With the 2020s heading into their second half, it’s time we take a temperature check on this decade in film. In only a few short years, the landscape of the movie industry has been forever transformed by a combination of the COVID-19 pandemic, narrowing margins, increased competition from other forms of entertainment, and the inevitable threat of artificial intelligence.

Still, through it all, many films have pushed past the struggle and defined our times. That last word, “time,” is the most important factor for my rankings. Time allows for reflection, with a film staying with you long past its initial two hours. Many films are on this list because of that, surging past contenders that were ranked higher in their original year of release.

Of course, that puts 2025 films at a disadvantage, requiring them to make a more immediate impact. Then again, the films of 2020 and 2021 had to face their own set of logical nightmares. When I double this list at the end of the decade, I’m sure it will be completely different.

50. Nickel Boys

Every once in a while, a film comes along that breaks your preconceptions about how a story can be told. While video games and virtual reality have brought the first-person perspective to televisions for years, it's still a relative stranger to the silver screen. Ramell Ross and co-writer Joslyn Barnes' adaptation of Colson Whitehead's Pulitzer Prize-winning 2019 novel folds the layers of time on top of each other, trapping us in a series of undefinable dreams and nightmares, each one crashing into the other without warning.

There's a newfound sense of discovery in Nickel Boys as we witness the good and the bad through the eyes of protagonists Elwood and Turner. Their experiences create the dots that we connect through our history and understanding of the time period. We only remember bits and pieces of our past, but the feelings are carried with us to the end of time. This was one of the most important films of the year, both in terms of the substance it carries over from the pages of its source material and in how it elicits your emotional response to it.

49. Napoleon

With his vast historical drama background that includes the likes of The Duellists, Gladiator, Kingdom of Heaven, and The Last Duel, director Ridley Scott knows a thing or two about setting the stage for global conflicts. Even at the age of 85, he’s never taken a moment to slow down, crafting projects that seem to only get bigger the older he gets. Scott paints a wide canvas for each of the climactic battle scenes. It’s as close to a replica as one could get to the work of director Sergei Bondarchuk in the Soviet version of War and Peace, where literally thousands of extras marched across plains as hundreds of cannons engulfed them in carnage.

The world still properly bemoans what could have been had Stanley Kubrick been allowed to make his Napoleon biopic. There are surely semblances of it in Scott’s Napoleon, which continues his string of blockbusters propelled by smart filmmaking and collaborative artistry. It’s timely and timeless in its craft and examination of history, ready to raise the bar just that much higher for later entries in the genre.

48. The Tragedy of Macbeth

From bloody beginning to bloody conclusion, Joel Coen's adaptation of The Scottish Play holds you in its talons with its impressive mood and visuals. Shot in stark black-and-white on a soundstage, the film had an otherworldly quality to it, which adds to the overall theatricality. Jump to any time stamp, and you will have yourself a new desktop wallpaper.

As expected, Denzel Washington was utterly captivating as a man so ready to jump off the deep end, yet so unequipped to wade into those waters. His only hope for survival is through deceit and bloodshed, a plight that seemingly encapsulates the human experience once a modicum of power enters anyone's eyesight.

47. Judas and the Black Messiah

Directed and co-written by Shaka King, Judas and the Black Messiah meets both criteria of a biopic, which is to be entertaining and informative beyond the top-layer Wikipedia facts. We learn about Fred Hampton through William O’Neal as he ascends from the bottom to the top within the Black Panther Party. Daniel Kaluuya elevated his game even further as he channels both the powerfulness Hampton carried in public and the tenderness he had in private. LaKeith Stanfield rises close with a twitchy and layered performance that was nothing short of a career-best.

King carries his film with great energy from beginning to end. Expertly filmed action is interspersed throughout, as well as sharply edited speeches that contain more action than the actual shootouts. He delivers an utterly spine-chilling and infuriating ending that properly uses the usual clichéd element of the postscript.

46. Mank

Mank is an out-and-out technical masterpiece from start to finish. Filmed in dreamy black-and-white, scored with period-accurate instruments, and recorded with the finest sound equipment 1930 could buy, David Fincher's COVID-released film was his version of a love letter to old-school Hollywood.

The film talks the talk as much as it walks the walk, with a complex script that investigates the backrooms of power and manipulation that have perpetually conjoined Hollywood and politics at the hip. Gary Oldman's titular screenwriter is our court jester guide, with Amanda Seyfried along for the ride as famed actress Marion Davies. It may not be Citizen Kane for the modern age, but it's a richly layered of how such a masterpiece was able to sprout out of so much commotion.

45. Dune: Part Two

Although I was extremely disappointed by the first part of Denis Villeneuve's adaptation of the iconic sci-fi novel, the concluding chapter more than lived up to expectations. This was no longer a desert of humanity, but an oasis of philosophy and hard-earned emotion. Every moment, from the biggest of set pieces to the smallest of character moments, is given an incredible amount of weight and importance. The dialogue is just as action-packed as the action itself, with the introduction of a deeper roster of characters building to that feeling of grandiosity.

For all its meditative qualities, there are still several moments for Villeneuve to show off his brawn as a filmmaker. Chaos is often met with chaos as the action is more bombastic this time around, with rockets, lasers, and tips of knives being readily exchanged. Just as he did with Blade Runner 2049, Denis Villeneuve accomplished what has long been thought to be impossible with Dune: Part Two. Fear is the mind-killer to all those on Arrakis. But there is no fear for those of us on Earth, as one of the best films of the science fiction genre was bestowed upon us.

44. The Worst Person in the World

The Worst Person in the World packs a richly emotional story fitting to its hyperbolic title. Through a killer soundtrack and a spotlight performance from Renate Reinsve, director Joachim Trier and his dependable co-writer Eskil Vogt were able to balance tone and time to deliver something that rises way above the sum of its individual pieces. It’s a perfect piece for anyone dealing with the crisis of not knowing where they are in life.

43. The Boy and the Heron

Hayao Miyazaki's (supposedly) final film allowed him to explore rather mature themes, offering lessons on life applicable to all ages. The boy’s fantastical journey, slightly similar to Chihiro’s from Spirited Away, is full of danger and intrigue at every turn. Animation is a medium that allows for endless possibilities, and Miyazaki is a filmmaker who pushes it to its limits. The question I always want to ask during a film is “What’s going to happen next?” So many movies don’t incite enough wonder for that question, nor do their answers provide the necessary satisfaction. The Boy and the Heron made me ask that question out loud more times than I can count, and each answer was filled with more passion than I could have hoped for.

There are animated films for children, and there are animated films for adults. This is an animated film for everyone, and the world is a much better place because of it. One of the greatest, if not the greatest, figures in animation history has provided us with his swan song, and now it’s time for us to continue his legacy with the pieces left behind.

42. Asteroid City

Sure, there may now be umpteen TikTok and AI-generated videos replicating Wes Anderson’s distinct style. But all of them contain just the window dressing of a Wes Anderson movie, and not the emotion. Just as his box of tricks has constantly evolved, so has Anderson’s ability to find the heart in his richly defined characters. While on their methodically placed tracks, each character veers off in different directions, exploring the fear of death, finding connections in a barren land, cutting through the messiness of life, and paying homage to those kitschy B-movies you grew up watching late at night on the public access channel.

The term “this is the most Wes Anderson movie Wes Anderson has ever made” has been used to describe nearly every new entry in his filmography. That cycle didn't stop with Asteroid City, as the traits you’ve come to love (or hate) are all here: symmetrical framing, varying aspect ratios, color and black & white cinematography, and steady camera movements. Anderson’s usual designer, Adam Stockhausen, once again creates a doll-house world filled with too many sights and sounds to be absorbed in one viewing.

41. The Father

A triumphant directorial debut by Florian Zeller, The Father puts us within the deteriorating mental state of the main character, Anthony (Anthony Hopkins). Conversations are repeated several times from different perspectives, adding another layer to the complex task of discerning fact from fiction. Anthony’s physical surroundings seem to be rearranging at impossible speeds, and the chronology of events is becoming increasingly muddled. It’s like watching a balloon being inflated and waiting for it to pop, yet it never does as your anxiety keeps building.

With a nearly sixty-year career in the rearview, Hopkins’ performance here may be his very best. He is charismatic, fierce, and vulnerable, sometimes all at the same time. The subject matter may hit too close to home for some viewers or be an introduction for others. No matter your familiarity, the film’s take on dementia and the toll it places on everyone involved is so incredibly well done that it demands to be seen.

40. The Taste of Things

There’s little drama or stakes within The Taste of Things, which is one of its best features. There are plenty of movies (Burnt) and television shows (The Bear) that showcase the anxiety-inducing high-wire act that cooking can be. There is great skill under pressure here, but writer/director Tran Anh Hung is more interested in the slowly drawn method and how it all comes together when you are comfortable in your element. Time seems to stand still, your body and mind totally connected as one. It’s like a conductor guiding a symphony, every note being hit perfectly with reassuring calmness.

There continues to be a need for stories that reflect the increasing bleakness of this world. But that means there’s more room for projects that remind us of the beauty in the timeless things we all experience and often take for granted. The Taste of Things is one of those films, as it illustrates both the simplicity and complexity of sustaining ourselves through food. Just make sure to plan your meals carefully before and after seeing it. You owe your stomach (and other senses) that much.

39. Nitram

Making a biopic about a country’s worst human offender brings with it a lot of trap doors. Director Justin Kurzel avoids those as he approaches the story of Tasmanian native Martin Bryant, who killed 36 people at Port Arthur in 1996, with a matter-of-fact style that lets the actors and simple camerawork tell the story. There is not a singular grand answer to why this happened and how it could have been stopped, simply because there isn’t a one-size-fits-all response. All we can do is look back on what happened and see what can be done for the future, which Kurzel doesn’t seem to have much hope for, as his postscript explains how the gun laws enacted as a result of Bryant’s actions have not been properly enforced, opening the possibility of this happening again.

American Caleb Landry Jones plays the titular character with brilliance, showcasing how far someone can go down the rabbit hole. In his first major leading role, he knocked it out of the park, producing the fear one gets from a horror movie villain while still bringing enough authenticity to fit the film’s grounded tone. While my body hated the experience of watching Nitram because of the stiff muscles I was left with due to the intensity, my mind was left with a better understanding of this dark chapter in human history.

38. Train Dreams

Impressionistically swaying between the past, present, and future, director Clint Bentley captures the life of Robert Grainier, a humble lumberjack who lived and died in the Pacific Northwest throughout the early to mid-20th century. His existence is a drop in the ocean of time, with exponential growth in technology pushing the world past the point of recognition. Years go by in the blink of an eye, yet we understand what took place between then and now.

Like life itself, Train Dreams is a film that often sneaks up on you in its profundity. It may take days or weeks for you to realize just how much one image or piece of sound has stuck with you, offering a new outlook on the existence we carve out for ourselves.

37. The Substance

If there’s one thing writer/director Coralie Fargeat’s sophomore feature hates more than attached limbs and unspilled blood, it’s subtlety. The obsessive and borderline inhumane treatment Hollywood (and the public at large) has towards aging actresses is material that’s been mined several times before. Fargeat understands this and the assignment in front of her. If you’re not going to be first or the most insightful, then you might as well make damn sure you’re going to be the most audaciously unforgettable.

The only thing bolder than the production is Demi Moore and Margaret Qualley’s dual performances as Elizabeth/Sue, later to become Monstro Elisasue. Moore maintains a headstrong presence even as things get increasingly deranged, fully trusting in Fargeat’s vision. Qualley balances her physical schoolgirl perfectionism with her demented inner self as Elizabeth tries to maintain control of the situation. With Julia Ducournau and Fargeat rising through the ranks of international cinema, the no-holds-barred corner that they occupy is looking like a mighty fine place to camp out for a while.

36. The Batman

At its core, The Batman is not much of a Batman movie, and that’s what makes it so great. Director Matt Reeves took all the familiar superhero trappings and gave them a fresh new look, finding inspiration from the grungy films of David Fincher. There’s a restless edge to his version of Batman, something that's been eating away at the character’s soul after years of sleepless nights. The Riddler may as well be the Zodiac killer, as Paul Dano’s performance channels the character’s brilliance and insanity. The tension he builds is unparalleled and makes you feel that you're witnessing someone who’s truly gone off the deep end.

In those sleepless nights, DP Greig Fraser crafts some immaculate imagery. Silhouettes and shadows haunt the dark city streets, with the neon lights drenched in rain providing stark contrast. This is not just one of the best-looking comic-book movies; it’s one of the best-looking movies ever.

35. Enys Men

Enys Men is the kind of film you stumble upon late at night as a kid on a public access channel while you are staying over at your grandparents’ old summer house. That description may be too ultra-specific for most people to relate to, but watching this movie lovingly took me back to those youthful nights when you had no idea what you were watching and if it was any good, but you couldn’t help but be endlessly transfixed by it.

Unsettling imagery and sounds slowly burn into your memory. There’s nothing purely horrifying about the hallucinations and strange events that fall upon our main character. Still, there is a heavy amount of discomfort and dread that they instill, keeping you in fearful excitement of what’s coming next. Just as he did with his 2019 debut feature Bait, Jenkin goes ultra-low tech by shooting on scratchy 16mm and recording all sound in post-production. It’s as if this were a lost film that had just been unearthed on an abandoned island, rotting away for years until being saved at the last minute.

34. Sentimental Value

You will not find a more emotionally intelligent film than Sentimental Value. Writer/director Jocahim Trier's follow-up to his decade-defining film The Worst Person in the World (also placed on this list) produces each tear, gasp, and laugh at exactly the right moment. Yet, it's never manipulative, always proudly wearing its heart on its sleeve. By the time the credits start rolling, you’ll have been on a journey with not just these characters, but also with yourself.

And without making a single direct piece of commentary, Sentimental Value may be the best case study on why AI can't be the driving force of a film. Despite all of her good intentions and training, movie star Rachel Kemp (Elle Fanning) wasn't the right person for the part in Gustav's (Stellan Skarsgård) film because she hadn't experienced the emotions that the role entails. The same logic applies to Trier and his film, as something this rich could only be created by someone who has experienced the agony and ecstasy of life.

33. The Fabelmans

Through the opening scene of The Fabelmans, we get a thesis statement on Steven Spielberg’s approach to filmmaking. He’s a born storyteller, pouring his mother’s heart into every frame. And he’s also a master craftsman, leaning on his father’s engineering mindset to construct fantastic sequences that defy belief. The further the film progresses, the more the thesis becomes clear. We learn how one man could be attracted to making movies about a killer shark, a world-traveling archeologist, friendly and unfriendly aliens, the Holocaust, American presidents, World War II, and even modern-day dinosaurs.

The Fabelmans is a collection of Spielberg's greatest hits, all delivered to their greatest effect. There’s laughter, tears, and wonder in this story that is much more than the sum of its parts. Gabriel LaBelle began his streak of greatness here, ensuring that this specific story contains a universal message about understanding your parents and finding your place in the world.

32. Aftersun

Aftersun is devastatingly powerful in the moment and long after. In comparison to standard films, it has no plot, no stakes, and no drama. It's all emotion, with wonderful direction by Charlotte Wells in her feature directorial debut. "Under Pressure" is recontextualized through her immense vision, which lies outside of the normal filmmaking grammar.

Paul Mescal received one of the most pleasant, unexpected Oscar nominations for his powerful lead performance, and Frankie Corio displayed a depth of maturity beyond her years. This seemed destined to be a perennial entry in every "Best A24 Films You Haven't Seen" article, but I think the cult of appreciation has continued to grow exponentially in the years since.

31. The Vast of Night

The Vast of Night was a director's showcase for Andrew Patterson. With long takes and tracking shots that are near Cuarón's level, Patterson fully immerses us in this 1950s-set small-town alien invasion mystery. Spookier than any conventional horror movie and brimming with an abundance of talent from its cast and crew, it was a startlingly well-made debut that will surely lead to fruitful careers for all those involved.

30. Never Rarely Sometimes Always

Written and directed by indie darling Eliza Hittman, Never Rarely Sometimes Always is an authentic and upsetting coming-of-age story. Taking place over a trip to New York City to abort an unwanted pregnancy, Hittman did an impeccable job of exuding sympathy and connecting me to a process I am biologically unable to relate to. The title of the film comes full circle near the end in a scene that left me with no dry eyes.

29. Annette

From the visionary minds of The Sparks Brothers and director Leos Carax comes a rock musical of pure boldness. Stars Adam Driver and Marion Cotillard grab onto that boldness and run with it. creating several musical numbers that need to be seen to be believed, such as a puppet baby being the halftime performance at the Super Bowl.

With Carax’s output being so irregular, each of his features is something to treasure, especially when they’re this good. “We Love Each Other So Much” is the recurring rendition throughout the film, a saying that illustrates the relationship this film and I share.

28. Origin

At times both a narrative feature film and a long-form visual essay, Ava DuVernay's film is the closest anyone has come to blending entertainment and academia. Her sprawling epic adaptation of Isabel Wilkerson's acclaimed novel investigates the ideology of racism in America. The connection between it and social caste systems throughout history sprawls across locations throughout Germany, India, and the United States. Each of them is blended for a story that spans time into a series of repeating lessons that humanity was unable to realize and learn from.

DuVernay's formally ambitious direction is what made this patchwork of theories so compelling. It asked big questions, with Aunjanue Ellis-Taylor capitalizing in her first solo lead performance. The film was unfairly handicapped during its initial release, and I think time will become its greatest asset.

27. Evil Does Not Exist

Drive My Car made writer/director Ryûsuke Hamaguchi an arthouse superstar. Made nearly in secret, his follow-up feature became his most outspoken work on the plights of contemporary society. The tranquility of a Japanese village is being threatened by the introduction of a “glamping” (glamorous + camping) site proposed by a talent agency. The site would negatively impact much of the environment around it, with many of the village residents’ livelihoods being forever altered.

Despite being clear in his message, Hamaguchi never eviscerates the villains of this story. The extremely slow cinema approach will test the patience of many expecting a return to the leanness of Drive My Car. Those who embrace the molasses will find themselves powerfully transported, a task that becomes much simpler with the aid of Eiko Ishibashi’s magnificent score.

26. West Side Story

Leave it to Steven Spielberg to make his first outing into the musical genre, one that completely crushes the competition. The camera swoons and cranes in extended takes, capturing the incredibly choreographed dance numbers conceived by famed ballet dancer and director Justin Peck. The narrative about the immigrant experience has been made more profound, with the Spanish dialogue - accounting for nearly one-third of the total spoken lines - going unsubtitled in a move that Spielberg and Kushner described as an effort to respect the language.

Perfectly melding the work of Leonard Bernstein and Stephen Sondheim with the newfound talents of Ariana DeBose, Mike Faist, and Rachel Zegler, the new West Side Story made the case for why some remakes should be allowed to happen. Because sometimes, they can meet or surpass the original, such as how this one does by bringing classic cinema into the modern world.

25. Monster

Hirokazu Kore-eda brought Rashomon into the modern age with Monster, a movie that was both more gentle and deadly than its title implies. For the first time in his career, the revered Japanese auteur didn't write the script, deferring that duty to Yûji Sakamoto. Kore-eda crafts an endearing story about differing perspectives and the misconceptions we surround ourselves with. Ryuichi Sakamoto's posthumous score is mostly comprised of previous compositions, as he was unable to create a full body due to his terminal cancer. However, he did contribute two new piano pieces, both mournful and warm.

24. Decision to Leave

Phantom Thread meets Vertigo in Park Chan-wook’s deliciously twisted Decision to Leave. For many directors, that combination would come together as well as oil and water. But for the famed South Korean auteur, whose previous works of Oldboy and The Handmaiden have exemplified his unparalleled ability to combine the traditional with the gonzo, it’s a heavenly pair that you immediately want more of.

Much like Paul Thomas Anderson’s film, the characters within Decision to Leave can’t be tied down with simple explanations. Manipulation and intrigue are the names of the game, with the unspoken sexual tension tinging the edges of every scene. As the playfully dangerous duo, Park Hae-il and Tang Wei are more than up to the task, with their unmatched chemistry doing wonders for the film’s emotional themes.

23. Resurrection

As beautiful as it is incomprehensible, Bi Gan’s magnum opus operates on a different plane of logic. In a future where humanity has lost the capacity to dream, a woman enters the six different dreams of a monster, representing one of the five senses and the mind. Each dream illustrates a piece of 20th-century Chinese and cinematic history, told in the style of the time.

The opening segment is reminiscent of silent German expressionistic monster movies, while the final chapter is captured in a single long take, telling the story of a vampiric romance on the last night of the millennium. How these puzzle pieces logically coalesce is nearly impossible to understand. But to focus on the science of dreams is the wrong way to experience them, as their unexplained majesty is what lures us into a deep sleep each night.

22. A Complete Unknown

What Mozart is to classical music in Amadeus, Dylan is to folk music in A Complete Unknown. Co-writer/director James Mangold learned a thing or two about the musician biopic subgenre since his first foray with Walk the Line. He trusted his audience a little more and painted around his protagonists just as much as he does within the lines. Those brushstrokes are big and broad, creating a rich experience that soothes our eyes and ears.

The constant pouring of musical genius from Dylan lends itself to nearly fifty music sequences, all of them featuring star Timothée Chalamet's vocals and hands on the guitar. Mangold never lets us forget that fact, keeping his camera steady on the target and the editing to a minimum. It allows the performances to breathe, matching the more mellow wavelength that folk songs operate on. In a time where more than one of these ventures down the Wikipedia page landed with a sour note, there's a comforting feeling to seeing the old reliable go off without a hitch.

21. The Girl with the Needle

An ultra-grim fairy tale comes to life in writer/director Magnus von Horn’s loose retelling of Denmark’s most heinous and prolific serial killer. The depressing gloom of post-WWI Copenhagen is lensed in claustrophobic black-and-white, and the dread drip-fed through abstract visuals and a deeply haunting score. Vic Carmen Stone and Trine Dyrholm are standouts in their lead roles, guiding not just through this literal story, but also the universal lesson of the nightmares women have endured throughout history.

20. The Last Duel

Bolstered by spectacle and substance, The Last Duel is one of Ridley Scott’s finest films. It’s one of the few blockbusters of the modern age to be propelled by collaborative artistry, rather than preconceived properties and overblown budgets. Broken up into three chapters, the film follows the unique perspectives of the central individuals as it tracks the events that led to the titular duel. This Rashomon-inspired structure is where Scott, along with screenwriters Matt Damon, Ben Affleck, and Nicole Holofcener, show off their brilliance.

The greatness of the film’s structure is that it creates a puzzle where the pieces are constantly shifting in size and placement. Even a simple act, such as a handshake, is seen from three angles, each eliciting a different response. It’s fascinating to watch as the web of lies and truth becomes increasingly difficult to parse, with Scott supplying the necessary inertia to keep the film moving at a great pace.

And the final duel more than lives up to expectations, especially when compared to the high bar Scott has set for himself within his filmography. There have been only a handful of final battles that weren’t already decided by the plot before they begin, and this is one of them. There’s an exciting amount of tension as the knight's exchange blows in agonizing brutality.

19. Frankenstein

Guillermo del Toro, the filmmaker most in love with monsters, finally got the chance to adapt the story of the most famous one of all. Mary Shelley and, by extension, del Toro, share great sympathy for The Creature, his plight being a reflection of humanity's cruel backwardness. Already a star in the making, Jacob Elordi cemented himself as one of his generation's best actors with a performance that instilled enormous emotional depth beyond just the pounds of makeup and effects. Surrounding him and the rest of the cast are sumptuous sets and costumes, with del Toro's roaming camera soaking up each pristine detail.

With a lifespan recently crossing over into two centuries, Shelley’s Frankenstein has long suffered the plague of becoming a copy of a copy of a copy. Endless adaptations and inspirations have taken only the elements that are deemed the most commercially muscular, leaving out the heart and mind. Del Toro has picked up those discarded pieces and made it whole again, reminding us why stories like these have and will withstand the test of time.

18. The End

Even in the darkest depths of the Earth at the end of humanity, you can still find a reason to sing and dance. Co-writer/director Joshua Oppenheimer, famed for his one-two documentary punch of The Act of Killing and The Look of Silence, makes sure his fiction feature debut is as bold and audacious as one would expect. The Golden Age influences of Jacques Demy and Vincent Minnelli supply the bravura; the cast's confidence is more important than their physical abilities. The joys and guilt of still being alive merge through the dozen-ish musical numbers, all of them allowing the characters to momentarily express the deep feelings they perpetually repress.

The End could have so easily been an “eat the rich” satire in the same vein as Triangle of Sadness. There are several opportunities where Oppenheimer could have taken a cheap shot at these characters, putting them through the wringer while having us point and laugh at them. This is an absurdist concept with humorous moments, but it’s also so deftly sincere that you can’t simply excuse it. These are rich characters, both emotionally and financially, with their inner delusions offering a complex lesson on how we handle the horrors that are right in front of us.

17. Broker

As is tradition within his impeccable filmography, Hirokazu Kore-eda's Broker tells a touching story about families forming in the most unlikely of circumstances. A baby has been left in a deposit box used by mothers who can’t, or won’t, keep their babies. Two of the employees at the facility, Sang-hyun (Song Kang-ho) and Dong-soo (Gang Dong-won), have formed a partnership to circumvent the rules of the establishment by taking the babies into their protection and selling them under the table to needy couples.

Purely based on this introductory premise, Kore-eda has laid a field filled with moral quandaries. Is it right to break the law and sell a child if it means they will potentially have a better life? Who is worse, the mother who disposes of the baby, or the people who sell the child? Who’s responsible for the child once the mother has disowned them?

Similar to his magnum opus, Shoplifters, Kore-eda makes plenty of time to instill lessons on how we don’t often get to choose the family we have. A direct reference to Paul Thomas Anderson’s mosaic, Magnolia, reminds us how the best-laid plans never truly turn out the way we envision. Even though each character may have their agenda behind the act, their shared journey is what binds them together.

16. Blonde

Is this film's placement near the top of this list meant to provoke a reaction? Perhaps. But it's that exact spirit that makes Blonde so memorable, a hard-edged rebuke of the sanitized biopics we've increasingly been served. They're merely brand extensions, with more loyalty to the central figure than the creatives telling the story.

Andrew Dominik's only loyalty is to himself as an artist. Facts can be found on Wikipedia, but the emotional truth can only be found on the silver screen. It's a nightmarish and surreal experience that highlights the beautiful tragedy that was the life of Norma Jeane, channeled through a spectacular performance by Ana de Armas.

15. Marty Supreme

Marty Supreme is as exhausting as it is exhilarating, the kind of movie where you let out a huge sigh of relief once you leave the theater. With this film added to his oeuvre of Good Time and Uncut Gems, director Josh Safdie became a master of depicting addiction, the agony and ecstasy of gambling everything for the chance to win anything. Timothée Chalamet’s Marty Mauser is the John McEnroe of table tennis, his mouth moving as fast as his backhand volleys. Lucky for him, his money is where his mouth is. The kineticism and composure he displays during those scenes of athleticism are thrilling to watch.

The thing I wanted most of all from this film was for it to never end. The two and a half hours both do and don’t fly by. You feel every minute of it, yet I was never thinking about when this would be over. It’s what I love about long movies, as there’s a certain amount of belief and ambition a filmmaker must have in themselves to warrant trapping an audience for that long. An even more extended runtime would probably put people in the hospital from stress/anxiety. Still, it would have been well worth it for those who survived.

14. Killers of the Flower Moon

What is surprising about a blockbuster like Killers of the Flower Moon is Martin Scorsese’s ability to bring in the qualities of his lesser-known films, which is the capacity to take a step back and observe a culture. There’s a delicate balance between getting in the thick of the action and letting it wash over from a distance. For every street race and moment of shocking violence, there’s a chance to witness a piece of this land and its people. There are key moments where an Osage wedding or ceremonial tradition is recreated, shedding light on what’s ultimately at stake.

Excess is the name of the game within Scorsese’s filmography, and Killers of the Flower Moon has that in spades. But it’s not the flashy kind of excess that we’re used to seeing; it’s an excess that overwhelms your soul just as much as your senses. As the debate over what is and isn’t cinema rages on (and I pray to God it ends soon), let this be a clear illustration of what it can be: something powerful enough to enrapture you in the present and pleasantly linger with you long into the future.

13. The Brutalist

The Brutalist is a full-course cinema meal, requiring an afternoon to consume and much longer to digest. It’s easy to savor every moment of it in real-time because of its boundless beauty, and just as easy over time, thanks to its long lingering themes on the ideals that modern America convinced itself it was built upon. With a record-breaking runtime of 215 minutes (including an intermission!), each scene flows with more freedom and weight, all of them simultaneously epic and intimate as the camera glacially passes through the years.

One could imagine director Brady Corbet employing the persuasiveness of Toth’s design and vision in the pitch meetings for the film as a whole. Nothing about The Brutalist screams commerciality. But like László Toth and his indescribable monument, every dollar that Corbet’s behemoth sacrificed at the box office was used to better the art form. The only currency that matters in cinema is the experience you carry with you long after the viewing.

12. Conclave

Saints and sinners live among us, even in the holiest of places. A cardinal asks if he can keep the deceased pope’s chessboard as a memento, a bold signifier of the game of succession that’s about to be played. No sane man would desire the papacy, and no man who seeks it deserves it. Director Edward Berger has a great command of the literary material he inherited. The tension is wound tight enough to cut through steel, with sequences of backdoor politics and revelations of long-buried secrets maintaining a slow-burning, yet propulsive energy.

Longstanding acting royalty fill the cast, with the highest laurels going to Ralph Fiennes, who maintains a quiet dignity as a web of lies and deceit begins to unspool right in front of him. The balance between thrills and social critique is kept just as pristine as it was in Robert Harris’ novel. Conclave is a soap opera with as much page-turning substance as it has a prestige-like style, perfect for both the faithful and skeptics alike.

11. Maestro

There is nothing cookie-cutter about Maestro, which is its absolute greatest strength. Writer/director/producer/star Bradley Cooper is like a high school theater kid who’s just landed the role he’s always dreamed of, so giddy and overstimulated that he’s almost leaping off the screen. It’s how he sees himself tethered to Leonard Bernstein: two geniuses who often became overwhelmed with passionate joy in their craft.

Cooper’s filmmaking is just as confident and classical as Bernstein’s musical arrangements. It possesses great power to evoke a film made during the 1940s, complete with stark black-and-white and Technicolor-infused Academy ratio cinematography. It all crescendos at the Ely Cathedral in 1973 when Bernstein famously conducted Mahler’s Second Symphony, “Resurrection.” It’s spiritually transcendent, the camera capturing every enrapturing moment as it weaves its way through the choir and orchestra.

This moment isn’t all about Bernstein, though, as the final camera movement during the impressive long take pans to reveal his wife Felicia Montealerge (Carey Mulligan) standing off to the side, ready for Lenny to walk over and embrace her after his performance. It’s emblematic of how Cooper frames this entire biopic, the music and their relationship forever intertwined.

10. April

The beauty of the cinema is not just in the sheer size of the speakers and screen, but the opportunity it gives us to break away from our world and be transported to a different one. Georgian writer/director Dea Kulumbegashvili crafted a film where absolute patience and concentration are a prerequisite. Between the unsettling abstract visuals and the brutal real-life truths about female bodily autonomy through abortion, it's one of the most bone-chilling films of the decade, anchored by an iron-willed performance by Ia Sukhitashvili.

Unlike many films on this list, Kulumbegashvili was not bestowed with the laurels that she so richly deserved beyond the Special Jury Prize at the film's premiere at the 2024 Venice Film Festival. The film was banned in its home country and barely released in the United States due to the dissolution of its distributor. It was a great shame, as one of the most important and prescient films of the decade was kept hidden from the people who might need it the most.

9. The Beast

Bertrand Bonello’s sci-fi epic was the clear wire-to-wire winner of its respective year. Bonello displays a mastery of tone and vision across his 146-minute adaptation of Henry James’ genre-defying novella. There’s passion, fear, humor, drama, and everything in between as Léa Seydoux and George MacKay play characters in three different periods – 1910, 2014, 2044 – as they navigate the unknowable connection they feel for each other. It’s a greatly demanding work exploring the fear of opening oneself up to risk and the unknown, something that all audiences will have to conquer if they want to claim the reward that this film offers.

8. The Killer

The Killer is a descent into bloody madness told by a director in complete control of their craft. Every frame is perfectly lit, every cut perfectly placed and executed, and every piece of sound is perfectly engineered to rattle your bones. It’s a pulpy, uncomplicated story about revenge being a dish best served cold. For anyone who enjoys the Hitman video game series and laments the two laughably bad movie adaptations, this is the answer to all your prayers.

This is Fincher at his most surface level, playfully cutting loose from ambition and delivering his best film to date. Don’t expect to learn any life lessons or have your perspective changed on an issue. Just sit back and be entertained. There’s nothing more satisfying than seeing a straightforward process being executed with pinpoint precision, and both our protagonist and Fincher accomplish their mission with outstanding results.

7. Hamnet

The story of the death of William Shakespeare's young child may be a tear-jerker (it was the most I’ve cried during a movie in years), but there isn’t a single moment where it's cloying at those ducts. Chloé Zhao’s adaptation of Maggie O'Farrell’s Hamnet depicted an honest collision course of pain, featuring two of the best actors working today. Jessie Buckley was nothing short of transcendent, encapsulating the entire human experience, what it means to be your true self, and then producing an extension of that through children. It was heartbreakingly cathartic to witness Mescal channel his torment into his work, recontextualizing the most celebrated works of the English language for those who were previously uninitiated.

By staging “Hamlet,” Shakespeare preserved his child. His body may have only been a part of this for a mere eleven years, but his spirit has lived on for over half a millennium, adapting to serve different cultures and contexts. Zhao’s film is a single drop in an ocean; the mightiest one that pushes the waves in a bold new direction.

6. TÁR

For all you completionists who demand films answer the questions they raise, both literally and metaphorically, TÁR will seem like an exercise in futility. Because if there’s one thing Field learned as the protégé of Stanley Kubrick (for which Field played the piano-playing character Nick Nightingale in the master’s final film, Eyes Wide Shut), aside from impeccably precise visuals and dread-filled drip editing, it’s the ability to make the unsatisfying loose ends of a story seem so naturally satisfying. There are no easy answers within Field’s film as he meticulously studies his central character, for whom he shares no predisposed love or hatred. It’s for the audience to decide if Lydia’s fate, which is sealed with a visual setup and punchline so hilarious that it might as well have been ghost-directed by Mel Brooks, matches her “crimes.”

As our guide during that examination, Cate Blanchett reaches another echelon in a career that has only been marked by peaks. One could not be ridiculed for mistaking Lydia Tár as a real person, as the details and nuances Blanchett infuses the character with are ones usually found within Oscar-bait biopics. At the moment, it does not seem that the film was meant to mark the second coming of Todd Field’s career. But if we’re subjected to another sixteen-year absence, then I at least know what my most anticipated film of 2038 will be.

5. All Quiet on the Western Front

By combining many elements from some of the best films within the genre, director Edward Berger's All Quiet on the Western Front is one of the few anti-war films, something that French New Wave film critic and director François Truffaut famously declared to be impossible. The large-scale and gruesomely detailed battles harken back to Saving Private Ryan. We see more mud than blood as the soldiers fight for nothing more than to survive another second.

As a slight departure from the source material, writers Berger, Lesley Paterson, and Ian Stokell juxtapose the scenes of carnage with those of the “fat pigs” that wield power. Going back and forth between this and Paul’s storyline on the battlefield, we get the sense that this war did not involve winners and losers. Everybody was a loser as they lost something mentally, emotionally, spiritually, or physically. And in the end, there was no point to any of it.

In the film’s harrowing opening sequence, we follow a coat worn by a German soldier. The man dies in battle, and the coat is plucked off his corpse. It’s then shipped back to a factory to be washed of the blood, mended, and given to a recruit. It’s moments like this, of which there are many, where Berger masterfully illustrates the futile self-fulfilling cycle of death that war creates.

4. The Zone of Interest

There isn’t a single moment in The Zone of Interest that takes place within Auschwitz, but its presence is always felt. The family will be sunbathing in the garden when a faint gunshot goes off on the other side of the wall. Both you and the characters know what that sound means, but only you care about the implications of it. For the family, those gunshots are just as much a part of everyday life as the birds chirping in the trees above. They go about their daily lives without a hitch, leaving you stranded in the fear of your imagination.

Sickening in the most calculated way possible, this is Jonathan Glazer's ode to Stanley Kubrick. He answers the question of how evil can exist unchecked, holding all of your senses in a sterilized vice. Be sure to soak it all in during your first watch, because I doubt you'll ever want to view the world this way again.

3. Uncut Gems

With dashes of Singin’ in the Rain, Boogie Nights, The Wolf of Wall Street, Uncut Gems, and Mulholland Drive, Damien Chazelle’s Babylon is a true auteurist epic in every sense of the word. It’s a 188-minute deconstruction of Old Hollywood mythology, complete with cocaine, fast cars, projectile vomit, glitzy actors, underground sex dungeons, and buckets of style. There wasn't anything like it the year of its release, or any year for that matter.

Five characters have their stories cross paths on several occasions, featured in some of the biggest moments of the Silent Era as it hurtles towards its downfall. The rise of talkies will bring about a new style of filmmaking, one that’ll benefit some and destroy others. But through it all, they found a way to create a legacy that lives beyond their mortal lives.

Chazelle may have made his generation's Heaven's Gate: an overly ambitious epic that proved to be too much for audiences and critics. But born out of that chaos was a passionate cult fanbase, a Babylon Hive that has embraced this grand slam of self-indulgence and outrageousness. 

2. Oppenheimer

With each passing second since I walked out of the 70mm presentation of Christopher Nolan's biopic on the American Prometheus, I became more and more convinced that I had witnessed something extraordinary. Oppenheimer is as entertaining as it is enlightening, emboldened by Nolan’s unparalleled vision and craftsmanship. It’s his magnum opus, grabbing hold of history with fiery conviction, never letting you go until you’ve experienced all that cinema has to offer.

Kenneth Branagh plays Danish physicist Niels Bohr, who gives a sturdy piece of advice to Cillian Murphy's titular character early in his career: “It’s not important that you can read music, only that you can hear it.” Even if I couldn’t read all that was being presented right in front of me, I could definitely feel it. Ludwig Göransson’s tremendous score does a lot to convey the spectacle and terror within these moments of history. There are palpable feelings of anxiety and suspense, despite already knowing the outcome. You feel both a sense of patriotism in seeing this American achievement, and also a deep sense of guilt as a weapon without a defense was unleashed upon an untrustworthy world.

1. The French Dispatch

With each subsequent entry into his distinct filmography, Wes Anderson seems to make it a mission to make the most Wes Anderson-iest film. His tenth feature film - also referred to as The French Dispatch of the Liberty, Kansas Evening Sun - towers over all of his works with its masterful production qualities and international ensemble cast.

While there is no central story to fully move the film from start to finish, the anthology-style structure still allows Anderson to explore several of the themes found within his previous works, such as human curiosity and the ironic relationship we share with the world and its other characters. There are no small parts, only small actors, with a robust cast given their individual moments to shine amidst the dazzlingly symmetrical production design.

I've seen this film a dozen times since the initial screening at the Cannes Film Festival in 2021, even pausing this write-up for another rewatch. That's love that money can't buy, and a loving testament to what Louis B. Mayer crassly said about the movies being a business where "the buyer gets nothing for his money but a memory." Anderson will probably always live in the shadow of this film for me, but I'll still be thankful that something this magical is allowed to exist in a world that only seems to get bleaker.