50 Best Movies On Netflix You Haven’t Yet Seen

It’s always tricky translating literature to screen. In Shortcomings’ case, it struggles to make its Berkeley and New York settings appear more lived-in than just a few postcard-like frames. You could also tell that the conversations it stirs up about things like representation and mixed-race relationships began in the early aughts, when the novel it was adapted from was first released. But those lapses are small and forgivable in the face of a lovely ensemble cast and a whipsmart script.

It also takes a special kind of skill to make a character as fiercely unlikeable as Ben (Min) watchable, to hold up a mirror to the audience and make them stay. Thankfully, it’s a skill that Tomine and first-time director Randall Park display with such grace. Ben, Alice (Sherry Cola), and Miko (Ally Maki) are flawed and often pathetic, but they’re also honest reflections of who we become when the demands of self-preservation and romantic openness clash. It’s a little unnerving to hear them verbalize what we’ve always feared about ourselves, but it’s also exhilarating, not to mention comforting, knowing that we’re not alone in feeling this way. Shortcomings works because it doesn’t confine itself to genre: it’s a character study first, and a romantic comedy second.

It looks like something you’ve already seen before: a student genius turns a simple high school cheating scheme into a full-blown, high-stakes heist. But layered with great acting, taut writing, and sharp observations about the ways in which education (and society in general) fails its students, Bad Genius turns a familiar premise into something genuinely exciting and impressively affecting. It’s everything you want a caper movie to be: smart and thrilling, with almost no moment to breathe, and of course, peppered with characters you can’t help but root and be nervous and excited for. 

Animated in every sense of the word, The Mitchells vs. the Machines is a fun and lively watch for anyone of any age. On the surface, it’s about a tech company’s AI going haywire as it turns against humans and takes over the world (an obvious and much-deserved dig at Big Tech). It also immediately stands out as an energetic and inventive film bursting with love for the animation genre.

But at its core, it’s about family and learning to love them even and especially when the going gets tough. Teenager Katie and her father Rick are at that precarious moment in their relationship where everything they do seems to annoy the other, while Katie’s mother Linda tries and fails and tries again to keep the peace. The Mitchells are filled with love, but they’re not quite sure how to express it to each other, and it’s both funny and relatable how it takes a literal apocalypse for them to realize that. This is a family story elevated by dynamic animation and a bizarro storyline. Expect it to go off the rails in the best possible way.

Watching Love at First Sight, there are times you catch it almost falling into eye-rolling clichés, like when Hadley loses Oliver’s number or when their first kiss is interrupted by someone suddenly opening the door. But the film’s self-assured and self-aware charm subverts conventions and saves it from being just another cheesy rom-com you’d sooner skip on Netflix. The statistic-heavy narration by Jameela Jamil manages to be both amusing and romantic, and casting Jamil as an omnipresent chameleon who is fate-personified is an inspired move that helps the film move along smoothly. Though they lack sensual chemistry, Richardson and Hardy are individually, abundantly charming. It’s hard not to be moved by their stories, as common as they may be in movies like this. Love at First Sight is fluffy and familiar, but it is also the sort of heartwarming fare you’ll want to watch again and again, especially at Christmastime, when the movie is set.  

You don’t need to know a lot about baseball to appreciate The Saint of Second Chances. It has enough going on to keep you hooked from start to end, beginning with Jeff Daniels’ inimitable voice as the narrator and Charlie Day’s inspired casting as the younger Veeck, all the way down to the Veecks’ fascinating ties with American sports history and Mike’s inspiring and heartwarming second-chance philosophy. It all gets a bit too much at times, as if the filmmakers themselves were overwhelmed with their abundant material and creative decisions, but it’s executed with so much care and love that it seems as if this is the only way it could’ve come out: a wonderful mess.

If Pete Holmes’s new stand-up special comes off more like the comedian just trying out a bunch of random material instead of communicating coherent, overarching ideas, his writing is so strong that it hardly matters. You can tell Holmes is an incredibly confident performer in the way he deploys a wide range of techniques to get his jokes across: exaggerated voices, feeding off of the audience, even messing up his own jokes and rolling with the punches. But his turns of phrase are really the stars of the show here, as he gives even the most ridiculous anecdote a sense of imagination and unique visual texture. This is classic (if somewhat unsurprising) stand-up, with every idea leading into the next with ease.

We’re familiar with dick jokes from stand-up comedians, especially male stand-up, but Jacqueline Novak’s 90-minute show about the blow job feels completely new. Get on Your Knees feels like casual storytelling from someone experienced yet distant enough to be a cool authority on it (say, your best friend’s older sister’s best friend), but funnier. It’s like a gossip session about a first experience, except the breathless, dizzying stream of thought is peppered with philosophical thought and points out the absurdity around the language and common attitudes about sex. And as she does so, and as she talks about self-conscious fumbling and unanswered questions, she strides back and forth, in an easy, self-assured way, the way we’d like to feel going into the act.

Many films have tackled the violence of racism in the South, but none are as rich and restrained as Mudbound. The epic follows two families, the white McAllans and the black Jacksons, as they live side by side on the same parcel of land in 1940s Mississippi. The McAllans own it while the Jackons till it as sharecroppers, but the film’s story isn’t as straightforward as it sounds. The matriarchs of both families (played by Carey Mulligan and a revelatory Mary J. Blige) form a bond borne out of grief and love, the kind exclusive to mothers, while the patriarchs display different kinds of toughness. Landowner Henry McAllan (Jason Clarke) is forcibly tough while farmer and pastor Hap Jackson (Rob Morgan) is resilently tough. Then there are the younger members of the family, Jamie (Garrett Hedlund) and Ronsel (Jason Mitchell), WWII survivors who are traumatized beyond repair. Both bond over the backwardness of their town, having come from a world that tore itself apart and built itself back from scratch. Mississippi, meanwhile, was frozen time. Like mud, the film sinks you in with its weighty themes, but director Dee Rees displays incredible restraint. It’s dramatic, but never overbearingly so. It’s clear-eyed but never too obvious. Most of all it’s rich—with meaning, beauty, pain, and relevance, sadly enough. It may be a period film, but it will ring true today as it rang true in 2017, when it was first released.

Given the political nature of the story, it’s not surprising that The Mauritanian takes a somewhat safe and simple approach in depicting the real life Guantanamo Bay prisoner who was unjustly detained for more than a decade. Nevertheless, sticking to familiar procedural beats is effective, because of the powerful story itself, and the outstanding performances of Jodie Foster and Hollywood newcomer Tahar Rahim, who won and was nominated for a Golden Globe respectively. The formulaic approach helps the film carry the complexities of the case in a more concise manner, and sticking close to the story without much flair helps keep the focus on the real injustice. The Mauritanian thankfully works because of its talent.

A good biography remains fully faithful to the actual history, but a great one understands what their life story means as a whole, on a larger scale. Number 24 could have been one of many World War II biopics. It could have just celebrated Norwegian resistance fighter Gunnar Sønsteby and his numerous deeds. By simply being a biopic, it does so. However, by alternating between Sønsteby in a talk during his last years and him during his saboteur career, Number 24 also recontextualizes their more dubious tactics for a generation that holds violence as unthinkable. Number 24 is a well-paced, engaging biopic that not only commemorates the hero, but also explores his lasting legacy.

What pushes humanity to reach for the stars? Lost in Starlight is centered on an astronaut hoping to go to Mars, but before she can go, life keeps her back on Earth and makes her have something to return to. As such, it’s more a romantic drama than a sci-fi adventure. It’s easy to recognize many of the moments, especially if you’re well-versed with the K-drama genre. However, the film masterfully stitches both the romance and the space together through thoughtful characterization, as the current relationship echoes the same sacrifice her parents made in the name of her mom’s work and that spurred Nan-young’s own ambition to space. It’s also beautifully animated with atmospheric music and a stunning art style that renders a more hopeful vision of the future. The first animated Korean Netflix Original takes on a familiar romance, but through an unfamiliar mix of genres that makes it quite unique.

A 40 minute, often jaw-dropping movie about an innocent man accused of killing a teenage girl and the attempt to clear him from the murder. The man in question is Juan Catalan, a young father of two who had had a fair share of interactions with the law. His brother had recently been convicted for another murder case, and the witness to his brother’s trial was the girl that Juan Catalan would be accused of killing. The fight to prove that he is innocent goes through different phases, one of which amazingly includes Curb Your Enthusiasm and Larry David himself. It’s a crazy story told in a very straightforward manner. Don’t expect the impact of Making a Murder or anything like that – but if you’re in it for the story, you will not be disappointed.

Film direction—at least in the traditional sense—is all about establishing control. In Even the Rain, however, the crew led by director Sebastian faces a problem larger than what they can manage when they become embroiled in a local conflict over water supply while shooting a period film in Bolivia. The situation escalates into a violent uprising between the residents and the Bolivian state forces, which then endangers the completion of Sebastian’s film.

Even the Rain exposes the hypocrisy of urban filmmaking, questioning its exploitative and selfish tendencies. “Some things are more important than your film,” the actor Daniel bluntly tells Sebastian in one scene. This meta-commentary extends to the audience and encourages us to reevaluate the importance we put into films, especially with regards to the current socio-political context.

It’s very likely you already know about the fictional character Matilda, a clever but neglected child who discovers she has telekinesis and uses it for good. You may have even grown up watching the 1996 film multiple times, as I have, and secretly tried to move a random object with your mind to see if you somehow shared Matilda’s powers…as I have.

If so, I can assure you that you’ll enjoy the latest Matilda adaptation, aptly called Roald Dahl’s Matilda the Musical on Netflix. It’s pure energy, all bright colors and high-pitched emotions, but not overwhelmingly so. It is also funny and tender, and the techniques it uses to transition and transpose are eye-poppingly inventive. It stars Emma Thompson, once again prosthetic-ed to perfection; Lashana Lynch, a grounding and heartwarming presence; and Alisha Weir, a revelation of a child actor.

Part fantasy, part road trip, and part coming-of-age, Suzume is a rich and fast-paced tale with no dull moments in between. The energy is relentless and the animation, as expected, is dazzling, so even though there are occasional plot holes and melodramatic reaches, you’d be hard-pressed not to forgive them. Suzume still wins you over. Of course, the fantastical aspects are what make Shinkai’s films his, but Suzume works best when it zeroes in on humans and their complicated feelings toward each other. The confrontation between Suzume and her aunt, where Suzume accuses her of suffocation and the aunt, in turn, laments the life she could’ve had if she wasn’t charged with caring for her dead sister’s daughter, is just as shattering as any scene involving slaying monsters or battling gods. I only wish there were more tender moments like this, but Suzume is just as endearing and entrancing all the same.

Middle-aged romances aren’t really a popular genre. After all, it tends to be predictable, problematic, and it can sometimes feel like seeing your parents have sex. Other films try to spice it up with a great looking location, pretty cinematography, and all the romance tropes, and Croatian-German film Faraway has plenty of that in store. However, it also happens to be a film where a middle-aged woman finds solace with her Croatian mom’s culture, after years of assimilating to the countries of her dad, and later, her husband. While not perfect, Faraway feels so charming and it has the rare sincerity missing from many middle-aged romcoms.

If the sheer intensity of The Novice’s storytelling can at times feel like it’s trying too hard to be in-your-face—rather than authentically disturbed—the ambition of Laura Hadaway’s direction is still quite the spectacle to behold. Where some of the film’s relationships don’t come off as complex as they should be, Hadaway and her team more than makes up for with frantic editing, shallow camera focus, panicked strings as a musical score, and heavy breathing mixed deep into the sound design. There’s just something violent about how the movie is put together, as Alex (played by Isabelle Fuhrman) tears herself apart for seemingly no other reason than to prove to herself that she can do it.

To the untrained eye, a TV interview is just that: an interview, a simple (and at times rehearsed) back-to-back between a reporter and their subject. But Scoop is a thrilling reminder of how complex this process can get, beginning with the legwork to the questioning, and even after airing. In the UK, that quest for truth is complicated by stringent palace rules and the fact that the BBC, which McAlister and her colleagues work for, is a publicly funded institution. How free is the free press when a Royal can call off a story before it airs? And how far are reporters willing to go to protect their piece? Scoop is bolstered by a smart script and a wealth of strong performances—Sewell is almost unrecognizable as Prince Andrew and Gillian Anderson is commanding as anchor Emily Maitlis. But the movie won’t be as strong as it is without Piper leading it; she’s entirely entrancing as she works her way from underestimated underdog to compelling champion.

Hit Man is many things—a romance, neo-noir, comedy, and thriller. And though it sometimes feels like it doesn’t quite reach its full potential in all those areas, it’s hard not to be blown away by Powell’s Rolodex of characters and his palpable chemistry with Arjona. The story itself isn’t as sturdy as I hoped it would be, but it’s supported by a strong, funny script co-written by the ever-reliable Linklater (who I suspect is behind the deep existential ruminations) and Powell (who must’ve supplied the cache of modern jokes), ultimately making Hit Man a smart, funny, and deeply pleasurable watch.

Places evoke certain emotions, but even the most rundown, cramped projects feel special when they’re home. We Grown Now is set in Chicago’s Cabrini-Green public housing complex, an area that was notorious for its crime and poverty, but to Malik and Eric, it’s a place where they became friends. The friendship they share leads them to classic coming-of-age moments like skipping school, egging each other to ask their crush out, and having fun, but unlike other coming-of-age films, these moments aren’t as carefree and consequence-less in the place they live in. We Grown Now is a genuine, full picture of growing up in a rough neighborhood, with both the happiness and hardships the place has to offer.

The Outrun, which follows Rona as she struggles to acknowledge and eventually overcome her alcoholism, is understandably in shambles. It’s non-linear (our only cues are her hair color) and occasionally fractured to show just how messed up Rona’s headspace is. These decisions may or may not feel necessary to the viewer, but what centers the film and makes it nonetheless worthwhile is Ronan’s performance. She is convincing and compelling as an addict—no overacting here or disrespectful flairs, just a simple performance carried by the weight of her eyes, the pain of gestures, and the occasional creak in her voice. It’s not always clear what’s happening in The Outrun despite its simple plot, but it is always watchable thanks to Ronan’s magnificent turn.

This Eddie Murphy comedy had all the ingredients to be both a famous movie and an award-winner, but neither happened. It tells the true story of Rudy Ray Moore, a comedian who became famous for creating a character called Dolemite, a pimp, and who later attempted to make his own movie based on the same character. Murphy plays Rudy, but there are also other recognizable faces in supporting roles: Chris Rock, Wesley Snipes, Keegan-Michael Key, Snoop Dogg, and many others. It’s above all a funny movie, but being Eddie Murphy’s first R-rated movie since 1999, it’s also a realistic portrayal of both 1970s L.A. and the struggles of being a black filmmaker at the time.

This historical drama opens with one of the most thrilling chase scenes in recent memory, as Higinio Blanco, the man at the center of the story, escapes government forces during the Spanish Civil War.

He goes into hiding that, without him realizing, would last 33 years. He would only emerge in a government amnesty in 1969, as would many like him across Spain.

Themes of love (Higinio was confined with his newlywed wife), solitude and fear are at the center of a story that remains thrilling even when it goes through the isolation years.

This lovely romance is about Ellie, a straight-A student who takes money from a classmate, Paul, to write love letters for him. Ellie does this to help with the household bills but there is one big problem: the girl Paul is in love with is also the girl Ellie has a crush on.

This might seem like the set-up for a standard Netflix comedy (and if you’re thinking Bergerac, you’re right, it is based on the famous play) but as the introduction of the film reads: “This is not a love story … not one where anyone gets what they want.”

It is in fact, personal work from a brilliant and quality-focused director, Alice Wu. Her last movie, Saving Face, a pioneering lesbian romance set in an Asian American context, was released a long 15 years ago.

They Cloned Tyrone is a genre-bending gem. It combines Deep State conspiracy theories with sci-fi and social commentary, all while looking like a futuristic 1970s Blaxploitation film. It’s outrageous good fun and pleasing to look at (here is a film that knows how to properly light Black actors), but there are times when it feels too far fetched. The science can get wonky and its commentary on gentrification lacking, but all is forgiven when you have such a strong trio of leads. One of the smartest things They Cloned Tyrone does is pair Boyega with Teyonah Parris, who plays the call girl Yo-yo, and Jamie Foxx, who plays the pimp Slick Charles. They have a fun-loving no-nonsense chemistry about them that makes them easy to attach to and root for. They’re also just very funny, which might be expected of Foxx but it comes as a pleasant surprise for Parris, whose popular turns in Mad Men and WandaVision prove that she’s been severely underutilized as a comic.

Funny, refreshing, and heartwarming, You Are So Not Invited to My Bat Mitzvah gives the seminal girlhood film Are You There God? It’s Me Margaret. a Gen Z update. Stacy and her friends are constantly on social media and watch each other for potentially politically incorrect terms, but they also struggle with period pain, crushes, and falling out with former friends. It’s a confusing time in a kid’s life, and  You Are So Not Invited, like Are You There God? before it, honors that. It never condescends, never strays far from the child’s perspective. It’s jubilant and heartwarming, and (to me at least) it’s always fun to see real-life families play themselves in movies. Judd Apatow experimented with this structure in his semi-autobiographical films Knocked Up and This Is 40, which first gave us a glimpse into his daughter Maude Apatow’s acting prowess. I feel You Are So Not Invited will do the same to its young star Sunny Sandler, whose effortlessly funny and charming performance will surely carve a path for a promising career in the future.  

Bank of Dave is a simple but well-told film that feels utterly satisfying from start to end. Dave is the little guy who only wants to give back to his community, but stopping him from achieving his noble goals are the big guys in suits with vested interests and too narrow a focus to appreciate the good that Dave is after. The film is David versus Goliath, countryside versus cityside, socialist versus capitalist (or, if you like, ethical capitalism versus unethical capitalism). You know who will triumph in the end, but that doesn’t detract from the film’s overall enjoyability. The dialogue is smart and stirring, and you can’t help but root for the film’s small heroes to win big. 

As the first Zambian film on Netflix, Can You See Us? is an interesting portrayal of albinism. Inspired by the real-life story of musician John Chiti, the film’s plot feels grounded, even if it’s similar to other stories depicting discrimination. With newcomer Thabo Kaamba at the forefront, her performance of the albino boy Joseph shines brighter than even the older actors of the film’s cast. That being said, it is held back by repetitive dialogue and sped-up character development from certain characters. Despite this, Can You See Us? is still a remarkable film that stands out from the other tearjerkers available on the streaming platform.

If you’ve never encountered Beth Stelling before, it might take some getting used to before her brand of comedy really hits. Her routine in this special isn’t necessarily built around huge punchlines, animated delivery, or edgy subject matter. But there’s plenty of oddly specific detail to her many, many anecdotes that gradually begins to feel warm and easy to connect with, whether or not you’ve ever been to Ohio. Stelling usually comments on the absurdity of many of these details herself—which, surprisingly, never ruins the joke but helps invite the audience in closer. Her storytelling is consistently engaging all throughout, painting this easygoing outlook on life, which just happens to be punctuated by the most bizarre memories that still remind us of the people we’re fondest of.

Freediving is a particularly cinematic sport because it taps into something beyond what the human body is capable of. Skilled divers hold their breath for long enough to reach more than 100 meters deep, and watching footage of that incredible feat is exhilarating, to say the least. The Deepest Breath capitalizes on that very spectacle—being exposed to death and conquering it—and banks on using archival footage of world records and training. It’s a smart move, as it keeps the spectator on edge, but it can also be a cruel way to put thrills over ethics. The editing is kept suggestive, but sometimes, shamefully, at the cost of misrepresenting Alessia Zecchini and toying with the viewer’s expectations to the point of callousness.

There are a plethora of father-son road trips in film, but rarely portrayed on the path are fathers with their trans sons. That is because most queer stories often focus on the romance, and if not the romance, the coming out process. Runs in the Family does things differently – it’s the connection between trans drag performer River and his father Varun that lovingly stays the same. The easy, comforting dynamic between them is something that needed to be on screen, and it’s what makes the movie shine. While the film still showcases the extra hurdles society sets in front of them, and the way other people let them down because of discrimination, this father-son duo is the one thing they can depend upon. Runs in the Family is by no means perfect, but their natural father-son dynamic is something everyone needs to see.

Going to sleep is something we do every day, though, when we were kids, it certainly wasn’t easy. With family-friendly source material and a new (and adorable!) sleepytime ensemble, Orion and the Dark plays with this fact of childhood, but screenwriter Charlie Kaufman transforms it into something more as the title characters journey into literal midnight dreams, tell stories-within-stories, and return back home with a poetic repetition. It still has some of his existential despair– after all, the overly imaginative Orion literally contemplates the possibility of death through his many, many anxieties– but it doesn’t just play with the classic childhood fear. Kaufman transforms the bedtime story, and the act of storytelling itself, as co-creation and connection between generations of filmmakers and viewers, with this film’s surprisingly layered writing.

When Toni Morrison taught at Princeton, she told her students, “Don’t write about your little life. Create something.” This documentary follows her instruction by being more than a simple biography. Apart from telling the story of her rich, fully-lived life, The Pieces I Am doubles as an artful and educational history lesson about the unique African-American experience. It’s dotted with beautiful artworks and insightful anecdotes shared by Morrison’s colleagues from the various schools and publishing houses she worked at. But most important of all, Morrison gets to narrate the film in her own beautiful, poetic words and, in the process, reveals different facets of herself. There’s Morrison the teacher, editor, writer, and mother, but also: the delightful baker, the supportive friend, the party enjoyer, the critical philosopher. The Pieces I Am is a great collection of many things, a moving collage that pieces together the most interesting parts about the beloved writer in question.

What does it mean to be the most talented? Malay drama Talentime starts out with the usual answers– the most talented would be the people who have the most skill, whether that be in singing, dancing, or performing a new and novel act. But, as writer-director Yasmin Ahmad simply depicts this fairly mundane school competition through casual observations of the contestants’ day-to-day lives, deciding who should win proves to have certain difficulties. The most obvious factor is the competition itself, or who they would have to compete against, but in comparing between scenes, Ahmad reveals life circumstances and audience bias that can get in the way, as a protagonist with different demographics is given feedback to adapt and to meet higher expectations. It seemed like a simple talent show, but Talentime paints a broad picture of Malaysia’s multicultural society, all through a seemingly simple slice-of-life romance that sweetens the message it makes.

It’s What Inside can seem like another obnoxious movie about adults acting like teens, edited with enough neon glare and social media cuts to make it palatable to a younger crowd. But the horror comedy is more than just streaming fodder; it’s fun, funny, and clever, unfolding like a game night gone terribly wrong. There are romantic entanglements, identity crises, steamy role play, and welcome jabs at our generation’s increasing tendency to replace personality with social media presence. Its critique may not be as sharp as other horror comedies that have come before it (most recently, Bodies Bodies Bodies and The Blackening), so it can feel a bit dated. But it’s still an enjoyable watch, one best seen with friends who you haven’t seen in a long while and who have maybe, once or twice, made you feel painfully, irrationally, (murderously?) jealous.

Based on the true story of Daniel “Rudy” Rettinger, this biographical movie follows young Rudy as he pursues his childhood dream of playing football for Notre Dame, despite significant obstacles and copious discouragement from those around him. The movie works not by hitching the action to any major sequences of ball play, but rather to the most remarkable feature of the story: the sheer determination of the title protagonist. The film’s success also largely comes down to a fantastically consistent and earnest performance by Sean Astin, who outshines a very talented supporting cast to the legendary, crowd-stirring end.

This Obamas-produced documentary does much to change the way we may still view people with disabilities as helpless or to be pitied. First, Crip Camp cleans up footage from a 1970s New York summer camp for disabled teens to pristine sound and video quality, allowing us to see how vibrant and lively this community has always been. Then, more importantly, the film traces how these kids—in particular, Judy Heumann—became badass faces in the movement for disability rights, staging protests and articulating themselves passionately for better accessibility in the most fundamental areas of everyday life. It’s a documentary that isn’t just designed to inspire, but also to advocate for safe spaces where young people with disabilities can receive the encouragement and motivation they need as early as possible.

In Baby J, SNL-writer-turned-stand-up-star John Mulaney brutally embraces his messy past and turns it into relatable material and hilarious anecdotes. Confronting his controversial stint at rehab, his struggle with addiction, and his experiences with fatherhood and the resulting reinvention, Mulaney proves himself to be a compelling storyteller, a master at set-ups and pay-offs. He grabs your attention from start to end, with no time to let your mind wander. Before you know it, it’s been an hour of you watching and laughing at this tiny man commanding a sold-out hall. 

There are many Netflix comedy specials out there, but only a handful are as purely enthralling and unskippable as this.

The Queenstown Kings is a sports film that has plot points we’re all familiar with – alcoholic father trying to seek forgiveness from his son, a tempting offer for fame and riches, the standard training montage and more. These plot points sometimes go into melodramatic territory, but the film’s relationships make these scenes feel sincere, especially with the family dynamic that drives the film. And as Buyile strives to better himself to become a good example to the team, and Fezile makes different choices from his father, The Queenstown Kings feels sincere as a reminder of the better side of South African men, one that can be uncovered if they, and their community, believe in a higher dream.

When it comes to ghosts, plenty of films are centered around personal, unresolved business in the living world, but rarely do films examine how the spirit world would be, unless it’s for fantastical fights or horrific terror. The Parades instead focuses on a world of lost, but ordinary, and thankfully kind, souls. And as the film builds its calm world, Minako (and the viewers) get to meet the people who would form her eventual found family, whose various lives uncover the intimate and personal hopes of ordinary people, shaped by the events of their respective times. While the film doesn’t fully resolve all their stories, The Parades celebrates life, in all forms, and the powerful ways storytelling and community helps us go through it.

With Netflix producing countless true crime documentaries, you’d be forgiven for dismissing How to Rob a Bank as usual, forgettable fare. But the documentary ever so slightly curbs cliches by focusing on a theme—in this case Hollywood, in honor of Scurlock’s pseudonym and love of movies—without losing sight of the bigger picture. Which is to say, directors Seth Porges and Stephen Robert Morse go all in the movie theme without giving way to cheesiness, mostly by honing in on Scurlock’s favorite films like Heat and Point Blank and effectively replicating the thrill of those action classics. It uses fine, storyboard-like illustrations that are mostly entertaining and nostalgic but occasionally quite beautiful, and borrows the same synth soundtrack from the said films. But it even though it initially sets Scurlock as the anti-hero, a Robin Hood of the times, its sympathies lie with the victims, the traumatized bank tellers and goers. It’s a smartly made and engaging film, complete with the quintessential shootouts and elaborate heists, and it thankfully doesn’t let the talking heads do all the work.

American Graffiti captures a very specific time in America; in fact, it’s so specific it feels more like a time capsule or a historical artifact than a movie. It’s a picture of 1962, Modesto, California, the setting of writer-director George Lucas’ own childhood, where kids would cruise aimlessly on Main Street and pick fights or girls, listen to the radio, mess around, be young, and have nothing else to worry about. It’s been described as the last breath of innocence, before America was plunged into new and neverending world wars. But as particular as that all sounds, American Graffiti is oddly relatable. I couldn’t be farther away from this reality and yet I felt a deep pang in my chest when the kids lied about owning a car to impress a girl, raced a guy who provoked them, fooled around with strangers, and promised they’d be friends with each other after their last night together, knowing full well college was the start of the end. American Graffiti may capture a specific time in history, but its themes of childhood innocence and adult nostalgia run deep and wide. Anyone who’s longed to return to simpler times will find much to like in this film.

The Centre Will Not Hold explores the life of the famous Joan Didion – professional observer and cultural spectator. The film gives only a small window into the complexity of her mind and the space in which she processes and understands the world, which stems from her capacity to sit above everything that is happening around her and just observe. From writing for Vogue, to war journalism, to her famous novels – from watching a child do acid, to reporting on the first gulf war – Didion is as prolific as she is insightful and majestic in her writing. Throughout the documentary she gives her first hand perspectives on love, relationships, motherhood, and grief – beautifully articulating it as “a place we do not know unless we’ve been there.” A beautiful woman, and an incredible film.

A quiet movie about an unpredictable convict who gets enrolled in a wild mustang taming program. These initiatives, common around the country, offer fascinating parallels: both the horses and the inmates are emprisoned, both innately fight against their condition but are actively being made to comply. The central performance by Matthias Schoenaerts is nothing short of a masterpiece. He doesn’t speak much and you almost don’t want him to: everything else he does communicates so much more than words. Watching this movie just for him is reason enough.

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. 

Entergalactic, a vibrant animated romcom from the mind of musician Kid Cudi, follows new neighbors Jabari (Cudi) and Meadow (Jessica Williams) as they navigate their way through the ups and downs of modern love. They’re both established artists at the height of their careers, but when it comes to romance, they’re still scraping for lessons, which they mostly get from equally clueless but funny friends.

Featuring songs from Cudi’s latest record of the same name, Entergalactic doubles as a visual album that comes to life with every beat and movement. It also stars many familiar names, among them Timothée Chalamet, Vanessa Hudgens, Ty Dolla $ign, Jaden Smith, and Macaulay Culkin.

The Sea Beast tells the story of Jacob, a legendary sea monster hunter, and Maisie, a wannabe monster hunter herself. When a dangerous encounter isolates them from the rest of the crew, they’re forced to team up and reconcile their opposing beliefs—Maisie believes there’s good in the beasts, but Jacob has yet to be convinced.

Action-packed, fast-paced, and thoroughly entertaining, The Sea Beast is a perfect weekend watch. The part-Moana, part-Pirates-of-the-Caribbean tale also has the added bonus of being age-appropriate (rated PG), making it suitable for those spending their precious movie time with kids.

Robert Downey Sr. was a great asset to American filmmaking. An experimental creative in New York, he made countless movies with his wife and family and didn’t care (as everyone does now) whether it made money or not—only that it made him and the people around him laugh and think and scratch their heads in equal measure.

Sr. is a documentary about this prolific man, as told by his son Robert Downey Jr.

In Sr., we get an intimate look at father and son—their home life, their sometimes-testy relationship, and their different artistic philosophies. It could have delved more into that conflict for some genuinely compelling scenes, but as it is, Sr. stands as an emotionally earnest ode to one of America’s most visionary filmmakers. The love is palpable, and at least as a tribute, that’s really all that matters.

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.

More than anything, Netflix’s 116-minute Menendez Brothers documentary feels like a PR shield to protect the streamer against the onslaught of criticism its dramatized series (Ryan Murhphy’s Monsters) received. Netflix wants to have its cake and eat it too. If Monsters painted the brothers as evil and spoiled, The Menendez Brothers takes a more humane approach by shedding much-needed light on male sexual abuse. It also literally gives the brothers a voice by having their present-day selves, through exclusive phone calls, weigh in on the events that led to that fateful day they killed their parents, as well as on the heated legal proceedings themselves. The series is at its best when it focuses on the present (How are the brothers faring in prison? Why is this generation so passionate about protecting them?) and when it gives us a legal breakdown of the complicated case. Since many other documentaries about the brothers tend to focus on the scandal and psychology of such a case, it helps to see what went down in this new light, with input from the brothers no less.