must marry a wealthy woman in A New Leaf. What occurs next is a witty turnaround of the gold-digger tale, as his initial straightforward plan to marry-then-murder awkward heiress Henrietta Lowell accidentally turns him into a better person, or at least, a person with the willingness to do something other than spending. Pitting Henry’s self-interest against Henrietta’s love for botany and her disinterest in her own inheritance, A New Leaf crafts a clever comedy with a cynical yet charming romance.

La Vie en Rose isn’t exactly a rosier biopic compared to others. After all, this is about Edith Piaf, one of the greatest singers from France, and her life hasn’t been easy, as seen through the non-linear vignettes. Perhaps it’s because of this difficult past that this film somewhat echoes many other biopics. Ultimately, however, La Môme proves to be compelling due to the strength of who portrayed Piaf. Marion Cotillard may not be the voice behind all the songs– some were performed by Jil Aigrot, and others recorded by Piaf herself– but her total transformation in multiple phases of Piaf’s life was quite outstanding. Regardless of its flaws, La Vie en Rose is a beautiful celebration that does well in bringing back interest in her work.

With a runtime of a whopping 3 hours and 30 minutes, Kabhi Khushi Kabhie Gham (or K3G) might be too long for the average movie watcher. After all, it would require a whole afternoon just to watch. However, there’s something compelling about the way this dual romance presents its conflict. The first half could already work as a film of its own, as a sweeping romance between Shah Rukh Khan and Kajol, complete with parental disapproval, the revoking of one’s inheritance, and multiple thunderstrikes to underscore the drama of a confrontation. But this first half sets up a lighter, comedic follow-up in London, with Hrithik Roshan and Kareena Kapoor stepping up to Parent Trap the Raichand family into harmony. As Laddu orchestrates their reunion, K3G takes familiar Bollywood tropes to cathartically mirror the pain of families separated by migration.

World War II changed the fate of many countries, but most prominently that of the European continent and the United States of America. Though late to the battlefield, America was one of the victors that occupied Germany after the war, and it’s this tension and setting that is at the center of Lars von Trier’s lone war drama Europa. Alternatively known as Zentropa in some territories, the film is inspired by Hollywood noir, from the black and white film to the femme fatale, but the film takes more experimental routes, starting off with lulling the viewers in a hypnotic trance, and later playing on with rear-projection and multiple layers for surreal effect. It takes noirish cynicism on a ride, exaggerating history but nonetheless reflects the way this memory is formed in the cinema of its respective countries. Europa is a fascinating breakdown of an idealist that hasn’t gone through the same terrors, one that still lingers in today’s consciousness.

While the mixed reception of its near-faithful American remake Vanilla Sky might make some viewers pause, there’s an intuitive brilliance in the Spanish original Open Your Eyes that isn’t easy to translate. Sure, the apparent differences help– it’s shorter and less complicated, and Cesar’s face turns more grotesque than David’s does. But what’s startling about Open Your Eyes is the way writer-director Alejandro Amenábar guides the camera through its various shifts, creating a more subtle and gradual realization that something is wrong, and thus, a more terrifying dream turned nightmare. Amenábar has later deemed the film as his worst, saying it was written when he didn’t know much about life, but, in our opinion, Abre Los Ojos still holds up as a groundbreaking existential sci-fi simulation, one that still puzzles and captivates years after.

At times looking and sounding like a real Filipino action film from 50 years ago, while painstakingly edited to juggle storylines across several realities, Leonor Will Never Die is worth seeing for its originality and ambition alone. Among so many other films that function as sanitized “love letters to cinema,” this one bears the distinction of still feeling charmingly scrappy and improvised even with how meticulously it’s crafted. It doesn’t simply pine for a bygone era of movies, but it actively explores what purpose movies serve to us as individuals and as communities. Where it arrives with regard to healing and acceptance and bringing people together feels entirely earned, even if it might not always be easy to understand.

The sooner you adjust your expectations for Nomad—and realize that this isn’t a travel documentary but Werner Herzog’s own wonderfully offbeat way of remembering his dear friend—the better. Any uneven moments in this film’s construction are smoothed over by the sheer authenticity of what Herzog puts on screen, from his own distinctive narration, to gorgeous excerpts from Bruce Chatwin’s writings, to the sounds and images that make up the strange worlds that both men were fascinated in. No mysteries are solved here, but just being closer to the strange and surreal becomes a way for Herzog to come to terms with the strangest and most surreal of life’s realities: death.

True to form, this documentary about the famed Japanese animation studio enjoys lingering in the ordinary day to day experience of working there. There’s no question that it’s of interest for fans. Documentarian Mami Sunada helpfully introduces some of the faces, the films, and the history of the company while on her visit. However, even non-fans would be intrigued by the creative process, by the mindset and philosophy revealed by their conversations. As the team works on their 2013 slate (The Wind Rises and The Tale of Princess Kaguya), the film reveals how their process pushes them to reckon with the larger scheme, willing their ideas into creation in spite of the difficult world around them. The Kingdom of Dreams and Madness is quite something to behold.

At first glance, Dil Chahta Hai is an ordinary ensemble romcom. There’s some guys, there’s some girls, and they fall in love in their own special way as befitting the general archetype of protagonists we’ve seen in other romcoms. But to the film’s credit, it’s made pretty well. Many viewers can appreciate the catchy songs, the charismatic leads, and the spectacular way writer-director Farhan Akhtar stages each number, but what makes his debut work is how in tune it was with modern Indian youth, and the way it grounds all three love stories through the friendship of three young men fresh out of college. Dil Chahta Hai balances its romantic drama with the support of friends, similar to how relationships work in real life.

War changes the way we view people from the other side. On the most fundamental level, seeing an enemy combatant can mean death, but this eventually bleeds out into anger and hatred towards the enemy, because of the loss, the pain, and the fear war tends to wage. War drama Welcome to Dongmakgol understands this, but rather than delve into the painful separation of the Korean peninsula in ways that have been depicted before, the film instead plucks a few soldiers from both fronts and drops them into an isolated village far from the battleground. This scenario is quite unlikely, after all, the mountainside town without technology would probably not be as idyllic as portrayed. Nevertheless, it’s an interesting thought experiment to see the simple, straightforward peace that was forgotten with foreign intervention and global geo-politics. Welcome to Dongmakgol can be quite goofy at times– see the green screen wild boar scene– but the comedy is a standout anti-war film because of its optimism towards human nature.

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.

The manic pixie dream girl unexpectedly entering a young man’s life is the subject of plenty of romance films, to the point that this plot has become somewhat overdone, stereotypical, and overly unrealistic. However, there are moments in cinema when this archetype is portrayed well– Jab We Met is one of them. It’s joyful without being unrealistic, it’s realistic without being too jaded, and as two lost souls share the same train, writer-director Imtiaz Ali creates a feeling of freedom every time then-lovers Shahid Kapoor and Kareena Kapoor save each other from the prisons of their different, day-to-day lives. And it all comes with the song numbers as fun as the film’s leading lady.

Of all the movies made about movies, no one’s ever made one quite like this. Make no mistake: Blow Out does reference some of the greats– the most obvious is the first scene mirroring the shower scream in Psycho– but unlike other films about films, Blow Out focuses on the use of sound. After all, it’s only through sound technician Jack Terry’s craft that he gets pulled into the conspiracy himself, with a recording of a gunshot revealing an assassination under the guise of a simple car accident. Echoing the post-Watergate America’s concerns over surveillance, the investigation he undertakes, as well as the justifiable paranoia over his work, leads him to use his new medium as his one weapon. As he does so, Blow Out cleverly demonstrates how movies have both found the naked truth and dressed it up for its own purposes.

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.

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.

In the fallout of his conflict with producer Tsui Hark, filmmaker John Woo was alone, virtually blacklisted, and unable to find funding for what could have been the prequel to A Better Tomorrow. Because of these circumstances, he self-funded this action thriller Bullet in the Head. Of course, it’s possible that the themes of brotherhood, loyalty, and betrayal are entirely coincidental, but nonetheless, Woo crafts a compelling narrative, helped by its haunting score and the tear-tracked performances of the three leads. Setting the film in the Hong Kong riots and Vietnam War, Bullet in the Head reveals how war never leaves any relationship unscathed, not even between those who proclaim to be brothers.

Previous depictions of provincial living tend to paint the pastoral experience as idyllic, simple, and much more innocent compared to their city counterparts. Sound of Falling does the opposite. While it still beautifully captures the German countryside, this drama also acknowledges its terrible secrets– the ways the family maintains itself, and sidebrushes death, at the expense of the women in the family. Cutting across time and circumstance, the haunting narrative sees the rhyme in each story. Unbeknownst to each four women, their pain echoes in similar ways, even if their particular histories differentiate their extent. Sound of Falling captures how the past never fully fades, only passing down like a curse recalled in folklore.

There are moments that irrevocably shape the rest of life, and for many of us, we stumble into them unprepared. Sometimes they lead to contentment. On the outside, it first seems like schoolteacher Lam Yiu-kwok has that, getting to share his passion for Chinese poetry to his students, and having built a life together with his childhood sweetheart Chan Man-ching. On the inside, however, it all came as a result of Chan’s infidelity with their former mentor. Because of this framing, July Rhapsody doesn’t emphasize on the taboo aspect of the May-December relationship. On the onset, it forecasts what exactly could happen if Lam repeats that cycle, and so director Ann Hui’s intention of examining that dynamic comes across as measured and non-judgemental, maybe even tragic. July Rhapsody does so in such a poetic way.

How do you make sense of Resurrection? This dreamlike feature seems rather inscrutable, but there’s no denying how breathtaking it is to witness all the images director Bi Gan offers on screen. These images form the memories of one of the last dreamers on Earth, also known as a Deliriant, one of the few who refused to trade dreams for immortality. Now monstrous and dying, this dreamer has lived a long life, with each chapter mirroring the styles and direction of cinema. Shifting from silent expressionist sets, to wartime noir, and ending in a neon-lit vampire romance, Resurrection obsesses and contemplates over dreams and the senses, pondering the film medium’s capacity to capture something totally elusive.

What is Souleymane’s Story? Right off the bat, that’s what everyone asks from Souleymane. It’s what his fellow immigrant asks, while he’s being coached to recite a completely different tale. It’s what his food delivery customers ask, when the app profile doesn’t match his details. And, in an outstanding sequence between newcomer Abou Sangaré and an inscrutably efficient Nina Meurisse, it’s what the OFPRA officer asks, in order for him to secure asylum. The motions of his struggles are familiar. Souleymane rushing all over the city is somewhat reminiscent of Take Out and Man Push Cart. However, the structure and framing highlights exactly why he needs control over that narrative. The story he tells– true or untrue, delivered with a practiced air or stuttering out his mouth– is the only thread he could hang onto for a better life.

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.

How do you make sense of Resurrection? This dreamlike feature seems rather inscrutable, but there’s no denying how breathtaking it is to witness all the images director Bi Gan offers on screen. These images form the memories of one of the last dreamers on Earth, also known as a Deliriant, one of the few who refused to trade dreams for immortality. Now monstrous and dying, this dreamer has lived a long life, with each chapter mirroring the styles and direction of cinema. Shifting from silent expressionist sets, to wartime noir, and ending in a neon-lit vampire romance, Resurrection obsesses and contemplates over dreams and the senses, pondering the film medium’s capacity to capture something totally elusive.

If you’re looking for a straightforward, reasonable plot for children, you’re not going to find it in this eccentric stop-motion animated comedy. That’s because from the reasonable panic over forgetting a friend’s birthday, A Town Called Panic spirals into a series of fantastical consequences, including an order of 50 million bricks, a journey to the center of the earth, and their unexpected detour to the northern tundra. But to be fair, logic is not really what children look for. If anything, the weirdness of Cowboy, Indian, and Horse’s adventures feels reminiscent of a child playing with mishmashed toy sets. Like the stop-motion medium, anything can happen, with enough imagination, and A Town Called Panic has quite the amount of frenzy to spare.

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.

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.

After a man spends his entire trust fund, what is there to do for the poor bachelor? One might think he might try to get in the good graces of his family, or perhaps work for a living (the horror!). Instead, Henry Graham decides he must marry a wealthy woman in A New Leaf. What occurs next is a witty turnaround of the gold-digger tale, as his initial straightforward plan to marry-then-murder awkward heiress Henrietta Lowell accidentally turns him into a better person, or at least, a person with the willingness to do something other than spending. Pitting Henry’s self-interest against Henrietta’s love for botany and her disinterest in her own inheritance, A New Leaf crafts a clever comedy with a cynical yet charming romance.

Based on the life of a real small town filmmaker, this coming-of-age film is a familiar underdog story. After their small movie theater shut down due to piracy, Nasir and his friends decide to create their own, in spite of not having the money or connections to do it. You can probably tell what happens next, given the numerous films about artists with humble beginnings. But despite the tropes, the rushed reconciliation, and not delving into some of the religious tension behind Nasir’s retirement, Superboys of Malegaon still feels refreshing, because it truly understands why the underdog is so compelling. With only their love for the craft to guide them, these boys capture the fun and wonder of making films in their own community, for their own community. Superboys of Malegaon truly listened to their story.

What does it take to make a great hockey team? Of course, one must select the most skilled players. But for a team representing a nation, there are more aspects that play into it. That’s what Indian national men’s team captain Kabir Khan discovers in this sports drama. After losing to Pakistan and shaking hands with them at the end of the game, Khan’s sportsmanship is interpreted as foul play, in part due to his Muslim background. He does not fit into what India believes to be Indian. So when he stages a comeback as the coach for the women’s team, he has much to prove. Through the ensemble cast from various Indian states, Chak De! India mirrors the struggles of Indian multiculturalism, with the personal conflict echoing the real-life difficulties that hinder peace within the whole country. It’s not entirely perfect, but Chak De! India makes clear how much the nation can accomplish if only they were given a real chance to work together.

Come See Me in the Good Light takes a somewhat conventional approach in documenting poet Andrea Gibson’s battle against cancer, though that doesn’t mean it’s boring. It works because of the people this documentary follows. It won’t be surprising to hear that Gibson and their partner Megan Falley have the precise words to express this journey– They are poets, after all– but the way each conversation is arranged builds upon each other, easily capturing the context for some of Gibson’s works, as well as how their love transformed the both of them, in spite of all odds. Come See Me in the Good Light does exactly what it says in the title, transforming a familiar battle with illness into an uplifting inspiration of a life well lived.

Given that this is based on a recent, real life case, and the defendant has chosen to remain behind the titular pseudonym, it makes sense why Belén doesn’t focus entirely on her. We don’t get to know much about the defendant other than the case reveals. That being said, what was given is already infuriating enough. Filmmaker Dolores Fonzi, who also stars as her lawyer Soledad Deza, gathers a compelling defense, starting everything off with the terror and confusion Belén’s hospital check-up turns into her arrest. It strengthens the somewhat standard legal proceedings that is to follow, but nonetheless effectively highlights the multiple ways Argentina’s institutions have failed Belén. But what makes Belén so compelling is the way it also celebrates the movement formed around her case. Belén strikes at the core of the injustice made, with the same determination that secured her freedom, and the rights of every woman in the nation.

Life can easily get hectic in a moment. A hearing aid can get broken, debts can add up, a snafu can happen at work, and in the pursuit to fix all of it, life’s troubles make you forget who you hoped to become. This is what happens in The Song of Sparrows. It’s clear that there’s some inspiration from Italian neo-realist dramas– Karim’s stint as a motorcycle delivery man calls to mind Bicycle Thieves– but filmmaker Majid Majidi finds something spiritual in Karim’s mundane madness, a sense of hope despite all of Karim’s problems. The Song of Sparrows moves the spirit with its simplicity.

What makes something sexy? Belle de Jour doesn’t have any definite answers, nor does it present a straightforward narrative, especially with the way it slides in and out of the titular beauty’s fantasies and her reality. Still, the way director Luis Buñuel directs this film adaptation clearly holds an understanding of what makes something erotic. The masochism of Catherine Deneuve’s Séverine might be understood by today’s more sexually liberated audiences, but the rest of her desires and the images deliberately left out could easily baffle viewers or maybe even trigger the same feeling a bored, rich housewife would get. Belle de Jour understands something that can’t be easily put to words, and it’s this understanding that made this psychological drama a surrealist classic.

Unfortunately for political activist Pierre Henri Thioune, everything does go wrong for his funeral in Senegalese drama Guelwaar. His body gets mixed up with a Muslim man’s, his family’s reunion turns awry, and his stance against dependence on foreign aid stirs rumors of assassination. But it’s a fitting way for writer-director Ousmane Sembène to lay out his own political beliefs towards how Senegal should move forward, as he juxtaposes them with all the conflicts that occur as a result of Guelwaar’s passing. After all, every funeral is made to gather loved ones and commemorate the life that was lost. What better way is there to commemorate the life of a politician, if not to engage with the beliefs that they fought for?

When depicting a person’s life, most films are chronological. They start from beginning to end, from the character’s birth to their death. However, it’s only fitting for Peppermint Candy to depict the opposite because, mild spoilers: the film starts with a suicide. What would push a person to do such a thing? Director Lee Chang-dong unpacks this tragedy through six personal moments vis-a-vis South Korea’s turbulent history, the violence lurking under peaceful times, and the way Kim Young-ho has ignored his better impulses because of it. In reverse, Kim’s life is not an easy one to watch. Each sequence transforms the one before, as each part of Kim’s past reveals a better path he could have taken, if not for the times he’s lived through.

You’ll probably never find a film like The Blind Man Who Did Not Want to See Titanic. The camera is blurry, with lead Petri Poikolainen’s face the only image we see clearly. The audio sometimes goes in and out. There’s even a section that turns completely dark. While this would usually mean that something is wrong with the tech screening the film, it’s actually a brilliant way to immerse the viewers in Jaako’s experience, heightening the stakes of what should be a simple commute into a unique thriller comedy-drama. The Blind Man Who Did Not Want to See Titanic is truly an original film.

As a popular fairytale, Snow White has been depicted many, many times, but never quite like the 2012 Spanish film Blancanieves. For starters, it’s the only version where the titular lady is a bullfighter. It was also made as a black-and-white silent drama at a time when color and sound are the norm. But beyond these immediate differences, Blancanieves transforms the original fairytale into a mortifying body horror, where love can’t overcome the body’s destruction, and where death isn’t the only terror that awaits. Blancanieves won’t be the Snow White you remember, but she will be a version you won’t forget.

Given today’s access to cameras, it’s so easy to peek into the lives of other people. Sometimes those peeks seem much more exciting than our entire lives, but as most people know by now, what we see on screen can be so different to what’s really happening. Rather than social media, however, the two broke nobodies in The Great Buddha+ get their entertainment from the dashboard camera of their rich and famous boss, Kevin, though the recordings eventually reveal a darker side to the artist-philanthropist business owner. Alternating from their black-and-white lives to their boss’ colorful one, this dark comedy satirizes that gap between classes, the ones being watched and the ones who could only watch, with the narrator, and sometimes the characters, helpfully explaining on occasion what you’re seeing on screen. The Great Buddha+ gleefully mocks its ensemble, while still being cognizant of the real injustices they face. 

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.

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.

When depicting a person’s life, most films are chronological. They start from beginning to end, from the character’s birth to their death. However, it’s only fitting for Peppermint Candy to depict the opposite because, mild spoilers: the film starts with a suicide. What would push a person to do such a thing? Director Lee Chang-dong unpacks this tragedy through six personal moments vis-a-vis South Korea’s turbulent history, the violence lurking under peaceful times, and the way Kim Young-ho has ignored his better impulses because of it. In reverse, Kim’s life is not an easy one to watch. Each sequence transforms the one before, as each part of Kim’s past reveals a better path he could have taken, if not for the times he’s lived through.

Murder is terrible, of course, but it proves to be surprisingly hilarious in Kind Hearts and Coronets. On top of all the ridiculous schemes Louis Mazzini cooks up, this ironic comedy of manners sets up its unfortunate deaths through Louis narrating his memoir in a detached tone, explaining away the deeds as if it was a natural consequence for the aristocratic snobs in his family. But the dry tone doesn’t quite conceal Louis’ wickedness. In fact, it highlights the horrible desires he’s dreaming of, poking at the fascination around British nobility without the usual melodrama these stories tend to have. It’s this brilliant twist that made Kind Hearts and Coronets so delightfully wicked.