80 Best Foreign Movies on Netflix Right Now

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.

While not having world-ending stakes or large-scale operations, Sixty Minutes just works as an action movie. Sure, the plot is familiar and a little far fetched, but the film maximizes the potential of its premise, with excellently choreographed fight sequences working in tandem with the cinematography to reflect the MMA fighter leading the movie. Each moment isn’t wasted, with the action escalating each time Octa finds out about the hidden information kept from him about the match he’s planned to skip, and the film easily keeps track of his journey through neon-lit stopwatch faces and maps. And when we (and Octa) feel tired from all the fighting, the film ends right on time after sixty (and twenty nine) minutes.

We would never know when we would die, but oftentimes, when faced with a deadline to one’s mortality, most would tie up loose ends, make the most of the time left, and reunite with their loved ones. 24 Hours with Gaspar is centered instead on the revenge of a grizzled, worn-out detective that only has one last regret: letting go of his childhood friend Kirana, not being able to find her. He hopes to enact his revenge by enlisting some friends and disgruntled victims of Wan Ali, who’s the most likely guy behind her disappearance. There are moments when the dialogue does falter, but Gaspar’s adventure is depicted in the most stylish way, complete with slick cinematography and a soundtrack that sets the mood for each turn in the mystery, even in a fairly depressing low tech dystopia. The film’s sci-fi might not be as hopeful as usual, and is mainly limited to Gaspar’s artificial heart, but 24 Hours with Gaspar is such a fun neo-noir mystery mash to watch, as long as you don’t expect something akin to John Wick or Blade Runner.

This story involves a jealous sister and a boy, which is enough of a foundation for a suspenseful story. Though a bit lacking in depth, onscreen interactions carry a lot of emotional weight and strike the balance of having enough said and unsaid. The upbeat pop hits and casual banter throughout goes a long way to at least break up the film’s heavy atmosphere. At its heaviest, it is raw and glorious in its unraveling, placing the ugly side of grief next to the alluring side of envy. But throughout it all, it treats the plot with enough respect to not just be some cheap glorified fantasy.

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.

This film is immediately charming and spends ample time taking you through the mind of Goyo, to where you see where the wheels start turning in his head for each new interaction. It captures his infatuation, obsession, discomfort, and panic, without overdoing or over-explaining anything. Goyo himself (Nicolás Furtado) is an excellent heart of the show with his friendliness and sincerity, but stealing the show alongside him are his and Matute’s (Pablo Rago) solid sibling dynamic and Saula’s (Soledad Villamil) ice cold confrontation skills when you get to see it. It’s a very sweet film that avoids being cheesy, and I imagine Goyo himself would find this movie to be decent if he saw it.

The documentary starts off with a feeler that this is a wild soap opera, a real life science experiment that cannot be enacted in good conscience. If you’d never read the blurb, you’d see the coincidences slowly revealed layer by layer until the story finally clicks. Early on, it feels reliant on telling as opposed to showing, but it could just be a case of working with what you have footage-wise. The openness of our main interviewees does get better with time, but the exploration of the psychological effect and implications of such an event was lacking considering the level of coincidence we’re dealing with. All in all, it’s heartwarming, albeit with the exciting story beats very spaced out.

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.

Through dreamlike colors and tears clouding my eyes, Drawing Closer paints a painful depiction of persistence in love and death. Initially, a number of coincidences and significant details about our main characters Haruna (Natsuki Deguchi) and Akito (Ren Nagase) and their interconnectedness seem to sprout up conveniently, without much weight behind them. But once the ball gets rolling, the film is feel-good in the worst way, an emotional deathtrap, and the most dangerous movie in the world for those who believe in love, and those perpetually afraid of dying in an expensive deathbed. Just thoroughly devastating and beautiful. A 10 in my heart.