The Films I Watched in 2024

After sports, my favorite hobby has long been watching movies. I won't try to define the reasons, or to explain why I have watched so little television by comparison, or ramble on about the beauty of film or whatever. There is no need when I provide no shortage of words over the rest of this post.

But I will say that, starting during the pandemic, I have tracked every film that I watch over the course of each year, and a couple years ago started bucketing them by how much I liked them. I will never get on Letterboxd, as I do not need another social media platform in my life. However, my brain demands that I organize trivial things. My vanity requires that I write my opinions. Hence, this post.

If you want the short version, you can find in this table all 60 films without commentary, sorted by tier.

Click to enlarge.

The long version, then, begins below. This post goes in reverse order from the table, starting with the one film I write off as worthless and ending on my ten favorite things I watched in 2024. Until the last section, the films are alphabetized within each tier.

Just Trash

Crash, dir. Paul Haggis (2004)

I added the "Just Trash" tier to my lists last year after watching Network (1976), a film that verbosely proclaims its own importance, intelligence, and righteousness at every opportunity. Crash, by comparison, is humbly earnest about its creator's faults: Paul Haggis, who is white, wrote the screenplay as a guilty reflection on his own racism a few years after being carjacked by Black men in Los Angeles.

To a degree, the thought is noble. A rich white man, however, is not the person the world needs writing parables about prejudice. "We're all a bit racist, but we're also all human" is not a profound thesis to an adult audience, or should not be. The premise is flawed from the start. The best-case scenario for this kind of movie is still at least a little overwrought and simplistic.

Yet even by sympathetic standards, Haggis' failure is spectacular. In the months since watching this film, its awfulness has haunted me to the point of costing me sleep. Crash tosses aside character growth as easily as it rushes to redeem its worst characters, fights racism with racist stereotypes and omnidirectional hate, uses ham-fisted symbolism, and in general does not seem to understand its own theses. It is utterly unsalvageable, only offering some perverse unintentional comedy to those not expecting its preposterous and incoherent turns.

Did Not Enjoy

The Raid, dir. Gareth Evans (2011)

The reason that this tier is called "Did Not Enjoy" instead of "Bad" or something similar is that sometimes a movie has some kind of merit but is just not my thing. The Raid is fairly good at what it is, which is to say an endless stream of impressively choreographed fight scenes and basically no plot or character depth. It's not my kind of action movie but can easily be someone else's.

Scarface, dir. Brian De Palma (1983)

Scarface has the familiar beats of a great gangster film: the rise to power, the fall, the charismatic lead shouting iconic lines. Yet it all feels so hollow. Tony Montana goes places without truly developing, the relationships are uninteresting, and writer Oliver Stone is his usual unsubtle self. There is a version of Scarface that works, but this one does not.

Okay Enough

Animal Kingdom, dir. David Michôd (2010)

Menacing performances from Ben Mendelsohn and Jacki Weaver are by far the most compelling parts of this altogether proficient Australian crime movie.

Brief History of a Family, dir. Lin Jianjie (2024)

What Brief History of a Family gets right is its deliberate pace, artistic cinematography, and unsettling tone. It does not have many things to say or places to go but is a fine family drama.

Clear and Present Danger, dir. Phillip Noyce (1994)

Like its predecessor, Patriot Games, Clear and Present Danger is a competent America-first dad thriller in which Harrison Ford scowls at bad guys. This is neither an especially bad nor good thing.

Clerks, dir. Kevin Smith (1994)

Clerks has an indisputable real-world charm, and has more heart than just being a slacker hangout movie, but its style of humor is hit-and-miss.

Dream Scenario, dir. Kristoffer Borgli (2023)

Dream Scenario has a brilliant premise but in seems to run out of clear ideas, and its ending is a little cheap. It is still worth watching for Nicholas Cage's performance and some effective gags.

Five Easy Pieces, dir. Bob Rafelson (1970)

A young Jack Nicholson stars as a man with unrealized potential and unresolved insecurities. I wanted a bit more from a film so renowned. Bob Rafelson lands the plane smoothly, but it never spends that much time in the air. It distributes its time in odd places, taking too long to reach its much stronger second half, but ultimately delivers a killer ending.

The Ides of March, dir. George Clooney (2011)

Despite being a film about politics, directed by one of the most politically active leading men of this century, The Ides of March is bizarrely uninterested in actual politics. It instead opts for conventional, tropey backroom drama about how working in the machine kills one's idealism. George Clooney, Ryan Gosling, and Philip Seymour Hoffman do enough to make it watchable.

The Killing of a Chinese Bookie, dir. John Cassavetes (1976)

What is undeniable about The Killing of a Chinese Bookie is that it is brilliantly lit and shot. The film as a whole did not do a lot for me, dwelling too long on the burlesque shows put on by its protagonist (played by an understatedly solid Ben Gazzara) and not fully connecting on its thematic aims.

Lost in Translation, dir. Sofia Coppola (2003)

The core of Lost in Translation is a very good film, with its incredibly loose structure and uncommonly restrained romance. It is dragged down, though, by its uncomfortable age gap (Scarlett Johansson was 17 years old during filming, to Bill Murray's 52), a stereotyped portrayal of the Japanese, and the fact that Sofia Coppola has more or less admitted the film's two famously ambiguous moments do not actually mean anything.

Mission: Impossible III, dir. J.J. Abrams (2006)

Mission: Impossible III does not have the memorable scenes of the series' 1996 reboot nor the uninhibited, absurd style of John Woo's Mission: Impossible II, and it does not bother trying to be a smart or character-driven action movie that can work on its own. It is ultimately just okay. Philip Seymour Hoffman carries the weight almost all by himself.

On Her Majesty's Secret Service, dir. Peter R. Hunt (1969)

The general consensus on On Her Majesty's Secret Service is that it is among the very best James Bond films for its emphasis on emotion and character over action, and I must dissent. From the very opening scene, the film creates the chance at an emotional core and then declines it, telling us of growth and character-to-character connections but not genuinely showing it. Bond makes a confounding off-screen error in the climax as well, directly leading to an unearned ending.

Altogether, the film is fine. Most notably, its fight scenes are more kinetic than those of its contemporaries in the action genre, favoring tight shots and quick cuts like a far newer film.

Pretend That You Love Me, dir. Joel Haver (2020)

A friend recommended this production by YouTube-based filmmaker Joel Haver, who creates a surprisingly smart blend of traditional fictional narrative with documentary. It is "about" loneliness and the shallowness of modern dating, but also a meta-commentary about how a creative person portrays, copes with, and perhaps even exploits their own anguish in their art. Budgetary limitations (that are not Haver's fault), plus a few choices I either question or do not know how to respond to, keep it from being in a higher tier, but Pretend That You Love Me inspired more thought than I expected.

Seven Days in May, dir. John Frankenheimer (1964)

The director of The Manchurian Candidate helms a political thriller written by Rod Serling, starring Burt Lancaster and Kirk Douglas. While Seven Days in May does not fulfill the promise of that elevator pitch — in the end, it says what it means a little too directly — it is worth the time.

Good

American Beauty, dir. Sam Mendes (1999)

What can one do with American Beauty? It is an effective satire of suburban monotony and materialism but full of pretentions about the meaning of "beauty." It uses sex to illustrate how people can fight truths about themselves, and its main character lusting after a teenager rhymes uncomfortably with the several accusations of sexual misconduct against the man playing that character. Ultimately, I think the film is worth the time despite its obvious problems, deserving neither a pedestal nor complete derision.

American Gangster, dir. Ridley Scott (2007)

As deep as American Gangster's cast is, this film functions as a Denzel Washington vehicle. Washington's slyness and power are made for this kind of role, where his character is sharp and brutal in ample measures. He is tremendous, even when the material is less impressive.

Barking Dogs Never Bite, dir. Bong Joon-ho (2000)

Like one would expect from Bong Joon-ho, Barking Dogs Never Bite is a comedy so dark you don't always know whether to laugh or recoil, with characters one cannot be sure get what they ultimately deserve. A handful of actors in this film — Bong's debut — show up in his later works, most prominently Memories of Murder and The Host.

Bringing Out the Dead, dir. Martin Scorsese (1999)

Bringing Out the Dead touches some of Martin Scorsese's favorite subjects: guilt, mortality, religion, and mental deterioration. Nicholas Cage and a pack of A-listers in small roles bring those themes to life, and the always expert editor Thelma Schoonmaker brings it all home. It is nowhere near Scorese's best work but should not be overlooked.

Con Air, dir. Simon West (1997)

In (usually) the best way, every minute of Con Air is preposterous. Every person who worked on this film knows exactly what it is supposed to be, and that makes it a blast.

Everybody Wants Some!!, dir. Richard Linklater (2016)

Richard Linklater, who once played baseball at what is now Sam Houston State, brings a piece of nostalgia about a college freshman in 1980 joining his school's baseball team in East Texas. In places, Linklater sidesteps the negatives of bro culture, but the film is an undeniably fun hangout that ultimately favors genuine emotional connections over shallow and transactional relationships. Glen Powell, who has since become a star, stands out.

The Firm, dir. Sydney Pollack (1993)

Granting that it is a cliché to say they don't make movies like this anymore: They really don't make movies like this anymore. While The Firm is far from the best example, it is a solid example of the mystery-thriller wave that started in the late 80s and has largely faded in the 21st century. The floor on this kind of movie is high, anchored by big names like Gene Hackman and Holly Hunter, and bolstered by your favorite character actors of the era. (Hal Holbrook! Wilford Brimley! Paul Sorvino!) Despite some convolution, The Firm does its job.

The Great Dictator, dir. Charlie Chaplin (1940)

On one hand, The Great Dictator remains an important, distressingly relevant, and often genuinely funny film even today. On the other, some of its humor just is not effective anymore. This is particularly true in the front half, where Charlie Chaplin seemingly wants to ease a 1940 audience into his first talkie with Tramp-style slapstick. Its strongest points are when Chaplin plays the dictator himself, Adenoid Hynkel, complemented well by Jack Oakie's Benzino Napaloni.

Heathers, dir. Michael Lehmann (1989)

Coming at the end of a wave of feelgood teen comedies in the 80s, Heathers is a more cynical satire of high school life. It is cavalier with death, but only to illustrate how cruel teenagers can be to one another and how incompetent adults can be at noticing and responding to young despair. Somehow, though, the film retains its lightness and is quite funny.

Infernal Affairs, dir. Andrew Lau and Alan Mak (2002)

Any film that Martin Scorsese remade is going to look incomplete by comparison. Infernal Affairs is not as good as The Departed, but the original has great bones, offering the twists and internal (or infernal) conflict that make the story worthwhile.

Isle of Dogs, dir. Wes Anderson (2018)

I have not seen many Wes Anderson films, but my favorite — his debut, Bottle Rocket — is the one that contains the least of his signature style. The French Dispatch, meanwhile, reeked of it to a degree that made me unsure just how many more of his work I wanted to try. When animated, as in Isle of Dogs, all of this Anderson-ness feels more natural and charming. Maybe it earns its pathos cheaply, on account of all the dogs, but it earns it nonetheless.

Kiss Kiss Bang Bang, dir. Shane Black (2005)

While it doesn't reach the heights of Shane Black's The Nice Guys, his earlier iteration on the private eye comedy has the same brand of wisecracking neo-noir pastiche. Robert Downey Jr. and Val Kilmer make an ideal pair of misfit leads.

L.A. Confidential, dir. Curtis Hanson (1997)

Another hit 90s thriller and another movie that loves Hollywood. It brushes with bleak noir like in the classic Chinatown, but tonally, L.A. Confidential is more like its  contemporaries Devil in a Blue Dress or The Player. Young Guy Pierce and in particular Russell Crowe show their promise. (Kim Basinger won the Academy Award for Best Supporting Actress and is good, though I can't help but feel Minnie Driver was way better in Good Will Hunting that year.) Again: We used to have a lot of these movies, and many of them were entertaining!

The Lady Vanishes, dir. Alfred Hitchcock (1938)

The last act of The Lady Vanishes gets a little farfetched and hits you over the head with its pre-World War II allegory about standing up to do what is right. Even so, it is a fun mystery story whose turns are not easy to predict.

The League, dir. Sam Pollard (2023)

A solid documentary about the history of the Negro Leagues: their founding, their stars and leading executives, the role they played for Black America, and their eventual demise.

Lucky, dir. John Carroll Lynch (2017)

Recognized character actor John Carroll Lynch directs a stable of recognized character actors, led by the king of them all, Harry Dean Stanton. Stanton, in his second-to-last film role, is as fantastic as ever, elevating a film that otherwise could veer into cheese and cliché.

The Martian, dir. Ridley Scott (2015)

The Martian, with its mostly flat characters, unbreakably efficient pace, and at times overly obvious cultural references and humor, does not blow you away. It remains a fun sci-fi movie. While its structure is a little mechanical — encounter problem, solve problem, repeat — it scratches an itch to watch each step of getting Matt Damon back to Earth. The cast is deep, and the effects are fantastic.

Notes on a Scandal, dir. Richard Eyre (2006)

Judi Dench in particular is great as the protagonist and narrator in this brisk, often uncomfortable drama. In the name of preserving its many turns for you, dear reader, I will stop there.

Once Upon a Time in the West, dir. Sergio Leone (1968)

Though I was not as enraptured as others have been, I enjoyed Once Upon a Time in the West enough. Henry Fonda and Jason Robards give strong supporting performances, and the opening standoff and a rescue from a moving train make for memorable sequences.

Richard III, dir. Richard Loncraine (1995)

Transporting Richard III into 1930s England and making Richard III a Hitler analogue is a little ridiculous, but watching Ian McKellen give his all for 104 minutes is a great time. While the rest of the cast is solid (as bizarre as it is hearing Robert Downey Jr. recite Shakespeare), McKellen revels in the evil of his character and endlessly demands your attention.

Road to Perdition, dir. Sam Mendes (2002)

You know the usual level of quality of a Tom Hanks-led period drama? That is exactly how good Road to Perdition is — no more and no less. It was a deserving winner of the Academy Award for Best Cinematography, and Paul Newman gives a strong final performance.

The Skeleton Twins, dir. Craig Johnson (2014)

The Skeleton Twins has a couple of gimmicky moments but is an effective, bleakly funny portrayal of siblinghood and depression. There is no one on earth with whom you share so many laughs and pains as your sibling. Yet even with family — sometimes especially with family — it can be easier to hide one's problems than to reveal and confront them. Bill Hader and Kristen Wiig's chemistry sells the whole mess well.

Snowpiercer, dir. Bong Joon-ho (2013)

I desperately wanted to like Snowpiercer more than I did, but something held it back from clicking with me. Chris Evans is a fine lead, but he lacks the gravitas to carry the movie. (Frequent Bong Joon-ho collaborator Song Kang-ho is the most compelling member of the cast.) The politically commentary is well-done, literalizing class mobility with physical space much like Parasite, but not as deft as in other Bong features. The dialogue is functional but rarely impactful. The action sequences are effective but at times dragged down by formula or by cracks in the digital effects. Snowpiercer is good enough to belong in this tier but well below Bong's greatest works.

¡Three Amigos!, dir. John Landis (1986)

Willfully, gleefully stupid. Martin Short is the best performer over of his more famous co-stars, which may in part explain the mixed reception that greeted ¡Three Amigos! at its release.

True Romance, dir. Tony Scott (1993)

Young Quentin Tarantino's fantasy of running from his video store job, the mob, and the cops with riches and a woman he meets and marries at a speed that only happens, well, in movies. While it feels more like a prototype for Tarantino's better, later works, it is still a good time. At the top of an absolutely loaded cast, Christian Slater is an effective weirdo (like in Heathers).

Wet Hot American Summer, dir. David Wain (2001)

I found Wet Hot American Summer to be nowhere near the disaster contemporary critics saw it as and not quite as uproarious as its cult following finds it. It entertained me a fine amount.

Yacht Rock: A Dockumentary, dir. Garret Price (2024)

Though it can get a little too caught up in definitions of the term "yacht rock," Garret Price's documentary is a loving ode to this scene of blue-eyed soul, jazz fusion, and soft rock musicians in late-70s Los Angeles. Whether you like the music or (like me) have never been convinced to explore it beyond the work of Steely Dan, it makes for a fun, informative watch.

Zoolander, dir. Ben Stiller (2001)

The most stupid movie I watched all year. This is a compliment.

Great

The Birds, dir. Alfred Hitchcock (1963)

Everything that can be said about The Birds has been said: Its tension and shock value, its special effects and overwhelming sound, its allegories on love and complacency. I question whether the ornithologist at the diner adds anything but otherwise agree with all the praise for this film.

High and Low, dir. Akira Kurosawa (1963)

I first must grant that High and Low's political outlook is a little muddled, frequently highlighting economic inequality and greed while making a member of the lower class the tormenter of its benevolent multimillionaire protagonist. But it is, like Fritz Lang's M. or even Akira Kurosawa's Rashomon, a sharply methodical crime drama with some excellent camerawork and lighting. (It is a rare treat to encounter a film that uses sunglasses so effectively.)

The Killing, dir. Stanley Kubrick (1956)

The Killing is a shining early example of the heist film, from the setup to the background treachery putting the whole jig in jeopardy to the expertly shot and edited execution. Though not as slow-moving as some of Stanley Kubrick's later films, this demonstrates his command of deliberate pacing.

The Last Picture Show, dir. Peter Bogdanovich (1971)

Larry McMurtry is not the first or last to give a bleak portrait of rural adolescence, but that does not reduce The Last Picture Show's effect. (I can think of few things more depressing than Wichita Falls, Texas being the "big city" for teenagers to go to on a Friday night.) Peter Bogdanovich adapts McMurtry's novel to show the suffocating power of human inertia, the struggle to find meaning in the purgatory of one's dusty hometown and — just maybe — escape. All the while, the wind keeps blowing, piling up regret while eroding the surroundings a person both loves and hates. It is a universally American, persistently relevant story.

My Dinner with Andre, dir. Louis Malle (1981)

I do not think I have the patience to ever watch My Dinner with Andre again, but it is a striking film. Pondering one's own values, life trajectory, and place in society with a friend is as human an activity as there is, and capturing that (with minimal cuts) makes My Dinner with Andre compelling.

Rope, dir. Alfred Hitchcock (1948)

Two men commit a murder and then host a party with the corpse in the room. It is a simple premise with a single setting. Alfred Hitchcock's decision to join long takes into a "real time" movie heightens the tension further, as there is no real break from the killing to the conclusion. Sometimes, a movie does not need any more.

Top Ten

10. Jackie Brown, dir. Quentin Tarantino (1997)

The Killing was one of Jackie Brown's chief inspirations, and it shows. Throw in some of Quentin Tarantino's customary banter and 70s homage, plus a stellar cast led by Pam Grier and Robert Forster, and you have another fun, stylish caper.

9. The Player, dir. Robert Altman (1992)

From its long opening shot, The Player works with a slick, always-meta sense of humor and an air of mystery and paranoia. Despite its satire of the Hollywood machine being a little obvious, it is a highly entertaining film. Tim Robbins and Greta Scacchi make strong leads.

8. His Girl Friday, dir. Howard Hawks (1940)

While His Girl Friday ostensibly sets up as a romantic comedy, with the classic screwball setup of a hateful former couple reuniting, Cary Grant and Rosalind Russell spend loads of the film on their own rather than playing off one another. This gives them each time to shine as equally repugnant, selfish characters. They then come back together for a farcical final act in as sharp and quippy a comedy as one can find.

7. Anora, dir. Sean Baker (2024)

Mikey Madison plays an aggressively New York stripper who starts a relationship with a young Russian heir, which starts professional but becomes romantic. And then the rest of the movie happens. Anora surprised me several times, and if you do not know anything about the film, I will not say another word so that it can surprise you, too.

6. The Lighthouse, dir. Robert Eggers (2019)

Willem Dafoe and Robert Pattinson lose their minds, alternating between contempt for and kinship with one another while manning a Gilded Age-era lighthouse. Such a self-contained film demands excellence from its two leads, which Dafoe and Pattinson deliver in great measure. Eggers' choice of a 1.19:1 aspect ratio admittedly can feel gimmicky, but it does ensure the lighthouse takes up more of the frame and makes the experience a little more claustrophobic.

5. Secrets & Lies, dir. Mike Leigh (1996)

Secrets & Lies is a painfully human film about familial dysfunction and the damage that comes with trying to maintain false appearances. It is not melodramatic but homely, taking place in lived-in spaces with unpolished characters living unglamourous lives. There are long stretches without music, making the effect all the rawer. Brenda Blethyn is brilliantly fallible and damaged and desperate.

4. The Holdovers, dir. Alexander Payne (2023)

I saw the trailer for The Holdovers a month or two before its release and thought I had seen the whole movie. I was mostly right. The truth is that it is a pretty formulaic movie, one that the production and cast need to nail to avoid a forgettable final product. Alexander Payne, Paul Giammati, and company do just that. Innumerable films want to be this funny and touching but fall well short.

3. The Zone of Interest, dir. Jonathan Glazer (2023)

The genius of The Zone of Interest is in its juxtaposition of the mundane — the comforts of a SS family's repossessed estate, the matter-of-factness of meetings on gas chamber designs, worries about promotions and demotions at work — with the inhumane. It achieves the latter through sound. Auschwitz lies on the other side of Rudolf Höß' garden wall, but the viewer never sees it. Instead, we hear the whirrs and screams of mechanized mass murder while the executioners go about their day. Quite novelly, Jonathan Glazer and composer Mica Levi continue this effect beyond the last frame of the film. It is an unnerving, masterful work on willful ignorance and evil as routine.

2. Seconds, dir. John Frankenheimer (1966)

Expertly shot by James Wong Howe (Vince Gilligan apes his techniques several times in Breaking Bad and Better Call Saul), Seconds is a film astonishingly ahead of its time. If you have not heard of it, you are far from the only one; on its initial release, it had a mixed reception and did not make back its budget at the box office. It deserved better. At the same time, I'm not sure audiences knew what to do with it. It is more worldly than most science fiction of the time, going a lot darker than an episode of The Twilight Zone while resembling that series' thoughtfulness. Decades later, at least, Seconds has its adherents. I am now one of them.

1. American Movie, dir. Chris Smith (1999)

If you have ever had creative aspirations but not the time, money, stability, and luck to pursue them, it is impossible not to see yourself in the star of American Movie, Mark Borchardt. This is an endlessly charming portrayal of what it is like to have a vision but nothing else, to resent the mundanity of modern life and the obstacles — self-created or otherwise — in one's way. In Mark's case, it is alcoholism, underemployment, depression, indecision, and the simple fact that nobody ever makes it as a filmmaker by living in Menomonee Falls, Wisconsin. American Movie is a delightful experience that inspired and saddened me in equal measure.