100 Best Foreign Movies on Netflix Right Now

Winner of a Camera d’Or, the debutant’s prize at the Cannes Film Festival, Director Houda Benyamina’s first feature film is fast-paced and full of energy. Deep in the impoverished suburbs of Paris, the infamous banlieues, it tells the story of Dounia (played by Oulaya Amamra), a mouthy teenager who is not content with what society is prepared to hand out to her. She’s angry; she wants more. And so, together with her best friend Maimouna (Déborah Lukumuena), she decides to finally make some cash as a runner for a drug dealer. While there’s obviously some feminism in there somewhere, that’s not at the heart of what this film is about. It’s about the economic reality in a world of poverty and about two friends and their desire for freedom—no matter what the cost. An exhilarating and thought-provoking debut helped along by Amamra’s amazing acting.

Based on Fredrick Backman’s 2012 best-selling book of the same name, this Swedish hit comedy-drama introduces us to Ove, an elderly man who feels like his life is over. After losing his wife, the short-fused retiree spends his days grumpily enforcing block association rules in his neighborhood. He is your typical unhappy, old neighbor, somebody you would try to avoid. One new family does not give up and befriends Ove, played by an impeccable Rolf Lassgård, despite his best intentions to put them off. As the plot unfolds, however, you learn more about the story behind the man, and, in classic walk-a-mile-in-his-shoes fashion, start to find him rather loveable. After all, nobody is born grumpy and cynical. Naturally, this is a sweet and sentimental film. But an amazing lead performance and a charming, darkly funny script rescue it from drifting too far off the shore. The result is a wholesome, fun, and thoughtful dramedy with a beautiful message.

Abuse is bad and should be reported, full stop. But it’s not so easy to do so, when abusers stay in positions of power, and the people who are assigned to keep them in check are cowardly against them. Silenced depicts true crime novel The Crucible, which in turn, is based on a real life case of the Gwangju Inhwa School. Through the perspective of a new art teacher, Silenced systematically outlines how difficult it is to deliver justice, from the way the school administration bribed police and the education department, to the way the court didn’t even think to hire a deaf interpreter. It’s a horrific watch, but the intensity of the depiction was needed, given that this film’s release pushed South Korea’s government to change their laws and the actual school shut down within the same year.

A gritty and realistic thriller set in France’s notorious capital city of crime – Marseille. 

Zachary is released from Juvenile prison to learn that his mother has abandoned him. He finds kinship in an underage sex worker by the name of Shéhérazade. 

This seems like the set-up for a tough watch, but Shéhérazade plays like a romance when it’s slow, and a crime thriller when it’s fast (it’s mostly fast). Everything about the story and two leads’ relationship rings true. Added to the fact that it has no interest in emotionally manipulating you, the movie is more gripping and thought-provoking than sad.

A great story, fantastic acting from the cast of first-timers, and outstanding direction give the feeling that Shéhérazade is bound to become a modern classic. If you liked City of God, you will love this. 

In The Sun, a family of four is dealt with tragedy after tragedy, beginning with the younger sun A-ho’s sudden incarceration. The mother is sympathetic but the father all but shuns him as he chooses to throw all his affection to A-hao, the older brother, and his med school pursuits instead. Themes of crime, punishment, family, and redemption are then explored in gorgeous frames and mesmerizing colors with director Chung Mong-hong doubling as the film’s cinematographer. 

Despite itself, The Sun never falls into cliche melodrama territory. Its heavy themes are undercut by naturalistic acting and poetic shots, resulting in a deeply emotional but balanced film. Rich in meaning and beauty, The Sun will surely stay with you long after your first watch.

Perhaps the most depressing but vital movie produced by animation giant Studio Ghibli, Grave of the Fireflies is a searing and sweeping drama that covers the horrors of World War II through the eyes of teenager Seita and his young sister Setsuko. Between the violence of war and the tragedy of loss, the siblings struggle to preserve not just their lives but their humanity. In typical Ghibli fashion, there are moments of gentle beauty to be found, but instead of conflicting with the overall stark tone of the film, they successfully underscore war’s futility and brutality, making Grave of the Fireflies one of the most important anti-war narratives ever told.

Real life tragedies, especially one that’s as sensationalized as the Miracle in the Andes, can be tough to depict on screen. On one hand, the film has to keep true to the story but also maintain some form of spectacle to keep people watching. Past depictions of the 1972 crash are preoccupied with the cannibalism portrayed by big name actors, but Society of the Snow takes a different route. The actors are newcomers, the threats to their lives don’t require daring action stunts, and the cannibalism is limited to small chunks indistinguishable from animal meat. Instead, the spectacle of Society of the Snow is the human spirit– the vulnerability, the respect, and the generosity they’ve given each other in order to survive. It’s still an uncomfortable watch, especially since we get to know some of the survivors before the crash, but it’s definitely a transcendent addition to the genre dedicated to the miracle of existence.

Director Thomas Vinterberg (The Hunt) reunites with Mads Mikkelsen to tell the story of four teachers going through a mid-life crisis. They’re not sad, exactly—they have homes and jobs and are good friends with each other—but they’re not happy either. Unlike the ebullient youth they teach, they seem to have lost their lust for life, and it’s silently eating away at them, rendering them glassy-eyed and mechanic in their everyday lives.

Enter an experiment: what if, as one scholar suggests, humans were meant to fulfill a certain alcohol concentration in order to live as fully and present as possible? The teachers use themselves as the subjects and the tide slowly starts to turn to mixed effects. Are they actually getting better or worse?

With an always-satisfying performance by Mikkelsen and an instant classic of an ender, it’s no surprise Another Round took home the award for Best Foreign Film in the 2020 Academy Awards.

Two storylines take place in this Parisian animation: one of a Moroccan immigrant who works as a pizza delivery guy, and the other of his hand, somehow no longer part of his body, but also going on a trip around Paris.

The hand storyline is not gory by the way, except for one or two very quick scenes. Mostly, this is a film about loneliness and not being able to find your way back, both as an immigrant who misses how they were raised and as a hand who misses its body.

Sporting some of the most beautiful animation work this year, this movie premiered at Cannes where it became the first-ever animated film (and Netflix film) to win the Nespresso Grand Prize.

The Hand of God is the autobiographical movie from Paolo Sarrantino, the director of the 2013 masterpiece The Great Beauty. He recently also directed The Young Pope with Jude Law and Youth Paul Dano, both in English. He is back to his home Italy with this one.

More precisely, he’s in his hometown Naples, in the 1980s, where awkward teenager Fabietto Schisa’s life is about to change: his city’s soccer team Napoli is buying the biggest footballer at the time, Diego Maradona.

Sarrantino, who is also from Naples, made this movie that is half a tribute to the city and half to what it meant growing up around the legend of Maradona.

The Hand of God is to Sarrantino what Roma was to Alfonso Cuarón, except it’s more vulgar, fun, and excessive. It is equally as personal though, and it goes from comedy to tragedy and back with unmatched ease.

The Kings of the World is a surreal coming-of-age movie that follows Rá, Culebro, Sere, Winny, and Nano, street kids who are on their way to claim land that’s rightfully theirs. Their one goal is to finally make a home after living without one for so long, but they’re hindered by the inevitable tragedies that befall kids of their kind: impoverished, alone, and abandoned.

The title is ironic, but it also hints at their state of mind: these boys are unstoppable, rabble-rousers who live like there’s no tomorrow. They tear down private property and invade inns not out of spite, necessarily, but out of a knowledge that whatever they do they’re gonna be put down anyway, so they might as well live without rules.

Tackling powerful themes like land restitution and youth neglect, The Kings of the World is one of the most agonizing movies you’ll ever see. It’s also Colombia’s official Best Foreign Language Film entry in the 2022 Academy Awards.

Love can happen anytime and anywhere, but some of the best love stories are about the kind of love that fundamentally challenges the lovers in question, as well as the kind of people these lovers are. One such film that does that is Dilwale Dulhania Le Jayenge. It’s a simple holiday romance, but the straightforward plot works because of the leads’ playful chemistry and because of the way writer-director Aditya Chopra understands the characters of his directorial debut. While abroad, the two young adults are pushed to think about each other as they navigate an unfamiliar continent, but as they return to their regular lives– with Raj still remaining in Europe and Simran moving back to India– they’re challenged like many second-generation kids, to either return to the culture they grew up in, or adapt to the culture of where they’re going. Dilwale Dulhania Le Jayenge suggests that being Indian and living abroad, as well as personal happiness and respecting one’s family, doesn’t have to contradict, and it’s these ideas that makes it a classic.

You don’t need to be familiar with the rest of the Rurouni Kenshin live-action movie series—or the original manga and anime, for that matter—to appreciate The Beginning as a powerful period drama in its own right. This is a story that courses its historical context about a tumultuous time in Japan’s past through a stoic, fearsome protagonist who can’t seem to escape the violence that’s become his only function. And even more impressively, as a prequel, the film keeps a heavy sense of dread about it, even if you’re sure about which characters are meant to survive in order to appear in the previous films. It’s the mark of any great tragedy that even the things that are destined can still feel so painful.

When a man languishes in a prison of an enemy country for more than two decades, anyone would wonder what happened. The worst easily comes to mind. Despite Indian-Pakistan relations then, Veer-Zaara surprises us instead with a love story. It’s a rousing romance up to the standard filmmaker Yash Chopra has set, with the soaring melodies, the colorful shots, and the emotional performances from Shah Rukh Khan and Preity Zinta. However, it stands out from Chopra’s oeuvre because of the way it celebrates his birthplace of Punjab, the province that was split between India and Pakistan in his teenage years. Rather than pitting both nations against each other, Veer-Zaara instead celebrates the culture shared on both sides of the border.

Horror movies have always been creepier to me when they play on our fear of the “unknown” rather than gore. Under The Shadow does exactly that. The story is based around the relationship of a woman, Shideh, and her daughter, Dorsa, under the backdrop of the Iran-Iraq war. As widespread bombings shake the ground beneath their feet, the two grapple with a more insidious evil that is faceless and traceless, coming and going only with the wind. The movie’s dread-effect plays strongly on feelings of isolation and helplessness. The scares are slow and it’s obvious the director takes great care in making every single second count and in raising the unpredictableness of the action. Like the bombs, the audience never knows when or how the next apparition will materialize. The former is always on the edge of fear, wondering what is no doubt there, but is yet to be shown on the frame. In terms of significance, Under The Shadow features too many symbolisms to count and will most likely resonate with each person differently. But one thing remains relatively unarguable: this is a wonderful movie.

In the Mexican film A Cop Movie, director Alonso Ruizpalacios mixes fact and fiction, documentary and narrative, to tell the tale of Teresa and Montoya, two police officers whose dreams are dashed by the corruption of their trade and who, eventually, find love and comfort in each other.

Ruizpalacios takes thrilling risks in structuring this genre-bending story—cutting stories into parts, jumping back and forth between the harrowingly real and captivatingly non-real. For all the experimental maneuvers he makes, however, the through-line is always Teresa and Montoya: particularly, their love for each other and for an institution that should have, in an ideal world, supported them and the people they vowed to protect.

To its credit, instead of merely humanizing the controversial police force, A Cop Movie adds some much-needed nuance to the big picture. At the end of the day, they’re no different than any other underpaid laborers working desperately to make end meets. A Cop Movie doesn’t gloss over the fact that the police, like so many other workers, are stuck in a rotten system that’s long overdue for a major overhauling.

After years of documentaries covering Thailand’s controversial issues, some of which have been temporarily banned by the Ministry of Culture, Nontawat Numbenchapol takes a step into feature film in Doi Boy. The plot covers plenty of the topics he’s previously depicted– immigration, prostitution, and corruption– but it unfolds naturally into a slow-paced, but moving drama where an undocumented sex worker tries to find home. Awat Ratanapintha as Sorn excellently leads this journey, but Arak Amornsupasiri as reluctant cop Ji, and Bhumibhat Thavornsiri as passionate activist Wuth also make their mark. While the film doesn’t delve into the intricate intersectionality, it feels like that’s part of the point. The notion of a nation doesn’t care about people’s dreams, even if that dream is for the nation to be better.

Given the title, it isn’t surprising that Falling in Love Like in Movies would be a metanarrative with the main romance mirroring the filmmaking and the filmmaking reflecting the main romance. It’s a familiar approach, and at first, Falling seems to follow the inevitable ending where the couple falls in love, but right on time, in around Sequence Four, writer-director Yandy Laurens chooses a more honest, less chosen path– a path that plenty of previous romance films hasn’t examined– that still falls within the eight sequence screenplay structure Bagus talks about. While Bagus is pitching his film to Hana, and to his producer, Jatuh Cinta Seperti di Film-Film pitches a new way of thinking about love, grief, and of course, filmmaking.

Grandparents are often depicted as innately loving, especially towards their grandchildren, so it’s a delight to see someone like M’s Amah, who is testy and tenacious, and quite proud to be doing her own thing even in her old age. She runs her house alone and sells congee in her neighborhood, and even when presented with the worst possible news, she refuses pity, only allowing M back in her life after he proves his motives are sincere. M, to his credit, is believably selfish and sensitive as a young school dropout. Together, the two and their crackling push-and-pull chemistry are a blast to watch. It’s tender, but never overly saccharine, and no matter how much you resist you’re sure to shed a few tears. How to Make Millions Before Grandma Dies may not have the most original plot (I’m sure you’ll be able to guess the ending just by reading the premise alone), but it’s thoroughly engaging, not only because of the two leads, but because of it’s relatable messages about family dynamics (especially Asian family dynamics), money, and legacy. The gentle, unobtrusive cinematography by Boonyanuch Kraithong makes it extra easy on the eyes too. I only wish the movie explored the misogyny of tradition more, instead of merely touching upon it (“Sons get the goods, daughters only get the genes” is such a brilliant line), but I suppose that would need a female writer/director at the helm.

While based on the Mononoke series, which is in turn, a spin-off of Ayakashi: Samurai Horror Tales, it might seem that Mononoke The Movie: The Phantom in the Rain would require some background reading for people new to the story. Thankfully, there’s no need to do homework for this beautifully designed masterpiece, as the Medicine Seller takes on a new case with every installment. 2024’s Phantom in the Rain (also known as Paper Umbrella) unfolds its world with ease, with doors opening and closing to a select few for a high-pressure, hierarchical imperial household. Immediately, the visuals are stunning, with traditional ukiyo ink and paper mixed with modern kaleidoscopic fill and movement, but even without the gorgeous art, the first Mononoke movie works with its eerie horror, intense sound design, and a compelling mystery driven by court intrigue and vengeful spirits.

COVID-19 raised concerns about sanitation and cleanliness, but in a society that just banned discrimination against “impure” castes seventy years ago, these concerns feel reminiscent of previous caste prejudice. Writer-director Anubhav Sinha presents this social inequity through Bheed, a black-and-white drama set in a fictional checkpoint as the lockdown restricted travel between different Indian states. As the people in the checkpoint wait for the updated government regulations, tensions rise between the officers and the travelers, as the stuck migrants worry about hunger, thirst, and infection. While it’s definitely a heavy film to watch, this film doesn’t exploit the pandemic as fodder for drama. Instead, Bheed realistically portrays how a crisis like COVID-19 exacerbates existing social inequity.

After two adaptations, with the 1982 version considered a Christmastime classic for Polish families, Forgotten Love can seem like a redundant take on the iconic Polish novel. With twenty more minutes, it seems like the new Netflix adaptation could only improve its take through better production design, and sure, it certainly delivers that pre-war aesthetic through period-accurate costumes, props, and sets. However, Forgotten Love takes a more streamlined approach to the novel’s plot, through changing certain character choices. Without spoiling too much, some choices paint certain characters in a better light, while other changes prove to add an entertaining twist, such as the humorous way the villagers defend Kosiba. Znachor takes the 1937 story into the present, bringing a new generation through the emotional journey of the cherished Polish tale.

Inspired by the Spiniak case, Blanquita reimagines the infamous scandal through mirrored interrogations and disorienting viewpoints. Blanquita rewrites the original witness, whose fictional variant, in turn, rewrites the abuse faced by victims as her own. She is transformed from a clueless liar, into someone still a liar, but one that did so when every other possible witness has been discarded for being unreliable, for being too traumatized to go through the judicial process unflinchingly. The film takes on a provocative subject matter, at a time when real life sexual abuse allegations are treated with the same scrutiny Blanca faces. However, Blanquita does so in a way that gives its complexities the weight it deserves. It’s a fascinating thriller, a quandary that tests the idea of ends justifying the means… But it’s one that’s disturbing, given the consequences to each crime.

The fantasy of being able to have the body you once had is impossible in real life, but we can watch it play out in fiction. While previous depictions of this idea rightfully point out ageism and how much worse people treat the old, Miss Granny also celebrates the wisdom and experience that could only come from the years Oh Mal-soon has gone through, through an engaging script and the quirky performance of Shim Eun-kyung. It’s so funny seeing people taken aback, surprised, and astounded by old Oh Mal-soon in her young body, but what makes it work is the way director Hwang Dong-hyuk introduces her to us bit by bit, crafting a character that at first glance seemed to be a rude and controlling grandma, but is actually a woman that didn’t get to enjoy her youth due to the sacrifices she made for her loved ones. Miss Granny makes the case that there are timeless things that we can return to and appreciate, but there are also things that we’re willing to let go of our youth for.

What makes people attempt to climb the tallest mountain in the world? Many might be motivated simply for the title, but in this animated adaptation, it’s the obsession that gets them going. The Summit of the Gods starts its journey with the real life mystery of George Mallory’s 1924 Everest climb, which, if answered, could reshape the history of mountaineering as we know it. So, of course, a reporter like Makoto Fukamachi has to follow the story. As we witness his investigation, and get to know the climber that might have all the answers, Habu Joji, it’s easy to get sucked into their story with the breathtaking visuals, the atmospheric soundscape, and the characters that we get to know on a personal level. The Summit of the Gods understands why they do what they do, despite each step pulling them further away from safety.

This sensitive and elegantly crafted melodrama recognizes that a death in the family doesn’t have to lead to the same expressions of mourning we expect from movies; there might not be any real sadness at all. But when different family members come together again and bring their own personal conflicts with them, suddenly everyone else’s little griefs fill the space, and the road to recovery becomes even messier. Little Big Women understands all this with an understated touch and brilliant, naturalistic performances from its cast. It makes for a loving tribute to the generations of tough and complicated women who often hold a family together.

When your dad is single, and he isn’t in a relationship with someone else, naturally, a kid would wonder about their real biological mother. Hi Nanna is a take on this familiar tale, though Shouryuv’s directorial debut makes it feel brand new by telling the love story in a way a father would tell his daughter– mindful of the audience, so slightly embellished, but no less sweet. By doing so, it makes the viewers yearn for the lost love before raising our hopes and revealing the possibility of getting it back, especially with the natural chemistry of Nani and the striking Mrunal Thakur.

Prayers for the Stolen takes more time to observe life in its rural town, than to showcase the action and violence inflicted by the cartels that pass by. It’s a needed perspective. This move drives home how long these cartels were left unaddressed, as the women of the town have gotten used to the danger and were unable to leave for whole generations. It makes clear how their lives have been interrupted, limited, and held hostage at the whims of whichever group takes over the village. But it also allows writer-director Tatiana Huezo to help us witness the love and tenderness Ana holds for her mom and friends. Prayers for the Stolen is tough to watch because of the safety they lack, but it’s also a beautiful tribute to the relationships they’ve forged despite that.

Left-Handed Girl is titled after I-Jing, the youngest daughter of the Ching family, whose left-handedness puts her at odds with her more traditional grandparents. That’s because left-handedness used to be associated with the devil. The idea is clearly outdated, but it hints at this family drama’s greater theme of being on the margin, of falling short of expectations placed by others. Of course, I-Jing’s left-handedness is easy to reconcile. The notion is considered outdated, and she’s portrayed by precocious newcomer Nina Ye. But what makes Left-Handed Girl so special is the way writer-director Shih-Ching Tsou deconstructs other expectations, such as Sho-Fen’s unfortunate marriage and the rebellion of her teenage daughter I-Ann. As the film unfolds, slowly revealing the fractures between them, Tsou subtly critiques how women carry the burden of saving face.

This is a gorgeous Danish period drama that’s based on a famous story and book in Denmark called Lykke-Per (or Lucky Per) by Nobel Prize-winning author Henrik Pontoppidan.

Per, the son of an overbearing catholic priest, leaves his family house in the country side to seek a new life in Copenhagen. His passion about engineering was at the time contrary with the Christian faith, but manages to introduce him to the capital’s elite, and a chance at social ascension.

Lykke-Per and A Fortunate Man are about nature versus nurture. Per’s passion about engineering and renewable energy (back in the 1920s) is set against his need to emancipate and the pride that was instilled in him by his upbringing.

Set in 1970s Italian countryside, this is a quirky movie that’s full of plot twists.

Lazzaro is a dedicated worker at a tobacco estate. His village has been indebted to a marquise and like everyone else, he works without a wage and in arduous conditions.

Lazzaro strikes a friendship with the son of the marquise, who, in an act of rebellion against his mother, decides to fake his own kidnapping. The two form an unlikely friendship in a story that mixes magical realism with social commentary.

The Platform is the closest thing to Parasite released so far. This interesting Spanish movie is about 90% a science-fiction drama and 10% a horror movie. It’s an allegory set in a future where prisoners live in vertical cells, and each cell has to wait for the cell above it to eat to get food. Depending on the floor where prisoners wake up, they might not get any food at all. This creates for disturbing situations that are hard to see as not representative of our modern societies.

Fast and funny with surprisingly tender moments in between, Mixed by Erry doubles as a fascinating period piece and a heartfelt family comedy. On a larger scale, it tracks the rise of musical piracy, which Erry and his brothers accidentally stumble onto with their cassette-copying business, Mixed by Erry. But what starts out as an innovative trade fueled by Erry’s love for music—Erry himself is like a Spotify algorithm come to life, instantly creating mix tapes for people based on what they like—soon transforms into a legal threat that catches the ire of record labels and finance regulators alike. It sounds thrilling and complicated, but the film’s lofty premise is grounded by the relatable dreams Erry and his brothers share. They genuinely believe they’re doing nothing wrong by distributing music and boosting the local economy, and as naive and misguided as that may be, there’s something heartwarming about their intentions. The film itself doesn’t take sides. Instead, it acknowledges the situation for what it is—a landmark case in musical history ripe with educational and entertaining moments.  

Remember the creepy blind nun from the Spanish horror film Veronica? While many nun-related horror films have nuns as its horror element, this time it’s the nun that gets spooked in Sister Death. The new release expands on her backstory, taking the story back in history, in her start as a novitiate in the former convent, a location that’s been changed after the terrors inflicted towards the nuns during the Spanish Civil War. While the film doesn’t delve that deeply, focusing instead on the slowly building up the film’s terror, there is something here about the hidden violence and covered-up trauma that still haunt the Catholic church in Spain, especially to those that have taken vows. Director Paco Plaza meticulously frames each terrific sequence with the isolating doubt in one’s faith that Narcisa experiences.

Gangster films have an issue of glorifying organized crime, and in some ways The Pig, The Snake, and The Pigeon does the same. There are excellent, action-packed fight scenes that makes Ethan Juan as Chen Kui-lin look so damn cool, and the journey Chen takes as a stern criminal out for his legacy definitely romanticizes the character, but it’s so compelling to see him contemplate the purpose of his life through confronting those like him, who tend to move for the ideas of love and spiritual detachment. There are some moments when the pacing falters, but The Pig, The Snake, and the Pigeon delivers on its ending and reimagines the gangster as something to remember.

2023 was a great year for animation with films like Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse, Nimona, and The Boy and the Heron, but there was another animated gem that flew under the radar and that’s jazz drama Blue Giant. It’s a pleasure to both the eyes and the ears as Dai Miyamoto blows on his saxophone, adding Hiromi Uehara’s incredible soundtrack and Yūichi Takahashi’s dynamic animation to the high contrast manga visuals, and the way the story unfolds the different avenues of pure passion these three have for jazz is absolutely captivating. Blue Giant is just so well-done that it’s no surprise it garnered a bigger-budgeted encore eight months after its premiere.

In the Dead Talents Society, ghosts haunting humans are less of a scare, and more a performance that can grant fame and fortune in the underworld. It makes for incredibly charming comedy. It affectionately satirizes East Asian horror in such a fresh way, comparing a ghost being remembered to today’s social media influencers, with views and validation directly tied to survival. However, as these ghosts scramble to scare unwitting humans, writer-director John Hsu resolves their need to be seen through the familiar path of fun and friendship, an approach that works with its offbeat humor and incredible performances. Dead Talents Society is very goofy, but it’s a unique horror comedy that won’t easily be forgotten.

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.

Dear Ex is a family drama that explores LGBT+ issues in contemporary Taiwan. As much as it is a movie about how people cope with loss, it’s a powerful, heartwarming, and intimate portrait of the relationship between Jay and Song Zhengyuan and all the obstacles they face.

While the themes of Dear Ex are heavy, the director makes the viewing experience easier for the audience thanks to humorous and witty dialogue. Meanwhile, the history between Jay and Song Zhengyuan’s relationship unfolds in a very beautiful, almost poetic way, and by the end of the movie, we understand that everyone gets their own kind of forgiveness. The way the characters effortlessly show that love is something beyond genders is admirable, and it is great to see how everyone gets their own kind of forgiveness whether it’s from themselves or from others by the end of the movie.

Friday Night Plan resembles many a classic teen film (most notably, Ferris Bueller’s Day Off and Booksmart), but it also doubles as a thoughtful inquiry into the delicate bond between siblings who could not be more different from one another. Sid and his younger brother Adi (Amrith Jayan) have different ideas of what matters most in life, ideas that get tested when their mother’s car gets towed away during their night of fun. Sid thinks it’s only right to come clean and retrieve the car no matter what, but Adi believes this can all wait until tomorrow morning: tonight is Sid’s night to celebrate and finally connect with peers he’s shut off all his life. This tension comes as a surprise in what otherwise looks like an ordinary teen movie, but it’s also a welcome addition that helps Friday Night Plan stand out from the rest. 

At the fringes of society, sometimes, all you have is your family. You would do all you can to feed, clothe, and protect them, and your fate hangs in the balance of what they do in return. Abang Adik is centered on two undocumented orphans in Malaysia, and because they only have each other, Abang does all he can legally and within his capabilities as a disabled man to scrounge up some money, but Adik tries to gain more secretly, resorting to scamming fellow illegal immigrants. Writer-director Jin Ong portrays their plight realistically, but more importantly, the drama works because Ong prioritizes crafting the compelling dynamic between them, making it much more heartbreaking when the loss of their one chance changes everything. Abang Adik may not be a perfect drama, but it’s a daring debut that’s needed.

Full of charm and nostalgia, Bang Woo-ri’s first feature film is a love letter to the late 90s—and to the heartstopping experience of first love, as high school student Na Bo-ra tries to get to know her friend’s crush Baek Hyun-jin. While at times immature, she comes across as endearing through Kim Yoo-jung’s charismatic, devoted performance. And as Na Bo-ra goes through all the ways people wooed each other in the 90s—figuring out each other’s phone numbers, filming each other through old camcorders, renting out VHS tapes—the film evokes memories of our own first loves. Even with some underdeveloped characters and certain contrived moments, 20th Century Girl is still a stunning picture of young love at the turn of the century.

In the years since Fan Girl’s original release in the Philippines, its ultimate message and execution has become polarizing: is it enough that the film shows the corruption of a parasocial relationship into an abusive one, without offering much hope? Is its vision of justice actually constructive or disappointingly limited? No matter where you fall, it’s exciting that a movie can stir up these kinds of questions through a bizarre dynamic between characters, in a place that’s clearly set somewhere between reality and delusion. The narrative is circular and frustrating for a reason—a constant push and pull as the titular fan girl keeps getting drawn back into the celebrity’s orbit—and the film only grows more disturbing with each repetition.

Though Eternal Summer isn’t able to fully engage with its queer characters—maybe due to its being released in the mid-2000s—it still makes for a more interesting character study than you’d expect. This romance between three school friends has more on its mind than simply pitting two romantic pairings against each other. Unrequited feelings, unspoken secrets, and identities that are constantly in flux make Eternal Summer compelling just for the way these people try to dance around one another’s emotions. And since it’s shot in the muted colors of early digital filmmaking, this is a love story that becomes all the more melancholic just in the way it looks.

Nanpakal Nerathu Mayakkam might not immediately make sense to audiences new to director Lijo Jose Pellissery, but it’s still an interesting film that depicts Tamil culture. Also known as Like an Afternoon Dream, the contemplative bilingual film is centered around a prejudiced Malayali tour guide who wakes up as another man, specifically someone fluent in Tamil, and walks into the nearby village. Through vignettes focused on the village inhabitants, the film slowly unravels the dynamics between each of the villagers, flitting back to the tour bus on occasion to see how they’re faring. While some of the comedy goes over viewer’s heads, especially for people unfamiliar with the state, the slow-paced film feels like a fond memory from Pellissery. The film doesn’t explain anything at all, in the same way strange dreams refuse to do.

An all-female action comedy that doesn’t get self-serious about the way it’s subverting the genre — Wingwomen feels like a breath of fresh air. It wisely grasps that plot isn’t paramount for a movie like this, and so it joyously dunks on cerebral scenarios with its unabashedly silly story convolutions, like when its professional thieves take a brief pause from their momentous One Last Job™️ to sail to Italy and exact bloody, flamenco-delivered revenge on the gangsters who killed their beloved rabbit. Exotic Mediterranean location-hopping isn’t the only way Wingwomen milks Netflix’s finance department for all it can get, either: director-star Mélanie Laurent also packs in all manner of stunts, from spectacular base-jumping sequences to dramatic drone shootouts.

For all its breezy style, though, there is real heart here, and not the kind that feels crafted by an algorithm. It’s true that a late twist unwisely uses the movie’s embrace of implausibility for emotional ends, but otherwise, the relationship between its professional thieves — ostensibly platonic but very much coded otherwise (a la Bend It Like Beckham) — has surprisingly sincere warmth. Thanks to the cast’s natural chemistry and characters that feel human despite the ridiculous plot, Wingwomen is much more moving than you might believe possible for a Netflix action-comedy.

Released a month directly after Kyoto Inferno, Rurouni Kenshin Part III: The Legend Ends continues Kenshin’s journey, the same journey that revived the samurai chambara genre in recent years. As Japan made its shift towards a modern society in the Meiji era, Kenshin fights in promise to his master’s teachings, to wield his sword for life, rather than for the violence that once was the basis of power. The Legend Ends continues Rurouni Kenshin’s cinematic style with all the outstanding fight choreography, excellent production design, and exceptional cinematography, making it a must watch for fans of the genre as well as action fans in general, but those new to the franchise or those who have only watched the films might still find themselves lost with regards to the way this arc was structured.

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.

At times of great societal turmoil, sometimes stars are born, not just to entertain the masses but to challenge the way things are done. Amar Singh Chamkila is one such star, and his music captivated all of Punjab in part due to his brash lyrics. His assassination remains unsolved, but director and co-writer Imtiaz Ali takes the event, and uses it to frame his life– the ways Punjab remembered him after death, the ways Chamkila showed his light as well as the ways he was limited by studio oversight and state censorship. The film isn’t a perfect contemplation of artistic freedom, nor is it the most comprehensive take on the singer’s life, but Ali’s direction challenges the way we view the artist and acutely recognizes the way stardom reveals the society’s conflicting desires.

This slow romance is set in a Seoul bakery during the 1990s. A boy fresh out of juvenile detention and a part-time employee fall for each other while working there. For a while, their existence is joyful and quiet as they sell bread and bond.

However, the Asian financial crisis of 1997 forces the bakery to close. This makes them seek different jobs away from each other.

As a romance, Tune in for Love is not original but it doesn’t need to. It’s just easy and enjoyable.

At the age of 17, Héctor runs away from a juvenile detention center and embarks on a journey to find a shelter dog he had befriended in a rescue center whom he has found out has just been adopted. Along his quest, he is joined by his ailing grandmother and older brother. 

Featuring beautiful landscapes of northern Spain, wonderful chemistry between the two central actors, and a simple yet dynamic story, Seventeen proves that what makes a movie great is the quality of its ingredients, not the quantity.

As sexy and intriguing as Rosa Peral’s case sounds, this documentary suggests that it’s just another instance of the public’s wild if harmful imagination. Both the media and prosecutors made Peral out to be a promiscuous woman out for blood, with tabloids calling her a “go-go dancer” and a “stripper,” despite being neither, and public officials recalling her sexual activities in court, despite their irrelevance to the case. Via a phone call from prison, Peral debunks these claims and tries her best to reclaim the narrative. It’s the first interview she’s given since being convicted for 25 years in 2020, and in a finely balanced move, the filmmakers contrast her impassioned testimony with interviews they’ve conducted with Peral’s critics and prosecutors, thus giving us enough to deliberate among the two sides. If the documentary ever seems biased towards Peral, it’s clear that it’s only to offset the weirdly strong vitriol she’s received among the Spanish public. 

It’s slower and talkier than you’d expect from a semi-erotic film, but Ehnegard lives up to its title well enough to satisfy. It’s titillating, but in a cheeky rather than provocative way. The dialogues are lengthy, but they’re alternately witty and poetic, so despite the pace they never actually bore. Ehnegard’s real delight, however, is its beauty. Set in the old kingdom of Babenhausen, Ehnegard looks like a fairy tale come to life. The towering castles, the sprawling meadows, the twinkling forest lakes, and of course, the smartly costumed people who populate the scenery—all these and more ensure that each frame has a picturesque glow to it. And with Sidse Babett Knudsen (Borgen, Westworld) taking charge of an appealing cast, Ehnegard proves to be a charming watch.

Because the world exploits developing countries as dumping grounds for their waste, more attention should be focused on this issue. The immediate filmmaking response would be to document this reality, but Telugu thriller Gandeevadhari Arjuna takes this idea as the driving force of its story. It’s the reason why the bodyguard Arjun takes this job, as well as the reason why the Minister needs protection and why his family has unresolved drama. While the romance subplot distracts from this issue, Gandeevadhari Arjuna deftly interweaves this real-life problem into sleek action sequences, relatable family drama, and a personalized depiction of the problem’s consequences.

If you’re new to the story, I Don’t Expect Anyone to Believe Me feels difficult to understand. The film adaptation portrays the novel through abruptly cut sequences, meticulously framed naturalistic frames, and monologue and dialogue that mean more than what’s being said, on top of Juan Pablo’s gradual descent into a criminal network. It’s as disorienting as being in Barcelona feels for Mexican couple Juan Pablo and Val. However, this film feels like a new approach in adapting novels – the multiple perspectives and epistolary portions adeptly portrayed through typed up screens and alternating perspectives (and direction) between the couple. It doesn’t feel like something that you’ve likely seen before.

Everyone has those days where nothing goes right, but no one’s having as bad of a day as detective Yuji Kudo is in Hard Days. It isn’t just that nothing goes right– everything goes wrong, and he’s just a hair away from losing it all each time. This Japanese adaptation might take a slightly more serious tone than the South Korean original, but it does retain its ridiculous escalation of increasingly terrible things that could possibly happen, with Junichi Okada and Go Ayano letting loose in their detective characters’ morally dubious behavior. Hard Day is a decent watch, if a bit bloated, especially for those familiar with the story.

Of course, as a serialized medium with plenty of volumes, it isn’t easy to condense manga into movies. Many a title have let down fans before, especially with the notorious live action curse. But there are some films that capture the energy and excitement of the original, and one such film is Kingdom. Not to be confused with the Korean Netflix show, the Japanese film is a thrilling depiction of the Chinese history-inspired story, with excellent choreography, elaborate sets and costumes, and all the battle scenes expected from the adaptation. It’s not particularly deep, and they really brush over Shin’s loss in favor of much more swordfighting, but it’s not bad if all you’re looking for is epic action in historical dressing.

The concept of a soulmate– the idea that there is someone out there that you’re meant to meet, who’s been made for you to be with, and vice versa– has inspired plenty of romance stories. Dil To Pagal Hai is one such musical centered on the idea. There are some flaws, especially with the love triangle, but the stacked cast, the classic soundtrack, and the elaborate, gorgeous dance numbers are just so enthralling to watch. There’s an interesting thread with the way the two leads’ lives mirror each other even before they meet, as well as the way the film contemplates the decades’ anxieties over crafting the modern woman, which makes Dil To Pagal Hai not perfect, but iconic nonetheless.

You would think that a movie about making soup for your friends and studying moss would be a strange mix, but there’s just something so beautifully delicate about the way writer-director Bas Devos links the lives of two immigrants in Brussels, with the contrast between the length of their stay, the things they make, and how long their work would last. It’s a slow burn connection, and with the pending move, it’s a fleeting one, but the runtime is just right to capture the quiet grace of their connection, the one they share as strangers in a stopping point from different places. Here is subtle and transcendent.

Invisible Victim may not be all that different from the plethora of true crime documentaries available on Netflix and other streaming platforms, but it is worth watching if only to see how misogyny continues to be rampant at best and deadly at worst. Despite being beaten, kidnapped, drugged, and eventually murdered by the superstar footballer Bruno, Eliza Samudio was still largely framed as the perpetrator in the public’s eye because she was deemed a slut. “She died because she was money hungry,” one fan said on social media. A reporter, meanwhile, asked Bruno, “How are you handling all the embarrassment coming your way?” as if the real crime was Eliza tainting Bruno’s glowing career, instead of Bruno ending her short life. The documentary succeeds in arousing the viewer’s anger, though it doesn’t offer anything particularly new to a well-known case apart from Eliza’s never-before-seen messages to her friend, which revealed her fearlessness and defiance up until her untimely end.

Women are rarely depicted in prison for a serious drama– usually, it mostly happens in exploitation films. So when Lion’s Den was released in Cannes, it’s no wonder that it garnered attention, even to the point of being submitted as Argentina’s entry for the Oscars. It’s really mostly a realistic depiction of how an incarcerated mother raised her child, as per Argentine law, they remain together for only four years. However, it’s because of sticking to that fact that the law ends up becoming a time limit that helps drive the story forward. It’s a simple approach, but writer-director Pablo Trapero sticks to this straightforward style, and it ultimately works because of Martina Gusmán’s star-making performance. It’s tough to watch, with the assault, strip searches, and riots, but Leonera is a much more empathetic depiction that’s sadly rare to see.

Rather than portraying the yakuza as the badass, ruthless thugs that bring crime to the streets, A Family is much more subdued. That’s because, with fewer people joining their ranks, the yakuza aren’t the force they used to be, with only a few holdouts scrambling for the scraps. It’s probably a good thing for the country as a whole, but for the protagonists here, the people born and raised in that life, it means losing the community that once gave them everything. A Family still has some of the violence that makes the yakuza genre exciting to watch, but it’s the existential contemplation of the yakuza as a whole that makes the film compelling.

Psychological thriller fans might find God’s Crooked Lines to be a tad derivative. Fans of the novel might find its film adaptation slightly more convoluted than the original text. But for viewers entirely new to both, the undercover psych ward investigation proves to be an intriguing mystery, twisting the plot by playing with alternating timelines and unreliable narration. This new approach makes sense. It does modify the ending, but the new approach eases the novel into visual form, giving a nice rhythm to each reveal. The psychological thriller may not be a perfect adaptation, but Los Renglones Torcidos de Dios maintains the suspense that made the original novel work.

The pulp and machismo that defined the ‘80s is very much present in Vengeance Is Mine, All Others Pay Cash, but instead of glorifying the era, Indonesian auteur Edwin smartly flips the script and puts the headstrong Iteung (Ladya Cheryl) front and center in this subversive and heady action film. As the anti-damsel-in-distress, Iteung expertly wrestles her way through love, all while retaining an endearing cheekiness and independence about her. 

Excellently choreographed, impeccably detailed, and skewed with enough of a feminist bent to keep it fresh, Vengeance Is Mine fittingly won the top prize at the 74th Locarno International Film Festival.

There isn’t anything about Man in Love—a remake of the 2014 South Korean film of the same name—that you haven’t already seen before. But this iteration of the love story between a kindhearted woman and a scoundrel in business with gangsters and creditors benefits from high production values that help Taiwan stay romantic despite the grit of the film’s plot. There’s also an undeniable earnestness to even the most predictable beats here, helping the love story at its center feel more like a heat-of-the-moment bond forged in desperate economic times, and less like an abrupt bout of passion.

Based on the 13-episode series of the same name, Violet Evergarden tells the story of Violet, a scribe commissioned to write letters at a time when telephones and computers had yet to exist. Shell-shocked from her time in the war, Violet is exceptionally stoic, except when she remembers Gilbert, her military superior and sometime lover. His parting words were “I love you,” and through her letters, Violet has been examining the meaning of the phrase since then.

Fans of the series will have no trouble following the events of the film, but if you’re going in cold without any prior exposure to the franchise, it might take a while for you to adjust to its world. More an amalgamation of multiple cultures than a reflection of just one, the imaginary Leidenschaftlich is filled with Japanese-speaking citizens, in modern-day-influenced clothes, with architecture and vistas that could fit right in 1800s Western Europe. Against this backdrop, Violet attempts to restart her life as a writer. Living often doesn’t feel easy, especially when PTSD comes in the form of shocks and painful flashbacks, but loving, as she finds out, might be even harder. A tale of self-forgiveness and forging on, despite all odds, Violet Evergarden is a moving ode to life and love at a time of war.

Funny, sweet, and tropey, Badhaai Do is a unique Hindi dramedy about a lavender marriage. Gay policeman Shardul (Rajkummar Rao) and lesbian teacher Sumi (Bhumi Pednekar) agree to wed in order to satisfy their family’s wishes without exposing their sexual orientations. Unfortunately, this doesn’t stop their family from other expectations, such as that of maintaining their marriage and having a child. After their immediate connection, Shardul and Sumi’s continuous bickering, through Rao and Pednekar’s chemistry, is hilarious, leading to elaborate lies about each other for their family. However, underneath their funny back-and-forth is an understanding between them that almost feels freeing. Their platonic partnership feels like a lifeline in an isolating closet. While India is portrayed here to have a thriving LGBTQ+ community, microaggressions, harassment, and legal discrimination are still present. Despite this, the film carves up moments where Shardul and Sumi actively seek connection, with each other and with other people, including their eventual lovers. The most touching of these moments come when they both allow themselves to be honest.

Third World Romance is what it says in the tin– it’s a love story that blooms in the rundown side of the capital of a developing country. The plot is familiar, especially for people familiar with Filipino rom coms, but writer-director Dwein Baltazar approaches this with a grounded approach. With fancy dinner dates substituted with shared packed rice meals and emotional apologies interrupted by their shifts in the grocery, Bree and Alvin carve out a love that still feels passionate, perhaps made even more so, as they navigate a city where they are disenfranchised. Charlie Dizon and Carlo Aquino’s excellent performances keep their characters’ struggles real, but also make their love feel joyful in spite of that.

If you detest musicals, don’t watch Mohabbatein. The pacing is a tad too slow, the ensemble juggles way too many plotlines, and there are some strange editing choices that can distract from the film. But if you happen to be a musical fan, Mohabbatein has spectacular sequences, with excellent choreography, brilliant blocking, and insanely catchy songs. And it’s all in the service of a story that challenges the ways men approach romance, by embracing love without fear or regret, but with sincerity. Mohabbatein is not perfect– it certainly could be pared down– but it nonetheless makes excellent use of Bollywood tropes in such a novel way.

While marketed as a family drama, Long Live Love! plays out more like a romance film between parents Sati and Meta. Where Meta has dived in, and accepted her role as a wife and mother, former model Sati still clings to the immature lifestyle he’s used to, to the glimmers of fame that he used to have. The premise is genius– there’s something poetic in the way someone who’s constantly obsessed with the look of a photo now has to go on the quest for its behind-the-scenes. There’s something here that questions previous portrayals of toxic masculinity and of marriage primarily because of how they’ll be perceived. However, there seems to be some missing sequences that could have made the ending more devastating.

After the critical and commercial success of Concrete Utopia, it makes sense for Lotte Entertainment to turn it into a franchise. Badland Hunters is a more action-focused spinoff, with that dystopian world looking like a wild, wild Seoul and Ma Dong-seok as its lone ranger. Compared to its predecessor, the commentary is scant, the plot is thin, and the only thing that connects it is the apartment. But even with the B-movie mad scientist plot, long-time stunt coordinator Heo Myung-haeng makes his directorial debut wildly entertaining, with solid action that doesn’t depend too much on CGI. Human reptiles aside, Badland Hunters is just so fun to watch.

It’s heartbreaking that the case of Maria Soledad is as gruesome as it is common. We’ve all heard of or know about a woman who was raped, strangled, and beaten to death for no other reason than her gender. But even though Netflix’s Breaking the Silence tells Soledad’s story well enough, with detailed research and in-depth interviews, it’s ultimately hard to tell it apart from the hundreds of other true crime documentaries the streamer has produced. A cynic would say that Netflix’s interests lie not in advocacy or justice, but in riding the true crime fad. But a more hopeful viewer will want to believe in the film’s truth and stance against femicide. If you’re the former, then Breaking the Silence won’t do much for you. But if you are latter, and I kind of hope you are, then this documentary will be heartbreaking, frustrating, and more importantly, inspiring.

Following the success of the Zom 100 manga and anime, Netflix quickly followed suit with a live-action film, which begs the question: why? Why bother, when the freshly released series is barely a month old and already a vibrant interpretation of the comic book it was based from? Why bother, when you’re not going to bring anything new to the table? The film, more than anything, feels like a rushed cash grab that hopes to capitalize on its predecessors’ success. The premise is clever and relatable—after years of living like a zombie, a jaded employee regains a lust for life when an outbreak threatens to kill him—but the film milks it to death, so much so that by the ending, when the characters finally reach this conclusion, they can’t help but seem slow for spelling out what we’ve already known from the start. The film also looks drab and dreary, a far cry from the series’ experimental wonders. Instead of multi-colored blood bursting with every kill, we simply get metallic confetti in the movie. Instead of dynamic action, we get barely believable stunts that seem more awkward than awe-inspiring. Zom 100: Bucket List of the Dead isn’t bad per se, but it doesn’t look so good next to its much-better counterparts on TV and in print.

The atmosphere communicated within the title Hurricane Season comes off incredibly clearly on screen: this is a film that just feels humid and full of foreboding for a coming storm, with people feeling all manner of guilt while secluded in their own homes. Cinematographer María Secco’s gorgeous colors and brown tones fill the 4:3 aspect ratio nicely, and director Elisa Miller lets events unfold with the stately pace of a long novel. There’s something fascinating here about how each new “chapter” or perspective doesn’t really lead to more answers, but simply to more anguish closing in from all sides.

So it would be understandable if some may be put off by how unrelentingly dark Hurricane Season is, especially as the trans woman whose death becomes the central event never enjoys the kind of characterization everybody around her gets. Apart from how the film illustrates that discrimination against women, against repressed “taboo” sexuality, and against access to proper reproductive health only threatens to grow under poverty, it can be difficult to grasp what point the movie is trying to make. Social realism certainly has its place in cinema, but the different perspective in this particular film still don’t add up to more than the sum of its parts.

In depictions of organized crime, we’re used to the stone-cold crime boss, and the conflicted, unwilling crime lord, but Miss Shampoo presents a new version of the gangster– one that’s fallen head over heels in love. The film plays out in hilarious ways, with the humor expected from writer-director Giddens Ko, and Daniel Hong and Vivian Sung are able to inject some heart into their performances with surprising chemistry. That being said, the film is clearly more interested in mocking organized crime, so the film feels more skewed towards Tai rather than Fen. It’s still really entertaining, though Miss Shampoo had so much more it could have shown, had it focused equally on Fen’s perspective.

Mystery films and whodunits have placed the rich and powerful in their crosshairs for generations now, and Murder Mubarak proudly follows in that tradition through a tried and tested formula. So while there isn’t anything particularly surprising here, the film nails the tone it needs, smartly placing the focus away from the central crime and poking fun at the entire ecosystem of privilege and ego that gets revealed in its wake. Unfortunately, the movie also doesn’t sustain this momentum till the end, as it abruptly stumbles toward its inevitable revelations without giving itself time to let the consequences breathe. When it’s all over, it actually feels like we don’t know many of these individual characters any better than the overall situation they’re in.

Pushing an already extreme activity even further beyond its limits, Ueli Steck and Dani Arnold have became the world champions of speed climbing—a variation of the sport that places much greater importance on direct competition over communing with nature. It’s fascinating to hear what drives Steck and Arnold to courting death like this, and to see how their vastly different backgrounds and processes have still made them equals in the field. The documentary eventually runs out of ideas, however, as it clumsily shifts tones leading into its last third, and concludes abruptly without much synthesis of everything that had come before. It’s still a worthwhile adventure whether or not one is into climbing; it’s just disappointing that this story of such a unique rivalry settles into a more generic rhythm by the end.

If you’re expecting a twisty and thrilling look at a dangerous group of hackers who hide deep within a military bunker in Europe, and who refer to their entire operation as “straight from a James Bond movie,” then you might be disappointed with Cyberbunker, a dragging documentary that relies too heavily on talking heads for momentum. It takes 30 minutes to establish the relevance of these figures, and a full hour before it finally explains the actual crime and wrongdoings they’re complicit in. The most interesting parts of the case, like the FBI’s involvement, Cyberbunker’s links to the propagation of child pornography, and the group’s advocacy on internet privacy, are completely buried beneath a stack of unnecessary tidbits. I appreciate the effort of the filmmakers and the interviewees coming together to make something decently informative, but by the end of it, you’re left wondering whether all this was better off as a Wikipedia article.

Crypto Boy may seem, at first, to primarily warn against the allure of cryptocurrency, but at heart, it’s a family drama centered around an ambitious man and his immigrant Egyptian father. The Dutch Netflix film is actually a whole family affair, with writer-director Shady El-Hamus casting his brother Shahine and their father Sabri Saad in a real and relatable struggle between generations. That being said, the film is definitely less interested in the actual cryptocurrency scam presented. It takes such a predictable route that the protagonist comes off as foolish, rather than understandably ambitious. With his parallel to the villain, the film seems like it wants its viewers to empathize with the rich Mark Zuckerberg-wannabe, rather than cathartically put him through the consequences. This makes the film feel as disappointing as the crypto promises, as viewers are lured into the film for this, but come out with another thing entirely.

Nuovo Olimpo is stunning, atmospheric, and the very concept of the film – where lost love intersects with Italian cinema – is an interesting one. Starting the film’s relationship at a specific movie theater feels reminiscent of Cinema Paradiso, especially as Enea’s path mirrors Salvatore becoming a famous director. However, the film doesn’t really dive deep into this concept, nor does it add much to say with its gay romance. There’s something here about the relationship between the creator and the viewer that is undeniably interlinked, and there’s a hope that they can meet in the middle. But when the film doesn’t care about the couple’s individual paths, there are times it feels like it’s just going through the motions.

Suzzanna: Kliwon Friday Night is the second part of a trilogy dedicated to Indonesia’s queen of horror, billed as Suzzanna New Generation. The trilogy recreates three of Suzzanna’s iconic films, and the second installment is based on the 1986 film Malam Jumat Kliwon. The supernatural horror isn’t exactly scary– the film takes a bit too long between the scares, and there are moments that are downright hilarious. However, fans of the original scream queen would appreciate Luna Maya’s take on her demonic role, shifting the sundel bolong into a woman rightfully out for revenge.

Nostalgia is a powerful emotion, and it’s the main reason why filmmakers keep cashing in with old media franchises. Archie has been reimagined before, with the bewildering twists and turns of the CW’s Riverdale, but this time, it’s India’s turn with the franchise, and Graphic India and Tiger Baby Films partnered with the original publication to reimagine the town as an Anglo-Indian community in The Archies. The production design is undoubtedly stunning, with the maximalist Bollywood spectacle borrowing from 60’s Americana, and the musical numbers aren’t half bad either. However, it’s the story and characterization that falters, as it feels like the leads are just going through the motions of the familiar love triangles. The film is still fun to watch, but ultimately, it feels like The Archies relies on spectacle to make up for its shortcomings.

Ordinary people don’t choose to join a war, but oftentimes, they are dragged into it, forced to fight, and become victims of it because of people in power. Adrishya Jalakangal takes this idea in a dystopic future, where war has turned India into a police state, and mixes in a watchman who’s able to talk with the dead. While the message is necessary and the idea is novel, the execution feels uneven, as the anti-war and magic realist elements feel like elements from what should be two separate movies. Alongside the sluggish pace and the dialogue that’s a tad too on the nose, it’s hard to get through Adrishya Jalakangal when it can’t decide what it wants to focus on.

Parenting is hard by itself, but it’s moreso hard when done alone, especially if there was supposed to be a partner alongside the journey. Thank You, I’m Sorry depicts this through Sara, who has to deal with her husband’s absence and difficulties in connecting with her husband’s family in his stead, on top of her pregnancy, but it’s her connection with her estranged sister Linda that can make or break her journey. The dynamic between the sisters is what drives the film. Sanna Sundqvist and Charlotta Björck manage to depict the strained yet clearly loving relationships naturally, and it’s lovely to see the mundane ways they reestablish their bond. It’s a unique story, though it does feel rushed and some of the humor can be totally off-putting.

Two people with different thoughts on love discover a common ground: they’re both anti-romantics. Realizing they got off on the wrong foot, they spend more time with each other and bond over realistic ideas of modern love. At one point, Maria (Rosalie Thomass) and Karl (Laurence Rupp) even diss romantic comedies for their cheesy music and naive understanding of fate and destiny. Their conversations are engaging and thoughtful, even and especially when they oppose one another. But just when you think you’re watching something smart and novel, Maria and Karl fall into the same implausible trappings they claim to hate. Suddenly, the film turns soft and transforms into the romantic comedy it once criticized. If only it had pushed into anti-romance territory even further and allowed Maria and Karl to truly hash out their differences, thorns and tension and all, then this could have been a truly interesting romantic film. Instead, it’s a standard romantic comedy that’s worse off for pretending to be above the genre, even though it’s really not.

There’s a sense of disconnectedness in RedLife, as the film isn’t centered on one storyline, but rather two storylines that at first don’t seem connected. Ter, a young snatcher, marries a sex worker named Mild, while Som is a student who aspires to escape her prostitute mom’s poverty, especially after she falls for the more affluent Peach. At first, the film depicts their lives in stunningly framed, slice-of-life moments that captures a different side of Bangkok, one that’s tough to depict, but one people know about. But they do intersect, later on in the movie, in a series of events that leads them trapped in tragedy, despite all they did to escape it. The unexpected twist makes their lives surprisingly poignant, though RedLife’s journey might take too long to get there.

For a film with virtually no plot, there’s a lot of fuss going on in Oregon. The characters are constantly yelling and complaining, but the noise—like the plot, the set, and everything else about the film—is empty. The beauty of a Turkish summer is reduced to indoor sets, where much of the film takes place, and there here’s barely any movement, leaving us stuck with dialogue and half-baked backstories that don’t seem to serve any real purpose other than to fill in the film’s overlong runtime. The problems are superficial and solved almost immediately, purely by talking it seems, and there’s no attempt to connect the many disparate stories it shows. A farce like this could’ve worked if it got sillier and more ridiculous by the minute, but Oregon just goes in repetitive, unfunny circles. 

After Black Hawk Down (2001), the casual moviegoer would have thought that the rescue operation was only conducted by American soldiers. In reality, it was a multinational effort, and Malaysia’s side of the story has finally been depicted in MALBATT: Misi Bakara. Surprisingly, it doesn’t play out as a straightforward, action-packed rescue mission– writer-director Adrian Teh does deliver the action, but the film also contemplates about the team itself: how they made sense of their opposition towards a country they shared religions with, and how they experienced the ignorance from American soldiers that didn’t even know where Malaysia was. While some introductory sequences falter, and the film fumbles certain green screen moments, MALBATT: Misi Bakara brings both the spectacle and the drama that makes it stand out from other depictions of the rescue mission.

With their personal life offered for consumption, carefully curated for viewers and sponsors, the social media influencer has become a fascinating character to study, especially with the job becoming Gen Z’s top career aspiration. As If It’s True examines this character through Gemma Stone, using the fake relationship trope to examine the lengths to which she would cling to her clout. John Roger’s debut feature blurs the line between real and the fake, not just for Gemma and James but also for the viewers, and it brings up much to say about how this aspiration can ruin people. However, the lines are blurred too much, as the ideas don’t mesh cohesively as it could. As If It’s True is an interesting character study, but the film hasn’t allowed itself to see the human side of the people highly incentivized to be fake for views.

Just like with its predecessor, it can be surprising how sober Street Flow 2 is. You expect stories about street gang life to be of a certain tone, but these films are more interested in the emotional and philosophical struggle to respond to violence and poverty in a just and proper way. This sequel continues this conversation from a more stable (but therefore less interesting) position: youngest sibling Noumouké is no longer torn between the influence of his older brothers, as all three try to move forward as a united front. But without a more distinct dilemma driving the action forward, the film ends up spinning its wheels—and rushes to an incomplete ending  that doesn’t say enough about survival, lawfulness, or the African immigrant experience in France.

Like its governor having many wives, The Last Wife has too many elements left unsatisfied. To its credit, it has lovely scenery, costumes, and set design that matches the era. With Linh forced into a marriage to pay off her father’s debts, reuniting with a childhood love, the film also had the erotic potential of Lady Chatterley’s Lover, with a thrilling second act twist that occurs when they get discovered. However, the film gets dragged down by the slow pace and random comedic scenes that don’t add to the thematic stakes, sometimes even distracting the viewer from the dismal conditions the titular wife is forced into.

Sometimes, to get to know one’s self, one has to get out of their usual life. This is what makes the idea of travel so alluring, and Dhak Dhak is one such movie that portrays that idea, with some twists. Instead of a car, four women ride with motorcycles, and instead of flat plains, the leads go through one of the highest mountain passes in the world. That being said, we don’t really get to know the women beyond the common issues that women in India go through. The cast tries to make the best of it, and Sanjana Sanghi, Dia Mirza, Fatima Sana Shaikh, and Ratna Pathak Shah portray their characters excellently, but instead of learning who they are, we mostly receive more product placement instead. It’s still a pleasant ride, though Dhak Dhak takes predictable and well-trodden routes in their approach.

With an urgent subject and plenty of that trademark Netflix polish, Bhakshak is nothing if not watchable and consistently engaging. However, for all of its motivated performances and high production values, there actually doesn’t seem to be much that happens in the film by way of investigation or character development. Much of the plot seems to progress solely on inertia, or through conversations that only ever repeat the film’s themes. And with every new, intense scene of young girls being threatened or hurt at the hands of abusive men, it becomes harder to understand what these scenes are trying to tell us, especially when they keep the victims as voiceless as they are from the beginning.

A remake of the 2018 South Korean film of the same name, Keys to the Heart never really seems like it comes together as a thematic whole. In its bid to be a modest slice of life—as a story that just happens to feature boxing and classical music amid family conflict—its separate parts wind up feeling underdeveloped. So despite admirable work from its cast and big emotional moments that are treated with a surprising level of sensitivity, there’s always a sense that the film is constantly trying to be a soap opera instead of simply being a messier, more organic thing.

If Red Ollero’s first special on Netflix doesn’t have the most consistent laughs or the most original punchlines to make, it still serves as a good introduction for users of the platform to crass, everyday Filipino humor. Whether due to editing or Ollero’s writing itself, there are a number of times during his set when he stays on a topic for far too long without adding much insight to it or building on things he’s already said. But as the special goes on, there’s still something to be taken from how Ollero treats the mundane with an almost hyperfixation. Intentionally or not, he sketches out an absurd view of ordinary life in the Philippines with the self-assurance of someone who doesn’t care whether you’re grossed out or not.

With its grounded approach, A Day and a Half feels real, even if the exact events are fictional. Inspired by a couple of lines from a 2008 news article, Fares Fares crafts an intimate family drama for his first directorial debut, built in the bones of a hostage thriller. As a thriller, Fares consistently maintains its suspense, camera eyeing the gun present in most of the film. However, as the cop Lucas tries to defuse the situation with hostage-taker Artan, and the situation escalates to the National Task Force, Artan and Louise confront their broken family, lines opened by improvised hostage negotiations. While Artan’s understandable reasons shouldn’t absolve him of his actions, A Day and a Half effectively builds tension, only relieved at its slightly unrealistic but cathartic ending.

You don’t really have to watch the first two movies to get this third installment of the rom-com trilogy. Squared Love Everlasting is largely about how two people who are settled and secure in their relationship deal with a major curveball, in this case, the revelation that Enzo has some unfinished business with his ex, Ewa. The film works, in many cases, because the leads are charming, the script is lightweight, and the scenery is exquisite. It’s also not too focused on love as it touches on parenthood, too, and the potential trouble it poses to someone as bright, ambitious, and independent as Monika. In fact, Monika’s own story is so strong on its own that it often feels like it could be its own film. But sadly, this isn’t her film; it’s Enzo’s too. And his story, one of former and current flames, just never reaches the same level as Monika’s. It’s plain and generic, elevated only by his easygoing appeal and Ewa’s oddball antics. Apart from those, however, Squared Love is just your run-of-the-mill romcom you can stand to not watch.

In Love and Deep Water is torn between multiple concepts. There’s a murder, sure, and a butler trying to figure out who’s the killer, but there also happens to be a romance plot where the same butler falls in love with the passenger that informs him of their partners’ infidelity. The film also tries to squeeze in comedy with the way the killers try to hide the dead body, the ridiculousness of some passengers, and cheeky but contextless commentary. While the romance is lovely, In Love and Deep Water isn’t the fun and chaotic murder mystery promised, as it drowns itself with interesting ideas that never really fully pans out.

Being made for free, fanfiction is free to play with controversial, less print-friendly concepts like gender-bending your favorite character. This freedom might go into strange territory, but most often than not, writers use fanfiction for escapism or for catharsis of their day-to-day lives. While the film doesn’t delve into fanfiction’s creative process, Polish drama Fanfic does recognize how the genre’s experimentation allows its writers to safely and freely explore different styles of expression, the same way teenage years hopefully do for its viewers. And as Tosiek goes through the trappings of coming-of-age self-discovery, it’s lovely and comforting and cathartic like the stories he writes.

With plenty of films disavowing romance, sometimes, at the end of the day, you just want to curl up in bed to a cheesy romcom that earnestly believes in the power of true love. Wedding Games is one such romcom coming from Brazil, where the two lovers try to make their destination beach wedding perfect, despite multiple logistical mishaps along the way. It’s a totally generic wedding day story. It’s lighthearted fluff that doesn’t dive deep and contains all the familiar plot twists and comedic shenanigans, but it looks good and it’s done well. Wedding Games might not be particularly groundbreaking, but it’s not bad.