Top 10 Movies of 2024

What The Zone of Interest captures, not just in the current zeitgeist but in the very history of human cruelty and complacent ignorance -- and how, exactly, it ties past and present together -- is nothing short of mind-boggling.

This isn't simply a reminder that Nazis were human beings with families, summerhouses, well-kept gardens, and pets, but a mirror; a reflection of the lives we lead as genocide is occurring far enough from our field of view that we can go on as usual. (The ignorance seen in the film takes worse forms than others, of course -- sometimes it's sitting in a comfy home and fretting about first-world problems while lives are lost elsewhere in the world; other times it's filming a cute TikTok of yourself cooking for the IDF.) I mentioned in my own review that this is a movie that may work well when you watch it at home instead of in a theater, as there are many scenes where the bits of darkness seem almost supernaturally dark (the opening is entirely pitch black). If you look at such an image long enough, you will see your own face staring back.

Still, watching this in a theater was an almost spiritual experience. Something about that completely dark opening and Mica Levi's score during it -- which has been aptly described as a mixture of the Universe sighing and ghosts screaming from beyond -- made sitting in the theater feel like riding an elevator into an abyss of despair, eventually landing in the past, where we're forced to sit in and around the house of the Höss family (the cameras are placed in various locations around the house as the actors act out the scenes in real-time, sometimes unaware of where exactly they're being filmed from), hearing the wails from Auschwitz and seeing its ashes but being forced to, like the Hösses, ignore it (until the past eventually stares right back at the present). The main plot involves whether Auschwitz director Rudolf Höss needs to transfer to Berlin, thus forcing his family to move; occasionally a stir is caused when they try to go for a swim but have to go home again because of ashes in the water.

As someone whose favorite films of all time include Under the Skin, I was already aware of Jonathan Glazer's knack for truly haunting films. However, as much as the darkness of the final scene seems almost "alive", The Zone of Interest disturbs us in a very different way. It is a decade-defining movie.

Denis Villeneuve treats us to unimaginable sights — with better art direction and music than in the previous Dune — while also making us believe in Frank Herbert’s vision of the 101st century.

Conquest, imperialism, and religious zealotry still define our species thousands of years into the future. Something that inadvertently validates this vision, funnily enough, is the fact that so many people still think Paul “Mua’Dib” Atreides was meant to be depicted as a hero — the Luke Skywalker of this universe plus supposedly played-straight White Messiah tropes — and continue to critique Timothée Chalamet’s performance and the movie on those grounds: we’re just sort of primed to either admire such figures or take for granted that that’s the intent of the text.

Fortunately, however, several skeptics of the first Dune understood the point once they got the full picture in Dune Part Two, not just with regards to Paul Atreides, but also the choice to end the first film on a simple knife duel and the purpose of Atreides’ premonitions — and, as it turns out, how inaccurate they are. And despite the falseness of the central Messiah, Chalamet’s gradually more powerful performance makes us believe this friendly-looking twink could come to lead an uprising and usurp an emperor.

Chalamet, Zendaya, Javier Bardem, Stellan Skarsgård, Florence Pugh, Rebecca Ferguson, and especially Austin Butler all give some of the most memorable and/or quotable performances of the 2020s. The visuals (evoking everything from Triumph of the Will to Lawrence of Arabia), score, and just the general size and scale of it all make the truth quite clear: this is one of the great cinematic sequels and an epic in the truest sense of the term.

The Beast begins as a period film that shifts into futuristic sci-fi, yet before that, we’re met with a prologue that not only appears set in modern times but seems to show the making of the movie itself. Léa Seydoux stands in front of a green screen, following instructions from a disembodied voice until she screams in fear and “glitches” into the film’s title screen.

In an interview for RogerEbert.com, writer-director Bertrand Bonello elaborates that this was done “so that everyone watching can make the connection between a green screen and virtuality” and that when we open the film in this way, instead of beginning with the 1910 storyline, “the audience understands that it’s going to be weirder than [a period piece]”. Boy is it ever.

This is a movie that won’t soon leave your mind. In addition to its Lynch-tier dream logic and intriguing surrealistic puzzlement, it contemplates digital-age filmmaking in an intelligent way, and, what’s more, it is actually quite funny (including a disturbingly accurate incel rant in the “present-day” storyline, where George McKay’s character — one of the several he plays — moans about how much he “deserves girl”). Also, I hate to get so crass all of a sudden but… man… Léa Seydoux is so fucking perfect. Can we all agree on that, please?

From a simple glance, you would never guess that Hundreds of Beavers is one of the best comedies of the entire decade — and I don’t mean solely in the sense that it made me laugh as hard as it did. Here is an unbridled live-action cartoon of a film that gives us (A) honestly pretty rigorous world-building that suggests a certain logic to its wacky setting — and how its cartoon rules operate, e.g. what happens when you whistle too close to a woodpecker — and (B) some of the highest-level filmmaking effort we’ve ever seen from a next-to-no-budget production.

I mean it, folks! This is, as cheap and “fake” as it may look, as far from a lazy production as can be; from the storyboarding level to the execution, this is about as masterful as slapstick comedy gets, both in terms of the creativity of the setpieces and the structure/rhythm of the gags.

It feels like Chaplin as mixed with Looney Tunes (at their best and most violent) and old video games, yet it’s one of the most sincerely original movies to be made in many years. The moment it starts to feel somewhat repetitive and possibly too long, it treats us to a new series of clever visual gags and/or a fun addition to the story, like when our hero, fur trapper Jean Kayak, kills a few too many animals, and beaver versions of Holmes and Watson begin to investigate.

This is, in short, a fantastic film. Please watch it, and realize that if you only pay attention to the biggest, most expensive — and expensively advertised — movies of the year, this is the gold that remains unfound.

Pascal Plante’s Red Rooms may well be the definitive satire of the digital age — with all its true crime podcasts, serial-killer streaming shows (people basing entire fandoms around the loss of others, basically), Dark-Web fascinations, and other things that have irrevocably desensitized us to suffering. That this film came out right when we started seeing as many corpses and eviscerated streets in our social media feeds as we did — scrolling past them with little reaction — makes this movie even more deeply haunting than it already was.

I can’t really put it much better than the other critics here; this really is one of the most evil movies of the year — possibly of all time. And that isn’t to say that the director had ill intentions. That’s not what they mean at all!

Rather, the film captures something truly vile that is going on within mankind and also includes one of the most cruel non-violent acts I have ever seen on film. When I tell you that the angles, edits, facial expressions, and especially the music from this scene live rent-free in my head, that is no exaggeration.

In general, the movie contains some of my favorite sequences of the year. The meticulously photographed courtroom scene that opens the film; the eerie moments where the protagonist (played by Juliette Gariépy in a powerfully subtle and downright disturbing performance) dives into the Dark Web and first makes contact with the eponymous Red Rooms; the finale that shows a singularly unsettling break-in. The more I think about it, the more I admire it. Absolutely phenomenal film.

When I first saw Coralie Fargeat's The Substance, I couldn't have dreamed that this would be the most controversial entry on my list. Surely it is obvious to everyone that this is about as good as it gets in terms of makeup, editing, expressive/creative cinematography, set design, and acting -- even if you aren't as much of an irremediable fan of cartoonish gore as I am?

Alas, after a whole bunch of praise during its theatrical run, the film was met with scorn after it became more widely viewable. (Weird how certain movies get worse reviews when people who watch movies on their laptops instead of watching them in an auditorium start getting access to them. I suspect that’s just as much of an issue as popularity making things cool to hate.) The big talking point has been the film’s various horror homages, including call-backs to Cronenberg, Kubrick, Hitchcock, Bergman, and even shlock like Basket Case and Braindead, and the question was: Is there really a purpose to them?

I concede that some of them seem mainly aesthetic (even though I’ve come around on the call-backs to The Shining, which, according to one critic, seem to distill the entertainment industry into a sort of glammy Overlook Hotel with all its accursed “loops”), but why worry when the end result is this colossally gorgeous? As for the complaints about the subtlety and tact of the themes, I’d say those come down to an inability to “meet the film where it is”, to quote a mutual on Twitter, instead of imagining what YOU think the film should be. This is a consistently over-the-top, purposely on-the-nose body horror comedy with French Extremist sensibilities; to whine about obvious, in-your-face satire is to complain about cats in Garfield. A more understandable complaint regards Demi Moore’s character; how the film seems to poke fun at those who try to play by the system’s rules just as much as the system itself. But to acknowledge that shallow women exist isn’t to blame women for the way beauty-obsessed industries operate. It is a film about self-hatred, and it captures self-hatred all too well.

And of course, I would agree that all the swooning and fancamming over the conventionally attractive Margaret Qualley — instead of her just as monumental co-star Demi Moore — is a sign that a lot of people missed the point. If you think that’s Fargeat’s fault and not the morons who missed the point, well, maybe you’ll at least want to retract those “it was too obvious” complaints.

Challengers not only understands that tennis is “the most erotic sport”, to quote another fan of the film; it has also chosen the most perfect sport for this kind of love story (if that’s a good word for it), as a woman moves back and forth between two men in a story that zips back and forth through time. Whether you focus on the love story or the tennis, it is a film about a sport; whether you focus on the love story or the tennis, it is a film about eroticism.

Directed by Luca Guadagnino, this picture is about as intense, sensual, technically astonishing (don’t get me started on the blocking, editing, rig shots, perspective shots, split-diopter shots, et al. of the climactic tennis game), and exceptionally acted as we’d expect of this modern master — and of whoever joins forces with him, of course.

We get two instantly enchanting newcomers (I haven’t seen ’em yet, anyhow) in the form of Patrick Zweig and Josh O’Connor, and a confirmation that Zendaya is one of the Gen-Z greats in the form of her performance as Tashi Duncan, the tennis legend who ensnares the two boys and stays romantically/sexually involved with one or both of them throughout their lives.

Zendaya is known for her highly emotive face and body language, but it is the little things that make her performance in Challengers one of the best of the year. A great video essay by VesuviosAtHome brings special attention to the facial subtleties and glances of the late-night beach scene — where the triumvirate first meet each other — and how it captures the feeling of being young and triumphant — feeling like your life has truly begun — to an eerie degree. Moments like that are why I keep calling Guadagnino one of the most sensual filmmakers of his time; that word doesn’t need to have a strictly sexual connotation, although he certainly captures sexual passion like few others. Indeed, Challengers is also, as you might’ve already heard, one of the sexiest films of 2024 — and to think, not a single sex scene was necessary.

Not only is Sean Baker’s Anora an absolute blast, I’d even go so far as to apologize for its latter half hour, which a lot of critics deride as being a bit too slow compared to the hysterical chaos of the prior two hours. Me? I think the film benefits from getting as slow and quiet as it does; the moments where the heroine realizes what situation she’s in — and that her fairytale delusions are precisely that — hit all the harder because of it. The silence is deafening.

Mikey Madison gives one of the most entertaining performances of this year as Ani, an exotic dancer who marries Ivan, the spoiled son of a Russian oligarch. The parents don’t take kindly to this impulsive union and so send two goons (including one played by Yuri Borisov, who turns out to be one of the better characters in the film) and an Armenian handler to go talk to Ivan, who promptly flees into New York.

This is a blast to watch and the kinetic camera makes us feel a part of the ensuing hurly-burly. The actors are all wonderful and frequently shout over each other in a way that makes the film feel both more natural and all the more chaotic. For all its strengths, however, it is fair to say that this is foremost Mikey Madison’s moment. Neon has more than solidified her stardom and the character she plays is a mighty enjoyable one. (There is more depth to her than some realize — and as I pointed out in my original review, even if she IS shallow and naive with a fairytale mentality, that’s neither impermissible nor a sign that she isn’t a fully fledged character.) What else could I add? Just see it already!

While I’m not quite as ecstatic about Poor Things as when I first saw it, this is still unimpeachably excellent and, provided it premiered in 2024 for you as it did for me, easily the best Lanthimos film of the year.

Is it the best of his entire catalog? I suppose it depends on what you're looking for. It doesn't have quite the uncanny vibe of his The Lobster or The Killing of a Sacred Deer (for that, you want Kinds of Kindness, the other Lanthimos title of the year), but in terms of production design, camera work (the swirly-bokeh shots in this are absolutely dazzling), and just art direction in general, it's fair to say that it's Lanthimos' finest, if not one of the best movies ever made.

The movie explores all kinds of facets of society — through a sort of steampunk Fantasy prism — and while I understand criticisms that it has a shallow view on a lot of things, this makes sense for the story, in which a woman with the brain of a child (namely her own fetus’ brain, inserted into her head by a mad scientist) is exposed to the dark truths of reality; inundated with all sorts of ideas that she does not know how to make sense of. As you can tell (in case you’ve somehow missed this film), it is also quite the original story, Frankenstein homages notwithstanding.

No matter how you feel about its themes — or that big question of whether it has actually “earned” being called feminist — it is impossible to deny its performances. Yes, Gladstone deserved the Oscar and yes, I liked Emma Stone’s performance in The Curse just a tad more, but her performance as Bella Baxter (the precision of its expressions, body language, inflections, et al.) still deserves to be studied in acting classes for years to come. I do hope she and Lanthimos keep cooking together.

If you were doubting Anya-Taylor Joy’s status as one of the great contemporary stars, this will likely be the film that sets your mind straight. Her ethereal majesty is best exemplified in the role of a younger Imperator Furiosa, which sometimes channels Charlize Theron in the “original” Mad Max: Fury Road so well that it becomes eerie to watch. (Fury Road was a soft reboot, I know, but you get what I mean.)

The scene where she finally confronts the villain (Chris Hemsworth having the time of his life) is destined to define this decade in movies, as will that glorious line “Do you have it in you to make it epic?” And yes, I stand by this faith even though Academy voters evidently gave zero shits about this film.

One issue with the movie is that it has a few jarring VFX shots, in the sense that it doesn’t blend CGI and practical effects as seamlessly as the previous Mad Max movie — which also featured less CGI. Nevertheless, I stand by what I wrote in my orginal review; that Furiosa is “an ingeniously insane roller-coaster of high-octane chases, impossible vehicles getting tossed around, top-notch practical effects, and wondrously bonkers setpieces” but that “the craziness is nonetheless artfully presented, with some of the most precise framing and expressive images of the year”. Did you expect anything else from George Miller? For shame.

EXTRA HONORABLE MENTION!

A sort of coming-of-age “analog horror” film, I Saw the TV Glow has bolstered Jane Schoenbrun as one of the finest filmmakers of the new generation; one who represents a whole new cinematic movement of hitherto suppressed voices. (I’ve seen people mention this movie alongside Vera Drew’s The People’s Joker — which, in spite of highly different tones, makes sense.)

While there are issues with its pacing, it cannot be overstated what this one will (very likely) mean for film history; how it captures something essential to not only the transgender experience but to the anxieties of the Millennial condition (using motifs from one of reclusive Millennials’ favorite pastimes, Creepypastas, to do so) and the escapism we seek in nostalgia — and also, sometimes, ARG theorizing about the things we grew up with. People have avoided the film out of fear of not relating to its LGBTQ allegory, but this is, ultimately, a movie about self-discovery; of releasing your true self in spite of the boxes that the rest of the world wishes to put you in. Surely we all fathom this experience?

While it didn’t wind up being my favorite horror movie of the year, it still contains some singularly terrifying moments that I haven’t been able to stop thinking about.

EXTRA HONORABLE MENTION!

I very nearly included Wim Wenders’ Perfect Days on my Top 10, eventually deciding that I didn’t love it quite as much as the other films you’re about to see. Yet, I felt the need to give it some kind of blurb here because, well, certain aspects of it — namely of its main character — resonate with me more than possibly any other movie on the main list. (Besides, I can always change my mind as I get older, which seems especially likely with this film.)

As a quiet toilet custodian in Tokyo who is content going to work, listening to music, and simply going for a walk, Koji Yakusho (Cure; Pulse) plays a character in whom I saw much of myself. Here is a character who doesn’t need to speak for us to understand who he is and what sort of life he may have led. Like Wenders, Yakusho achieves a lot by seemingly doing little. It is a movie that looks simple to make but is anything but.

EXTRA HONORABLE MENTION!

You’d think the movie that I called “one of the most tender love stories in recent memory” — and that includes a (singularly plot-relevant) needle-drop of one of my favorite songs of all time, Frankie Goes To Hollywood’s “The Power of Love” — would make its way onto my main list. Well, this here speaks to how great of a movie year I’ve had: All of the movies on my runners-up lists are films that I loved, whereas usually, the last few items are movies I merely “liked a lot”.

All of Our Strangers is indeed a deeply moving film, both in the romance between Andrew Scott and Paul Mescal (both of them done dirty during the 2023 Oscars) and the moments Scott shares with his lost parents (Jamie Bell; Claire Foy), or rather the “spectres” of them, and the conversations he wishes he’d had when they were still around.

You’ll notice, if you check my full runners-up list, that I’ve listed this film below A Different Man and Memoir of a Snail, but for the reasons I’ve listed above, this movie often touched me on a particularly personal level, ergo I felt the need to give it a blurb here. It is beautifully shot, beautifully atmospheric, just beautiful in general.

EXTRA HONORABLE MENTION!

The tagline dubs him the first reality TV star; this man, known as Nubaru (“eggplant” in Japanese, so called because of his oddly shaped face), who put himself through an ordeal that, if you heard someone describe it, you’d assume is simply a poor recollection of a work of fiction like Oldboy or something. But yes, this story is very real.

I give The Contestant a special mention because the morbid fascination of it all is something special. The story it tells is of a man who agreed to humiliate himself on Japanese television — in ways that seem downright life-threatening — but wasn’t told that his year of isolation, nudity, and limited sustenance (magazine puzzles earned him clothes and food) would continually be aired live, resulting in a gigantic TV phenomenon. As funny as the movie often is (when it’s not unsettling), the inevitable point of it all is that everything you despise — and that vapid idiots adore — about reality TV (especially the likes of Big Brother) can pretty much be traced back here.

As much as this movie got me thinking about the absolute state of reality television, the film itself doesn’t delve into these ideas as much as I should like, but this is still a highly recommended viewing and my favorite documentary feature of 2024.

EXTRA HONORABLE MENTION!

I’ve had some trouble deciding between this or Adam Elliot’s Memoir of a Snail for my favorite animated film of the year. In any event, I choose to give this one special attention because I believe not as many people will have heard of it.

Jérémie Périn’s Mars Express is a French 2D-animated answer to the likes of Blade Runner and Ghost in the Shell that lets you know within the first few seconds the degree to which it will take advantage of the fact that it is animated — that is, unbound by the restrictions of reality and also the restrictions that, alas, sometimes come with the 3D alternative. As I said when I first reviewed it, this isn’t the deepest film to ever be made about artificial intelligence and human (or non-human) consciousness, but it exemplifies some truly imaginative world-building and tech. And yes, the animation is quite gorgeous.