100 Best Foreign Movies on Tubi Right Now

When it comes to fantasy anime between two races, usually there would be some sort of romance between the leads. But Maquia: When the Promised Flower Blooms does it differently. Instead, between the humans and the immortal humanoid lorph race that weaves a chronicle of their history is a mother-son relationship, with the human son set to out-age his mom. It’s a surprising heartbreak to contemplate love, mortality, memory, and greed, and it happens to be paired with downright beautiful animation that easily brings tears to the eye. While it didn’t garner similar popularity as Your Name or A Silent Voice, Maquia: When the Promised Flower Blooms nonetheless is an ambitious directorial debut with an equally bittersweet ending.

Martial arts is awesome, comedy is awesome, but the idea of putting them together wasn’t really explored until the late 1970s, when a young Jackie Chan made his breakthrough. One of the films he starred in was The Drunken Master, where Chan’s mischievous character goes under the tutelege of the titular teacher to fight against his father’s assassin. It’s a funny film, one that presents a different, more playful side to a real-life master, but the hilarious, perfectly choreographed fights eventually formed the foundation for Chan’s action-packed slapstick style, and even moved the entire martial arts genre into a new direction. The Drunken Master hinted at the cinema that was to come.

After the sudden death of a teacher, 55-year-old Algerian immigrant Bachir Lazhar is hired at an elementary school in Montreal. Struggling with a cultural gap between himself and his students at first, he helps them to deal with the situation, revealing his own tragic past. A strong portrait without any weird sentimentality. 11-year-old actress Sophie Nélisse makes her brilliant debut.

Vivid, sweeping landscapes surround the simple beauty of a Mongolian family navigating the pressures of globalization while still practicing their traditional nomadic lifestyle. Ostensibly it’s about the charming, captivating relationship that forms between a young girl, Nansal, and a dog that she finds. However, the magic of this slow, enthralling film is that it captures the brilliance of familial relationships and power of culture and stories through this simple backdrop. And it is a simple film; everything you can learn from this film comes through its gentle storytelling that invites you to recognize the beauty and profundity that exists in everyday lives.

Jia Zhangke (who NPR critic John Powers once called “perhaps the most important filmmaker working in the world today”), directed this movie based on the story of a gangster he knew while growing up.

And he is far from being the only noticeable talent here. Actress Tao Zhao shines as a character called Qiao, a dancer who infiltrates the crime scene in Northern China by way of her boyfriend (the gangster). When a boss leader is assassinated, Qiao finds herself in jail after she refuses to incriminate her boyfriend. 

This is a gangster movie but it’s also about how Qiao processes her time in jail and what she does once she gets out. It serves more as a character study and a picture of modern-day China.

The bond between parent and child is fundamental to the child’s life, but not necessarily the other way around. Even when the parents chose to have them into their lives, the child will always live within the parent’s context, not the other way around. Based on a book by Christine Angot, An Impossible Love is centered on that relationship, with the daughter reckoning with her parents’ love story through narration, reckoning with the betrayals both of them have done onto her. It’s a risky story for writer-director Catherine Corsini, one she made picturesque and nostalgic with period-accurate production design, but behind the beautiful scenery lies the emotionally touching exploration of this difficult dynamic, made much more heartbreaking with Virginie Efira and Jehnny Beth’s excellent performances.

With plenty of old men having extramarital affairs, taking advantage of younger women and leaving them forlorn in love, it can feel deceptively easy to take sides in the first forty minutes of He Loves Me… He Loves Me Not. Who wouldn’t side with Angélique, especially with the innocent, childlike face of Audrey Tautou? And yet, when the twist occurs, the film fills the gaps in totally unexpected ways, gradually escalating to a terrible and sad conclusion about this seemingly romantic girl. It’s hard to further talk about He Loves Me… He Loves Me Not without getting into spoiler territory, so if this is the first time you’ve heard of the movie, go and watch it without any context.

When the country rises in rebellion against your dictatorial rule, we imagine that could be quite difficult. After a series of failures and atrocities committed to keep power, no one in the world would empathize with the dictator in question. Doing exactly this, however, made for a striking movie in The President. Never naming an actual country, but based generally on real world revolutions, the film plucks a dictator and his grandson into the poverty that his regime has inflicted upon its people. It’s quite cathartic to see the two reap the karmic consequences of what the dictator has done, but it’s also thought-provoking, as the film straightforwardly demonstrates the way revolution eventually takes cyclical form, especially for the movements that allowed the very atrocities they sought to end. It’s not a film with an easy-to-match metaphor, though, given the production country and the director Mohsen Makhmalbaf’s home country, one could guess certain influences, but The President nonetheless is a striking portrait of a city violently changing hands.

Given that it is a modern day, colored film remake of a classic, Hara-Kiri: Death of a Samurai was always going to be compared to the 1962 film, especially since it’s considered one of the greatest Japanese films of all time. Admittedly, there’s not a lot added aside from the 3D filming, and for fans of director Takashi Miike, the remake is much more restrained than his other films. However, Nobuyasu Kita’s cinematography is striking, Ryuichi Sakamoto’s score is impeccable, and the performances still deliver on the film’s contemplation of honor, sacrifice, and the self-interest of the elite. Hara-Kiri: Death of a Samurai doesn’t compare to the classic, but it’s nonetheless a decent introduction for the generations that missed the original story.

At first, Little Forest seemed to just be a gentle film extolling the beauty of the countryside. Many a story has been based on that idea, and sure enough, the film does have aesthetic, gorgeous shots of the orchard, the lake, and the garden Hye-won ran back to, albeit with much more delicious food making scenes. But, as we get to learn more about her, the script subtly unfolds to reveal a personal family drama at the center. Moving back home, therefore, isn’t just to take a vacation– it becomes a meditative break for Hye-won to recreate, and thus, understand the choices her mother made, and it becomes a potent reminder of not just the pain, but also the good things that she left behind. Little Forest has plenty of the familiar countryside virtues of self-sufficiency, mindfulness, and community, but it approaches these themes in a more compelling way.