The 10 Best Films of 2024 (by Andreas Babiolakis)

Written by Andreas Babiolakis


After the outpour of strong films last year, and once both major strikes concluded, I wondered what 2024 would look like. Had we run the well of creativity dry? Was there to be another backlog of great films because of the industry being held at a standstill during the strikes? Would artificial intelligence, economic struggles, and political divide disrupt the industry and the threatre-going experience? Now that we are officially at the end of 2024 — and halfway through the twenty-twenties — it’s safe to say that film is still in a rather good spot. Sure, some films were letdowns and other projects have been postponed into oblivion, but enough of the works we got this year were noteworthy (so much so that I have at least somewhat of an honorable mentions list of titles I wish I could include in my mere list of ten entries below).

To try and re-instill some faith in the Hollywood system after a cataclysmic level of exhaustion regarding franchises and reboots, a large number of the best films of 2024 were from the United States, proving that there is strength within the silver screen nation if you know where to look (and, I’ll be honest, you really didn’t have to look very far this year for great American films). In fact, just to backpedal a little bit, I do have a remake featured below, which should act as a reminder that directors and studios can tell stories of old if handled properly, with the best intentions, and with heart. Even in this film — but especially in the works surrounding it — can you find extreme creativity, ambition, and passion within a time where greed, shifting preferences, and financial suffering have all but stripped cinema of its soul; there is life in it yet.

I’m not much of a sucker for genres, either. I will love a film no matter what category it falls under, just as long as it is good. Having said that, 2024 was certainly the year of the genre film, with enough noteworthy, easily-identifiable films and genres to pick from (there were so many, including even the horror genre [which is usually quite weak, but the genre was firing on all cylinders in 2024], that my honourable mentions will also be full of genre works). Maybe it’s that itch for visionaries to put the spark back into not just film itself but the subcategories within it. When there aren’t genres to lean on, there are refreshing ideas and concepts that continue to confirm that film has much ground to cover still, even from an angle of spectacle or innovation.

With all of this in mind, there has been a constant thought within every single one of the films featured below: the prickly times we live in. Whether these works feature ways to be kind or appreciate one another better, or the proof that history repeats itself (and our global civilization is going through another dark period), these ten films (and many others) had these uncertain times as a prioritized topic to cover. We are united in our existential concern; we are understood; we are heard; we find ourselves on the big screen. Seeing as much was to be said and in ways that are still unique even over a century into the history of the cinematic medium, these top ten films are quite special. Here are my picks for the ten best films of 2024.


Honourable Mentions

Challengers
The Wild Robot
I Saw the TV Glow
Maria
Dìdi

10. Evil Does Not Exist

The world is on fire, both literally and figuratively. Ryusuke Hamaguchi followed-up his masterpiece, Drive My Car, with a film that is incredibly bold and firm with its stance on how humans can be lovely to one another and the planet, or outright destructive and toxic for both. Evil Does Not Exist is a slow-burn exercise that feels like Earth is dying these many seconds we squander while squabbling with one another (in this case, it’s over the glamping industry). By its haunting and shocking ending, Evil Does Not Exist leaves audiences with dirty hands: the realization that it is our children who will suffer the most when adults only think about themselves.

9. Sing Sing

Gimmicks can easily outstay their welcome in films. However, Sing Sing and its premise (bringing awareness to the acting program within the Sing Sing Correctional Facility, whilst using actually incarcerated actors to tell their story) never feel like missed opportunities. Colman Domingo delivers a career-best performance: one that is so strong that he elevates all of the actors around him, which only betters this experiment. Shot like a documentary in ways, Sing Sing places us within the confinements of a prison while allowing the white walls, high fences, and barbed wire to become the edges of a stage; within these boundaries, spirits and histories are illuminated in unspeakable ways, as neglected and unforgiven members of society are given the opportunity to shine.

8. Nosferatu

If there was ever a director who deserved to remake a certain film that has been done to death (considering the vampiric themes, take from that what you will), it’s the anthropologically sound auteur Robert Eggers creating a new Nosferatu for modern audiences. Using this opportunity to shed light on the stigmas surrounding mental health and how women have been mistreated throughout all of history (as well as adding some pagan and historically-rich flair), Eggers’ Nosferatu is quite the feat; it is horrifying, as throughout the entire runtime, it feels like we are watching a loved one die while society refuses to truly save them (which is quite a reality for many). Why bother saving civilization if it would never do the same for us? That’s the miasma Eggers places us in his latest, terrific film.

7. Emilia Pérez

The key with polarizing films is that as many people will love a work that others hate. I know it has been divisively received in ways, but I absolutely love Emilia Pérez: Jacques Audiard’s best film in years (and one hell of a genre bender to boot). This tale of transgender identity and drug cartel bloodbaths is posed as both a darkly-comedic musical and a gripping crime thriller, as if the film itself aims to transition but its dark past keeps catching up with it. What makes Emilia Pérez work so well is how it fully commits to each and every genre it dons, every song it projects, every gun shot, every revealed truth. It is as vulnerable as it is bombastic, as it invites us to dance amidst the dangers that surround us as well. Many films feign having both lightness and darkness; Emilia Pérez is very much the real deal.

6. Civil War

It’s no secret that the United States is quite divided right now. While Alex Garland’s Civil War is quite an embellishment on how it is divided (I’m not going to bother going into the specificities of the politics present in Garland’s depiction of a near-future, near-apocalypse), his general idea hits the mark: the nation is likely heading towards a point of no return like this one. Hopefully, it doesn’t become the nightmare Garland depicts: a country that treats fellow civilians like they’re zombies worth mowing down to protect the human race further. In that same breath, Garland’s cautionary tale is both optimistic and realistic: there is hope left in humanity if we are willing to unite (if the powers that be haven’t split us too far apart, already).

5. The Substance

Social media forces us to revisit younger photos of ourselves. We’re confined to our homes and are lambasted by advertisements that tell us we aren’t worth anything. Let’s face it: we’re continuously made to feel like we’re useless, hideous, and en route to perishing. The Substance dials up this conversation to an eleven within the scope of what it’s like to be a loved-then-discarded female celebrity who gets caught up in a quest to be younger and “beautiful” again. Coralie Fargeat’s satirical horror opus gets as extreme as possible, highlighting the hypocrisies of powerful industries whilst reminding us that we can be our own worst enemies when it comes to self destruction. The Substance is prepared to get abominable with its depiction of fear-mongering and misogynistic practices in the entertainment industry; it’s the kind of electric-shock slap that is needed to jumpstart a frequently ignored conversation again.

4. The Seed of the Sacred Fig

Many of the world’s biggest problems are filtered through our phones; we are informed of what is going on throughout our latest doom-scrolling sessions, while we are likely facing our own personal battles. In The Seed of the Sacred Fig, a country’s crises serve as background intel while we focus on a family’s minuscule shifts; these movements turn into tectonic collapses, and the turmoils within Iran start to involve the central family (does the political backdrop engulf this family that is falling apart, or is it the other way around?). The Seed of the Sacred Fig reminds us during these hard times that being ruthless with one’s efforts to protect can do much more harm than anything else; the film’s horrifying climactic act is proof of this. If you are wanting to do what’s right for your family during challenging sociopolitical times, never become a product of your environment.

3. Anora

Sean Baker is an expert at providing stories to the voiceless, and in Anora, he turns a sex worker into a superstar within a fairy tale world that whisks us away as well. That is, however, until the film gives us a reality check on how the upper class will always have the upper hand over those who live paycheck to paycheck. Anora takes its time creating a wonderland scenario for its titular character, but it devotes an even longer duration to hyper-focusing on how her dream life crashes and burns; amidst the flames of these ruins, we pray that Anora rises like a phoenix. Baker never gives us a proper answer, instead leaving us with the hardest hitting truth of all: most people don’t get fairy tale endings. In the hands of Baker, at least some forgotten people will finally have some time in the spotlight; I don’t think we’ll be forgetting Anora anytime soon.

2. The Brutalist

As many nations currently face refugee-related crises, Brady Corbet’s The Brutalist is a warning that it’s not enough to just open a nation’s doors to the suffering: they have to be welcomed and nurtured as human beings, too. Corbet’s maximalist-minimalist approach creates a massive depiction of a healing America full of opportunists and exploiters, while dialing in on the inner thoughts of the vulnerable. A seismic four-hour affair, The Brutalist depicts how great art takes time, while exposing all of its traits on its surface, much like the titular architectural style and how the scratches and blemishes become a part of the beauty (much like our skin as we age and have to face life’s hardships). As the conclusion of The Brutalist instructs us, it’s sometimes not about the journey but rather the end result; Corbet’s masterwork takes us to a new level of cinematic brilliance after years of blood, sweat, and tears, and I’ll have to agree with this message on this front.

1. Nickel Boys

Film is well over one hundred years old. It takes a lot for a motion picture’s goal to feel like it has never been accomplished before, never mind well. RaMell Ross’ first narrative film, Nickel Boys, is such an example: an experiment (one where the vast majority of the film’s shots take place from a first person point-of-view , all while hopping from viewpoints, timelines, and — seemingly — realities, given the surreal animal sightings) that is as sensational by the end of the film as it is as soon as you first begin to notice it taking place. However, to condemn Nickel Boys as just the film with the gimmick is sacrilegious. It is a symphony of human resiliency within the face of the monstrosities that have hurt — or outright killed — people over the course of history. Nickel Boys is as exquisite as it is soul crushing, and its first person gaze will make you feel like you are experiencing all of these hardships firsthand (yes, it’s as brutal as it sounds).

Nickel Boys is a miracle of filmmaking: a spectacle that is fully realized, a story that is thorough, moving, and generational, and a pushing of innovation and social understanding. Nickel Boys distances us as much as it places us within its horrors; there’s no more effective way to understand distress than to encounter it as if it was happening to us. It’s a challenging affair, no doubt, but its indescribable beauty will feel like the faith that keeps life’s soldiers trucking. It is the kind of release that was left right at the end of a calendar year, so whether you consider it a December 2024 or a January 2025 title doesn’t matter: it is destined to change how you view or have viewed films for the entire year. Nickel Boys will cleanse your soul and give you the hard hitting facts. It will change you as a person and a cinephile. It feels limitless, magical, and crucial. Nickel Boys is the best film of 2024, but I think it will be a part of even bigger conversations as time goes by.


Andreas Babiolakis has a Masters degree in Film and Photography Preservation and Collections Management from Ryerson University, as well as a Bachelors degree in Cinema Studies from York University. His favourite times of year are the Criterion Collection flash sales and the annual Toronto International Film Festival.