Best 2024 Movies on Netflix Canada So Far

In the first twenty minutes, The Remarkable Life of Ibelin seemed to be quite unremarkable, with the usual way a biographical documentary would go, that is, loved ones waxing poetic about how great the dead person was in life. But the documentary takes this to introduce Ibelin the same way his parents discovered the online life Mats Steen lived. It’s a unique documentary, mixing in the usual home videos with the animated gameplay of the archived life Steen lived in Ibelin, but it’s grounded by, and somewhat co-created through the words Steen himself typed about his life as a disabled man, and the game history he shared with the community he formed online. The Remarkable Life of Ibelin ends up being quite a remarkable depiction of living online, that feels much more honest, human, and creative than the condescending or cautious narratives we’ve previously heard about the online world.

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.

A sappy expository start like that only makes you suspicious how quickly all hell breaks loose, and boy does that distrust get rewarded. Grave Torture firmly blends religion and the supernatural, with the overarching theme being an exploration of the guilt-inducing belief that questioning faith is tantamount to having no faith, and having no faith leads to punishment. Getting from point A to point B is not the one of the film’s strengths, sometimes feeling like it’s just floating disjointedly. Even then, it nails every violent landing with visceral, satisfying impact. Religion isn’t just some distant theme, it’s our final monster.

The journey of transitioning can be tough, but it’s not likely to be as wild as the journey undertaken by the titular rich mob boss of the crime thriller romance musical Emilia Pérez. It’s pretty surprising, with the incredibly stylish and totally unpredictable ways the plot unfolds, all made possible by the ridiculous all-or-nothing methods and means of a Mexican mob, and it’s a delight to see Zoe Saldaña and Selena Gomez feel at home in their respective Spanish-speaking roles. There are certain moments where the film bites off more than it can chew, but the visuals are stunning, the story is daring, and there’s really nothing like Emilia Pérez right now.

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

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.

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.

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.

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.

We sacrifice so much for our dreams, so if it all fails, whether that be because of ourselves or because of extenuating circumstances, sometimes, a bit of perspective is needed to get back up. The Taiwanese-Japanese romantic drama 18×2 Beyond Youthful Days is centered on two young adults that meet in a karaoke bar in Tainan, one who hopes to pass the summer with some money, and the other hoping to fulfill her dream of travelling the world. It’s a familiar coming-of-age concept, but it’s done so bittersweet and beautifully as the adult Jimmy recalls each moment they shared while on the journey to fulfill their promise to meet each other after they reach their dreams. 18×2 Beyond Youthful Days doesn’t tread new paths, but the film’s way of depicting memories as well as the charming chemistry of the leads transforms the real life travelogue into a moving testament of the connections we form while travelling.