30 | Daughters
Angela Patton and Natalie Rae craft my personal favorite documentary of 2024 with the extraordinary Daughters. Following a group of incarcerated fathers as they prepare for a father/daughter dance in the prison gym; the film shines a light on the effects of limited visitation from family has on inmates and the essential role fathers play in the lives of their children. Using a cinema verite style, Patton and Rae capture the reality facing most of these families as they manage the unthinkable realities found in the American prison system. Seek this out folks, you won’t regret it. – CW
29 | Sometimes I Think About Dying
While film has the power to create extraordinary fictional worlds, it can also render the mundanity of day-to-day life and the unique characters within just as beautifully. Sometimes I Think About Dying fits firmly in the latter category, following Fran, a quiet, reserved office worker, who fantasizes about ways to break from her existence before meeting someone new. Director Rachel Lambert and DP Dustin Lane find a way to make even the blandest cubicle look cozy, with soft focus compositions that isolate Fran before moving to her lonely, surreal imaginings. At the heart of it all is an understated yet moving performance from Daisy Ridley, who manages to show the core of Fran’s melancholy. It’s hard not to find such a small indie about reaching out for human connection oddly touching and serene, something well worth thinking about sometimes. – NA
28 | The Apprentice
Not to state the obvious, but things are a little different now since the original controversial release of The Apprentice, whose controversy didn’t amount to much in the long run. However, we can take away some great performances from the Trump origin story of material ascension and moral descension. Jeremy Strong and Sebastian Stan disappear into their roles as master and apprentice, Roy Cohn and Donald Trump, with the mentoring relationship of the two being cemented as the backbone of the film. In addition to the physical transformations, Ali Abbasi and DP Kasper Tuxen give some realism to the proceedings by shooting in a shaky-cam reality TV style, but keeping the glossy veneer of 80’s New York City. In the end, the true testament of the film is the moving ending for Strong’s Cohn, who has no doubt earned the treatment he receives from his protege, but nonetheless finds the audience’s sympathy in his final scenes. – NA
27 | Oh, Canada
Paul Schrader returns to the experimental collage stylings of his earlier masterpiece Mishima in this, perhaps his finest work since the all-timer comeback that was First Reformed. Richard Gere and Jacob Elordi’s dual turns as the same character (sometimes, head-spinningly, in the same scene!) are both deeply felt and right on the money, and the screenplay’s musings on the loathsome personal failings of a (debatably) talented artist seem to hit profoundly close to home for Schrader himself. That this film is actually legitimately beautiful – not in a “late style” way, but in a legitimately impressive, aesthetically striking way – is but icing on the cake; that gorgeous, moody alt-country score from Phosphorescent does a lot of heavy lifting, as well. – RJ
26 | Megalopolis
Few films ask us to seriously question what it means to think about the future of humanity. Can life persevere through war, famine, environmental catastrophe, and an age of extreme wealth? Francis Ford Coppola’s return to the big screen explores these questions through the most brazen and original filmmaking of the master’s career. Stunning visual imagery combined with an onslaught of literary references evoke a sense of earnestness unprecedented in modern filmmaking. The parallels between our world and the world of Megalopolis are evident from the opening title card and crystalize with Adam Driver’s Caesar Catalina Elon Musk. Corrupt politicians and gross displays of wealth populate the screen as Caesar strives to build an utopia at the expense of the cities’ people. Will Megalopolis save New Rome? Coppola anticipates the rise of “Hawk Tuah” with Aubrey Plaza’s Wow Platinum and the culture’s shift toward elevating viral sensations. Jon Voight is the richest man in the world but somehow literally becomes a well-endowed Robin Hood. Shia Labeouf incites a January 6th riot in a colosseum after he ousts a virgin popstar for being a fraud. Reader, I could go on. Megalopolis is everything I have ever wanted in movies and Francis Ford Coppola is the only filmmaker who can claim to have made a monumental film in 2024. – CW
25 | Nickel Boys
RaMell Ross’s borderline-revolutionary treatment of Colson Whitehead’s elevated YA prose (sorry) is perhaps the year’s most striking formal achievement, a head-bending first-person odyssey of childhood wonder and uniquely American horror. It all culminates in a singularly harrowing finale, a chopped-and-screwed jumble of repressed memories and archival footage that left me quite literally breathless. I will never again hear Mulatu Astatke’s “Tezeta” the same way. – RJ
24 | Love Lies Bleeding
An early year gem of a neo-noir that’s been unfairly buried during awards season, Love Lies Bleeding is as pulpy and visceral as its title suggests. Combining the worlds of bodybuilding and organized crime with a lesbian love affair, there’s not many thrillers out there quite like this, and I doubt many would be able to pull off its electric sense of simmering rage. A rage fueled by the controlling male characters of the film and Lou (Kristen Stewart) and Jackie’s (Katy O’Brian) strength to take back control of their lives. There’s a fascination with bodies running through this, either through steroid-fueled body building, or the bodies left in the wake of a startlingly villainous Ed Harris. The story may veer a bit to the fantastical by the end, which feels odd given the hard-edged nature of everything that came before, but I can always excuse a few hallucinatory detours when the journey is as thrilling as this one. -NA
23 | La Chimera
Alice Rohrwacher’s beguiling archaeological adventure is one of the year’s most moving and visually ravishing films, a charmingly rudderless voyage to Italy that contains, contrary to what many would have you believe, the year’s finest performances from Josh O’Connor and Isabella Rossellini. Rohrwacher’s gestures toward magical realism are deeply charming, and her occasionally outré sensibilities (that Kraftwerk needle-drop? fabulous!) keep things invigoratingly off-balance. – RJ
22 | Memoir of a Snail
From the SICK and TWISTED mind of Adam Elliot, the stop-motion auteur of that most unlikely of IMDB top 250 films Mary and Max, Memoir of a Snail strikes one as a parody of arthouse animation. But its twee trappings bely an unusually sincere and deeply personal vision of grief, depression, and crushing social isolation. You can feel personality in every fingerprint that has molded the clay that literally constitutes the film which combined with its emotional register grant the film a handmade quality that is a refreshing paean against the ever-encroaching tide of artificial intelligence. It’s the most Tim Burton film of the year, in a year where the actual Tim Burton made a film. – JS
21 | Blitz
Steve McQueen’s return to narrative filmmaking after last year’s exceptional Occupied City finds the filmmaker drawing from David Lean and Steven Spielberg with the harrowing war drama Blitz. Following an almost Heart of Darkness structure, McQueen constructs an old fashioned coming of age film set against the terror of World War Two Britain. Elliott Hefferman’s George’s journey to reunite with his mother is peppered with a slew of characters from all walks of life and some noticeable faces for fans of Slow Horses. You’ll see a lot of hate out there for this picture but we here at Scrawls On Cinema know the truth and are proud to include the latest masterpiece from the best working filmmaker on this list. – CW
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