At long last, it’s time for a rundown of my favorite films that 2024 had to offer. I’ve seen some discussion about 2024 being a bad year for movies and that makes absolutely no sense to me. 2024 was a GREAT year for movies, and if you don’t think so you simply haven’t been paying attention. I think the year was specifically strong for horror films (at least 8 of the entries on my list, depending on what you count as horror) and documentaries (5 of the entries on my list). Perhaps it’s because both of these genres allow us to cope with the real-life horrors of the 2020’s in different ways? But there were amazing films in pretty much any genre you can think of. Perhaps the perception about the quality of movies of 2024 exists because, as is often the case, many of my picks are films that haven’t been widely seen or discussed, and I hope that you find these films intriguing enough to check them out! This also means that a lot of the most critically-acclaimed films of the year are conspicuously absent from my list which I do feel a need to address. If there’s a movie that you’re thinking, “Why is that not on the list?!?!” unless that movie is called Emilia Pérez or A Complete Unknown, I probably didn’t dislike it! Some of them I had mixed feelings about, and some I quite liked but I just ended up liking these particular films more. If there’s a movie you’re surprised is not on my list, let me know and I’d love to talk about it! Now, enough preamble! Here are my picks for my 30 favorite films of 2024!
30) Longlegs
Osgood Perkins (the son of horror icon Anthony Perkins) has already established himself as one of the most interesting voices in horror cinema today. And while I hesitate to say his fourth feature, Longlegs, is definitively his best film to date, it definitely shows an evolution in Perkins as a filmmaker, and has a newfound confidence to match the style he has showcased in all of his previous works. Longlegs follows FBI agent Lee Harker (Maika Monroe) who is assigned to a strange series of murder-suicides which appear to be linked to a serial killer despite the perpetrators all being different. As Lee delves further into the mystery, she uncovers surprising and unsettling developments, and begins to suspect that she might even be more closely entwined with the mystery than she initially thought. Any FBI-agent-hunting-a-serial-killer movie is inevitably going to get comparisons to The Silence of the Lambs, but Longlegs is a very different type of film; it’s far more experimental and gritty, and it’s willing to leave some answers to the audience’s interpretation while still providing enough information to satisfyingly solve the mystery at its core. You can’t really talk about Longlegs without talking about Nicolas Cage’s genuinely strange performance. While it’s easy to write off Cage's general acting style as "weird" given his past filmography, this performance truly feels novel for Cage—he’s not just relying on his usual tricks, and his weirdness makes him utterly unrecognizable. It's as interesting as he’s ever been, and that’s saying something, and Cage crafts an intriguing, hypnotic performance that is grounded and not merely weird for weirdness’ sake.
29) Janet Planet
The best films about young children do not just tell that child’s story. Rather, they manage to capture the emotion and feeling of childhood, and transport the viewer to a specific place and time. That is something that Janet Planet succeeds with beautifully. The film debut of renowned playwright Annie Baker, Janet Planet would be a beautiful watch if only for how naturally and gracefully these characters appear to fall off the screen and into the room surrounding you. It evokes nostalgia, even if your childhood doesn’t resemble that of the young protagonist, and amazingly does so without resorting to tired cliches. The film follows 11 year-old Lacy (Zoe Ziegler) and her single mother Janet (Julianne Nicholson), and tracks the nature and strength of their relationship over the course of a single summer. It’s clear that Lacy and Janet are extremely close, but it’s also clear that their relationship is at a turning point. Like many preteens, Lacy is starting to understand her mother’s potential to be flawed, even though that doesn’t lessen any affection Lacy has for her. And as the two have in many ways relied solely on each other for quite some time, their dynamic is tested by the arrival of three new people who enter Janet’s life in succession: Wayne (Will Patton), a new romantic interest, Regina (Sophie Okonedo), a free-spirited old friend, and Avi (Elias Koteas), a charismatic theatre troupe leader. Once again, Janet Planet manages to touch on a very specific feeling, of when you’re a kid and are forced to deal with people simply because they are in your parents’ life. Lacy has varying degrees of affection for these three, but all provide their own disruptions in some way. Baker is able to navigate the conflict this brings in a way that feels grounded and staggeringly important, all while maintaining a calm slice-of-life quality to the film. The terrific screenplay is aided by a series of strong performances. Everyone in this film is great, with Okonedo being a definite standout of Janet’s three concurrent friends. Nicholson received rave reviews for her performance at numerous festivals, and she deserves them—her Janet is enigmatic yet familiar. She manages to feel ordinary while capturing the qualities that make her extraordinary in Lacy’s eyes. But as good as Nicholson is, this film 100% belongs to the young Zoe Ziegler, in what was a truly breakout performance. I’ve long been a defender of child actors—separate from the necessary conversation about how they are treated by the industry, I loathe conversations that seem to dismiss child actors as being untalented as a rule. Ziegler’s performance her is confident and transcendent, and as effortless a leading performance as any other this year.
28) Red Rooms
Serial killer media, unfortunately, runs the risk of feeling boring nowadays. With so many iconic serial killers on screen (both fictional and based on true life) it increasingly feels harder for a movie about them to genuinely stand out or find anything new to say. Enter Red Rooms, a movie that is centered around the alleged crimes of Ludovic Chevalier (Maxwell McCabe-Lokos), who is on trial for committing violent murders of multiple young women, which he broadcast on the dark web. Because the man in the videos is masked, there is some doubt as to whether it’s really Ludovic, and in fact there are several protestors—mostly women—who seem convinced of Ludovic’s innocence, in part due to his seemingly kind and gentle demeanor. One of those obsessed with the trial is Kelly-Anne (Juliette Gariépy), a somewhat prominent model, who seems to have connections on the dark web of her own. This is where Red Rooms really stands out: it’s not about Ludovic at all, it’s about Kelly-Anne, and the examination of her psyche ends up being more fascinating and unexpected than what you assume when the film starts. In making this shift, Red Rooms is able to provide a much more nuanced and clearer examination of morality and the idea of right and wrong than similar films do. Instead of being about a specific serial killer, it’s about the idea of them, and our fascination with them, and what that means about us as witnesses. Without giving too much away, it becomes clear that Kelly-Anne has her own secrets, some downright unsettling, but Red Rooms refuses to paint her as a mere villain or hero, or even as an anti-hero. She simply exists, and every time you think Red Rooms is trying to give her a specific label, it intentionally pivots to make you shift your perspective on her again. Over the course of the film, Kelly-Anne develops a friendship with Clémentine (Laurie Babin), an outspoken protestor who has similarly let the trial and her quest to prove Ludovic’s innocence overtake her life. The dynamic between Kelly-Anne and Clémentine is fascinating—at times kind, at times cruel, and somehow at times both things simultaneously. This is a film about moral reckoning, and the ways these two women do so is consistently interesting and sensitively portrayed. When Clémentine starts to doubt her previous beliefs that Ludovic was being framed, she is forced to deal with the aftermath of taking a vocal moral stance that she may no longer believe, and what that means about herself. As Kelly-Anne’s behavior becomes increasingly erratic, we have to judge for ourselves the ethics of her behavior and whether we can understand her own values of right and wrong. We all have demons, and Red Rooms is about examining how we react to those demons, rather than judging them at face value. It’s a tense, thought-provoking thriller, which defies expectations and challenges its audience, while never feeling irresponsible in the ways it does so.
27) Wallace & Gromit: Vengeance Most Fowl
Like everyone who grew up watching them, I have a profound affection for Wallace & Gromit. Since their appearance in 1989, Nick Park’s hapless inventor and devoted dog have been beloved icons of animation. The original short films have endured, and still feel timeless. Their second and most recent feature-length film, Vengeance Most Fowl, is as well-made and fun and inventive as the series has ever been, and would be entertaining even for someone who had not already seen previous entries in the franchise. But if you do already know and love these characters, Wallace & Gromit: Vengeance Most Fowl is going to be wonderful simply because it feels like revisiting old friends. It's delightful nostalgia at its finest, and the return of notorious villain Feathers McGraw—a blank-eyed penguin last seen in The Wrong Trousers who I wholeheartedly will argue is one of the most singularly evil characters in film history—is a welcome treat. It’s hard not to see Vengeance Most Fowl as a commentary on the dangers of increasing the usage of AI in filmmaking, and while the commentary is not exactly the most hard-hitting out there, having such a statement made by Wallace & Gromit in particular feels very appropriate. These characters’ films have always felt like a labor of love, like a sweater someone has hand-knitted for you. After seeing Vengeance Most Fowl, it feels like the film world needs Wallace & Gromit now more than ever.
26) Sugarcane
The first of several documentaries on my list, Sugarcane is a powerful call to action and a likely Oscar contender. The film is, ostensibly, an investigation into the practices of the Canadian Indian residential school system, a network of boarding schools that indigenous children were sent to as a form of indoctrination (with a focus on the St. Joseph’s Mission Residential School, run by the Catholic Church). These schools were horrible places, rampant with abuse and with a stated mission to destroy these students’ cultural connections and traditions. The investigation into these abuses is thorough and harrowing, and Sugarcane certainly succeeds in its efforts to inform its audience of these abuses and explain the context that allowed these abuses to occur. But Sugarcane is, admirably, far more than just an exposé. It is also a portrait of a culture that has been resilient to much persecution. Rather than focusing on archival footage and talking heads, Sugarcane offers a portrait of St. Joseph’s survivors and their descendants that is deeply personal, and reminds us that these victims are people beyond the trauma they’ve endured. Sugarcane in many ways felt like a ghost story. It is about being haunted by an unseen and forgotten but ever-present past. It’s a thoughtful and poignant film, which cuts far deeper than your run-of-the-mill historical exposé.
25) It's What's Inside
It’s possible that no movie more exceeded my expectations this year than It’s What’s Inside. This Netflix horror film seemed fun, and had some good reviews, so I turned it on not expecting it to be much more than a good time. I was really blown away by it, and hope that it has a chance to be discovered as a future cult classic down the line. It wasn’t just a horror movie, it felt like an Agatha Christie-esque puzzle box, one that consistently subverted my expectations and had me constantly intrigued by each turn of events. The film follows a group of old college friends who have reunited the night before one of them gets married. Among the group is Forbes (David Thompson), a rising star in the tech world who many are surprised to see, as he had been distant from the group ever since being contentiously expelled from college years ago. Forbes claims water is under the bridge, and introduces the group to a new device he’s been working on—a box with an ability right out of a classic science fiction tale. As the group of friends plays with Forbes’ device, surprising aspects of people’s personalities come out, and shocking secrets are revealed before things begin to take a very, very dark turn. As a horror movie, It’s What’s Inside doesn’t exactly try to chill you to your very core, but I will say that it becomes genuinely sinister, and ultimately the film is a lot darker than what I had initially thought it would be given the film’s earlier tone. It has a surprising edge and bite to it, which is revealed at pivotal moments in satisfying ways. It also features a really phenomenal ensemble cast. Given the nature of the sci-fi twist of the film (which I’m trying hard not to give away), these actors are tasked with several particularly unique acting challenges, and they navigate them beautifully. We’re introduced to all of these characters in rather one-dimensional ways (there’s the jock, the influencer, the alt-girl, etc.) but the actors find nuance in their performance to match the hidden depths that these characters possess (with Thompson being particularly creepy and effective as the unnerving Forbes). It’s Bodies Bodies Bodies meets The Twilight Zone, and is another solid entry in the great horror lineup of 2024.
24) Kneecap
The film genre I might hate the most is the music biopic. I don’t WANT to hate the music biopic, and in fact, I don’t think that being a music biopic HAS to be bad. It’s just that they tend to be incredibly formulaic, and there have simply been so many mediocre entries in this genre lately that it’s easy to feel like that it’s a genre with nothing left to offer. But every so often a movie comes along that reminds you that it doesn’t have to be this way. That it’s possible to make a movie about a musician or band that’s actually inventive—one that tells the story of the musician’s rise to prominence, that makes the case for why they’re important and relevant, and does this all in an actually interesting way. I’m happy to say we had such a film released in 2024, and if you think that I’m talking about a certain Bob Dylan biopic then…I don’t know what to tell you, you’re so completely wrong, and clearly didn’t read the film’s title at the start of this entry or look at the picture I put alongside it. I’m talking about Kneecap, an Irish film about the Belfast-based hip-hop trio of the same name. This movie is an absolute breath of fresh air. It certainly helps that Kneecap is a genuinely fascinating group—their music is excellent, and they’re radically political, using their music as a form of outspoken activism. I was certainly glad to learn about them from this movie. But Kneecap succeeds artistically due to the innovate choices of writer/director Rich Peppiatt. Firstly, as Kneecap is a relatively newly-formed group, Peppiatt has the trio play themselves, in a way that manages to feel unpretentious and especially vulnerable. Peppiatt imbues every scene of the film with a frenetic energy that matches the vibe of Kneecap as a whole. There are bright neon colors, lots of motion, lyrics appear scrawled on screen, and things even become stop-motion at some point. Much of Kneecap can feel like a feature-length music video, which I mean in the best way; rather than being a video that captures the vibe of a specific song, Kneecap is a feature film that captures the vibe of a band’s entire being. Kneecap is highly original, and as a film feels like a cohesive extension of the group’s mission statement as artists. If every biopic was even a fraction as in sync with the subject(s) at its center, then it would turn the perception of the genre around.
23) MadS
It’s hard to make a zombie film stand out from the pack. There have been so many cinematic zombies, and so many versions of them (really slow, really fast, etc.) that even new takes on the genre often feel predictable. MadS doesn’t have an interest in reinventing the zombie film, and in fact it relies on its audience’s understanding of traditional zombie tropes. But it does, to me, succeed in making zombies truly, genuinely scary again, and it does this by stripping away any pretense and reminding us of how viscerally terrifying a zombie outbreak would be. MadS is an incredibly low-budget film, so it can’t rely on elaborate makeups or visual effects to create its world and its scares. Instead, director David Moreau uses clever filmmaking tricks to great effect, and uses the low-budget nature of the film as a strength rather than an obstacle. The low budget makes the movie FEEL more real. For example, the film is shot in what seems like one long take. The camera will follow one character, and then will suddenly switch protagonists once the outbreak has been passed along to another, making us keenly aware of the zombification taking hold in real time. This classically builds tension, and the first-person narrative and ever-changing main character gives us a feeling that we’re along for the ride, making the characters on screen feel more personal and real. While there’s a good amount of fake blood, nobody is given cool zombie monster makeups. Instead, the transformation is done by the actors and their body movements, which is unbelievably unsettling and incredibly well-done. These zombies are fresh, and still feel and look human, which makes their change more disturbing and more psychologically gripping. I think that there’s social commentary that could be found in MadS—if one wanted, they could draw parallels to the pandemic, or to drug use, or simply a general commentary on the corruption of a wayward youth. But ultimately MadS is just a really good, absurdly well-crafted zombie flick. It’s one that has stayed with me long after I finished watching it.
22) Seeking Mavis Beacon
There’s a good chance you are familiar with the software program Mavis Beacon Teaches Typing. Released in 1987, the program was designed to help people learn how to type more efficiently, especially with newly designed computer keyboards. The program has endured, and became incredibly popular. What not a lot of people didn’t realize at the time they were using the software is that Mavis Beacon wasn’t a real person. The name was made up, and the smiling, professional Black woman on the cover of the game was a model named Renée L'Esperance. Many people assumed Mavis Beacon was real because there was no reason to think she wasn’t, and despite being fictional, she inspired a lot of Black women specifically to develop an interest in tech. Two such women are Jazmin Renée Jones and Olivia McKayla Ross, who are at the center of the film. Jones is a filmmaker (who directed the documentary) and Ross is a student and coder and all-around tech whiz. The two of them go on a quest to find L’Esperance, and find out as much as they can about how the character of Mavis Beacon came to be. That central mystery is already interesting, and leads the two to some surprising revelations. But the film is also about Jones and Ross themselves. The power of the character of Mavis Beacon was that she had no personality, which allowed people to view her however they wanted. As a role model, therefore, she became a projection for how Jones and Ross wanted to see themselves. With Seeking Mavis Beacon, they get to further explore these ideas of their own self-projections. It’s a captivating mystery with the investigators are even more intriguing than the investigation itself, and it’s a wonderful film about identity in many different contexts.
21) Mother, Couch
This is probably one of my most unorthodox selections of the year. The movie received, at best, a mixed reception from critics, and I do understand why. It’s a weird movie. But the specific type of weird that Mother, Couch falls under is very much my jam. Based on a Scandinavian novel (which, yeah, explains the weirdness), the films is about an elderly Mother (Ellen Burstyn) who sits on a couch in a furniture and simply decides she’s not going to leave. This forces her children David (Ewan McGregor), Gruffudd (Rhys Ifans) and Linda (Lara Flynn Boyle) to figure out what is causing her to stay there and how they’re going to convince her to leave. There isn’t much more plotwise to Mother, Couch, but that doesn’t mean nothing else happens. In fact, a LOT happens, even though many of the characters seem to pretend that everything is normal. Mother, Couch does something that I really love, which is that it finds a way to be surreal without being fantastical. There’s no supernatural reason that the two store owners of the furniture store (both played by F. Murray Abraham) seem non-plussed that old woman has taken up residence on one of his sofas, but it's still odd. As the film goes on, the subtle strange cracks in the world begin to widen, and eventually become explosive, but in a way that still feels oddly familiar yet distinctly upsetting. Writer/director Niclas Larsson does a wonderful job in his debut feature film, and creates one of the most distinct tones of any film this year, and Mother, Couch makes me very excited to see whatever he does next. But a major reason why Mother, Couch succeeds is because of the phenomenal ensemble cast. The family as a whole are all wonderful, and together, Burstyn, McGregor, Ifans, and Boyle make a wonderfully fucked up family unit. But Burstyn and McGregor are particularly extraordinary here. Burstyn has a long career filled with towering performances, and she is as great as ever here—in any given moment she makes Mother fragile, fearsome, or both. McGregor, meanwhile, gives one of the best performances of his career. David is at the center of this film, and is the only character who seems to understand how bizarre everything happening is. McGregor’s David is anxious and frazzled and out of control, yet still manages to be a relatable straight man and audience surrogate. As David deals with the problem of his mother, he is forced to confront his own abilities as a parent, and McGregor finds an emotional core to the character that single-handedly allows Mother, Couch to have genuine heart, and not just be a film of style over substance. I can understand why this movie won’t work for everyone, but I think it deserves to be seen, and if you’re like me, you will find a special type of poignancy, and enjoy the particular ride that Mother, Couch brings its audience on.
20) The Last Stop in Yuma County
If you know me (and, let’s face it, even if you don’t really know me but have somehow stumbled upon this blog), you know I watch a lot of movies. And over the last few years have been on a quest to watch pretty much every movie that comes out (within reason…even I don’t want to watch Borderlands). I like to do this because you never know where a great film is going to come from. I watch a lot of movies that are fine, or mediocre, or just plain bad. But it’s worth it for when I take a chance on a film I know hardly anything about and it ends up being absolutely wonderful. Such is the case with The Last Stop in Yuma County, one of 2024’s greatest underseen gems. The film takes place in the 1970s in Yuma County, in the middle of nowhere. The only gas station for over 100 miles is out of gas, although the attendant Vernon (Faizon Love) is expecting a refueling truck to arrive soon. This means several travelers are stuck there for a little bit, and gather with some of the locals at a nearby diner simply because it’s seemingly the only place to stay. The Last Stop in Yuma County feels like a trip back in time—a classic Western that at times feels like it could have been a radio drama as much as a film. And although there’s no murder mystery element involved, I couldn’t help but be reminded of Agatha Christie while watching this film. There’s a large ensemble of interesting characters, an intimate setting that they can’t escape from, and—thanks to the revelation that two of the stranded strangers (Richard Brake and Nicholas Logan) are armed bank robbers—a palpable threat of violence in the air. In the capable hands of writer and director Francis Galluppi, The Last Stop in Yuma County feels like a meticulously-crafted puzzle box, one which would fall apart should any piece not fit perfectly into place. It’s also a film with an incredible ensemble cast, filled with mostly unknown actors, who almost without exception elevate the roles they’re playing, so that they feel integral to the world even if their specific backstory is less explored. Fans of the Coen Brothers should take note of this film. Heck, EVERYONE should take note of this film. And should Galluppi continue to make films of this caliber, perhaps his next one will receive proper recognition (and bring this brilliant, obscure title to more peoples’ attention).
19) The Tuba Thieves
Between 2011 and 2013, there was a mysterious crimewave of multiple tubas being stolen from various high schools in Southern California. This is, ostensibly, what the documentary The Tuba Thieves is about. And yet, that isn’t what it’s about at all. The Tuba Thieves doesn’t give any answers as to who committed these crimes, or explore why they were committed, or do any in-depth research into the case at all. The Tuba Thieves really isn’t about tuba thefts. Instead, it is a film about sound. What are sounds, and what does it mean to hear sounds and to actually listen to them? If you’re wondering what that question has to do with tuba thefts, don’t worry. Filmmaker Alison O’Daniel (who is hard of hearing) has a cohesive and strong artistic vision behind the camera, that establishes itself right away with confidence and cohesiveness. I rarely knew where the film was going, but I felt ready for the ride. Film is often acknowledged as a visual medium, but I think we take for granted that it is as much an audio medium as well, and I’ve never seen sound utilized in quite the way O’Daniel does. This movie has subtitles built into it, and I would make the argument that these are the single best use of subtitles in a movie ever. They are often funny, and they are often poetic. They often change the way you hear the sound itself, making the sound take on new meaning due to the way it is described. The Tuba Thieves frequently does not feel like a documentary—it features several actors (such as Nyeisha Prince, Russell Harvard, and Warren Snipe, all wonderful) performing roles. But that’s because the subject of The Tuba Thieves is not anybody on the screen. The subject is the viewer themselves. In watching The Tuba Thieves, you are forced to challenge your relationship to sound, and confront your misconceptions about the sounds around us that we overlook or take for granted. It’s a fascinating experiment, and unlike any other viewing experience I had in 2024, or any other year for that matter.
18) The People's Joker
At least 2024 had one good Joker movie to offer.. The People’s Joker was easily one of my most anticipated movies of the year, and it did not disappoint. Like many others, I first became aware of The People’s Joker back in 2022 when it premiered at the prestigious Toronto International Film Festival. A parody of the 2019 film Joker (as well as other iterations of the Joker character), the film attracted attention when screenings of the movie at TIFF were suddenly pulled from the schedule, under pressures of lawsuits due to filmmaker Vera Drew not having rights to the characters in the film. The claims were clearly bogus—there isn’t a thing in the film that doesn’t obviously fall under the umbrella of parody—but at the very least, this brought more attention to the film, which managed to grow a massive fanbase even though most people wouldn’t be able to see it until two years later. I bring this up because I think it’s interesting, but I should also say that The People’s Joker would be a phenomenal film even outside of the controversy surrounding its initial premiere. Drew, a transgender woman, had been intrigued by the unexpected parallels she saw between Arthur Fleck in Joker and her own life (such as being an aspiring comedian and her relationship with her mother). From there, she had the idea to depict her own life intertwined with the traditional lore of The Joker, and created what ended up being a collage of comic book zaniness and her own incredibly personal narrative. It’s an unabashedly Queer film, which cleverly explores the way Drew discovered her own identity through a metaphor of superhero (or supervillain) alter-egos. It’s also incredibly funny and weird and visually inventive, and simply unforgettable. Drew has said in interviews that, even before the issues at TIFF, when she was first making the film, she didn’t think it was anything that anybody would ever watch outside of her friend group. But, thankfully, The People’s Joker has finally been released, and we are all the better for it.
17) Ghostlight
Sing Sing has deservedly received a lot of accolades this year (and will appear later on in my list), but it was not the only beautiful film about the restorative power of theatre to come out this year. Ghostlight, directed by Kelly O’Sullivan and Alex Thompson, is another beautiful film about the healing power of art, and it’s a film that deserved a good deal more attention. The film is about Dan Mueller (Keith Kupferer), a construction worker who, along with the rest of his family, is struggling to cope with the recent death of his son. Grieving and generally stressed about life, he is forcibly recruited by an actor named Rita (Dolly de Leon) to join a community theater production of Romeo and Juliet. At first an incredibly unwilling actor, he eventually finds a sense of meaning both in the play and in the collective group of actors, and begins to become more invested in the production, while not disclosing his involvement to the rest of his family. It’s a film that potentially goes down a predictable road—we know that Dan is going to work at least a little bit through his trauma, and we know his family are going to eventually discover his involvement with the play, and we know that things are more or less going to turn out okay. But the beauty of Ghostlight is in how everything unfolds. These characters FEEL real. This makes sense. The cast of ensemble actors in the theatre troupe are all working stage actors in Chicago. Tara Mallen, who plays Dan’s wife Sharon, is in fact married to Kupferer in real life, and their real-life daughter (Katherine Mallen Kupferer) plays their daughter Daisy. The characters appear on screen already feeling lived-in, and while the movie deals with some heavy topics, it ends up feeling weirdly cozy and comfortable because of how familiar these characters feel from the get-go. In fact, the only actor to not already be a part of the Chicago theatre world is de Leon, which works very much to her credit. Following up on her brilliant breakout performance in Triangle of Sadness, de Leon stands out immediately, and despite her forcefulness, it becomes clear why Dan is drawn to her and willing to confide in her. Ghostlight is an incredibly dear film. And even though we are seeing the Mueller family at one of the toughest times in their lives, it is a pleasure to spend time with them, and watch their lives unfold and improve.
16) Christmas Eve in Miller's Point
Tyler Taormina’s film Christmas Eve in Miller’s Point is unlike any other film I’ve seen this year. The film is about the large Balsano family, who meets for their annual gathering on Christmas Eve. While a few storylines are explored, and a few characters are fleshed out, it becomes clear that Taormina isn’t interested in telling a story with his movie. Instead, he’s interested in crafting an experience and transporting his audience to a very specific place at a very specific time. There have been countless Christmas movies that end with the lesson, “Family is the most important thing about Christmas.” But I’ve never seen a movie—Christmas or otherwise—that so perfectly captures the idea of gathering together with a large family. The commotion, the dizzying feeling of people and sounds, the cast of characters who feel both familiar and unknown. It’s immersive and interesting and unconventional; a cinematic experience that ends up succeeding in its goal. It’s worthless to go into Christmas Eve in Miller’s Point with expectations of what is going to happen, or what you’d like to happen. Instead, it’s worth letting the movie wash over you. If you can allow yourself to fall under Taormina’s cinematic spell, it’s a ride very much worth taking.
15) Daughters
Sometimes, there are documentaries that succeed simply because they have an excellent subject matter, or happen to capture something on camera that is incredibly powerful or moving. Natalie Rae and Angela Patton’s documentary Daughters could have easily fallen into that category—the central subject matter means that this film would have been touching no matter what. But under Rae and Patton’s skillful direction, Daughters becomes something truly extraordinary and meaningful. The film is about four sets of fathers and daughters who have one distinct thing in common: all of the fathers are currently incarcerated and will not be released for many years. The film explores the nature of fatherhood when one is not able to be present in their child’s life, and the ways that these daughters view the fathers who do not have a chance to truly know them. At the film’s center is a rehabilitation program that arranges a Father/Daughter Dance for incarcerated fathers, and all of the documentary’s subjects are eligible to participate. It’s a beautiful and poignant film, one which tackles themes of abolitionism and racism. But beyond the political, Daughters is an incredibly emotional film, which manages to find great poignancy without exploiting the subjects at the film’s center. A word of warning: you WILL cry watching this movie. In fact, I truly don’t know if I have ever cried more watching any movie. I was a complete wreck, and I don’t know how anybody could not be affected by the stories this movie tells. It’s a devastating, but incredibly important movie which demands to be seen and to be recognized.
14) His Three Daughters
One of the reasons I find the awards season so interesting is because inevitably there are films that start out strong and eventually fade from the conversation. One such film is His Three Daughters, and I truly don’t understand how Netflix could have dropped the ball so much. If you watch His Three Daughters, it feels inexplicable that Natasha Lyonne, Carrie Coon, and Elizabeth Olsen are not at the forefront of the acting awards conversation this year. These are not just great performances, they are performances that exist in a film designed to showcase them. The film is about three sisters (Coon, Lyonne, and Olsen) who gather in the same house to be close to their father Vincent as he nears the end of a lengthy battle with cancer. The three actresses at the center of this film already pass the first test for a movie like this: they genuinely feel like three sisters. While they all have incredibly different personalities, their interactions feel lived-in, which makes the dynamics of this world feel real. While the three disagree and bicker and eventually mature in how they interact, writer/director Azazel Jacobs isn’t interested in milking all of the drama out of a fraught situation. Instead, His Three Daughters maintains a relaxed atmosphere even in its tensest moment. The result is something beautiful. You feel less like you’re watching a movie and more like you’ve had a glimpse into this family’s life, in a way that feels personal and truly special to watch. What makes the performances of Coon, Lyonne, and Olsen so wonderful is that they succeed on two levels: both individually and as an ensemble. The characters feel defined on their own, and all interact together in compelling ways. I would also be remiss to not give a shoutout to Jay O. Sanders, who plays the ailing Vincent. He’s only in the film for one scene, but his work is unforgettable and glorious, a perfect and necessary moment for the film as a whole. His Three Daughters is far from the splashiest film out there, but it’s a film that exudes a quiet confidence that is hard to pull off, and beautiful to see unfold.
13) The Seed of the Sacred Fig
I’m hoping that the awards season success of The Seed of the Sacred Fig encourages more people to look into Mohammad Rasoulof’s work. One of the most important filmmakers in current cinema, Rasoulof is one of a handful of Iranian filmmakers who have been arrested and charged with crimes of propaganda against the Iranian government over the course of their careers. He has been officially banned from making films by the government, but like other filmmakers (such as his contemporary Jafar Panahi), he has continued to make films in a radical and political form of artistic defiance. The Seed of the Sacred Fig is just as politically bold as the rest of Rasoulof’s filmography, and in fact, the announcement of its premiere at Cannes forced him to flee Iran when his sentence was extended and intensified. The Seed of the Sacred Fig tells the story of Iman (Missagh Zareh), a lawyer who is promoted to a prestigious position as an investigating judge, something he has worked for his whole career. He hopes he can serve the position and enact positive change in the system, but upon starting the position, discovers that he is expected to serve the State, and is threatened with persecution for himself and his family if he does not decide in cases the way the government wishes him to. He struggles with weighing his responsibilities as a judge to do what is right with what the consequences will be for him and his family should he stick to his principles. As the government increases its scrutiny over Iman’s family, he faces criticism from his daughters (Mahsa Rostami and Setareh Maleki) for his shifting morality, until things comes to a dramatic head. The Seed of the Sacred Fig is a gripping political thriller, with real-life urgency and political implications. But, like much of Rasoulof’s work, it also feels a bit like a fable. The characters are stuck in a parable—it’s a simple morality tale exemplified by its timeliness and urgency. It’s a film that is frightening to watch unfold—and is both directed and acted with a ferocity and intensity that is nothing short of gut-wrenching. It’s a brilliant film, made all the more essential knowing the real-world consequences facing Rasoulof behind the scenes.
12) A Real Pain
I had heard good things about A Real Pain, but was still surprised by just how much I responded to it. It follows a pair of cousins, David (Jesse Eisenberg) and Benjy (Kieran Culkin), who sign up for a historical tour of Warsaw to honor their recently deceased grandmother, a Holocaust survivor. While the two had been very close growing up, they are on the surface extremely different personalities. David comes across as very put-together—he has a lucrative job and recently welcomed his first baby. He’s also neurotic and anxious and often unable to engage with others due to his own insecurities. Benjy, on the other hand, is much more free-spirited, and his honest and passionate nature can at times fly in the face of social norms. While he is just as insecure as David, he masks those insecurities with a carefree demeanor that projects confidence even as he struggles with his own demons. He’s a fascinating character, and Culkin has deservedly been receiving many accolades for his performance as Benjy, who feels both larger than life and painfully real at the same time. In many ways, A Real Pain as a movie is quite similar to the character of Benjy. Benjy is flawed, and so is A Real Pain. But any criticisms I might have of the film are far outweighed by the strength of this film’s authenticity. The core relationship between these two cousins is beautifully and compellingly drawn. The moments of frustration feel real, but the moments of tenderness are even moreso, and are unassuming and unpretentious. This screenplay is Eisenberg’s best outing in his career as a writer by far. The structure of the film feels relaxed and unstructured, which allows for the authenticity of the characters to really shine through. While tackling some major themes, the film never loses sight of the central relationship at its core, and it is so well-depicted that the movie can’t help but feel like a triumph. Given Eisenberg’s public persona, his role as David feels very true-to-life. Eisenberg excels in a specific scene where he allows David’s honesty to shine through, but otherwise maintains a certain tight-laced and repressed personality that falls into familiar depictions of the American Jew in cinema. In writing Benjy, it feels like Eisenberg is depicting who he wishes he could be in his relationship to his Jewish identity. Benjy represents an unbridled passion for life and inquisitive nature that both the character of David and Eisenberg himself seem to yearn for. It’s a beautiful and meaningful expression of a character, who works on the screen both literally and metaphorically.
11) Chronicles of a Wandering Saint
The Argentinean film Chronicles of a Wandering Saint follows Rita Lopez (Mónica Villa), a pious woman who is nonetheless at odds with the other women in her congregation. Rita decides to stage a miracle by faking the discovery of a lost statue, in a move that she feels will gain her clout and also possibly sainthood. Less than five minutes into the film, I knew that I was watching something special. This is a fun movie, and Rita is an incredibly special character—lovable not in spite of but because of her flaws. It’s tremendously funny, and made funnier by its clerical setting; a sort of cinematic form of “church giggles.” It’s a quirky film with a very distinct voice, and it’s endearing to watch Rita dig herself into a deeper and deeper hole in an attempt to prove holiness to the people she spends time with. And once you think you know where the film is going, it completely shifts. Without giving too much away, about halfway through the film, Chronicles of a Wandering Saint takes a turn towards the fantastical, and you realize that the fun character study you’ve been watching has simply been a prelude for what the film is actually trying to explore. Delightful, eccentric, and ultimately surprisingly spiritual, Chronicles of a Wandering Saint is an absolute marvel, and a film you can’t help but love.
Some excellent movies! So, what could have made my top ten? Read about my picks for the absolute best films of 2024 in Part 2!
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