Rolling Stone asked a bunch of its contributors to work on a massive list of the best films of the 21st century. Remarkably, we're already 25 years into this new century, which means a lot of good movies. As always, I didn't have any say in the final rankings, but I did some of the write-ups, including Y Tu Mama Tambien, Inside Llewyn Davis, Dogville, Burning, Uncut Gems, I Am Not Your Negro, The Souvenir and others. Dive in.
I should not have been surprised. After all, movies tackle dramatic subjects, and few are more dramatic than mortality. I pride myself on being able to block out the world's distractions when I go to review a film. (I consider that a crucial part of my job.) But I felt the occasional jolt of recognition when death came creeping into a film's plot: "Oh, right, that. There it is again." Repeatedly, I was reminded that I existed in a new world, one without that person I just lost.
At the same time, it was extraordinarily surreal to be here at Cannes while processing my friend's passing. The place is just so damn beautiful, and the movies are so rich and rewarding. All festivals are a bubble from the real world -- that's one reason why people love attending them -- but a big part of me was able to shut out my sorrow simply because of my stimulating environment. Death may have followed me from screen to screen, but Cannes is so alive that you can trick yourself into forgetting. Still, I'm smart enough to recognize that my sorrow will be waiting for me when I return to Los Angeles. Bubbles have a nasty habit of bursting.
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With that acknowledged, let me now add that I found this to be a deeply great edition of the festival. Some of the movies I was most anticipating let me down -- the Spike Lee, the Wes Anderson, most certainly the Ari Aster -- but there was ample compensation from the expected heavy-hitters who did deliver the goods. And, of course, there were the revelatory discoveries, like Oliver Laxe's Sirat and Mascha Schilinski's Sound of Falling, easily the best movie I saw in Cannes. God bless Mubi, who took a chance on her ambitious, kaleidoscopic drama that spans roughly 100 years and four generations of different families living in the same home. The esteemed distributor is actually behind my Top Two from the festival, which also includes Kelly Reichardt's The Mastermind, one of the finest films this very fine filmmaker has ever produced. From the dazzling execution of Bi Gan's Resurrection to the formal rigor of Sergei Loznitsa's merciless Two Prosecutors, the major auteurs came out swinging. And that's not even mentioning two movies beloved by many here and merely really, really liked by me: Jafar Panahi's It Was Just an Accident and Kleber Mendonca Filho's The Secret Agent.
Before I reveal my rankings, let's now take a moment to mention the films I wasn't able to get to, like Adam's Interest, The Love That Remains, Mirrors No. 3, My Father's Shadow, Urchin, A Useful Ghost and Yes!, to name just a few. (Some may notice that I didn't review Mission: Impossible – The Final Reckoning. I was set to do so, but my L.A. screening got canceled midway through because of a fire. It's a long story, but everyone's fine, so don't worry.)
From worst to best, here's a list of everything I saw, with links leading to individual reviews:
37. Eddington
36. Eleanor the Great
35. The Wave
34. Fuori
33. The Richest Woman in the World
32. Leave One Day
31. Splitsville
30. The Chronology of Water
29. Alpha
28. The Phoenician Scheme
27. Romeria
26. Highest 2 Lowest
25. Honey Don't!
24. The Little Sister
23. The History of Sound
22. The Six Billion Dollar Man
21. The Plague
20. Woman and Child
19. Case 137
18. Pillion
17. Eagles of the Republic
16. Arco
15. Young Mothers
14. Enzo
13. Nouvelle Vague
12. The Secret Agent
11. It Was Just an Accident
10. Renoir
9. Die, My Love
8. Orwell: 2+2=5
7. Sentimental Value
6. Resurrection
5. Sirat
4. Sorry, Baby
3. Two Prosecutors
2. The Mastermind
1. Sound of Falling
For the first time since I started going to Cannes in 2013, I saw every film in Competition, all 22 of them. What that means is that when the jury, headed by Juliette Binoche, announces its awards, I won't have the usual FOMO feeling of "Oh shoot, I didn't see the Best Screenplay winner" or whatever.
However, that doesn't mean I'm any more confident about what will take home the Palme d'Or than I was in previous years. Remember: I have never correctly guessed the winner, and I'm just as uncertain this year. Part of the problem is that the jury is made up of new people every year, and unless you're hanging out with them, you're just speculating on where their head is at. That said, here's my thinking. I could see It Was Just an Accident, Resurrection, The Secret Agent, Sentimental Value or Sound of Falling winning. Forced to narrow down the field further, I'll go with the movies that are perceived as the front-runners: It Was Just an Accident, The Secret Agent and Sentimental Value. (Why are they "perceived" to be the front-runners? Oh, because the people who like to make predictions about this stuff have said they are.)
My gut tells me it's either going to be It Was Just an Accident or Sentimental Value. In one corner, you have Jafar Panahi, one of cinema's giants, who has recently been freed from prison, enjoying a hero's welcome here at the festival when his film premiered. In the other, you have Joachim Trier, whose last Cannes film, The Worst Person in the World, took home Best Actress for Renate Reinsve. Sentimental Value seems to be the most beloved film, but while it's dangerous to make predictions based on the temperament of the jury president, I just feel like Binoche would be more inclined to go with a more challenging, politically incisive film for the Palme. So I'm picking It Was Just an Accident. If Sound of Falling or The Mastermind win, I would be ecstatic.
Regardless how the awards shape up, readers should be excited about a bunch of great movies coming their way soon. Now, off to sleep for me, and an exit from the bubble into whatever awaits me on the other side.
But a funny thing happened this year in Park City: Just about everyone I saw at the festival was similarly glum about the films they were watching on the ground, grousing that there were no big breakthroughs, no major discoveries, no instant classics. Actually, much of the talk at Sundance wasn't about the movies but, rather, where the festival was headed. And I don't mean philosophically; this was a more literal question, with Sundance moving to Salt Lake City, Boulder or Cincinnati in 2027. The festival's team made it clear that they didn't have any answers about that yet, so don't ask, but nonetheless that uncertainty also contributed to creating a feeling that something was ending, that the glory days were over. Add to that Trump's return to the White House and the fires in Los Angeles, and it was easy to see why many downbeat Park City attendees wrote off this year's edition as a disappointment.
For once, it was actually the people not at the festival who were more positive. Those who stayed home, using the festival's online platform to see certain films, were generally a lot happier with Sundance's 2025 installment. Partly, that was because they only watched movies we on the ground had already determined were good. But I also think not being at Sundance, which didn't feel as packed or lively as in previous years, helped keep one's focus on the films as opposed to the lack of electricity in Park City.
As I put together my rankings of everything I saw at the festival, it became clear that this actually was a pretty great Sundance, especially in terms of documentaries. My top two films at this year's festival, The Perfect Neighbor and Predators, both of which screened in the U.S. Documentary Competition, feel like films we'll be talking about all year, their thematic connections so self-evident and fascinating that Film Comment ran a panel with their filmmakers (as well as the director of Zodiac Killer Project) to discuss them. Right behind were two features, Sorry, Baby and If I Had Legs I'd Kick You, which took very different approaches to examine an imperiled woman trying to keep her head above water. I count 12 films I would classify as, at least, very good, and that's keeping in mind that there were several more movies I would have liked to have caught but just didn't have the time.
During Sundance, I met a veteran filmmaker who was screening a movie there. "So, what's the vibe of the festival this year?" she asked me. Gloomy, for lots of obvious reasons. But the films compensated if we just let ourselves be open to them.
Below are my rankings, with links leading to individual reviews:
28. Opus
27. By Design
26. Ricky
25. The Ugly Stepsister
24. Rabbit Trap
23. Kiss of the Spider Woman
22. The Legend of Ochi
21. Together
20. The Thing With Feathers
19. The Wedding Banquet
18. Move Ya Body: The Birth of House
17. Folktales
16. Magic Farm
15. Jimpa
14. Omaha
13. Rebuilding
12. Zodiac Killer Project
11. The Alabama Solution
10. Sly Lives! (aka The Burden of Black Genius)
9. 2000 Meters to Andriivka
8. Train Dreams
7. Peter Hujar's Day
6. BLKNWS: Terms & Conditions
5. Twinless
4. Sorry, Baby
3. If I Had Legs I'd Kick You
2. Predators
1. The Perfect Neighbor
See you all at the next festival. And thanks again to Devika Girish for having me on The Film Comment Podcast to discuss Twinless, By Design and Rabbit Trap.
I have never run into this person since, but I think about her occasionally. How could she have been so obtuse? Did she not remember 9/11? Wasn't she, like the rest of us, still wrestling with the horrible feeling that everything had changed and nothing felt certain anymore? I didn't expect her to also know about the personal things that had happened to me in 2001 that had gone terribly wrong, but still: Why didn't she know that this has been an all-time awful year?
As I've gotten older, I've been more forgiving in my judgment of that person. We don't know what other people are going through but, also, we can't assume that our experience is universal. Truth is, she may have had an amazing 2001, despite 9/11 or anything else happening in the world. Maybe she wasn't depressed, lonely and feeling very much at a crossroads in her life. Maybe she wasn't me.
I've been thinking about that woman a lot in 2024, which for a lot of people was a pretty shitty year. Trump's reelection was the pivotal lowlight, of course, but additionally there were plenty of things going on in the personal lives of those around me that also contributed to a general sense of despair. People lost spouses. People lost parents. People lost their pets. Cancers came back. Loved ones kept getting older. Health issues got serious. Dreams got dashed. Was 2024 the worst year of my life since 2001? Sometimes, it sure felt that way, although it feels odd (and dangerous) to write that. After all, all years are a mix of good and bad, filled with fond memories and crushing bummers, and even the notion of declaring a particular year "the worst" seems incredibly self-indulgent and overdramatic — plus, it's just asking for trouble. (You never know how much worse things could get, and you should be careful not to take your blessings for granted, lest you lose them.)
But at the same time, I know people who, all told, had a great 2024. They found love. They had a baby. They got an exciting new job. They got out of a bad relationship. They received a prestigious honor. They got to travel. Their baseball team won the World Series. All that good fortune happened in the same year that so much misery occurred — sometimes, to the same person. So was it a good year or a bad year for them? How do you weigh the pros and cons?
A movie that has stayed with me all year was A Real Pain, which I saw at its Sundance premiere. In the film, Jesse Eisenberg's uptight but seemingly put-together family man David is complaining about his cousin, Kieran Culkin's far more volatile Benji. The tour group they're with feel sorry for the hotheaded, emotional Benji — "he's clearly in pain," one of them says — which sparks an pointed response from David. "I know, but isn’t everyone in pain in some way?" he replies. "Well, you seem okay," another tour-group member says. That's when David really loses it.
"I’m not," he responds. "That’s the thing! I have shit going on! I do. But I take a pill for my fuckin' OCD, I jog, I meditate and I go to work and come home at the end of the day. I move forward. Because I know my pain is unexceptional so I don’t feel the need to burden everybody with it."
Most of my life, I've viewed things like David. I have shit going on, but I know other people do, too. So I just keep on keepin' on, convinced my pain is unexceptional. I don't want to burden folks with it. There's value in that — namely, the importance of not becoming so self-absorbed and consumed with your own stuff that you lose sight of what's happening to those around you. But in 2024, I saw other people's pain and wondered about the value of just constantly moving forward — sometimes, that pain has to be acknowledged. That recognition is also a way of growing closer to others by opening yourself up and letting others see your pain. A good pal of mine has a saying that I really love: "If you want to make a friend, ask a favor." The idea is that by being vulnerable and asking for help, you allow others to see you — and for them to feel connected to you in an intimate way. This year, amidst a lot of terrible things, I watched people not be afraid to "burden" others. I know I did the same.
That's why, as bad as 2024 was, I can't say I absolutely hated the last 12 months. There was too much beauty and too much joy to outright dismiss the year in its entirety. Even amidst the pain, there was the reminder of how sadness can generate its own forms of wisdom, humility, humor and compassion. Those things are gifts and you've got to seek them out. Otherwise, life loses all meaning. So, no, I'm not "excited" or "relieved" that 2024 is ending — for starters, with Trump returning to the White House, 2025 could easily be worse. But also, I'm not interested in discarding everything that this year brought. I accept it all. I do wonder, though, how that woman from that 2001 New Year's Eve party is doing.
* * * * *
Another reason to be grateful: 2024 was one of the best film years in recent memory, as demonstrated by my stacked Top 10 list...
1. Nickel Boys (RaMell Ross)
2. Janet Planet (Annie Baker)
3. A Real Pain (Jesse Eisenberg)
4. Challengers (Luca Guadagnino)
5. His Three Daughters (Azazel Jacobs)
6. Inside the Yellow Cocoon Shell (Pham Thien An)
7. Do Not Expect Too Much From the End of the World (Radu Jude)
8. The Seed of the Sacred Fig (Mohammad Rasoulof)
9. Here (Bas Devos)
10. The Brutalist (Brady Corbet)
I also want to give special mention to the movies that ended up 11-15 on my list, which were Evil Does Not Exist, The Room Next Door, A Different Man, In the Summers and Anora, all of them stellar pictures in their own right.
For a different take on the year in movies, check out my Screen International list, which only counts films that premiered in 2024. (In other words, five of the movies in my official Top 10 above don't count since they played at festivals last year — and a sixth one, Challengers, was set to premiere in Venice before the actors strike changed those plans.) If you'd like a lengthy discussion about my official Top 10, check out the Grierson & Leitch end-of-the-year podcast.
As I look over my lists, I have vibrant, pleasant memories attached to each of these movies. I remember when I saw them, where I saw them and what was going on in my life at the time. The other day, someone asked me if ever watch movies just for enjoyment. I feel like I always am.
* * * * *
As always, I kept busy this year. 2025 will be my 20th anniversary of writing for Screen International. I cannot believe it, and I couldn't be more grateful. Beyond the reviews I write all year as the trade's Senior U.S. Critic, there's also the festivals I cover for the publication, including Sundance, Cannes, and the double shot of Venice and Toronto. Another Sundance is just around the corner. Can't wait.
I was also extremely active over at the Los Angeles Times between reviewing films and profiling actors and directors. Who all did I chat with? Sean Baker (at Gardena Cinema, which was a blast). Juliette Binoche and director Tran Anh Hung for The Taste of Things. Carol freaking Burnett. India Donaldson. Ryusuke Hamaguchi. The stars of His Three Daughters (the night after the election no less). Nicholas Hoult. Jimmy Kimmel (wasn't expecting that interview to go viral). Richard Linklater. Julianne Moore and Natalie Portman for May December. Julianne Nicholson. RaMell Ross. Sebastian Stan and Adam Pearson for A Different Man. Taylor Tomlinson. John Wilson. Also, I was thrilled to do a breakdown of the Oppenheimer screenplay, which reads like a dream by the way, with insights by Kai Bird, Emily Blunt, Robert Downey Jr., Hoyte van Hoytema, Clive Owen, Christopher Nolan and Emma Thomas. Another favorite Times memory from 2024: writing a 25th anniversary piece for The Sixth Sense, which allowed me the opportunity to interview some old colleagues from my brief time in script development, including my former boss Anne Helmstadter, without whom I never would have met my wife Susan.
A very fun thing that happened in 2024 was I started writing for RogerEbert.com. There are too many highlights to mention, but allow me to single out a few gems: my profile of diehard Tenet fans, my interview with Danny Boyle about his friend Cillian Murphy on the eve of his Oscar win, my salute to Emma Stone on the eve of her Oscar win, my very mixed review of this year's Oscars, my interview with Catherine Breillat about Last Summer, my tribute to the late Eleanor Coppola, my long conversation with Keith Law about baseball movies, my interview with Jesse Plemons about Kinds of Kindness (no. 17 on my list of the year's best films), and my interview with Joanna Arnow about The Feeling That the Time for Doing Something Has Passed (no. 20 on my list). Oh, also: I spent a day hanging out with Justin Baldoni in July before the release of It Ends With Us. (You may have heard some stuff about him recently.)
For my friends at Cracked, I got to talk to some comedians I love, including Anthony Jeselnik and Tig Notaro. I also got deep with John Early and Penn Jillette, who were refreshingly candid about life, work and politics. And I interviewed filmmakers Caroline Suh and Cara Mones, whose documentary Sorry/Not Sorry is about Louis C.K. but, really, is about the whole notion of this thing we call cancel culture.
Over at Rolling Stone, I bid a fond farewell to the great Donald Sutherland. I also looked back at 1994's The Crow, which was emblematic of its time. (You might recall there was a (putrid) remake this year.) I hopped on a Zoom with Joshua Oppenheimer to talk about his wonderful film The End (no. 19 on my list). And I told the world what the Golden Globes got right (and wrong) with their nominations.
I was once again thrilled to be part of the Gotham Awards committee as a member of the panel that selected the acting nominees. It was my honor in January to present LAFCA's Best Director prize to Jonathan Glazer for The Zone of Interest. It's always a kick to be on Press Play With Madeleine Brand, not to mentioning guesting on the Breakfast All Day podcast to join my friend Christy Lemire to talk movies. I returned to Wilco the Podcast to discuss the band's Hot Sun Cool Shroud EP. And, of course, everyone's favorite weekly film podcast, Grierson & Leitch, had another superb year. Will and I have so much fun doing the show, and I am grateful to all those who listen.
On a personal note, Susan and I celebrated 18 years of marriage. (Her No. 1 movie of the year is also Nickel Boys, followed by A Real Pain, Anora, The Seed of the Sacred Fig and The Room Next Door.) Her insights into films remains as astute as the day I met her back in 1999. (She's also a terrific writer.) But those qualities are not even among the 150 things I most love about her. Put it this way: No year with Susan can remotely be considered a "bad" year.
In 2024, I also did a fair amount of Q&As. It is a job I take seriously and enjoy immensely, and I am always appreciative when an audience member comes up to me afterwards and says, "That was really good — most Q&As are terrible." (I hear this more often than you might imagine.) I consider it a huge compliment. Here's just a small list of the people I've been lucky enough to share a stage with this year: the A Different Man team of Sebastian Stan and Adam Pearson; Ethan Hawke (for Wildcat); Joshua Oppenheimer and Michael Shannon (for The End); Ryusuke Hamaguchi (for Evil Does Not Exist); the Lee team of Kate Winslet, Marion Cotillard and Andrea Riseborough; George MacKay (for The Beast); the Anora team of Sean Baker, Mikey Madison, Samantha Quan and Drew Daniels; the cast and crew of Sing Sing; the cast and crew of The Brutalist; the Nickel Boys team of RaMell Ross, Ethan Herisse and Brandon Wilson; Charlie Kaufman (for I'm Thinking of Ending Things and then for Being John Malkovich alongside Catherine Keener); and Franz Rogowski (on my birthday!) for Passages. There was the night Juliette Binoche and Tran Anh Hung were too sick to attend their Q&A for The Taste of Things, and at the last minute, Tran Nu Yen Khe, the filmmaker's wife and creative partner, stepped in and proved to be an absolute delight. I also have to thank the fine folks at the American Cinematheque, who for the third year of Bleak Week took my suggestion to program Testament — and allowed me to moderate a post-screening Q&A with director Lynne Littman. What an honor. (Later in the year, I also got to present Junebug, which remains wonderful.)
And then one last thing. In November, I was asked to moderate a career conversation with Daniel Craig at the Egyptian. I had been warned that he can be a little surly on stage, but I found him warm, candid and hilarious. It was a pretty special night, helped by the fact that his longtime agent, Sally Long-Innes, was in the audience, telling a great anecdote about first meeting him years ago. I am such a fortunate person, able to write in a variety of formats and also to interview interesting artists in print and also in front of an audience. The 2001 version of me could not have conceived that he would ever be in the position of the 2024 version of me, and I don't take that for granted. I look at that picture at the top of this post, and my overwhelming feeling is gratitude. There are no bad years, no matter how bad you might think they are.
Thank you for reading this. If you enjoy the work I do, that means a lot. Here's to more beauty and pain in 2025.
(Photo by Ziwei Zhao for American Cinematheque.)
