Do Not Expect Too Much from the End of the World – Director: Radu Jude (MUBI)
As the title of Radu Jude’s new film suggests, things end not with a bang but a whimper. In the case of Romania, the country whose legacy of corruption and exploitation has been a favored topic of Jude and other Romanian New Wave filmmakers, it is presented as collapsing with an undignified slide into lethargy, misdirected rage, and social media clowning. Do Not Expect Too Much from the End of the World is an absurdist and occasionally hilarious comedy. It also leaves you with the sensation of witnessing a slow-motion catastrophe where the worst has yet to happen.
Jude builds his sprawling and sometimes overlong film around Angela (Ilinca Manolache). Angela’s manic moods mirror the filmmaker’s style. Jude likes to alternate Béla Tarr-like stretches of stoic melancholy and deadpan humor with jags of bawdy chaos, though there is less of the latter in this film than in 2021’s more forthrightly comedic Bad Luck Banging or Loony Porn. Do Not Expect Too Much from the End of the World‘s cynicism is deeply embedded, yet it delivers the most laughs. – Chris Barsanti
Dune: Part 2 – Director: Denis Villeneuve (Warner Bros.)
After the success of 2021’s Dune, the wait was over to find out if director Denis Villeneuve could replicate his success with its much-anticipated sequel. The answer is a resounding yes. I remember Robert Rodriguez saying that we rewatch a film for moments. Dune Part 2 is in no shortage of such moments and is helped by a phenomenal score that elevates them even if the cinematography becomes a little overzealous. Hans Zimmer masterfully evolves Dune‘s musical repertoire, keeping the spirit of the first film alive in Paul Atreides’ (Timothée Chalamet) ongoing quest for vengeance against the Emperor and House Harkonnen.
To Villeneuve’s credit, he keeps the story – which revolves around big themes and ideas about false prophets, religion, power, and manipulation – grounded in Atreides’ emotional journey. Dune Part 2 is a special film, not only because it supersedes the original to become one of cinema’s greatest sequels, but because Villeneuve provokes empathy and compassion. From the painful and heart-breaking fate of House Atreides in Dune, we continue to be swept up in the stakes of the story that emotionally resonate. – Paul Risker
Good One – Director: India Donaldson (MUBI)
Director India Donaldson’s first feature is a finely judged and deceptively simple drama. At the heart of Good One‘s story are the three characters on a backpacking trip to the Catskill Mountains in Upstate New York, and one of the many striking aspects of the film is how Donaldson, her composer Celia Hollander, cinematographer Wilson Cameron, and editor Graham Mason, blend the film’s aesthetics into the natural environment. Good One doesn’t seek to appropriate nature as its characters’ world. Instead, it communicates a deeper respect for nature. What truly impresses, however, is the way Donaldson coalesces the story around two sentences or ideas that lend the film meaning, purpose, and identity
In hindsight, Good One reveals little details. Yet, it deepens our understanding and appreciation for a film that leans into gender distinctions but goes beyond these to offer an incisive and observant critique of human nature. Good One might not have the strength of presence to assert itself among other notable or louder films, but it’s a near-perfect film. Its shyness conveys the spirit of its adolescent protagonist as the character and story walk hand-in-hand toward their untidy future. – Paul Risker
Io Capitano – Director: Matteo Garrone (MUBI)
The rare modern epic that builds its mythos from the world of today rather than pillaging from the past, Matteo Garrone’s expansive and unforgettable tale, Io Capitano, vividly shows how the answer to the question “What would you do for a better life?” is almost inevitably, “Anything.”
When Senegalese cousins Seydou (Seydou Sarr) and Moussa (Moustapha Fall) set off for Europe, they barely set foot beyond Dakar before realizing just how much danger they are in from both natural elements and human predators. Their cross-African journey is packed with several films’ worth of ravishing beauty and devastating horror well before arriving at the Mediterranean, where the meaning of Garrone’s title becomes clear in a climactic sequence that balances heartbreak and heroism in equal measures. – Chris Barsanti
I’m Still Here (Ainda Estou Aqui) – Director: Walter Sallers (Sony Classics)
Walter Salles’ tenth feature, based on a horrendous true story, is a momentous tale of the necessity and burden of memory. I’m Still Here (Ainda Estou Aqui), based on the book by Marcelo Rubens Paiva, the son of the “disappeared” former congressman and left-wing activist Rubens Paiva, is a heartfelt and bold drama fiercely taking on the enormous scope of consequences of being the opposition in Brazil during the military dictatorship.
Masterfully layered and confidently executed, I’m Still Here swivels between intimate family drama and sweeping political thriller, parsing countess societal horrors to land as an homage to the fearlessness of women – especially those who, robbed of everything, still had families to raise. The greatest of its many strengths is its focus on Eunice as the unwitting but unyielding pillar of the community, a woman with no real choice but to push on. In I’m Still Here‘s quietest, most fleeting moments, a quick closeup of Torres’ terrified eyes or a sudden glance toward the streets convey the enormity of the story.
Masterfully layered and confidently executed, I’m Still Here swivels between intimate family drama and sweeping political thriller in an homage to fearless women. – Ana Yorke
In the Summers – Director: Alessandra Lacorazza Samudio (Music Box)
Alessandra Lacorazza’s deeply personal film, based on her relationship with her father, is one of the revelations of the year. In the Summers blurs the line between real life and fiction, making the drama all the more compelling.
With subtlety, tensions, and conflict are sometimes left for the audience to sense. There’s an explosiveness to the drama, but Lacorazza knows when to exercise restraint and use her audience’s anticipation. This is true of her approach to the characters, who are allowed to gradually reveal themselves. In the Summers relies on an engaged audience that knows how to listen and who can look into the souls of the characters.
Lacorazza speaks about difficult truths, such as those who love us can be a volatile presence in our lives. We must also accept that those we love might not be perfect, and we are burdened with a personal struggle that feeds our imperfections. Also, we are often trapped in cyclical behavior patterns that will grind down hope or break hearts. In the Summers is not an easy experience, but its maturity and honesty will universally resonate. For many, the film will be a mirror for its audiences’ self-reflection. – Paul Risker
I Saw the TV Glow – Director: Jane Schoenbrun (A24)
Jane Schoenbrun’s I Saw The TV Glow hits on multiple levels. With its androgynous leads and surreal gender swap dream sequences, the transgender themes seem fairly obvious and intentional. It works every bit as well as a love letter to fandom in a time when it was thankless, at best, if not outright dangerous, to be a weirdo.
Even for those who don’t care to read between the lines, I Saw The TV Glow is a celebration of early 1990s disquiet, refracting the gooey grotesquerie and sheer bizarreness of cult favorites like Goosebumps, Are You Afraid of the Dark?, or Buffy the Vampire Slayer. If all of that’s not enough to sell you, one of the most banging soundtracks of 2024 makes the film worth watching at least once for anyone with a tolerance for unconventional filmmaking. – J Simpson
Juror #2 – Director: Clint Eastwood (Warner Bros.)
It’s sad but fair to say that it’s hard to remember the last time a courtroom drama or a legal thriller made strides in the cinematic domain. Long gone are the late 1980s and ’90s, when fictionalized criminal proceedings served as launchpads for A-listers or as celebrated, if perfunctory, examinations of American “heroism” and imaginary “Western” morality. More dispiritingly, what is also gone are the days Warner Bros. had any respect for Clint Eastwood, now a 94-year-old (!) filmmaker who has been making movies for them for over half a century.
For this reason, Juror #2, an excellent, deeply engaging meditation on the properties of a justice system, went painfully unnoticed when Warner Bros. announced that Clint Eastwood’s newest would not get a wide theatrical release. Available on Max from 20 December and starring Nicolas Hoult, Toni Collette, J.K. Simmons, and Chris Messina, Juror #2 is a lean, taut study of the relationship between individuals, their sense of duty, and a system that punishes integrity and conscientiousness.
Funnily enough, the plot is confidently bonkers: a young journalist (Hoult) is summoned for jury duty at what seems to be a simple murder case only to realize it is likely he is the actual killer. In the hands of less skilled directors, endless deliberations behind closed doors would likely come across as indulgent, patronizing, or downright parodic, but Eastwood, likely the most experienced filmmaker alive, eliminates fluff altogether in favor of a crisp, fast-paced story focusing on competing interests and notions of justice in the face of supreme civic duty. The ensemble is effortlessly realistic and relatable, with Collette’s Faith Killebrew, the idealistic prosecutor looking to score a coveted political position of District Attorney, being a standout performance.
Poignantly morally ambiguous and delivered with a straight face, Juror #2 is not just a courtroom drama for the ages with a universal appeal – just as importantly, it is a slick, hugely entertaining film that does not pander to or prompt its audiences. Like real life, it paints a picture of complexity, leaving black-and-white stories of right and wrong to lesser fiction. – Ana Yorke
Kneecap – Director: Rich Peppiatt (Curzon)
Believe it or not, Richard Lester’s Beatles movie A Hard Day’s Night came out 60 years ago, and although Kneecap doesn’t quite match the drama for songcraft, this venture poses many of the same questions to its audience. Both films discuss class issues and national identities while highlighting music as an act of rebellion.
Kneecap is set in 2019 in Belfast, a city that has undergone protests, riots, and warfare. The two central characters, Mo Charah’s Liam Ó Hannaidh and Móglaí Bap’s Naoise Ó Cairealláin, are part of the “Ceasefire Generation”, although their music exploits – predominantly sung in Gaeilge – land them in trouble with the British authorities.
A chance encounter with music teacher JJ Ó Dochartaigh (played by DJ Próvai) leads the duo to shout out their grievances à la hip-hop. Throughout, the men surmise the musicality behind their native tongue and elect to use it as a vessel of creativity. Some of the jokes are parochial, e.g. “Bobby Sandals” and “Sold out faster than Michael Collins”, and the comedy beats hit their marks. The montages of the duo at work are executed with crisp energy. Unlike A Hard Day’s Night, Kneecap is unafraid to use colour: Ó Dochartaigh’s balaclava, which features the Irish tricolour, sits front and centre on the screen during the incendiary concert towards the end. – Eoghan Lyng
Memoir of a Snail – Director: Adam Elliot (Madman)
Adam Elliot’s stop-motion animated tragicomedy, Memoir of a Snail, is a genuine delight. It’s a story about adversity and the resiliency to endure life’s struggles. Each frame is filled with detail that enriches the world of its character, Grace Pudel, voiced by Sarah Snook. Elliot finds an inventive way to tell the story through a series of letters between Grace and her twin brother Gilbert, allowing the characters to build their world through their own words and interactions. In a film that is crafted with noticeable artistic and creative intent, this is striking.
Memoir of a Snail alternates between comedy and tragedy and, at times, is simultaneously funny and tragic. This is because the film leaves it to the audience to decide which it is. Elliot has crafted an intelligent film that doesn’t emotionally exploit its characters or the audience. Despite being endlessly creative, Grace’s world is genuine. Elliot has created a collection of sympathetic and lovable characters who will hold a special place in our hearts. That we’ll never experience Grace’s story for the first time again is maybe its sad tragedy. – Paul Risker
Queer – Director: Luca Guadagnino (A24)
One of (Italy’s) finest working directors and a long-time Venice darling, Luca Guadagnino, makes Queer his second triumph this season. Having postponed the planned launch for Challengers at last year’s Biennale due to the SAG-AFTRA strike, this year, the go-to auteur for all things love and desire comes back to his homeland with yet another heartbreaking tale of the many failures of enamorment. Mostly faithfully adapted by the Challengers writer Justin Kuritzkes with some extra motifs from William S. Burroughs’ biography, Queer succeeds both in being “Burroughsian” (a term Guadagnino used to describe it) and unmistakably helmed by Guadagnino – hyper-stylized, dream-like, and brimming with emotion.
Much of Queer’s world’s potent symbolism comes from 20th-century painters; indoor scenes are staggeringly Hopper-esque, otherwise the many hallucinations draw heavily on René Magritte and, in an appropriate nod to the Mexican culture, Frida Kahlo and Diego Rivera. What would otherwise end up a misbegotten sensory overload, in Guadagnino and cinematographer Sayombhu Mukdeeprom’s capable hands, everything makes sense.
As stylized as Queer is, its greatest quality is the honesty with which it portrays the many plights of humanity, from a general sense of purposelessness to aging, addiction, accepting one’s own queerness, and especially the longing for love. Flawlessly, heartbreakingly acted, and profound, this is a feature that warrants repeat viewings. Queer will likely become a cult classic, well worth revisiting as one’s own life advances and mutates. – Ana Yorke
A Real Pain – Director: Jesse Eisenberg (Searchlight)
Somehow, Jesse Eisenberg has quietly become not just one of the era’s great performers when translating modern anxieties into potent emotion but also suddenly an ace filmmaker. While his first writing and directing outing, 2022’s When You Finish Saving the World, was a little too sourly arch for its own good, this raw and plangent comedic melodrama about two cousins reuniting for a part-disastrous and part-revelatory Jewish heritage tour of Poland is the kind of instant classic that should allow Eisenberg room to direct two or three duds without it mattering.
A Real Pain is mostly a showcase for Kieran Culkin, who gobbles the scenery as a ne’er-do-well whose neediness and unfiltered pain fascinate and repel those around him as much as his firecracker wit. Eisenberg plays the more bourgeois and repressed cousin with exquisite timing, finding new wrinkles and a degree of pathos in a character one would have thought he had already played to death. – Chris Barsanti