My 100 Favorite First-Time Watches of 2024

As we welcome 2025 into our lives, I thought I’d start out by taking a look back at my year in film discoveries for 2024. Right now I’m not focusing on new movies released in 2024 - that post will come in a few weeks - but rather the older films I watched for the first time. I defined a “first-time watch” for this list as any feature-length film not released in 2023 or 2024 that I had never seen in its entirety before. The resulting list of my 100 favorites contains a mix of classics, underrated gems, and underseen films that I’m glad I discovered and think others should too.

Putting together this list, I noticed a few trends pop up - there were more musicals on here than I remembered, including some with more creative methods of employing music. A lot of the horror films I really went for were much more focused on mood and visuals than plot. And, a good chunk of these films were watched right before they expired on the Criterion Channel, which continues to be probably my top choice for checking out under-the-radar older films.

From a director perspective, the discovery of Dutch filmmaker Marleen Gorris was one of the highlights of the year, and the three films of hers that I saw (all on this list) really impressed me, from her assured directing style to the way she takes genre stories and puts her own distinct twist on them. This was also the year that I really started connecting with Peter Bogdanovich’s work, whether through psychological terror (Targets), screwball comedy (Noises Off…), or whatever combination of genres They All Laughed is. The Criterion Channel’s inclusion of the complete Hal Hartley collection ended early in 2024, but I still prioritized checking out all of his features, three of which are on this list. I was also introduced to directors like Peter Greenaway, José Mojica Marins, and Keith Gordon, whose work I plan to consume a lot more of in the future.

I’ll acknowledge that 100 films seems like way too many, but I wanted to shed some light on as many interesting and captivating titles as I could, and I still found myself leaving out films I enjoyed like China Girl, Leningrad Cowboys Go America, Road House, Safe in Hell, The Dream Lady, Aftersun, The Panic in Needle Park, The Student Nurses, Code 46, Pushing Hands, Going in Style, Go, Oslo August 31st, Superior, The Plastic Dome of Norma Jean, and (somehow) Captain Ron.

Lastly, I did limit this to features, but I wanted to highlight a few of my favorite short film discoveries of the year, which include:

• Bimbo’s Initiation (1931, dir. Dave Fleischer)
• The Calls Are Coming from Inside (2021, dir. Jason Coffman)
• The Dumbest Boy Alive (2016, dir. Jon Bois)
• The Haunted Mouth (1974, no credited director)
• Kid (1984, dir. Hal Hartley)
• KoKo’s Earth Control (1928, dir. Dave Fleischer)
• Opera No. 1 (1994, dir. Hal Hartley)
• A Visit from the Incubus (2001, dir. Anna Biller)
• The Urban Crisis and the New Militants: Module 4 - The People’s Right to Know: Police vs. Reporters (1968, no credited director)

And thus, without further ado, please enjoy my 100 favorite first-time watches from 2024!

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12 Angry Men

(1997, dir. William Friedkin)

While it may not quite be at the level of Sidney Lumet's classic adaptation, William Friedkin's made-for-TV version is well worth checking out, if for no other reason than as an acting showcase for another fine collection of actors. Jack Lemmon and George C. Scott headline this version (in the Henry Fonda and Lee J. Cobb roles respectively).

The Addiction

(1995, dir. Abel Ferrara)

Ever complained that there’s not enough bleak philosophy in your vampire picture? If so, Abel Ferrara’s The Addiction may be just what the doctor ordered. It won’t be for everyone but I found The Addiction really compelling, feeling like a B-side to Ferrara’s Ms. 45, and Lili Taylor continues to really impress me with her performances.

After Life

(1998, dir. Hirokazu Kore-eda)

After Life has a pretty ingenious premise - once you pass away, you may choose one memory to keep for eternity - that Hirokazu Kore-eda presents beautifully, through moments representing all emotions… and it definitely got me thinking about what the hell my memory would be.

Alice in the Cities

(1974, dir. Wim Wenders)

Wim Wenders has yet to disappoint me, and Alice in the Cities, the earliest of his films that I've seen, sets the tone for the great road movies to come. I also really connected to the disconnect between photographs and memories that the film demonstrates.

All the Beauty and the Bloodshed

(2022, dir. Laura Poitras)

I missed this when it came out a couple years ago and thankfully caught up with it this year. Seeing Nan Goldin’s story and activism against the Sacklers as told primarily through her photographs is powerful.

At Midnight I’ll Take Your Soul

(1964, dir. José Mojica Marins)

One of my favorite horror discoveries of the year, the first Coffin Joe film (and perhaps the first Brazilian horror film?) stars director José Mojica Marins as a devilish undertaker desperate to find a woman to save his bloodline. Marins has plenty of theatrics in his performance that reminded me of the great Vincent Price, and there’s some fun moments that wouldn’t feel out of place in a William Castle film (but there’s also no shortage of evil murders).

Blast of Silence

(1961, dir. Allen Baron)

Blast of Silence is a low-budget Christmas-set noir with offbeat characters and a great New York setting. I’m typically not a big fan of narration-heavy films, but Blast of Silence uses it as hard-boiled inner monologuing in a way I found interesting and clever.

Blind Beast

(1969, dir. Yasuzō Masumura)

Blind Beast has one of the coolest sets I’ve ever seen, perfectly setting a creepy and eerie tone for the film and its weird and disturbing plot.

Bloody Muscle Body Builder in Hell

(1995, dir. Shinichi Fukazawa)

Feeling like an Evil Dead fan film (and I mean that in the best way possible), Bloody Muscle Body Builder in Hell is barely an hour long but packed full of DIY spookiness and fun gore effects, ramping up especially in the last twenty minutes.

The Boxer’s Omen

(1983, dir. Kuei Chih-Hung)

Alligator skulls, 1000 year old mushrooms, black magic, boxing, bat and spider puppets, monks, demons, vomiting out your insides - there’s so many weird, charming, unique, and absolutely gross elements of The Boxer's Omen and I wouldn't have it any other way.

Boyz n the Hood

(1991, dir. John Singleton)

I’m still thinking about how good Laurence Fishburne is in this as Tre’s father Furious. Boyz n the Hood wears its influences on its sleeve - there's direct callbacks to Stand by Me and Over the Edge - but as an emotional coming-of-age drama it’s really effective and it's easy to see how John Singleton inspired a plethora of other filmmakers.

Braindead (a.k.a. Dead Alive)

(1992, dir. Peter Jackson)

Before The Lord of the Rings, Peter Jackson was making silly extra-gory horror comedies and Braindead truly feels like a remarkable accomplishment, paced incredibly well with inventive gags that you just have to step back and admire. It feels like a mixture of Sam Raimi and Stuart Gordon but with Jackson’s distinct New Zealand humor driving the boat.

Broken Mirrors

(1984, dir. Marleen Gorris)

The discovery of Dutch filmmaker Marleen Gorris’ work was one of the highlights of my year. With Broken Mirrors, she takes elements from ‘80s thrillers and workplace dramas and fuses them into something that stands on its own. Everything - from the colors to the camera movements to the characters - is on point here.

The Candidate

(1972, dir. Michael Ritchie)

Despite being over 50 years old, The Candidate feels like one of the more relevant political movies out there, and certainly one of the best. Maybe it’s due to Michael Ritchie’s fly-on-the-wall style direction, or Robert Redford’s convincing performance, or the sharp script from Jeremy Larner (who actually worked on a political campaign), or the state of American politics still being about conforming your actual views to what your strategists think the masses want. Probably it’s all of the above.

Cecil B. Demented

(2000, dir. John Waters)

John Waters’ comedy about guerrilla filmmakers who kidnap a prominent actress (Melanie Griffith) who then takes a Patty Hearst-style turn and joins their cause is entertaining, funny, over-the-top, and absolutely loaded with film references.

Cemetery Man

(1994, dir. Michele Soavi)

Even though I’ve heard great things about it I was even more taken with Cemetery Man than I expected. It’s a truly bizarre horror comedy about a cemetery employee who’s dealing with a little bit of a zombie problem. Oh, and he’s NOT an engineer.

Chameleon Street

(1989, dir. Wendell B. Harris Jr.)

Before Catch Me If You Can there was Chameleon Street, also based on a true story, written by, directed by and starring Wendell B. Harris Jr. as a con artist who impersonates reporters, doctors, lawyers, and more. It’s got a sharp and clever script and that DIY filmmaking style I really enjoy.

The Children’s Hour

(1961, dir. William Wyler)

An acting showcase for Audrey Hepburn and Shirley Maclaine (and hey, James Garner's here too!), The Children’s Hour, a film centering around the fallout from a child at Hepburn and Maclaine’s boarding school accusing the two of them of being in a relationship together, still feels shocking and powerful today.

The China Syndrome

(1979, dir. James Bridges)

Perhaps most notable for its eerily prescient discussion of faults with nuclear reactors right before Three Mile Island, The China Syndrome remains an intense paranoia thriller about asking questions, seeking answers, and doing the “right thing” in the eyes of the public. Essential viewing for Jane Fonda and Jack Lemmon fans.

Clearcut

(1991, dir. Ryszard Bugajski)

“What if the Lorax was a psychopath” was my immediate thought after watching Clearcut, a horror film that asks challenging questions about what activism really looks like and how far one can go while staying in the right against greedy, evil people. Graham Greene is terrifying in this, a truly great performance that should receive much more praise than it has.

The Cook, the Thief, His Wife & Her Lover

(1989, dir. Peter Greenaway)

My first exposure to Peter Greenaway's work was mind-blowing and made me feel similar to how I felt watching David Lynch or Stanley Kubrick for the first time. The Cook, the Thief, His Wife & Her Lover is sickening and twisted and yet incredibly clever and compelling. Helen Mirren is at her most captivating, while Michael Gambon's Albert has to go down as one of the most despicable characters in film history.

Days

(2020, dir. Tsai Ming-liang)

While it doesn't have much of the awkward comedy I’ve come to expect from Tsai Ming-liang, his ability to hook me with slow drawn-out scenes is as strong as ever, and there’s a pensiveness and reflectiveness to an older Lee Kang-sheng here that isn't as pronounced in his ‘90s films.

Dream Life

(1972, dir. Mireille Dansereau)

The first feature film directed by a woman from Quebec, Mireille Dansereau’s Dream Life is a beautiful tale of female friendship that brings French New Wave and New Hollywood influences together, with its fusion of fantasy scenes and awkward real-life encounters. The two leads are delightful.

Drugstore Cowboy

(1989, dir. Gus Van Sant)

Gus Van Sant’s approach to Drugstore Cowboy allows for immersion into the world of these drug addicts who pull scam after scam to get drugs, evading the police in the process. It’s got a great ensemble and you’ll never want to put a hat on your bed ever again.

Drylongso

(1998, dir. Cauleen Smith)

What a unique concoction Drylongso is, fusing together a serial killer subplot, a family drama, an art community treatise, a teen comedy, DIY ‘90s energy and more into something that feels beautiful and essential. I can’t wait to see it again soon.

The Entity

(1982, dir. Sidney J. Furie)

The Entity is deeply uncomfortable and disturbing and centers around an incredible Barbara Hershey performance, whose character is continuously violated by a spiritual entity of some kind. There’s a relentless score that will continue to haunt after the film ends.

Fay Grim

(2006, dir. Hal Hartley)

I'm struggling to imagine who really wanted to see a sequel to Henry Fool, but Fay Grim really worked for me by being so different from its predecessor. By taking the characters and world-building from Henry Fool and turning it into an espionage thriller, it may be Hal Hartley's most surprising film. Parker Posey gets the chance to shine in a starring role and Jeff Goldblum is a welcome addition to the Hartley cinematic universe.

Fearless

(1993, dir. Peter Weir)

Fearless is one of those films I'd heard so many great things about that I had impossibly high expectations for it. And while I didn't understand the hype in the first half, it becomes a pretty powerful film by the end, including a truly great sequence and U2 needle drop.

    

Finishing School

(1934, dir. George Nichols Jr. and Wanda Tuchock)

Finishing School was one of my favorite discoveries of the year, a pre-code "girls gone wild" film with Frances Dee and Ginger Rogers that actually seems to have a lot of empathy towards the girls and really critiques the notion of the upper-class indoctrinating "finishing school" concept. It presents really interesting flawed characters and I was so impressed with the film it sent me down a pre-code rabbit hole towards the end of the year (which I intend to continue going down in 2025!)

The Fugitive

(1993, dir. Andrew Davis)

I'd seen bits and pieces of The Fugitive but had never watched the whole thing before, and it did not disappoint. In addition to being a great cat-and-mouse thriller, director and Chicago native Andrew Davis utilizes the Windy City exceptionally well.

 

Gold Diggers of 1933

(1933, dir. Mervyn LeRoy)

This might be my new favorite musical, at least from the classic Hollywood era. It feels incredibly modern as a tale of working class women in an “unclassy” profession as showgirls who scheme against high society. It’s funny and spending time with these characters is great, but the film is also deeply rooted in the Great Depression and the financial struggles the average person was experiencing. It’s paced like a screwball comedy and the musical numbers are memorable, with some truly astounding Busby Berkeley choreography.

Grosse Pointe Blank

(1997, dir. George Armitage)

This may be my favorite John Cusack role I’ve seen so far, essentially allowing him to take his “straight man in an absurd world” performances from his ‘80s comedies and develop a more grown-up version of those characters, and it plays fantastically at the high school reunion. Minnie Driver absolutely rocks that green shirt.

Happy Birthday to Me

(1981, dir. J. Lee Thompson)

There were a lot of slashers that came out in 1981, but Happy Birthday to Me feels a cut above many of them, due in no small part to J. Lee Thompson actually putting some effort into the direction. It's also scored by Cassavetes collaborator Bo Harwood and has some unique kills and truly bizarre character traits.

Happy-Go-Lucky

(2008, dir. Mike Leigh)

Sally Hawkins is terrific in Mike Leigh’s Happy-Go-Lucky as the eternally optimistic Poppy, and the film itself is a really interesting character study of a person who can’t understand that their positivity may sometimes negatively affect those around them.

The Heartbreak Kid

(1972, dir. Elaine May)

If you want to cringe continuously in secondhand embarrassment for an hour and 45 minutes (and you better believe I sure do)… boy did Elaine May make the movie for you!

Help Me… I’m Possessed

(1974, dir. Charles Nizet)

I started the year attempting to watch as many 1974 horror films as I could (to celebrate their 50th anniversary in 2024) and while I ended up abandoning that project, I did discover Help Me… I’m Possessed, a strange low-budget film that felt like a pre-code horror film that was transported into the ‘70s grindhouse aesthetic. It’s got pretty low ratings but I really dug its vibe.

Here Comes Mr. Jordan

(1941, dir. Alexander Hall)

Robert Montgomery won't be an actor for everyone, but I really enjoyed his goofy charm here in this fantasy romance, which also features the ever-dependable Claude Rains.

House of Games

(1987, dir. David Mamet)

Once I got in the flow of Mamet’s dialogue, I was all in on this con artist classic with a stellar Joe Mantegna performance. I saw it way back in January but still think about it from time to time.

Inferno

(1953, dir. Roy Ward Baker)

I’m mostly familiar with Roy Ward Baker from his horror work, but this beautifully shot, short-and-sweet western noir about a wealthy man (Robert Ryan) with a broken leg left to die in the desert by his wife and her lover may be my favorite film of his that I’ve seen.

The Iron Rose

(1973, dir. Jean Rollin)

Slow and light on plot and set almost entirely in a cemetery, The Iron Rose may not sound great on paper, but it was one of the more mesmerizing and eerie movie watching experiences I had all year. Might be my favorite Rollin so far.

Josie and the Pussycats

(2001, dir. Deborah Kaplan and Harry Elfont)

I adored Josie and the Pussycats - it’s got great music, a zany conspiracy plot, villainous Parker Posey and Alan Cumming, and so many jokes it’s going to take numerous rewatches to catch them all. If you liked Barbie's comedic style, don’t miss this - it's doing very similar things, just 22 years earlier.

Juice

(1992, dir. Ernest R. Dickerson)

One of my favorite elements of Juice is how it truly feels like not just a neo-noir, but a classic film noir transplanted into '90s Harlem. Omar Epps’ Q is up there with the great noir characters whose situation just keeps getting worse and worse (often through no fault of their own), and the ending reminded me of one of my favorite noir films ever, Sweet Smell of Success.

Kenny & Company

(1976, dir. Don Coscarelli)

A couple years before Phantasm, Don Coscarelli crafted a beautiful coming-of-age tale set in Los Angeles during the week of Halloween (hence, also giving off big Halloween vibes). It’s filled with fun and pranks but also life lessons and some truly emotional moments.

The Killers

(1964, dir. Don Siegel)

My preferred adaptation of Ernest Hemingway’s story, Siegel’s version is mean and abrasive, and some of the goofier detours didn’t really bother me. Plus you get to see John Cassavetes punch Ronald Reagan in the face!

The Last Island

(1990, dir. Marleen Gorris)

Marleen Gorris puts her distinct European feminist twist on the survival movie. The Last Island builds and builds with uneasy tension as character motivations are slowly revealed, and the result is sometimes hard to watch but always compelling.

The Late Show

(1977, dir. Robert Benton)

While it’s cut from the same cloth as shaggy ‘70s detective yarns like The Long Goodbye, there’s a sadness to The Late Show that makes it feel all its own. It’s a great role for an older Art Carney, and the friendship between Carney and Lily Tomlin is really beautiful.

Lifeforce

(1985, dir. Tobe Hooper)

Tobe Hooper’s big budget ode to Hammer-style science fiction has space vampires and zombies and a grand score and Patrick Stewart and probably a million other things I’m forgetting. It’s long and messy but my eyes were glued to the screen the whole time.

The Limey

(1999, dir. Steven Soderbergh)

A revenge tale told in a nonlinear fashion that reminded me of Sexy Beast (due in no small part to the unhinged English guys and beautiful looking pools in both films), The Limey shot to the top of my Soderbergh list. Now I need to rewatch it with the infamous commentary track.

A Little Romance

(1979, dir. George Roy Hill)

A great teen romance road movie through France and Italy, with an early role for Diane Lane and a Laurence Olivier as a friendly pickpocket. This made me want to visit Europe again soon!

Little Shop of Horrors

(1986, dir. Frank Oz)

Frank Oz’s transformation of Roger Corman’s cult classic into the beloved musical it is today really impressed me. The songs are fantastic, as are the performances (special shout-out to Steve Martin channeling his inner Frank Booth), and the sets, lighting, and puppetry are top-notch.

Little Women

(1994, dir. Gillian Armstrong)

A nice retelling of the literary classic with a truly extraordinary cast. I may actually prefer Gillian Armstrong’s version of Little Women to Greta Gerwig’s (which almost feels like a hot take these days).

Lured

(1947, dir. Douglas Sirk)

One of the best blind watches of the year for me, Lured is a film noir from Douglas Sirk (before his more well-known ‘50s melodramas) starring Lucille Ball, of all people, assisting a detective to bring down the serial killer who may have killed her friend. It’s got a great cast, including a memorably unhinged role for the great Boris Karloff.

Mark of the Vampire

(1935, dir. Tod Browning)

A rare MGM horror movie, Tod Browning takes advantage of the budget and gives us beautifully atmospheric sets. The Lionel Barrymore performance and twist ending will polarize people, but I found Barrymore incredibly entertaining and the twist didn’t ruin the movie for me. Also, the female vampire Luna is fantastic. I just wish Bela Lugosi got more to do!

Married to the Mob

(1988, dir. Jonathan Demme)

Married to the Mob is no ordinary mob movie - it’s told from a female perspective, a welcome shift from the typically super masculine genre, and it’s a comedy with clever jokes peppered throughout the runtime. Plus Dean Stockwell plays a mob boss! If you thought The Godfather was missing burger joints, socially awkward detectives, and an '80s alternative soundtrack, this may be your new favorite movie.

Martin

(1977, dir. George A. Romero)

A vampire film like no other, George Romero’s Martin may be his masterwork, turning a story about a boy who thinks he’s a vampire into an unsettling character study of an outsider. Shot in Pittsburgh, it's gritty, grimy, and ultra '70s in the best way possible.

Mary Jane’s Not a Virgin Anymore

(1996, dir. Sarah Jacobson)

While I thought Sarah Jacobson’s short film I Was a Teenage Serial Killer was interesting, I was worried the style there wouldn't translate well to a feature. Fortunately, Mary Jane’s Not a Virgin Anymore doesn't have that issue - it’s a great underground coming-of-age hangout tale that really makes me wish Jacobson were still alive to tell more stories. Comparisons to Clerks will abound, and while I like Clerks, this film is much more my speed.

Medium Cool

(1969, dir. Haskell Wexler)

One of the great Chicago films, Haskell Wexler’s Medium Cool and its unique docudrama approach to the 1968 Democratic National Convention and corresponding political unrest is well documented. But this isn't just a movie about the DNC - there’s also stories about a young boy from West Virginia adapting to life in Chicago and a taxi driver who turned in a large sum of money. Robert Forster rules.

Mercury in Retrograde

(2017, dir. Michael Glover Smith)

Chicago-based filmmaker Michael Glover Smith has become a favorite of mine. I really enjoyed watching his triptych Rendezvous in Chicago in 2023 and was equally pleased with Mercury in Retrograde, a story of three couples vacationing together in Michigan for the weekend. I’m excited to catch up with the rest of Smith's work.

Miller’s Crossing

(1990, dir. Joel Coen)

The Coen brothers bring their distinct writing and filmmaking style to the gangster movie, and the result is a tale full of twists and turns and great actors giving memorable performances as memorable characters.

Miracle Mile

(1988, dir. Steve de Jarnatt)

A charming first date movie that turns into a nuclear apocalypse movie, Miracle Mile has an After Hours-like energy throughout its runtime, seemingly feeling funny yet nerve-wracking in every scene. It’s a true cult classic with a great Tangerine Dream soundtrack.

My Cousin Vinny

(1992, dir. Jonathan Lynn)

My biggest takeaways after finally catching up with My Cousin Vinny are that Marisa Tomei’s Oscar win is one of the greatest of all time and that this feels like a movie I can throw on at any place and any time and just sit back and enjoy.

Naked Acts

(1996, dir. Bridgett M. Davis)

Naked Acts fits into a specific niche of ‘90s indie films directed by Black women (alongside works like Just Another Girl on the I.R.T., The Watermelon Woman, and the aforementioned Drylongso) that I’m really into. This story of an actress coming to terms with herself over her struggles surrounding a nude scene is carefully constructed and was right up my alley.

Ned Rifle

(2014, dir. Hal Hartley)

The third (and final, as of now) story in the Henry Fool saga welcomes Aubrey Plaza into the fold (maybe the post-90s actor most well-suited to deliver Hal Hartley’s dialogue) and features some of my favorite Hartley music in a while. It won’t be for everyone (much like the other two films) but I thought it was a solid conclusion to the story.

Noises Off…

(1992, dir. Peter Bogdanovich)

Peter Bogdanovich has a way with screwball comedy that just really works for me - he seems to be better than almost anyone else at directing edge-of-your-seat extended comedic sequences. Noises Off…, a tale about a theater group running into many struggles trying to put on a play in various cities, might be the hardest I laughed all year.

November

(2017, dir. Rainer Sarnet)

This singular weird folk horror tale from Estonia is utterly gorgeous and mesmerizing. It didn't always make sense but I was utterly entranced by every frame.

Obsession

(1976, dir. Brian De Palma)

If you’ve seen Vertigo you’ve pretty much also seen Obsession, but De Palma takes the story and makes it even more messed up and puts a southern gothic twist on it, and for me his trademark style rarely disappoints.

One from the Heart

(1982, dir. Francis Ford Coppola)

Francis Ford Coppola’s big swing wasn’t well regarded initially but has developed a cult following since, and I found the 4K restoration of his Las Vegas musical tale of doomed romance, unhealthy relationships, and one-night stands to be utterly intoxicating. Teri Garr (R.I.P.) in particular is fantastic.

One Sings, the Other Doesn’t

(1977, dir. Agnès Varda)

The great Agnès Varda tells a story of two women who first come into contact when one helps to fund the other’s abortion. The two meet at an abortion rally 10 years later and Varda traces the ebbs and flows of their friendship over the course of several years. This has a lot of elements that I'm really drawn to (including music performance and characters traveling to a foreign country), so it’s unsurprising that I really dug it.

Out of the Blue

(1980, dir. Dennis Hopper)

Possibly my favorite film on this whole list, I was absolutely blown away by Dennis Hopper’s Out of the Blue, which feels almost like a literal adaptation of the lyrics to Neil Young’s “My My, Hey Hey” (which does play multiple times in the film). There’s moments of joy sprinkled around here and there, but overall this is as bleak as movies get, especially the jaw-dropping final 15 minutes. Hopper’s supporting turn is one of his very best and Linda Manz’s incredible lead performance should have made her a star.

Pretty Poison

(1968, dir. Noel Black)

Noel Black’s small-town Massachusetts tale of mystery and deception has a truly fascinating dynamic between leads Anthony Perkins and Tuesday Weld. It’s a little more leisurely paced than most thrillers but the psychological twists on display are top-notch.

A Question of Silence

(1982, dir. Marleen Gorris)

My first experience with Marleen Gorris and hence one of my top discoveries of the year, A Question of Silence is an excellent thriller centering around a female psychiatrist trying to understand the seemingly random murder of a shopkeeper by three women. It’s a fascinating and gripping look at violence and feminism, underscored by a haunting synth soundtrack.

Repeat Performance

(1947, dir. Alfred L. Werker)

Repeat Performance is a film noir with a fun Twilight Zone-style premise where a woman, after killing her husband on New Year’s Eve, finds herself reliving the previous year over again with an opportunity to change her fate. Definitely a compelling and unique entry into the film noir canon.

Sadie McKee

(1934, dir. Clarence Brown)

Joan Crawford is great as the titular Sadie McKee, who has a series of romances as she tries to work her way up in society. I found it to have a more sympathetic view to women in relationships and a more cautious look at alcoholism than most films of its era.

School Daze

(1988, dir. Spike Lee)

Spike Lee’s college hangout movie is filled with memorable characters and musical numbers but also some deeper life lesson moments. There’s a lot of college movies out there but not too many set at HBCUs, so I especially enjoyed that aspect here.

Serial Mom

(1994, dir. John Waters)

After having a more mixed response to his earlier work, I’ve become a pretty big John Waters fan, and it's easy to see why Serial Mom has become a horror-adjacent classic in recent years. It’s filled with dark humor and has a committed Kathleen Turner performance combined with Waters’ one-of-a-kind writing and visual style.

Someone’s Watching Me!

(1978, dir. John Carpenter)

Even as a massive John Carpenter fan, I was surprised how much I enjoyed Someone’s Watching Me!, the TV movie he directed right before Halloween. It borrows a lot from directors like Hitchcock, De Palma, and Argento, and films like The Conversation, but the empathy it has for lead character Leigh Michaels (Lauren Hutton) and her friendship with the openly-gay Sophie (Adrienne Barbeau) really impressed me.

Something Different

(1963, dir. Vera Chytilová)

Before directing the chaotic Czech classic Daisies, Vera Chytilovà told a more grounded story of two women - an underappreciated housewife and an Olympic gymnast - unconnected as characters but deeply connected in terms of life experiences. I’ve never seen another film quite like this.

Sorcerer

(1977, dir. William Friedkin)

Friedkin’s reworking of The Wages of Fear is just as compelling (if not more so!) than the original. Highlights include Friedkin’s trademark documentary-style filmmaking approach and a great Tangerine Dream score.

Sudden Manhattan

(1996, dir. Adrienne Shelly)

Adrienne Shelly’s directorial debut is a quirky, absurd tale of a woman just trying to get by in New York City who keeps witnessing a murder over and over again, and while it definitely feels influenced by her work with Hal Hartley it also feels like her own distinct voice. Its unique cast of characters and buildup to a grand comedic finale reminded me of some of Pedro Almodóvar’s comedies.

Suddenly, Last Summer

(1959, dir. Joseph L. Mankiewicz)

Possibly the most “southern Gothic” movie I’ve ever seen (along with Hush, Hush… Sweet Charlotte), I’m still thinking about how a film this depraved snuck out of the studio system in 1959.

Surviving Desire

(1992, dir. Hal Hartley)

Another great watch for Hal Hartley fans, this felt like a fusion of Trust and Simple Men, the two films surrounding it in Hartley's filmography.

Targets

(1968, dir. Peter Bogdanovich)

What Peter Bogdanovich pulls off in Targets absolutely floored me - it’s two simultaneous stories of an aging horror actor working on a final film and a psychotic shooter going on a killing spree, with the stories intersecting in a haunting finale. It’s got a fantastic late-career performance from Boris Karloff, and its assessment of violence feels just as relevant today as ever.

Testament

(1983, dir. Lynne Littman)

Lynne Littman’s Testament came out in a wave of nuclear panic movies but stands out through Jane Alexander's lead performance. The way the film transitions from a normal slice-of-life story into a bleak, hopeless nightmare is gut-wrenching.

They All Laughed

(1981, dir. Peter Bogdanovich)

While it reminded me of the Bogdanovich screwball joints What’s Up, Doc? and Noises Off…, there’s a little bit more going on in They All Laughed, be it drama, romance, or reflectiveness, that is really making the film stick with me as one of the better ensemble pieces I’ve seen all year. I’m excited to see more of Colleen Camp’s work!

Times Square

(1980, dir. Allan Moyle)

Maybe the movie I most immediately fell in love with this year, Times Square has a beautifully complex friendship between the introverted and misunderstood Pamela and the extroverted “bad influence” riot girl Nicky who join forces living on the streets and eventually forming a band. Much like Allan Moyle’s other films Pump Up the Volume (which I love) and Empire Records (not so much), music and those who share it plays a crucial role in developing the psyches of these characters.

True Stories

(1986, dir. David Byrne)

Considering it’s directed by David Byrne, True Stories feeling like a Talking Heads album come to life should come as no surprise, but it’s delightful to experience anyway. Also, this may be my new favorite John Goodman performance.

Two on a Guillotine

(1965, dir. William Conrad)

This is an interesting tale of ghosts and romance that feels like a spooky version of a ‘60s Disney movie (especially due to Dean Jones and Cesar Romero's presence). I was more mixed on it when I watched it but it's grown on me in the weeks since.

Under the Tuscan Sun

(2003, dir. Audrey Wells)

New films similar to Under the Tuscan Sun pop up on streaming services every year, with gorgeous settings like the Italian villa here, but none of those have a great Diane Lane performance that really bring out interesting complexities in the lead character and add to the charming nature of the film.

Vampyros Lesbos

(1971, dir. Jesús Franco)

A lesbian vampire film far more interested in mood and dreamy vibes than plot, and that’s a-ok with me. This has some of the most gorgeous colors I’ve seen in a while and I kinda can’t stop thinking about it.

The Wages of Fear

(1953, dir. Henri-Georges Clouzot)

An adventure classic. I do think the first act goes on too long but when The Wages of Fear focuses on the mission at hand it’s absolutely gripping.

Wagon Master

(1950, dir. John Ford)

I have a tendency to forget how much I can enjoy westerns until I watch a really good one, and John Ford’s tale of horse traders escorting a Mormon wagon train is a great example of that.

Waking the Dead

(2000, dir. Keith Gordon)

My first experience with Keith Gordon (Arnie from Christine) behind the camera really impressed me - it’s a haunting interdimensional romance between a politician (Billy Crudup) and the activist he falls in love with (Jennifer Connelly) who tragically dies - but Crudup thinks he still sees her from time to time. I thought Crudup and Connelly were great in this and I’m excited to see more of Keith Gordon’s directorial work.

The Warriors

(1979, dir. Walter Hill)

Walter Hill’s New York classic was as entertaining as I had hoped, a great late-night thriller with a fantastic ensemble that kicks off with its memorable opening and doesn't slow down.

Wet Hot American Summer

(2001, dir. David Wain)

I watched Wet Hot American Summer on a plane and the guy next to me woke up from his slumber, tapped me on the shoulder, whispered “classic” while giving me a thumbs-up, and then went back to bed. Enough said.

What a Way to Go!

(1964, dir. J. Lee Thompson)

Earlier I praised the versatile J. Lee Thompson’s directing on the slasher Happy Birthday to Me and here he takes his talents to a truly lavish romantic comedy. Shirley Maclaine is terrific as poor (er, rich) Louisa May Foster who keeps falling in love with successful men only for her to inherit their fortunes when they keep dying in spectacular ways, but the film is just as much a showcase for Edith Head’s brilliant costumes.

What About Me

(1993, dir. Rachel Amodeo)

Rachel Amodeo’s What About Me is a really lovely New York slice of life piece that reminded me of Jim Jarmusch’s films but with a main character closer to Wanda from Barbara Loden’s Wanda. I liked Amodeo as both an actor and director here and I wish she had more credits to her name.

Where the Boys Are

(1960, dir. Henry Levin)

Where the Boys Are is proof that the Spring Break phenomenon has been a thing for quite a while, as it follows four girls who take a road trip to Florida for Spring Break to party and (hopefully) meet hot guys. It starts as a fun hangout movie but gradually gets more serious as more is revealed. It would pair great with the recently released How to Have Sex.

Xanadu

(1980, dir. Robert Greenwald)

Widely panned when released (so much so that it basically inspired the Razzies), Xanadu has since garnered a cult following, and consider me part of the cult. It’s corny but oh-so charming, with genuinely unique musical numbers, and I actually think it plays out as a beautiful final note for Gene Kelly's career.

You and Me

(1938, dir. Fritz Lang)

Fritz Lang’s You and Me isn’t one of the great director's more celebrated works, but it’s an interesting and unique picture worth checking out. A romantic crime drama with a couple offbeat musical moments, it also has probably the greatest economics lesson in film history.

Z Channel: A Magnificent Obsession

(2004, dir. Xan Cassavetes)

A compelling documentary on a legendary Los Angeles cable TV channel and it’s troubled owner who brought international, cult, and misunderstood films to a wide audience, Z Channel is a must watch for cinephiles.