The 25 Best Films of 2021

Father, son and House of Hamaguchi.

Feb 01, 2022

Hello there! Can you believe we’re a month into 2022 now? I sure can’t—January has lasted for-ever. As always, I’ve managed to get keep myself busy in the slightly depressing post-holiday weeks by clearing my watchlist of any notable late-year film releases I’d previously missed. Although 2021's overall cinematic output wasn’t as outstanding as in previous years, I still watched over 100 new movies—many of which were well worth my time (and probably yours, too).

One thing you can’t argue about the year in film is that it wasn’t interesting, with many recent developments changing how and where we watch movies. With COVID-19 still in the air, Warner Bros.’ dual theater and HBO Max output gave many people the option to watch Dune and Malignant from the comfort of their homes, for example. And of course, Netflix’s busy 2021 slate gave way to some of the year’s buzziest new releases—some good, some bad and some average.

If awards, box office numbers and the “trending” section of Twitter are anything to go by, then 2021 will be remembered as the year of the #SnyderCut, the MCU’s full embrace of the multiverse, Lady Gaga’s press tour chaos and Disney’s hardest earworm in years. But that only scratches the surface of what was overall a very unique year for film in a year that was excellent for speculative fiction, world cinema, international auteurs, and of course, the movie musical. So, without further ado, I give present to you my list of favorite films from 2021. A handful of these are perfect movies, but all of them are sincere recommendations from yours truly.

25. The Card Counter (dir. Paul Schrader)

Legendary American filmmaker Paul Schrader’s newest film since 2017 focuses once again on an anguished protagonist weighed down by current events. With First Reformed focusing on the looming threat of climate change, Schrader took on the Iraq War this time around, turning in a scalding criticism of America’s foreign policy.

Oscar Isaac plays William Tell, an ex-soldier with a tortured past who earns money gambling modest amounts at professional poker matches. When he meets a troubled young man (Tye Sheridan) whose family was affected by the Abu Ghraib war crimes, he becomes determined to go to the World Series and earn enough money to support the boy financially. Of course, things don’t quite go as planned. Imposing camerawork by Alexander Dynan elevates this surprisingly grounded thriller, with Isaac’s work coming close to topping the actor’s impressive catalogue. ★★★★☆

24. Dune (dir. Denis Villeneuve)

As one of the year’s biggest blockbusters, it’s worth underlining the widespread appeal of Dune to anyone who hasn’t seen the movie yet. Although the film ran both in theaters and on HBO Max, its dense, seemingly unadaptable source material could easily have translated to a jargon-filled slog for the uninitiated. Thankfully, director Denis Villeneuve and co. brought the goods as always, turning in the kind of slow-burning sci-fi spectacle he’s become so well-known for over the last couple of years.

Of course, box office isn’t necessarily reflective of quality but it’s hard to deny the momentum Dune had upon release. The film ended up grossing big, turning in decent streaming numbers and birthing some of the year’s funniest internet memes. Like Christopher Nolan’s Tenet last year, Dune is the product of one of the century’s most ambitious directors getting free rein to make their most high-concept movie to date, and proceeding with utmost creativity and dedication. This time, audiences took notice. ★★★★☆

23. Last Night In Soho (dir. Edgar Wright)

One of the more controversial entries on this list, the seventh narrative feature film from British director Edgar Wright is an indictment of rape culture and empty nostalgia. The film focuses on Eloise (Thomasin McKenzie), a wannabe fashion designer obsessed with the 1960s. Upon getting accepted at a prestigious fashion school in London, she moves to the city but has trouble adjusting. Soon, Eloise begins to have horrible nightmares involving a mysterious ‘60s club singer (Anya Taylor Joy), whose ghost may or may not be following her in real life.

I won’t dwindle on how I found much of the controversy around this film to be in bad faith, or which areas could admittedly have been improved upon. Instead, I’ll just say that, as someone who often finds Wright’s comedy and visual gimmicks overbearing, I welcomed this movie’s serious tone and atmosphere. Aided by strong central performances and crisp camerawork from Chung-hoon Chung, Last Night In Soho is a singular piece of social critique laden with personality and panache. ★★★★☆

22. The Night House (dir. David Bruckner)

It's probably best to go into The Night House blindly, seeing how the film's generic synopsis could deter some from watching it but anything more would give away its highly original premise. Tense and atmospheric, this supernatural horror movie from director David Bruckner exceeded all my expectations upon release, and I’m already itching for an opportunity to watch it again.

Anchored by a powerhouse lead performance from Rebecca Hall and sporting state-of-the-art blocking, framing and editing from D.P. Elisha Christian and editor David Marks, this movie is as formally exquisite as it is thematically rich. It’s also one of the more interesting explorations grief to come out in recent years. You’ll want to watch it with headphones on and the lights off. ★★★★☆

21. Passing (dir. Rebecca Hall)

Rebecca Hall had a great year, not just not just in front of the camera (The Night House, Godzilla vs. Kong), but also behind it. The actress made her writing and directorial debut with Passing, based on Nella Larsen’s novel about a Black woman who finds out one of her childhood friends is now passing as White.

I cannot stress how good of a debut this is. The blocking, framing, lighting and atmosphere are calculated to perfection, the entire cast of actors is at their absolute best (with Tessa Thompson and Ruth Negga being the obvious standouts), and the intensity in each glance reflects layer upon layer of subtext. Eduard Grau’s jaw-dropping black and white cinematography and the 4:3 aspect ratio never feel gimmicky. Add in Hall’s masterful, long-winded dialogue (which seems lifted from the almost century-old source material), and Passing feels like it was actually made during the time it takes place in—something countless period pieces have tried and failed to pull off. ★★★★☆

20. Saint Maud (dir. Rose Glass)

After countless pushbacks, A24’s buzziest new horror film finally got its streaming release in early 2021. With her harrowing written and directorial debut, Rose Glass joins the likes of Ari Aster, Robert Eggers, Jennifer Kent and more as part of the chorus of new and exciting voices forming the genre’s 21st-century arthouse subsect.

Religious fanaticism as a coping mechanism is the subject of inquiry in Saint Maud, which centers on a stay-at-home nurse who becomes obsessed with curing her newest patient. Glass injects this perverse little thriller with the kind of high tension that leads to deliberate cringe, with lead actress Morfydd Clark committing fully to the madness. Seriously—it speaks to her talents as a performer that she was able to portray such a deranged character with nuance that almost has you rooting for her. Rounded out by a palpable supporting performance from Jennifer Ehle, Saint Maud is a delicious power play with horrifying implications. ★★★★☆

19. The Father (Florian Zeller)

I'll start this by saying that no one was more deserving of last year's Best Actor Oscar than Anthony Hopkins. It’s a shame his win will now forever be overshadowed by the offensively bad ceremony, but nevertheless the veteran actor gave an empathetic and soul-crushing performance as a man succumbing to dementia.

The Father is the kind of awards-season release you’re actually happy to see garner statuettes, because every aspect of it is fully functional and you can tell everybody involved put their heart and soul into it. Hopkins gives—again—the best performance of his illustrious career, and the reliably great Olivia Colman is a knockout as his caring but remorseful daughter. Writer/director Florian Zeller did a marvelous job adapting his own stage play for the screen, earning him a well-deserved Academy Award. And the editing and frequently changing set decoration make this an effectively harrowing experience designed to get you to walk in the protagonist’s shoes. ★★★★☆

18. The Worst Person In the World (dir. Joachim Trier)

Focusing on the romantic and vocational pursuits of a woman named Julie (Renate Reinsve), Norway’s Best International Feature Film entry for the 94th Academy Awards is a breath of fresh air that accurately depicts 21st-century confusion and uncertainty. Aside from Reinsve’s grounded, masterful performance, the film’s strongest suit is the screenplay by Eskil Vogt and director Joachim Trier, which divides the four years this story spans into 12 chapters sandwiched between a touching prologue and epilogue.

All I can say is, don’t be surprised if you see The Worst Person In the World on more year-end lists written by millennials and Gen-Z folks. Anyone who’s ever been in their 20s is going to relate to it in all the best (and worst) ways. ★★★★☆

17. Pig (Michael Sarnoski)

Those who’ve followed me long enough may remember my Thanksgiving entry in which I wrote about Pig, a movie I love for its location-specific case study of Portland’s gentrified cuisine. Here, Nicholas Cage plays a reclusive former chef who ventures into the city to retrieve his lost truffle pig with the help of a young luxury supplier. So begins a meditative story about loss that likens our commodification of art to the destruction of nature.

Pig is about many things: art, food, environmentalism, grief, the disillusionment of growing out of touch with your field—many things. In fact, it’s impressive how first-time writer/director Michael Sarnoski’s minimalist script is able to convey its many ideas so clearly, without ever feeling didactic. A brisk 90 minutes, Pig one of the few films on this list that I’ve seen more than once—and a movie I get something new out of every time. ★★★★☆

16. The Green Knight (dir. David Lowery)

Over the course of his (surprisingly young) career, David Lowery has directed a Malickian romance; a children’s movie about dragons; a swan song for one of Hollywood’s most prominent leading men and a sprawling meditation about time itself, disguised as a ghost story. His newest film to achieve thunderous acclaim, The Green Knight is a fantasy epic that adapts the ancient tale of Sir Gawain, breaking down the hero’s journey to ask existential questions about greatness and what it means to be a knight.

Less an action-packed adventure and more a deconstruction of storytelling and mythmaking, The Green Knight finds Lowery in top form, boasting astonishing visuals and a formidable lead performance from heartthrob Dev Patel. ★★★★½

15. Limbo (dir. Ben Sharrock)

That I watched Limbo at the beginning of the year and it remained in my top 10 until very recently, should be a testament as to how much I loved it.

Limbo is an offbeat account of refugees being held on a fictional island off of the coast of Scotland as they await being granted asylum. Occasionally funny but never unserious or disrespectful, the awkward encounters our protagonist and his friends experience only highlight how lonely and out-of-place they feel, making for some heartrending moments. The dialogue is brilliant—always shining with little pearls of wisdom—and Ben Sharrock proves himself to be a forceful voice behind the camera. Often do I leave the theater feeling excited and content with what I’ve seen, but rarely do I come out feeling touched this deeply by a movie. ★★★★½

14. Summer of Soul (…or When the Revolution Could Not Be Televised) (dir. Questlove)

Now this is how you do a concert film.

Summer of Soul focuses on the Harlem Cultural Festival of 1969, which occurred during the same summer as Woodstock and saw the attendance of over 300,000 people. Widely known as “Black Woodstock,” this sounds like something that should be considered a cultural touchstone. If you’ve never heard of it, that’s probably because the event—which was originally planned to provide a distraction for Harlem’s Black and Puerto Rican populations during a time of protest and civil unrest—was swept under the rug after it occurred, with footage from the festival remaining hidden for over 50 years.

With real-life musician Amir "Questlove" Thompson in the director's chair, this documentary is a vibrant celebration of Black joy and Black music. It’s also a sobering reminder that non-White cultural contributions are often swept under the rug, either to oppress the masses or feed the flawed assumption that artists of color don't hold the same level influence and grandeur as their White counterparts. Come for the history lesson; stay for the ethereal music of Sly Stone, Nina Simone, Stevie Wonder, The 5th Dimension and more. ★★★★½

13. Titane (dir. Julia Ducornau)

I've written about Titane before, but I'm always happy to do it again. Julia Ducornau's sophomore feature and last year's Palme d'Or winner is simultaneously 2021’s most disturbing offering, and one of the year’s most poignant family dramas. Two features into her career, the transgressive director has proven herself a master of aesthetically lush yet gut-wrenching body horror that’s comparable to the likes of David Cronenberg but also entirely its own thing.

Titane’s synopsis—a former firefighter is reunited with his son who has been missing for 10 years—is purposefully designed to throw you off. While some would argue that the film is worth experiencing as an uninfluenced first-time viewer, I believe spoilers have very little effect on something this weird. And, considering the structure and pacing isn’t for everyone, it might be worth knowing what you’re getting yourself into. But I’ll let you research at your own discretion, assuming you haven’t yet been blessed with ✨knowledge✨ of Titane’s macabre spiel. ★★★★½

12. Malignant (dir. James Wan)

Yet another horror that's too weird to put into words (clearly, I have a type), Malignant is a behemoth of a film oozing in affection for the medium. This being one of my most enjoyable first-time watches in recent memory begs the question: do I owe director James Wan an apology? Maybe I should reevaluate The Conjuring (2013).

Falling under about five different horror subgenres at once, Malignant is the type of film you’ll want to approach with as little prior knowledge as possible. Once the first act’s by-the-numbers supernatural procedure is revealed to be a red herring, Wan keeps you guessing up until the end, and every time you think you’ve figured it out, you’re likely to be wrong. It’s an amusement ride of a movie that reaches new heights at every turn, before delving into one of the wildest third acts of 2021. ★★★★½

11. The French Dispatch (dir. Wes Anderson)

Wes Anderson’s newest film has been described as his most elaborate and least accessible project so far. Which is to say it's still crowd-pleasing and lots of fun; just maybe not to detractors who consider the auteur’s style overbearing and his humor too dry. But why would you listen to anyone who hates Wes Anderson? Take my advice and watch this instead.

The French Dispatch is a loving ode to writing and journalism, punctuated by some of the auteur's most creative visual sensibilities to date. Bill Murray’s charming portrayal as a tough but nourishing editor made me both want to be a better writer, and seek better mentors. An eclectic cast of both new and frequent collaborators suit the director’s offbeat humor, making this anthology near-perfect. Standouts include Benicio Del Toro, Frances McDormand and Jeffrey Wright, although everyone gives this their all as expected, under Anderson’s meticulous hand. ★★★★½

10. C’mon C’mon (dir. Mike Mills)

With 20th Century Women (2016) being one of my favorite films of the 2010s, it’s no surprise that I loved C’mon C’mon, the newest project from writer/director Mike Mills, who is known for his approachable and deeply human dramas.

The film centers on a documentarian who is in the process shooting a film about gifted children, and agrees to babysit his young nephew after the boy’s father suffers a manic episode. Shot in beautiful black and white digital, C’mon C’mon is a stunning meditation on 21st-century uncertainty, brought to life by inspired dialogue and remarkable performances from Joaquín Phoenix, Gaby Hoffman and newcomer Woody Norman.

Using real testimonials from kids about the current state of the world and what they envision the future to be like, also makes this a moving and unexpectedly optimistic tribute to Gen-Z and beyond. All in all, C’mon C’mon is a soul-stirring family drama balanced out with enough hilariousness and heart to make it comfort food. ★★★★½

9. Nine Days (dir. Edson Oda)

Coincidentally ninth place on my list, Edson Oda’s supernatural drama about unborn souls vying for a chance to be given life on earth is quite possibly the most impressive debut of 2021.

Unlike 2020’s Soul, which was far too demonstrative to affect me emotionally, the beauty of Nine Days lies in its simplicity. Oda doesn’t concern himself with intricate world-building, nor does he attempt to introduce complicated lore in order to supplement his philosophy. Instead, characters are presented as they are, and they go about their roles with minimal exposition. We're meant to accept the film’s premise and just play along.

Admittedly, I went into Nine Days with doubts. Simply put, this could have easily been masturbatory and trite. Instead, I got a staggering tribute to life and death that made me cry multiple times in one sitting. ★★★★½

8. The Hand of God (dir. Paolo Sorrentino)

Fourteen films and many accolades into an impressive career, Italian director Paolo Sorrentino’s newest drama imbues what's clearly an achingly personal story with his signature magical realism and Fellini-esque compositions.

Partly based on Sorrentino’s own life, The Hand of God centers on a teenage boy and his relationship to his extended family before and after a tragic accident. It starts as a hilarious and somewhat mean-spirited comedy, before plunging into much more heartfelt territory as it digs into the events that marked the director's own foray into filmmaking.

Newcomer Filippo Scotti shines in the lead role, along with Teresa Saponangelo and acting royalty Toni Servillo in excellent supporting turns. But, it's Luisa Ranieri who steals the show as the bombshell yet emotionally wounded Aunt Patritzia—a formative figure to our young protagonist—whose interior is not what it seems. The opening scene is one for the ages. ★★★★½

7. West Side Story (dir. Steven Spielberg)

It's hard to believe this is Steven Spielberg’s first musical. Not just because the director's immense catalogue is so varied, spanning across nearly every genre to reflect the mass-appeal of his work; but because West Side Story feels like a complete return to form, every second of its 2.5-hour runtime exuding energy, vibrancy and pathos.

Adapted for modern times, the revisionist elements in this remake of Robert Wise and Jerome Robins' 1961 musical (which itself is a film adaptation of Stephen Soundheim's stage play)—never feel shoehorned in. Instead, this new take on the classic story is entirely necessary, and reflective of both the then and the now.

Actual Latinos were cast in the roles of the Puerto Rican Sharks this time around (with Ariana DeBose turning in one of the year’s best supporting performances), and a deeper understanding of class, race and gender privilege is demonstrated in Tony Kushner’s screenplay. Still, Janusz Kamiński's vibrant and dynamic cinematography might just be the film’s greatest asset, making this a worthwhile trip to the theater at a time when one can’t help but be selective. ★★★★½

6. Licorice Pizza (dir. Paul Thomas Anderson)

I was surprised when Paul Thomas Anderson’s ninth feature wasn’t the by-the-numbers coming-of-age flick many of us expected from the trailer (although surely, that would have been great too, seeing how the popular auteur could do no wrong). Instead, this newest serving from every film buff’s favorite contemporary director is a fever dream of a film that autopilots us from wild to even wilder scenario, before delivering an emotional gut-punch in the end.

With Licorice Pizza, PTA offers a stunning portrait of 1970s Americana, yearning for a time that’s either long-gone—or never really existed. Newcomer Cooper Hoffman is a force to be reckoned with in the lead role, while famed musician Alana Haim matches him beat by beat in her first acting gig. Paired with Anderson’s rollicking script and rich, 35-mm cinematography, all the pieces come together to culminate in one of 2021’s funniest offerings, with plenty of heart and soul to boot. ★★★★½

5. Parallel Mothers (dir. Pedro Almodóvar)

Following 2019’s widely acclaimed Pain & Glory, Pedro Almodóvar and Penélope Cruz graced the world with another stellar collaboration last year.

Many have called Parallel Mothers Almodóvar’s most overtly political project to date. With Francisco Franco’s dictatorship being a recurring theme in the Spanish director’s work, I think this assessment undersells the themes of films like What Have I Done to Deserve This (1984) and Live Flesh (1997) a little bit. Having said that, this movie might just be his most blistering critique of that turbulent era, weaving a dense narrative out of the past and present to examine trauma and generational conflict.

Cruz is immaculate as Janis, a woman conducting an investigation of the unmarked mass grave her great-grandfather was buried in. After getting impregnated by the project’s forensic anthropologist, Janis befriends a remorseful and frightened teenage mom named Ana (Milena Smit), and the two go into labor the same day. Some time later, Janis begins to suspect their babies were switched at birth.

The film leans into a psychological thriller-territory at moments, but is ultimately a heartfelt melodrama punctuated by powerhouse performances and the director’s signature elaborate aesthetic. For my money, it’s his best work in a decade. ★★★★½

4. A Hero (dir. Asghar Farhadi)

Known for his tense and riveting social thrillers, Asghar Farhadi continues to prove himself to be of the greatest writer/directors working today with A Hero. The moral dilemma at the center of his newest effort? A man imprisoned for debt finds a purse full of money on his two-day leave. Instead of keeping the contents inside the bag, Rahim (Amir Jadidi) searches for its owner and becomes a media sensation after the story spreads—granting him prison release when a local charity raises some money to send to his creditor.

Like in any Farhadi movie, things aren’t what they seem at first. As Rahim has his motives questioned and previously omitted details about the specifics of his debt are made public, A Hero begs some uncomfortable questions. Is it worth being selfless in this day and age? Is anyone truly selfless?

Basically no one has Farhadi’s knack for pacing and dialogue. If A Hero never reaches the heights of About Elly (2009), A Separation (2011) or The Salesman (2016), it’s only because these other works of his lie somewhere in the stratosphere. Either way, this was a more-than-worthy addition to his canon. ★★★★½

3. Annette (dir. Leos Carax)

Annette isn’t just one of the strangest films to come out in 2021, but also the ballsiest and most over-the-top—even among the other weirdo watches on this list. In a year scattered with musicals (some good; others less than stellar), this hulking rock opera sets itself apart as the most memorable and fun by several meters.

Adam Driver gives a career-best performance as Henry McHenry, a Bo Burnham-like stage comedian in a relationship with an opera singer named Ann Desfranoux (Marion Cotillard; also superb). Giving away as little as possible, their romance—at first loving but also weirdly stilted—takes a strange turn when they have a daughter and he gets accused of abusive behavior by a slew of past lovers. After the inciting incident, Leos Carax’s kitschy presentation and the protagonist at its center become more batshit by the minute, culminating in a series of WTF-turns and a bleak ending that’ll sneak up on you.

Like much of Carax’s work, Annette may not be up to everyone’s speed. At almost 2.5 hours, it’s admittedly dense and the detestable protagonist might make it an uncomfortable experience for some. But it’s just so insanely well-crafted on every technical level, you can’t help but admire its sweeping scale. And at the very least, it’s unlike anything else you’ll ever see. This critic considers it a perfect movie. ★★★★★

2. Nomadland (dir. Chloé Zhao)

Considering how Nomadland wasn’t available to myself and many others until February, I’m counting last year’s Best Picture winner as a 2021 release despite its 2020 festival debut. I wrote briefly about this movie leading up to the 93rd Academy Awards, and almost a year later my opinion stays intact. Accolades aside, Chloé Zhao’s quiet, meditative drama about a modern-day nomad’s journey across the West is a staggering exercise in compassion that refuses to patronize its subject matter, presenting her struggles empathetically but never with pity.

Based on journalist Jessica Bruder’s book of the same name, Zhao’s approach to adapting the non-fiction material was an interesting one, with several real-life nomads appearing as fictional versions of themselves. The protagonist, Fern (played by Frances McDormand), is entirely made-up, however. While this creative liberty could have been distracting under a less committed performance and less assured direction, the veteran actress brings naturalism and emotional heft to her role, serving as a vessel to tell other stories. Accompanied by DP Joshua Richardson’s sweeping long-shots, Nomadland is also an aesthetically beautiful film, and one of the most powerful portrayals of loneliness I’ve ever seen. ★★★★★

1. Drive My Car (dir. Ryuzuke Hamaguchi)

And so we’ve arrived at my favorite film of the year.

Between Drive My Car’s many accolades (among them a Golden Globe, three Cannes trophies including Best Screenplay and Japan’s foreign language submission to the 94th Academy Awards), this pick isn’t out of left field by any means. I simply can’t imagine going with anything else, though.

Based on a series of short stories from Haruki Murakami’s Men Without Women collection, Drive My Car focuses on Yūsuke (Hidetoshi Nishijima), a stage actor and director who accepts a brief residency at a Hiroshima theater company while grappling with a double tragedy. If that sounds simple, Ryuzuke Hamaguchi and co-writer Takamasa Oe’s screenplay unspools an unwieldily thread, taking its time to reveal bits of information about the the many characters and the protagonist’s relationship to them. It’s a masterclass in dialogue, and an astonishingly nuanced take on grief that touched me deeper than anything else this past year.

As the director of Intimacies (2013), Happy Hour (2015) and more, Hamaguchi isn’t exactly known for his brevity. But at three hours, Drive My Car could not feel more enthralling—an at first an emotionally wounding but ultimately cathartic experience I could soak up for days on end. It’s exquisite, and the year’s best film by a wide margin. ★★★★★