30 Best Thrillers on Tubi Right Now

Not many places are worse to find a dead body than in the border of North and South Korea. The tensions are high, the trust is low, and the conflict between them hasn’t been resolved in more than half a century. Joint Security Area is centered on a whodunit surrounding two North Korean soldiers at the border, but Park Chan-wook crafts a compelling mystery not caused by international politics, but rather by friendship between soldiers in the lower ranks, a unity and brotherhood that’s tragically hidden and forced to separate because of lines made by their higher ups. It may not compare to Park’s more famous films, but Joint Security Area hinted at the filmmaker that was to come.

The film that catapulted Kevin Costner to fame, No Way Out, is based on a novel by Kenneth Fearing, “The Big Clock”, and is also preceded by a film adaptation of it, around 40 years prior. Director Roger Donaldson found himself in charge of a film, haunted by the Cold War and spy thriller tropes, but already aligning itself with the late 80s erotic thriller. In a way, No Way Back is a symbol of this transitional period, but by retaining the classic noir vibe (deception, fleeing, yearning), it becomes a tribute to the past. In the film’s own past, a love triangle is taking shape in a rather unconventional way: layered with all three of the aforementioned dispositions. Two men want the same women, but their relationship is further complicated by professional hierarchies and the quest to own the past they both shared with Susan. 

Despite being based on a 19th-century serial novel, Lost Illusions feels remarkably close to contemporary concerns about fake news and the devaluing of art for profit. But as the story is also, obviously, set in the 19th century, all this bribery and these backdoor dealings are done entirely through the written word and by sending runners from one Parisian theater to the next—and the result is uniquely thrilling. Nearly every character is a terrible person (like in an old-timey Goodfellas way) and it can get tiring seeing the film glorify their hustle, but the energy it brings is rare to find in any other period drama.

If I told you this was a crime thriller from the ‘80s, you’d probably conjure cheesy music, title cards, big hair, unearned machismo, and a Miami Vice-esque vibe. You wouldn’t be completely far off. To Live and Die in LA, directed by William Friedkin (The French Connection, The Exorcist) has some of those, but they don’t define the movie. Starring some familiar faces (including Willem Dafoe and John Turturo), the LA-set thriller is lean and fast-paced. While some films of the era might be padded with fillers to evoke machismo and cool, this one is primarily interested in the hunt and its complicated characters. It’s probably why it’s one of the few that have stood the test of time.

After humanity has inflicted horrendous atrocities to each other during the world wars, it’s no wonder that there was a lingering distrust that led to the current state of politics today. It’s this suspicion that drives the mystery of Pickup on South Street, the city-sleek crime film that bridged the 40s noir with Cold War-era espionage drama through a misplaced microfilm holding critical information for a communist spy ring. Through an outstanding opening act, writer-director Samuel Fuller captured the anxiety of the milieu– the train sequence where every player, knowing or unknowing, only uses their eyes and gaze to gauge each other and their succeeding moves. It effectively sets the film into motion, but it also questioned the state-sanctioned surveillance in the name of patriotism despite the real domestic hardships some of its citizens have faced, including the two leads hustling in the underground for their own survival. It’s this nuance that made Pickup on South Street a film noir classic.

We take it for granted now, but Michael Mann’s feature debut Thief was one of the first crime thrillers that took style and substance very seriously—so much so that its neon-lit, rain-soaked, slightly tilted shots continue to be markers of the genre. Thief is visually and sonically stunning, but the titular criminal, Frank, is most remarkable. Caan plays him with such heart, you have to wonder if he’s gone through the same things. Here’s a guy who was handed a tough hand. Violence is the only life he’s known, but he aspires for a better one, filled with a nice home, a happy family, and financial security. His means may be illegal, but our ends are the same: we all just want a comfortable life. How Frank pursues it with such ferocity is thrilling and tragic to watch.

Before the Devil Knows You’re Dead is Sidney Lumet’s last film, and in many ways, it distills what the director explored in his prolific body of work: What is justice? And does everyone deserve it? Shot digitally at a time when the concept was still quite new, Before the Devil moves fast and takes us uncomfortably close to the lives of three desperate men: cash-strapped Hank (Hawke), corrupt Andy (Seymour-Hoffman), and vengeful Charles (Finney). The same tragic events unfold through their perspectives, but in any case, we get to see what drives them to do such horrid things. Are we suppose to sympathize with them? It’s a question that will nag you long after the credits roll.

FBI agents Rupert and Alan (Gene Hackman and Willem Dafoe) visit Jim Crow-era Mississippi to investigate the disapperance of three civil rights activists. They find out soon enough, however, that answers won’t come easy when local officials and police have ties with the KKK. There’s no shortage of films like Mississippi Burning, but it stands out by simply being well-made. The cinematography is stunning (it won the Oscar that year) and the script is sharp, but the real highlights are Hackman, Dafoe, and Frances McDormand, the latter of whom plays the wife of a violently racist sherrif. The film is difficult to watch to be sure, but as long violence and prejudice reign supreme, it’s also a necessary one. Apart from winning the Oscar for Best Cinematography, the film also sweeped Oscar, Golden Globe, and BAFTA nominations mainly for Hackman and McDormand, and for directing, editing, and sound.

Vague statement alert: Burning is not a movie that you “get”; it’s a movie you experience.

Based on a short story by Murakami, it’s dark and bleak in a way that comes out more in the atmosphere of the movie rather than what happens in the story.

Working in the capital Seoul, a young guy from a poor town near the North Korean border runs into a girl from his village. As he starts falling for her, she makes an unlikely acquaintance with one of Seoul’s wealthy youth (played by Korean-American actor Steven Yeun, pictured above.)

This new character is mysterious in a way that’s all-too-common in South Korea: young people who have access to money no one knows where it came from, and who are difficult to predict or go against.

Two worlds clash, poor and rich, in a movie that’s really three movies combined into one – a character-study, a romance, and a revenge thriller.

When he’s accepted into the prestigious Islamic university Al-Azhar, fisherman’s son Adam (Tawfeek Barhom) gets an eye-opening education — but not the kind he expected. A place associated with notions of purity is imagined as a hotbed of hypocrisy and corruption here, as naive young Adam finds himself unwittingly embroiled in a state plot to seize control of Al-Azhar (because, as one government official puts it, “We can’t accept having two pharaohs in the land”). Cairo Conspiracy’s intricate plot confronts monsters in government and strips away religious leaders’ veneer of divinity as a reminder that they’re merely fallible men. What’s more, the film grapples with the knotty mess of politics raging inside the institution’s walls in such a way that even its palatial courtyard feels claustrophobic. Rife with paranoia and subterfuge, Cairo Conspiracy feels utterly unique thanks to this skillful transposing of the shadowy machinations of courtly intrigue dramas and ’70s paranoid thrillers into a very contemporary Egyptian setting.