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There are so many film experiences to choose from on Netflix, let us help you narrow down your choices.
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The sheer volume of films on Netflix — and the site’s less than ideal interface — can make finding a genuinely great movie there a difficult task. To help, we’ve plucked out the 50 best films currently streaming on the service in the United States, updated regularly as titles come and go. And as a bonus, we link to more great movies on Netflix within many of our write-ups below. (Note: Streaming services sometimes remove titles or change starting dates without giving notice.)
Here are our lists of the best TV shows on Netflix, the best movies on Amazon Prime Video and the best of everything on Hulu and Disney Plus.
Aardman Animations’s high-spirited and rambunctious sequel to “Chicken Run” (2000, also on Netflix) pulls off the tricky sequel balancing act of recapturing the magic of the original without resorting to outright, beat-by-beat imitation. Here, the lives of the chief chickens in the story are disrupted when Molly, the daughter of Ginger and Rocky, slips away from their idyllic island paradise and ends up trapped in the impenetrable fortress of a food factory. “Last time, we broke out of a chicken farm,” says Ginger. “Well, this time, we’re breaking in.” So instead of the escape adventures that inspired the original film, “Dawn of the Nugget” is riffing on heist movies, and cleverly; it’s impeccably designed and detailed, the laughs are plentiful and the voice performers are clearly having a ball.
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As with so much of his best work, this “sly, unnerving” latest from the director Todd Haynes positions itself precariously in that hair’s breadth between drama and melodrama, between naturalism and camp. Natalie Portman, gamely satirizing actorly pretension, stars as a TV actress cast in an indie film dramatizing the scandalous relationship between a 36-year-old wife and mother and a seventh grade boy. Decades have passed, and the couple is still together, so the actress embeds in their hometown to observe them up close. Haynes winks at the “ripped-from-a-true-story” aesthetics of TV movies and indies, but he takes these people and their rampant narcissism seriously; between the broad comic beats, he finds moments of stealth, emotional brutality and piercing insight. It’s a sharp, funny, merciless movie. (Portman fans can also catch her in “V for Vendetta,” or her Oscar-winning turn in “Black Swan.”)
Ellen Burstyn won the Academy Award for best actress for her poignant, lived-in performance as a newly widowed mother who takes her preteen son on the road in search of greener pastures. The director was Martin Scorsese, coming off his breakthrough film, “Mean Streets,” a story of small-time hoods starring Robert De Niro and Harvey Keitel. He took on “Alice” to prove his versatility, and did just that; his direction here is modest but affecting, focused mostly on character and performance. Burstyn is excellent; so are Kris Kristofferson and Keitel as her potential romantic interests, the future “Taxi Driver” collaborator Jodie Foster as a friend of her son’s, and Vic Tayback, Diane Ladd and Valerie Curtin as her diner co-workers (in scenes that would inspire the long-running TV sitcom “Alice”). (Scorsese’s “The Irishman” is also on Netflix.)
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A potent, provocative balancing act of horror, comedy and commentary from Jordan Peele, who fuses “Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner” and “The Stepford Wives” with a potent dose of contemporary sociopolitical discourse, mining the real-world tensions of racial and familial interactions before the horror elements even come into play. But it’s not just a think piece either, thanks to generous shots of humor, genuine pathos and a twisty, layered narrative that results in shocks and chills aplenty. It’s a model of narrative efficiency, in which every piece fits snugly into place, and every performance works on multiple levels. The result is a rare work of pop art that both quickens the pulse and engages the mind, an “exhilaratingly smart and scary freakout.” (Peele’s follow-up, “Us” is also on Netflix.)
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Mel Brooks concocted one of his rudest, brashest, funniest comedies with this Western spoof, in which railroad bosses try to clear out a tiny town by appointing an African-American sheriff (Cleavon Little). Brooks and his team of ace comedy writers — including a young Richard Pryor — adopted an “everything but the kitchen sink” approach, throwing in broad slapstick, sophisticated social satire, cheerful vulgarity, witty wordplay and fourth-wall breaks. As a result, there’s something for everyone — and, most likely, something to offend everyone. Gene Wilder lends able support as the hard-drinking, quick-drawing Waco Kid, but Madeline Kahn steals the show as the vampy saloon performer Lili Von Shtupp. (For more classic comedy, try “Beverly Hills Cop” and “Sixteen Candles.”)
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The neo-noir films of the 1970s, and particularly the era’s plethora of private eye movies, took advantage of the temperature of the times; in a decade where distrust of authority and institutions was at an all-time high, it’s not surprising the unshakable moral ethos of the dedicated detective was again in vogue. Few films reanimate the golden age of noir as expertly as Roman Polanski’s 1974 best picture nominee, which also takes full advantage of the shifts in tolerance of adult subject matter to include the kinds of plot twists earlier films could only hint at. That tension, coupled with the beauty of John A. Alonzo’s cinematography and the stellar performances of Jack Nicholson, Faye Dunaway and John Huston, resulted in one of the finest films of the decade.
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Josh and Benny Safdie have all but singlehandedly kept the tradition of the grimy New York street movie alive in the 21st century, with films like “Heaven Knows What” and “Good Time” (also streaming on Netflix) explicitly recalling the sweaty desperation of ’70s Gotham cinema. Their latest is also their best, featuring a career-high performance from Adam Sandler as a diamond dealer and inveterate gambler whose eternal quest for one big score puts his livelihood — and his very life — on the line. Manohla Dargis called it a “rough and glittering thing of beauty.”
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The Oscar-winning documentarian Roger Ross Williams adapts the National Book Award-winner by Ibram X. Kendi into a thought-provoking rumination on the myths and realities of American history. Diving into the knotty legacies of Blackness, whiteness, and white supremacy, Williams brilliantly and incisively juxtaposes archival materials with contemporary insights from an array of scholars, authors and activists. The brisk, 91-minute running time leaves little room for throat-clearing; the results are blunt, provocative and pointed. (Ava DuVernay’s “13TH” is a similarly stimulating exploration of these themes.)
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Bayard Rustin was not the most famous figure of the 1963 March on Washington — that was the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., who delivered one of the most quoted pieces of modern oratory at its climax — but Rustin dreamed it up and made it happen. He was a fascinating figure, a driven civil rights organizer who was also openly gay (at a time when that was, to put it mildly, frowned upon) former Communist (ditto). “Rustin” wisely takes its cues from Selma, centering on a single, earth-shattering event, rather than attempting to summarize an entire life from cradle to grave. The director, George C. Wolfe, bracingly gets into the weeds, compellingly dramatizing the logistics of organizing, recruiting and raising both money and awareness for an event of this magnitude. And Colman Domingo, a valuable utility player for years now, shines big and bright in the “galvanic title performance.” (Wolfe’s adaptation of “Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom” is also on Netflix.)
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Alfonso Cuarón won the Academy Award for best director for this stunning yet simple story of survival in space (which he also co-wrote with his son Jonás). Sandra Bullock and George Clooney are a pair of astronauts on a routine mission that goes unexpectedly awry, putting their lives in jeopardy; it runs a crisp, tight, 91 minutes, bothering with little in the way of set-up or exposition, boiling their predicament down to the essentials of the moment. Yet Cuarón isn’t only constructing a thrill ride, and when the pathos and emotion arrive, they do so with unexpected power. “All of it — terrifyingly and marvelously — evades summary and confounds expectations,” our critic wrote. “You have to see it to believe it.” (Cuarón would win another best director Oscar for “Roma,” also on Netflix.)
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Walter Matthau was one of the most beloved comic actors of his generation, but he was also an Oscar-winning actor and proved his versatility in this 1973 crime thriller from the director Don Siegel (who’d struck gold with his previous picture, “Dirty Harry,” 1971). Matthau is the title character, a professional criminal and pilot who pulls off a daring heist at a bank in rural New Mexico, only to discover that he’s stolen a fortune in laundered mob money. Siegel’s direction is stylish but efficient, and he stages several action set pieces with brute force. The plotting is twisty and merciless, and Matthau proves a surprisingly credible action hero. “If the role were played by someone else,” our critic wrote, “‘Charley Varrick’ would be something else entirely.” (If you love ’70s thrillers, try “The Parallax View.”)
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James Ellroy’s sparse yet stylish crime novel became one of the best neo-noir thrillers of our time in the hands of the director and co-writer Curtis Hanson (“Wonder Boys”). Set in the razzle-dazzle of 1950s Los Angeles, this “tough, gorgeous, vastly entertaining throwback” is a blisteringly good mystery, featuring framed-up murders, dirty cops, shady tabloid reporters, and crooked politicos. But this isn’t just a good yarn; Hanson understands (as Ellroy did before him) that this is a story about the roots of corruption in the Los Angeles Police Department, and beyond. Guy Pearce and Russell Crowe (both mostly unknown at the time) are the standouts as the diametrically opposed police detectives — one brains, one brawn — who become unlikely partners. Kim Basinger provides the love interest. (Crowe and Basinger reunited for “The Nice Guys,” also on Netflix.)
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John Singleton’s debut film burned with the kind of energy and intensity that only a first-timer can produce — the feeling that they may not get another shot, so they’re making this one count. Singleton’s heartfelt story of growing up in the Crenshaw section of Los Angeles netted him Academy Award nominations for best original screenplay and best director (he was both the youngest-ever nominee in the latter category, and its first African-American), and launched not only his career, but those of several cast members, including Cuba Gooding Jr., Ice Cube, Angela Bassett, Morris Chestnut, Nia Long and Regina King. Our critic praised Singleton for “saying something familiar with new dramatic force, and in ways that a wide and varied audience will understand.”
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This wildly out-of-the-box dark comedy plays, at first, like the sly story of an amateur sleuth: Our heroine (Melanie Lynskey), frustrated with the indifference of the police to the crime against her, hits pawn shops and confronts criminals to recover her laptop and her grandmother’s silver. But as she gets in over her head, the film’s tone subtly shifts into a key closer to that of a thriller, particularly when we meet the perpetrators, who are scarily small time (and thus have nothing to lose). Such stark tonal contrasts could sink a lesser movie, but the actor-turned-director Macon Blair never loses control, and the increasingly panicked reactions of the marvelous Ms. Lynskey to her escalating situation keep the story grounded in something resembling the real world. It’s a strange little movie, but an oddly satisfying one.
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What begins as a “Memories of Murder”-style police procedural veers into darker, wilder territory in this unnerving and occasionally stomach-churning horror thriller from the writer and director Na Hong-jin. Jong-goo (Kwak Do-won) is a policeman whose investigation of a string of grisly killings is influenced by the gossip around him: “All this happened,” he is told, “after that Japanese man arrived.” When his family is drawn into the investigation, Jong-goo discovers exactly what he’s capable of — and then things get really horrifying. The expansive 156-minute running time allows leisurely detours into character drama and bleak humor, but the picture never goes slack; there is something sinister in the air of this village, and Na builds that sense of inescapable dread with patience and power. (For more South Korean cinema, try “Oldboy” or “Burning.”)
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It’s a real shame that Liam Neeson had already burned off the good will of his third-act man-of-action career resurgence with too many “Taken” sequels and retreads by the time this taut thriller hit theaters — because it’s far superior to any of his other pictures of the time. That’s partly thanks to the personnel; it’s based on one of a series of crackerjack novels by Lawrence Block, and adapted and directed by Scott Frank (who would later perform the same duties on “The Queen’s Gambit”). But Neeson is also at his best, imbuing cop-turned-private-eye Matthew Scudder with a mixture of soulful regret, unwavering faith and righteous indignation. (If you prefer Mr. Neeson in his more direct form, “Taken” is also on Netflix.)
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Quentin Tarantino crafted his follow-up to “Pulp Fiction” as a valentine to two of his key influences: the author Elmore Leonard, whose novel “Rum Punch” was the source material (it’s Tarantino’s only adapted screenplay to date), and the ’70s exploitation movie legend Pam Grier, for whom he reworked the leading role of a flight attendant caught between a gunrunner, the F.B.I. and the A.T.F. It has all the hallmarks of a Tarantino picture: memorable and musical dialogue, playful construction, eccentric supporting characters and a throwback aesthetic. But its aging protagonists — not only Grier but also Robert Forster’s seen-it-all bail bondsman — lend the picture a maturity and gravitas that can elude even Tarantino’s best work.
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Jack Nicholson built one of his most iconic performances (he plays the role with “such easy grace that it’s difficult to remember him in any other film,” our critic wrote), and won his first Oscar in the process, in Milos Forman’s adaptation of Ken Kesey’s novel. Nicholson had plenty of company; this is one of the few films to win all of the “big five” Academy Awards, including best picture, best director, best screenplay and best actress. Louise Fletcher won the last for her unforgettable turn as the steely Nurse Ratched, whose iron-fisted rule of a state mental hospital is challenged by Nicholson’s free-spirited Randle Patrick McMurphy. (Other Oscar winners on Netflix include “Minari” and “Darkest Hour.”)
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Before the miniboom of decidedly adult-oriented filmmakers trying their hands at family entertainment (Martin Scorsese’s “Hugo,” Wes Anderson’s “Fantastic Mr. Fox,” Todd Haynes’s “Wonderstruck”), the “Dazed and Confused” director, Richard Linklater, and the “Enlightened” creator, Mike White, joined forces to tell this story of a slacker musician who uses his prep-school substitute teaching gig to turn a class of fourth-graders into a rock band. White’s script is clever without being cute, and Linklater’s direction is engaged but unobtrusive. The biggest draw, though, is Jack Black in the starring role, one seemingly designed to show off his simultaneous gifts for broad comedy and hard rocking. It’s a warm, winning, endlessly funny performance.
Patty Jenkins’s big-screen take on the iconic superheroine “briskly shakes off blockbuster branding imperatives,” A.O. Scott wrote, “and allows itself to be something relatively rare in the modern superhero cosmos.” That rare something is fun, as Jenkins (mostly) eschews the grim approach and CG-sludge aesthetic of many of her DC-interpreting brethren in favor of a bright, colorful, witty popcorn entertainment. Gal Gadot charismatically deflects bullets and swings her Lasso of Truth as the Amazonian princess who saves humanity from evil during World War I; Chris Pine is pitch-perfect as the fighter pilot with whom she teams (and engages in a bit of screwball comedy-style repartee.) (DC’s “The Batman” is also worth your time.)
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Edgar Wright (“Baby Driver”) helms this unique action/comedy with a zippy graphic-novel aesthetic. Though it’s based on a comic book series and filled with video-game-inspired sequences, viewers need not be familiar with either; Wright merely borrows the high-energy visual language of those genres to tell his sweet story more exuberantly and playfully. “Pilgrim” snaps and crackles, veering from one disarming set piece to the next with verve and vitality; A.O. Scott praised its “speedy, funny, happy-sad spirit.” And it’s a “before they were stars” extravaganza, presciently filled with talented young actors (Brie Larson, Anna Kendrick, Aubrey Plaza, Mae Whitman, Alison Pill and many more) who were just about to pop.
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Denzel Washington won his second Oscar (and his first for a leading role) for going way outside his usual wheelhouse of courageous heroes and men of virtue to play a dirty Los Angeles narcotics detective. The jolt of seeing good-guy Denzel play bad — planting evidence, staging murders and gleefully robbing his suspects — is downright electrifying, and Ethan Hawke (who received an Oscar nomination for his own work here) is an effective audience surrogate, registering increasing dismay at the corruption of his superior over the course of a long, hot 24 hours. Director Antoine Fuqua orchestrates their interactions adroitly, modulating the tension and discomfort, shrewdly treating his star like a ticking time bomb just waiting to go off. Our critic called it a performance of “powerhouse virtuosity.”
This 2010 adaptation of the book by Cressida Cowell was one of the family franchise success stories of the decade, spawning two sequels, a TV series, video games and even a live “arena spectacular.” But it is, at its heart, a simple story — something like the “boy and his dog” tales of old, in which the meek young Hiccup (voiced by Jay Baruchel), intimidated by his dragon-slaying dad (Gerald Butler) teaches himself how to tame the beasts instead. Kids will appreciate the gorgeous animation and the “be yourself” messaging; grown-ups will enjoy the comic supporting cast, which includes Jonah Hill, Christopher Mintz-Plasse and Kristen Wiig. (For more family fun, try “Paddington” and “Storks.”)
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Greta Gerwig (“Barbie”) made her solo feature directorial debut with this funny and piercing coming-of-age story, set in her hometown, Sacramento, Calif. Saoirse Ronan dazzles in the titular role as a quietly rebellious high school senior whose quests for love and popularity bring her long-simmering resentments toward her mother (Laurie Metcalf, magnificent) to a boil. Parent-child conflicts are nothing new in teen stories, but Gerwig’s perceptive screenplay slashes through the familiar types and tropes, daring to create characters that are complicated and flawed, yet deeply sympathetic. A.O. Scott praised the film’s “freshness and surprise.”
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Jennifer Lawrence won the Oscar for best actress for her spectacularly sassy and unapologetically haunted performance in David O. Russell’s (somewhat loose) adaptation of Matthew Quick’s novel. It’s a balancing act of seemingly contradictory tones and styles, slipping nimbly from serious mental-health drama to screwball comedy to romance, thanks to the deceptive casualness of Russell’s approach and the skill of his cast — particularly Bradley Cooper as its unsteady protagonist and Robert De Niro and Jackie Weaver (all also Oscar nominees) as his parents. Our critic called it “exuberant” and “a delight.” (If you like complicated familial comedy/drama, try “The Farewell”; Lawrence also shines in the rowdy comedy “No Hard Feelings.”)
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The actor-turned-screenwriter Jason Segel and his collaborator Nicholas Stoller first teamed up for this romantic comedy from the producer Judd Apatow. Segel stars as Peter, a sad-sack composer in a perpetual funk after his breakup with the title character (Kristen Bell), a famous TV actress. In an attempt to escape his depression, he takes a vacation to Hawaii — only to find Sarah at the same resort with her new beau (Russell Brand), a pretentious British pop star. Mila Kunis co-stars as the resort receptionist who presents a new opportunity for love; Bill Hader, Jonah Hill, Paul Rudd and Jack McBrayer turn up in small but uproarious supporting roles.
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When Julia Roberts headlined this romantic comedy, it was framed as a comeback vehicle, implying that she had wandered too far from her bread and butter with appearances in darker fare like “Mary Reilly” and “Michael Collins.” But this was no lightweight rom-com; the director P.J. Hogan (“Muriel’s Wedding”) and the screenwriter Ronald Bass (“Rain Man”) allow Roberts to tinker with her audience’s expectations, complicating their assumed empathy for the actor with her character’s questionable (and even cruel) motives and actions. And Cameron Diaz is brilliantly used as the target of her ire — a character so warm and sunny, we can’t help but wonder whose side we’re really on.
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Rob Reiner’s early directorial career is a mind-boggling display of adept genre-surfing, moving with ease from broad comedy (“This Is Spinal Tap”) to road movie (“The Sure Thing”) to fantasy (“The Princess Bride”) to rom-com (“When Harry Met Sally”) to suspense (“Misery”) to courtroom drama (“A Few Good Men”). In the middle of that astonishing run, he took a shot at coming-of-age dramas and proved he could do those too. This modest but memorable adaptation of the Stephen King novella “The Body” digs into its time and place (a small town in Oregon, circa 1959), shows a remarkable sense for the way boys communicate and boasts top-notch leading performances by Corey Feldman, Jerry O’Connell, Wil Wheaton and River Phoenix.
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Few onscreen pairings have conveyed affection and camaraderie as effortlessly as that of Paul Newman and Robert Redford, and they easily recaptured the magic of “Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid” in their second onscreen collaboration (again under the guidance of the “Cassidy” director George Roy Hill). Set in the 1930s, this sparkling, comedic con caper finds our handsome heroes mounting a giant operation to swindle a corrupt banker (Robert Shaw), all to the ragtime sounds of Scott Joplin’s piano. There are turns and reversals aplenty, along with endless charm. (For more buddy comedy fun, try “The Blues Brothers.”)
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Before his astonishing four-Oscar haul for “Parasite,” the director Bong Joon Ho displayed his proficiency for fusing class commentary with genre cinema in this thrilling adaptation of the French graphic novel “Le Transperceneige.” The story is set in a postapocalyptic snowscape, in which the last members of the human race are on a train ride that never ends. But they are separated by class and caste; Chris Evans stars as the passenger who leads a rebellion among his fellow lower-class travelers in the back of the train. The action is gripping, the performances are eccentric and the messaging is as pointed as ever. (Director Bong’s “Okja” is also on Netflix.)
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This new twist on the classic tale from the Oscar-winning del Toro (who co-directed with Mark Gustafson) is, to be clear, not for the tiny ones — it’s set in Fascist-era Italy and takes several period-appropriate dark turns, while exploring the running theme of the inevitability of death. But older kids, not to mention imaginative adults, will find much to embrace here. The voice performances are terrific (with Ewan McGregor, Christoph Waltz and Tilda Swinton the standouts), the set pieces are jaw-dropping (particularly the staggering whale sequence) and the stop-motion animation is gorgeously detailed, an appropriate match of subject and form — the film itself looks as lovingly handcrafted as Geppetto’s woodwork.
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Clint Eastwood made a rare late-career acting-only appearance in this first-rate thriller from the director Wolfgang Petersen. Eastwood stars as Frank Horrigan, one of the Secret Service agents working in Dallas on Nov. 22, 1963, when President John F. Kennedy was assassinated. That connection catches the attention of a potential assassin (John Malkovich), who baits Horrigan into a game of cat and mouse by threatening to repeat history on his watch. Malkovich was deservedly nominated for an Academy Award for his chilling turn as the ruthlessly intelligent killer, but Eastwood is no slouch; our critic called this “the richest performance yet by an actor who, among other things, keeps getting better and better.” (The Eastwood-directed “Mystic River” and “The Mule” are also on Netflix.)
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The director Steven Soderbergh reunites with Andre Holland, his co-star from “The Knick,” for this rarest of beasts: a sports movie without any sports. The screenplay by Tarell Alvin McCraney is instead about the business of professional athletics, set during an N.B.A. lockout in which a high-powered agent (Holland) attempts to use the shutdown to turn the entire league — and all of the presumptions and hierarchies of organized sports — upside down. McCraney’s script is rich with historical references and inside-basketball shout-outs; Soderbergh’s direction is reflexively nimble, using on-the-fly photography and interviews with real N.B.A. players to give the film a sense of documentary immediacy. A.O. Scott called it “an exhilarating and argumentative caper.” (Spike Lee’s “Da 5 Bloods” is a similarly thrilling mixture of genre film and social commentary.)
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When the remains of the Clotilda, the last known ship to bring enslaved Africans to the United States, were discovered off the shore of Mobile, Ala., in 2019, it was physical evidence of a long-told piece of local lore — an illegal operation, long after such ships were outlawed, five years before emancipation. So this amounted to the excavation of a crime scene, prompting a giant question for the descendants of those victims: What does justice look like? Margaret Brown’s spellbinding documentary asks that question, which opens up many more thornier conversations about history, complicity and legacy. Our critic called it “deeply attentive” and “moving.” (Documentary lovers will also enjoy “What Happened, Miss Simone?” and “Sr.”)
Benedict Cumberbatch and Keira Knightley star in this Oscar-nominated biopic about the British mathematician Alan Turing, who went to work as a German code-cracker in World War II and, in the process, created a machine that many consider the first incarnation of the modern computer. Cumberbatch adroitly conveys the tortured brilliance of Turing, who helped save his country, and was later prosecuted by it for his homosexuality. The efficient direction by Morten Tyldum captures the immediacy and intensity of its subject’s work, yet cleverly folds in his later mistreatment as tragic counterpoint. “The Imitation Game” never quite explodes the conventions of the big-screen biopic, but it’s a sleek, well-made example of the form. (For more Oscar-nominated drama, try “Call Me By Your Name” and “Living.”)
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The writer and director S. Craig Zahler is carving out something of a niche as an old-school exploitation filmmaker, with unapologetically grim and blood-soaked riffs on the western (“Bone Tomahawk”), prison picture (“Brawl in Cell Block 99”) and, here, the cop-and-criminal flick. Vince Vaughn and Mel Gibson star as police detective partners suspended in a high-profile brutality scandal whose need for income makes them step to the other side of the law. Zahler’s skill at staging a bang-up set piece is undeniable, and he displays a welcomely nuanced interest in the blurry, gray lines that separate good and evil.
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Patricia Highsmith’s second novel, “The Price of Salt,” is sensitively and intelligently adapted by the director Todd Haynes into this companion to his earlier masterpiece “Far From Heaven.” Cate Blanchett is smashing as a suburban ’50s housewife who finds herself so intoxicated by a bohemian shopgirl (an enchanting Rooney Mara) that she’s willing to risk her entire comfortable existence in order, just once, to follow her heart. Our critic said it’s “at once ardent and analytical, cerebral and swooning.” (If you like modest relationship dramas, try “To Leslie.”)
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The writer and director Rian Johnson follows up his Agatha Christie-style whodunit hit “Knives Out” with this delightfully clever comedy-mystery, featuring the further adventures of the world’s greatest detective, Benoit Blanc (Daniel Craig, still outfitted with neckerchiefs and a deliciously Southern-fried accent). Johnson constructs a “classic detective story with equal measures of breeziness and rigor,” again focusing on the haves and have-nots, as a gang of rich pals (including Kate Hudson, Leslie Odom Jr., Dave Bautista and Kathryn Hahn) meet up on the isolated island of a Silicon Valley millionaire (Edward Norton). Janelle Monáe, not unlike Ana de Armas in the original, steals the show as the interloper who’s not what she seems.
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Sofia Coppola takes on conspicuous consumption, Millennial malaise, and upper-class entitlement in this darkly funny and stylishly thought-provoking true story (adapted from a Vanity Fair article by Nancy Joe Sales). Emma Watson leads a crew of young, attractive rich girls who spent years helping themselves to the homes (and spoils) of their famous neighbors, partying in Paris Hilton’s “nightclub room” and casually lifting Lindsay Lohan’s jewelry. Coppola refuses to condemn their crimes or apologize for them; it is, A.O. Scott wrote, “neither a cautionary tale of youth gone wrong nor a joke at the expense of kids these days.” (Coppola’s “The Beguiled” is also on Netflix.)
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Al Pacino and Robert De Niro, twin titans of their acting generation, had never shared the screen before the writer and director Michael Mann put them on opposite sides of the law in this moody, thrilling cops-and-robbers story from 1995. (Although they appeared in separate sequences of “The Godfather Part II.”) Mann gives that matchup the proper weight: By the time it arrives halfway into this expansive, three-hour movie, we’re expecting fireworks, and we get them. But the best surprise is that there’s so much more to “Heat” than The Big Scene — it features a cool-as-a-cucumber heist scene, a heart-stopping shootout on the streets of Los Angeles, multiple meditations on the nature of obsession, stylish cinematography, and a jaw-dropping deep bench of supporting players. That scene, though. It’s really something. (For more Pacino, stream “Sea of Love.”)
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The thumbnail summary — “Aubrey Plaza becomes a thief” — conjures up a bone-dry comedy in which her deadpan persona creates ironic friction with the criminal underworld. But “Emily the Criminal” isn’t that movie at all; it’s a “chilly, assured thriller,” a Michael Mann-ish procedural with nary a wink in sight, and it absolutely (albeit surprisingly) works. The writer and director John Patton Ford creates moments of real tension while also giving what feels like an insider’s view of this world of thieves and hustlers. And if Plaza’s turn as a deep-in-debt temp worker trying her hand at life on the margins sounds like novelty casting, think again — she’s spectacular. (For more indie drama, try “Whiplash.”)
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Noah Baumbach’s searing, Bergman-esque drama is the story not of a marriage, but of its end — of a loving couple who just, as they say, grew apart, but whose uncoupling is nowhere near that organic. Their shifting of priorities and geographic preferences prompts the hiring of lawyers, the spending of savings, and the stating of old resentments and regrets better left unsaid. Baumbach’s screenplay is full of tiny, human touches and graceful tonal shifts; he can move from screwball comedy to open-wound drama in the blink of an eye. “It’s funny and sad, sometimes within a single scene,” writes A.O. Scott, “and it weaves a plot out of the messy collapse of a shared reality, trying to make music out of disharmony.” (Baumbach’s “The Squid and the Whale” and “The Meyerowitz Stories (New and Selected)” are also on Netflix.)
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Of all the films that would have been sleeper hits, had they not been released in 2020 when a theatrical push was off the table, it’s hard to top this, the debut feature from the writer and director Channing Godfrey Peoples. Nicole Beharie stars as Turquoise Jones, a Texas single mother whose 15-year-old daughter (Alexis Chikaeze) is about to compete in the local Miss Juneteenth pageant that Turquoise won, once upon a time. Peoples’s screenplay sensitively explores poignant questions of opportunities lost and gained, and the mother/daughter dynamics are convincing and compelling. But the real takeaway here is Beharie, whose marvelous, lived-in performance is both inspiring and shattering.
In December of 1978, Richard Pryor took the stage of the Terrace Theater in Long Beach, Calif., and delivered what may still be the greatest recorded stand-up comedy performance in history. It captures the comic at his zenith; his insights are razor-sharp, his physical gifts are peerless, and his powers of personification are remarkable as he gives thought and voice to household pets, woodland creatures, deflating tires and uncooperative parts of his own body. But as with the best of Pryor’s stage work, what’s most striking is his vulnerability. In sharing his own struggles with health, relationships, sex and masculinity, Pryor was forging a path to the kind of unapologetic candor that defines so much of contemporary comedy.
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The writer and director Paul Thomas Anderson reunited with his “There Will Be Blood” star Daniel Day-Lewis for this strange, beautiful, darkly comic romantic fable. Day-Lewis stars as Reynolds Woodcock, a fictional fashion designer in 1950s-era London; Vicky Krieps is Alma, his latest mistress and muse. He meets her as a waitress and believes her to be yet another disposable lover — only to find that he has, at long last, met his match. Gorgeously rendered and thrillingly acted, “Phantom Thread” initially seems like another portrait of a great and tortured artist, only to curdle into something more insightful (and peculiar). A.O. Scott deemed it “funny, wrenching, full of large and small surprises.” (For more period drama, queue up “Mudbound” and “Crimson Peak.”)
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The actor-turned-filmmaker Maggie Gyllenhaal writes and directs this adaptation of Elena Ferrante’s novel, starring Olivia Colman as a professor on vacation whose strained interactions with a large, unruly American family — particularly a young, stressed mother (Dakota Johnson) — send her down a rabbit hole of her memories, a switch-flip intermingling of past and present. There is a bit of back story to untangle, which turns the film into something like a mystery. But “The Lost Daughter” is mostly noteworthy for its willingness to explore the darkest moments of parenthood, the horrible feeling of giving up and longing for escape. Colman brings humanity and even warmth to a difficult character, while Jessie Buckley beautifully connects the dots as her younger iteration. Our critic calls it “a sophisticated, elusively plotted psychological thriller.” (The Gyllenhaal vehicle “The Kindergarten Teacher” is similarly unnerving.)
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The first-time directors Chad Stahelski and (an uncredited) David Leitch called upon their experience as stuntmen and stunt coordinators to create the hyperkinetic action beats of this lean, mean, stylish shoot-’em-up. But it’s not all flash — they’ve got a knack for efficient exposition and understated world-building, creating something akin to a superhero origin story (though far more sly and fleet-footed). It’s a film of relentless energy and boundless cool, but with a heart beating underneath. Keanu Reeves invests his character with real pathos, and the filmmakers’ giddy approach breathes fresh life into some pretty stale action tropes. (The sequels “John Wick: Chapter 2” and “John Wick: Chapter 3 – Parabellum” are also on Netflix.)
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“I wonder what little lady made these?” Phil (Benedict Cumberbatch) asks about the paper flowers created by Peter (Kodi Smit-McPhee) — the first indication of the initial theme of Jane Campion’s new film, an adaptation of the novel by Thomas Savage. Phil is a real piece of work, and when his brother and ranching partner George (Jesse Plemons) marries Peter’s mother, Rose (Kirsten Dunst), it brings all of Phil’s resentment and nastiness to the surface as he tries, in multiple, hostile ways, to exert his dominance and display his dissatisfaction. That tension and conflict would be enough for a lesser filmmaker, but Campion burrows deeper, taking a carefully executed turn to explore his complicated motives — and desires in this film of welcome complexity and unexpected tenderness; Manohla Dargis called it “a great American story and a dazzling evisceration of one of the country’s foundational myths.” (For more frontier drama, stream “Legends of the Fall.”)
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The future “Platonic” co-stars Seth Rogen and Rose Byrne first teamed up for this wildly funny and surprisingly thoughtful comedy, which merges the reliable tropes of the frat-house flick (drugs, booze, sex and bodily functions) with more mature material concerning marriage and family. Mac (Rogen) and Kelly (Byrne) are new parents, still coming to terms with their metamorphosis into boring ol’ adults — a transition writ large when a fraternity, led by the unreasonably buff Teddy (Zac Efron) buys the house next door. High jinks ensue, but not always along expected lines, and the cast (which also includes Ike Barinholtz, Jerrod Carmichael, Carla Gallo and Lisa Kudrow) finds the nuances in potentially stock characters. (“This is 40” is a similarly thorny look at growing out of arrested development.)
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“She’s a girl from Chicago I used to know,” Irene (Tessa Thompson) says of Clare (Ruth Negga) — a statement that is accurate on the surface but that contains volumes of history, tension and secrets. Irene and Clare are both light-skinned Black women who have made different choices about how to live their lives, but when they reconnect, they are both prompted to reckon with who, exactly, they are. The screenplay and direction by Rebecca Hall (adapting Nella Larsen’s 1929 novel) delicately yet precisely plumbs their psychological depths and wounds, and the sumptuous costumes and immaculate black and white cinematography serve as dazzling counterpoints to what Manohla Dargis called “an anguished story of identity and belonging.”
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Documentary filmmakers have long been fascinated by the logistics and complexities of manual labor, but Steven Bognar and Julia Reichert’s recent Oscar winner for best documentary feature views these issues through a decidedly 21st-century lens. Focusing on a closed GM plant in Dayton, Ohio, that’s taken over by a Chinese auto glass company, Bognar and Reichert thoughtfully, sensitively (and often humorously) explore how cultures — both corporate and general — clash. Manohla Dargis calls it “complex, stirring, timely and beautifully shaped, spanning continents as it surveys the past, present and possible future of American labor.” (Documentary fans should also seek out “The Life and Death of Marsha P. Johnson,” “Dick Johnson is Dead,” and “Procession.”)
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