The 50 Best Films of the 2020s So Far
Written by Andreas Babiolakis
And just like that, we are halfway through the twenty-twenties already. What a rough ride it has been. What feels like just a year and some months has really been five whole calendar years. Thanks to the disruption of time, economy, livelihoods, and structure known as COVID-19, the world was sent into a standstill. Shortly afterward came strikes that fought against inner-industry politics and disparity; both these strikes and the pandemic caused major hiatuses within cinema, including projects being delayed, indefinitely shelved, or outright cancelled. As if that wasn’t enough, the threat of artificial intelligence — which continues to loom — cost more jobs and promises a far darker future. Film had to turn to projects that would guarantee money like lifeless franchises, remakes, and spinoffs; even these frequently failed at the box office, which was never the same once the pandemic had studios sending new releases straight to streaming.
Despite all of the above, it wasn’t difficult to come up with a list of the best fifty films of the decade thus far, mainly because film is a resilient art form that can withstand anything, even if greedy CEOs, idiotic tech junkies, and jaded naysayers will believe otherwise. For every hollow release came a project full of passion and hope for the medium. If anything, I have dozens of honourable mentions that you can find throughout my past reviews on Films Fatale: there are just too many to list here. Compiling this list has given me hope, especially during times of despair, panic, and uncertainty. As a cinephile, I’ve turned to motion pictures either to escape, or to rethink certain aspects (life, society, myself). I’m sure you feel the same way, and I hope that the following fifty films not only change or affect you in the ways that they did with me; I hope that they give you the faith in the future of cinema when the media, the elite, and the hateful will insist that the art form is at its bitter end. I assure you, based on innovation, inspiration, artistry, and power, that film is in good hands; let’s just hope that it has the financing needed to keep going. Here are the fifty best films of the 2020s so far.
Note: This article doesn’t include documentaries or short films. I usually tend to these kinds of films in their own way on Films Fatale, so stay tuned.
50. Soul
Pixar’s recent slump isn’t all bad, and Soul proves it. This mature-yet-fun look at life and death was essential when the pandemic had everyone searching for meaning, and the film showcased the best of Pixar’s artistry (in the afterlife) and heart (on Earth). Despite some good films, Pixar — ironically — hasn’t had films with the same essence or strength since.
49. Everything Everywhere All at Once
The world was in a weird — yet united — place when Everything Everywhere All at Once, a film that features sausage fingers, rock conversations, and a fight featuring a butt plug, won Best Picture. Perhaps — amidst all of the absurdity — it is the theme of existential conquest or the search for purpose that made this multiverse hysteria palatable to most viewers. During an era where most of us are looking for meaning within life and ourselves, Everything Everywhere All at Once made us feel found.
48. The Taste of Things
Like delicacies, food-based films are hard to perfect because of potential over or under cooking. Fortunately, The Taste of Things is just right: an artistic epic that shows the capabilities of the finest of dining. As we are sucked in to the world of culinary arts — particularly how cooking can soothe the soul and cure broken hearts — The Taste of Things makes magic out of passion, reminding us that food is a form of sustenance first and foremost; your state of mind will be well fed after this one.
47. Titane
After the Cannes Film Festival took a break (given the wildfire pandemic that was ongoing in 2020), the first Palme d’Or winner once the biggest film festival in the world returned was a shocking body horror known as Titane: a twisted — yet stunning — look at body autonomy, gender identity, and feminist ideology that took the world by storm. Whether the film worked with you or not, the power of Titane is undeniable, and its message will render the film crucial for years.
46. One Night in Miami…
We can look up the histories of any person we desire to research in this day and age, but we may not get into the heart and soul of those we are wanting to become closer to. Regina King’s directorial debut, One Night in Miami…, cleverly places us within the presence of four major Black icons over the course of a hypothetical evening, as each titan is trying to figure out how to keep doing what they love — be it football playing or singing — while honouring their culture and representing Black rights. The end result is delightful and impactful.
45. The Wild Robot
As Dreamworks Studios winds down and begins to outsource some of its duties overseas, its last fully in-house project, The Wild Robot, is an exquisite send off that both shows promise within the animated medium while breaking our hearts; we can only hope that there are Dreamworks films as good as this to come. Featuring a maternal robot and a chaotic world within nature, The Wild Robot finds harmony within the world around us and the technological advancements we can no longer slow down.
44. Licorice Pizza
Paul Thomas Anderson’s coming-of-age comedy, Licorice Pizza, is a reminder that not everyone will figure out their lives; in fact, many of the adults in this film are more childish than the teen protagonists. As the film flutters from miniature story to miniature story, we see how life is one big narrative full of tiny circumstances, and making sense of it all is futile. Purpose is found within the details; even if we cannot find a through line, we strap ourselves in and launch ourselves into the unknown depending on our minor takeaways from our experiences. Licorice Pizza is a wild ride, and one that has no destination in sight (like life itself).
43. The Menu
Sure, eat-the-rich satires became popular in recent years because of the ongoing frustrations working class people have had with the economy and the one percent. Some of these works have been better than others, and such an example is The Menu: a dinner date in hell. This self-aware look at false prestige and self-importance is equal parts disturbing and hilarious, and its twists and turns will leave you itching for the final course meal to wonder where it will all head (the biggest twist is that it’s an obvious final destination, and society has been heading there for decades).
42. His Three Daughters
Grief is insanely complicated, and there is no easy fix to pick up all the pieces of broken people. We can grieve before our loved ones are gone as well, since we dread what life will be like without them. Azazel Jacobs’ His Three Daughters is a magnificent take on illness and grief, and one of the best cinematic examples of what that time of confusion and fogginess can feel like. With three standout performances and heaps of truth behind its words, His Three Daughters is comforting in its sorrow.
41. The Northman
Robert Eggers hasn’t shied away from the horror genre much, outside of this action epic extravaganza. The Northman never settles for style over substance, as this quest of vengeance is driven by rage, mythology, and fate. What we have learned is that — no matter the genre — Eggers will put as much research and oomph into his projects as necessary, and The Northman’s relentlessness and fixation on destiny is undeniable.
40. Evil Does Not Exist
Ryusuke Hamaguchi has had quite the decade so far (more on that later). His latest film, Evil Does Not Exist, is a slow-burning look at human behaviour within uncertain times, and the ample amount of opportunities we have to turn things around (and yet we refuse to; we are too pompous). Hamaguchi finds harmony within disharmony with Evil Does Not Exist: a gorgeous yet devastating film that likens the divinity of nature with the savagery of humanity.
39. Robot Dreams
Adult friends and lovers can drift apart, just because life gets in the way. Robot Dreams takes two of humanity’s best friends, a dog (a domesticated animal since the start of time) and a robot (a recent pal who we can shape to best suit our needs) and makes them inseparable. This is until they are, sadly, indeed separated. We follow both paths to see their sorrow as well as their progress; Robot Dreams is a bittersweet realization that what life has in store for us as individuals doesn’t always allow for more than one person, and that can be okay.
38. The Holdovers
The holidays aren’t cheery for everyone, and The Holdovers drills itself right into what Christmas feels like for many: a hard fucking time. As we are cooped up with three unloved individuals during Christmas break in an empty school (which couldn’t feel more claustrophobic, ironically), we learn more about these closed off souls and what keeps them going. Some Christmas films tell you that family is what the season is about, while others will insist it’s about giving gifts. The Holdovers tells you that Christmas, like any other day, is itself the present of being alive, and to never squander this gift that many no longer have. Seize the day.
37. Sing Sing
Once people are incarcerated (no matter the reason), their stories end in the eyes of millions of judgemental civilians. In Sing Sing — an experiment based on reality — inmates become stars when we catch up with the facility’s latest stage production (this time, ideas get derailed to best suit the concepts that the acting troupe’s members have). We learn more about these people through their art than what they are serving time for; Sing Sing is an important look at how art can not only absolve and change people, it also is the best form of communication for many.
36. The Boy and the Heron
The triumphant return of one Hayao Miyazaki, The Boy and the Heron, is a sterling coming-of-age quest that is both goofy (to match the sense of humour of youths) and terrifying (a warning of what the real world can be to many). A tapestry of grief, maturation, and ambition, The Boy and the Heron is all about stepping outside of comfort zones to know what it means to blossom as people.
35. The Power of the Dog
Jane Campion’s western-drama, The Power of the Dog, kicks off as a signature period piece statement by the master of such cinema. It slowly reveals itself as a study of queerness and repressed adoration: a game of chess that unfurls into a heartbreaking take on loss and regret. The Power of the Dog relishes in mystery and poetic silence, because it is the breaths in between unspoken hearts that tell entire stories sometimes.
34. Nosferatu
Let’s be honest: the decade has been rife with nonsensical reboots and sequels, especially when the industry has struggled to figure out how to handle its economic collapse. Then, there is Robert Eggers’ Nosferatu to show us — should we have to remake a film — how it’s done, because the auteur stamps his authorial thumbprint all over this project. The end result is a fascinating, gothic horror that can stand toe-to-toe with the best horror films of our time.
33. Killers of the Flower Moon
Martin Scorsese has been working on an adaptation of the true-crime novel, Killers of the Flower Moon, for years, and his nearly-four-hour western epic easily meets the expectations laid out for it. This pensive thriller that forces us to observe the details of family portraits within a developing America will haunt you for years, especially when you remember how the slaughtering of the Osage community has been hidden from the history books for decades.
32. Spencer
Princess Diana’s Christmas from hell is turned into a hallucinogenic odyssey in Spencer: an exploration of the heart, mind, and soul of a broken pop culture icon. As we traverse the inner thoughts of a conflicted person, we find empathy for an icon who was taken from us far too soon, especially since we are provided this hypothetical mindset she was plagued with shortly before her shocking demise; Spencer humanizes a person who was rendered untouchable or unimaginable for years, mainly because I believe the film’s message (that she couldn’t be more human and like one of us, despite being of royal status).
31. The Tragedy of Macbeth
Aren’t there enough adaptations of the works of William Shakespeare? Well, clearly not, if Joel Coen’s first film since separating from brother Ethan is any indication. The Tragedy of Macbeth is a fever dream of an adaptation: a surreal take on a tired text that breathes new life into a story we’ve heard many times before. Coen turns the confines of the big screen into an endless stage production that could only exist in the cinematic medium, pushing the boundaries of what such a film can be.
30. Judas and the Black Messiah
The story of Black Panther chairman Fred Hampton is a complicated one, but Judas and the Black Messiah turns history into a thrilling game of cat-and-mouse via the perspective of one Bill O’Neal: an informant sent into the party to find out more information. Calculated, brooding, and cinematic, Judas and the Black Messiah is a revelatory depiction of true events that never lets up.
29. Past Lives
How do we move on from the unfair hands that fate deal with us? Past Lives is a grounded look at a love that wasn’t meant to be, adjacent to a romance that has flourished. Can both exist at the same time and involve one same participant? Sadly, yes, and Past Lives acknowledges a more real look at what a love triangle may seem like. Without ever diving off into the deep end of hyperbole, Past Lives represents both gratitude and a soul search of “what if?” at the feet of circumstance.
28. Emilia Pérez
Dark musicals may not know how to best balance both of their identities, but Emilia Pérez is sensational at embodying both its true spirit — a darkly comedic musical — and the past it cannot escape (a drug cartel crime thriller). It celebrates as much as it threatens. Its lightness is as strong as its darkness. In order to best understand death, we must cherish life. Emilia Pérez is a singular look at transgender acceptance, the curse of karma, and how genre films don’t have to be fixed to just one sole label.
27. Another Round
Thomas Vinterberg responded to personal devastation in his life (the tragic loss of his daughter) with Another Round: a bleak dramedy that is all about the search for reason. As teachers partake in an irresponsible drinking experiment, Vinterberg isn’t commenting on alcoholism (although there is much discussion of this topic as well) as much as he is showcasing what it feels like to lose a grasp on life; when we no longer have control of ourselves, we must find serenity within the richness of existence.
26. Close
Lukas Dhont’s gorgeous, soul crushing coming-of-age film, Close, is an exercise in what being closed off within one’s childhood looks like. It is a study on how a society’s resorting to bigotry and judgement will sadly always be easier than the acceptance of all lives. Dhont paints a beautiful, cinematic picture to indicate the brilliance of being alive, only to make the contrast of broken souls within hostile environments hit even harder; why are there people who are destined to destroy the luster of existing for others?
25. Civil War
It’s no secret that the United States has been experiencing a schism for quite some time now, and Alex Garland’s prophesied depiction of what may come, Civil War, is an alarming take on what one nation under God means to different people. While somehow his warmest film to date, Civil War is also Garland’s take on what it feels like to lose that of which we love, be it people, rights, or a country we once recognized and can no longer understand.
24. Nomadland
The pandemic posed economic suffering for many, and these are rippling effects we continue to feel years later (somehow worse than before, if anything). Nomadland is a grounded, understanding film that seeks beauty within the forgotten members of society who have had to change how they live in order to survive. Shot in a semi-documentary style (with actual nomads being given the lectern to provide their stories), Nomadland is the cherishing of the millions of people who are weathering this financial storm that continues to change and claim lives.
23. The Substance
In the day and age of social media, the hatred of one’s self is stronger than ever; this can be true for celebrities as well, as the satirical horror-comedy, The Substance, indicates. This cautionary tale about a quest to remain forever young and beautiful is so well blended that you’ll occasionally find it impossible to know whether you should laugh or scream. We hear The Substance’s concerns for how women are pitted against each other and even themselves loud and clear.
22. May December
How authentic are films that depict real events? How clouded is the truth? Todd Haynes seeks reality within absurdity and expression with May December: an eye-opening look at what authorship does to actuality. As Haynes blurs the line between facts and interpretation, we are left in the dark wondering what we retained from this tug-of-war, which is precisely the point. This experiment succeeds because it makes its point known: you will never get the full story from an artist’s rendition.
21. Quo Vadis, Aida?
When a translator is sent into the proverbial lions’ den (in this case, it’s in the midst of the Serbian massacre of 1995), the importance of relayed information couldn’t be made more clear. Quo Vadis, Aida? shows what political manipulation looks like while making a stance in the day and age of fake news online; one person cannot stop planned tragedy from happening, but hopefully their experience can inform everyone else to become more aware of what the powers that be are capable of.
20. The Banshees of Inisherin
Misery loves company in Martin McDonagh’s greatest film to date, The Banshees of Inisherin. As two friends have a falling out that leads to numerous tragedies, we see how life can always get worse than it currently is; we must cherish what we have before it’s gone, rather than wallow in what once was (we’ll never make it through life otherwise). McDonagh’s masterwork is full of the tonal complexities of life, reminding us that we may be guffawing after our biggest cries; no feeling is final.
19. The Seed of the Sacred Fig
How do we love a motherland that is so hostile to us? Such is the dilemma director Mohammad Rasoulof finds himself in, as he has been punished for his art in Iran. He follows up this turmoil with The Seed of the Sacred Fig: an epic thriller that has a family divided by sociopolitical catastrophes. As the film proceeds, it becomes apparent that crises make us all panic in different ways, revealing our true stances and colours; it is also a reminder that we must be on the right side of history, or else we may find ourselves buried with the times that many are pushing to change.
18. The Worst Person in the World
Joachim Trier’s comedy-drama, The Worst Person in the World, turns the volume of our inner voices up; you know, the part of our conscience that always makes us feel like we are less than nothing. As we follow Julie’s daily circumstances, we are presented a fascinating-yet-unreliable narration of her life; one that we are granted the ability to critique using our own devices (then again, aren’t our inner thoughts just as biased and inconsistent?). We never fully judge Julie because we understand she is imperfect just like ourselves; we see us in her triumphs and her faults.
17. Parallel Mothers
Pedro Almodóvar has at least one masterpiece per decade, and he kicked off the twenty-twenties with Parallel Mothers: one of his finest features to date (this bodes well for the rest of the era). A drama hinged on duality, secrecy, and Hitchcockian revelation, Parallel Mothers questions what provenance, family, and identity look like with a twisty, turning film that proves that the great cinematic masters will never fully run out of ideas or inspiration.
16. Perfect Days
Wim Wenders knows what he does best: transport us to places and timelines that are foreign to us. His best film in decades, Perfect Days, finds comfort in the mundane, especially within a world that is unforgiving and negligent. Not only does Wenders spotlight the massive joys in a simple life, he encourages us to find love within ourselves, no matter who we are. Any other director would have made Perfect Days cheesy, pessimistic, or artificial. Instead, Wenders has a loving, exquisite look at everyday resiliency.
15. All of Us Strangers
Identities aren’t just based on who we are in the present, but who we will become through remembrance and legacy once we perish. All of Us Strangers is a peculiar look at existentialism, grief, and queerness via the guise of a ghost story, brilliantly merging how we perceive ourselves with how we allow others to perceive us. An authentic depiction of loneliness in the twenty-first century, All of Us Strangers turns every poor soul into a superstar that will shine for eternity.
14. The Father
If we no longer remember our pasts, how do we know who we are in the present? The Father is a weighty look at memory loss, aging, and fulfillment with a deceptive setting that shifts under the feet of its protagonist at any given moment; to watch The Father is to better understand what the damnation of Alzheimer’s disease looks like. Without ever getting corny or becoming a guilt-tripping affair, The Father turns loss into a celebration of what we once had, reminding us to never take for granted who or what we adore (and our ability to recognize these loves).
13. Lovers Rock
It may be cheeky to have an episode of an anthology miniseries here, but Steve McQueen’s Small Axe series is full of feature films, and that is all I need to be able to champion Lovers Rock: one of his crowning achievements. There’s something about watching a usually unforgiving director operating within joy, celebration, and blissfulness, because Lovers Rock is a snapshot of exquisiteness within simplicity; sometimes, in order to best portray hardship, you have to be reminded of what exaltation is.
12. Decision to Leave
Park Chan-wook worked against type with Decision to Leave by deciding not to indulge in excessive violence and taboo concepts; instead, his neo-noir is restrained to the point of having us feel every ounce of regret and guilt. Anyone who was quick to write off the Korean titan as a single-note artist couldn’t have been more wrong, considering that not only is Decision to Leave one of his greatest achievements (and it isn’t even debatable at this point), it is one of the great mystery films of recent memory, proving that Chan-wook has control of whatever film he chooses to make. Take that, naysayers.
11. Minari
One of the great American films of this decade so far is a tale of immigration and the struggle to keep afloat in a nation that promised an American dream (and only provided it to those who the system favoured). Minari is a painfully stunning film that is not just a coming-of-age drama, but rather a coming-to-realization tale for the parents of the very children they’re trying to help nurture and grow. Minari is a generational story that will help any viewer at any stage of their life feel seen and heard.
10. Oppenheimer
Christopher Nolan can’t just make a straight-forward feature film, but his take on the biographical picture, Oppenheimer, is a reshaping of how personal histories can be depicted on screen. With two ongoing films at once (the subjective versus the objective), Oppenheimer elevates how moments in time can be relayed in the cinematic medium; by both providing a hypothetical take on what a focal point is experiencing, alongside the public opinion that cannot be denied. Oppenheimer is a massive achievement of filmmaking and within Nolan’s already-gigantic career.
9. Anora
Sean Baker has always aimed to provide a voice for the voiceless; even a finally-sizeable budget won’t stop him from doing so. Anora — his greatest feature to date — turns a whirlwind romance in the life of a sex worker into a modern day fairy tale, until the sharp edge of the knife of reality twists into fantasy and kills it for good. We find growth within the unfortunate spirit known as Anora (or Ani, for short), but we also wish that society would allow her to triumph more than what she’s given; Anora tries to give her a fair shake until we come crashing back down to Earth.
8. Tár
If actor-director Todd Field is actually done with filmmaking as he has proclaimed, then he has gone out on the high point of his career. Tár demands viewers to recontextualize what cancel culture looks like, providing us with a monstrous anti-hero at the forefront while also sprinkling all of the red flags we should have seen coming throughout the first act of this three-hour juggernaut of a film. Cancellation doesn’t just come from out of nowhere; Field separates the artist from the art in his most ambitious, triumphant feature to date (and, potentially, of all of his films).
7. The Brutalist
When a country opens its borders to immigrants and refugees, will it actually take care of those it promises to welcome? Brady Corbet’s gargantuan film, The Brutalist, poses what the American dream looks like to millions of unfortunate souls via an architect whose scars detail him in the way his structures are worn by weather and use over time. Both maximalist and minimalist, The Brutalist is a limitless, expansive scope of the human experience within a film stuffed with impassioned ideas and artistry.
6. Anatomy of a Fall
Everyone knows that the legal system isn’t perfect, but what does truth mean within or outside of the courthouse? In a decade full of strong legal dramas (including a major honourable mention, Saint Omer), Justine Triet’s Anatomy of a Fall reigns supreme as a magnificent take on what honesty and justice look like within a society full of ambiguity and personal versions of events. Triet’s resistance against resolution and cinematic tropes have helped her make Anatomy of a Fall: what already feels like one of the great legal dramas of all time.
5. Poor Things
Yorgos Lanthimos’ magnum opus, Poor Things, is a celebration of the absurd, of womens’ rights, and of imagination. Its endlessly fantastical world is one that I’d love to live within, if it wasn’t for the rampant misogyny, of course (but that’s why Bella Baxter is such a terrific protagonist; watching her learn to walk and speak for herself whilst slowly dismantling the male-set expectations around her is one of the great joys of cinema this decade). Lanthimos’ Frankenstein-esque masterpiece surpasses convention, expectation, and description.
4. Nickel Boys
When we visit the words and lives of others, it is only them that we know what it is like to be in their shoes. Nickel Boys takes us back to the Jim Crow-era of the United States via a masterfully executed technique: the use of first person points-of-view to tell the majority of this story. We are transported to a reform academy to see just how imbalanced the system is towards marginalized voices in a film that will astound you artistically and break your heart with its commentary on one of the worst secrets in American history.
3. The Zone of Interest
What does compliance look like? Jonathan Glazer’s magnum opus, The Zone of Interest, transports us back to the times of the Holocaust to experience what lives of luxury look like while entire societies are slaughtered. Without ever showing us the atrocities of the Nazi regime, The Zone of Interest plagues us with the guilt of the willing ignorance of mass graves and relentless torture, all in the name of living comfortable (there’s nothing comfortable about the weight of guilt and the cries of your fellow people).
2. Drive My Car
Ryusuke Hamaguchi’s really done it this time. The beauty of Drive My Car — his take on grief and the need to keep on existing — is that it never fully reveals its power. It feels like its three-hour runtime, but by the end of the film I wish it wouldn’t end. I knew instantly that it was great, but it took time of dwelling on it to learn that it was a masterpiece. Drive My Car never leaves you, and its importance only strengthens with time and with aging; a sign that this film is destined to be timeless and both cherished and impactful forever.
1. Aftersun
I knew instantly that Charlotte Wells’ debut, Aftersun, was a film that I would adore likely forever when I first finished it. With countless watches since, my bond with the film only strengthens. This final trip to an exotic place (Turkey) between a father and daughter is not just a touching tribute to the sights and sounds of the nineties: it is a dreamy search through memory, wondering what happened and why. Aftersun is an exceptional look at how time and nostalgia can be represented in film, while wearing its vulnerability proudly. It is a masterful film that proves that the cinematic medium will always have life within it when a director possesses enough talent, care, and inspiration. Aftersun is the best film of the 2020s so far; it is a highly set bar for the remainder of the decade as well.
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.