The Best Films of 2021

Another year, another list. My favourite thing that happens at the end of the year is the swarm of “best of the year” lists that pour onto the internet. Are these sorts of lists an overdone trope in film criticism? Yes. Is it ultimately largely unproductive to grade art based on its relative quality next to other art? Yes. Is making this list something I take great pride in and serves as a capstone to my thoughts on the year? Also, yes!

I am happy to report that I am thoroughly satisfied with how this list turned out. In all honesty, I felt unsure about my list last year. I still do! Because of the chaos that occurred in the world, a lot of 2020’s big-ticket features were either pushed to this year or had very limited releases in New York and LA and I was unable to see them because I don’t live in New York or LA. The result was a list that doesn’t have a clear hierarchy. None of those films impressed me as much as my top-tier favourites from other recent years. However, in 2021, things were very different.

2021 saw the triumphant return of cinema to the masses. Theatres reopened, festivals returned, screenings sold out, and big studio tentpoles had a fighting chance against the plague. Between my experience at the Vancouver International Film Festival and visiting the theatre with family and friends, I realized just how much I missed the theatrical experience. The year delivered a robust and thorough set of films featuring established filmmakers, exciting debuts, great indie cuts, and a few blockbusters to spice things up.

Established filmmakers had a great year with the likes of Paul Schrader’s The Card Counter, Ridley Scott’s The Last Duel and House of Gucci, Wes Anderson’s The French Dispatch, Jane Campion’s The Power of the Dog, and Steven Soderbergh’s lo-fi ensemble crime film No Sudden Move. Blockbusters came back in a big way with great action entertainment with No Time to Die, the final Daniel Craig Bond adventure, the absurd F9, the grandiose hilarity of Godzilla vs. Kong, the irreverent The Suicide Squad, Marvel’s great martial arts turn with Shang-Chi and the Legend of the Ten Rings, and the lore-heavy, surprising hit Dune.

On the animated side of things, there was the hilarious The Mitchells vs. the Machines, my favourite animated film of the year, and Disney’s Luca and Encanto. Regina King made an incredible debut with her rich One Night in Miami. Among the year’s other great debuts are Jeymes Samuel’s The Harder They Fall and Emma Seligman’s Shiva Baby. On the international front, there was France’s Titane, Norway’s The Worst Person in the World, Romania’s Bad Luck Banging or Loony Porn, and the international co-production Bergman Island.

Lastly, a special shout-out to Zack Snyder’s Justice League. It’s far from my favourite film of the year, but it is the film I have thought about the most.

As is customary, I have compiled a list of my favourite movies of the year because I love celebrating things that I liked. But before I get into my list, I have to make three disclaimers:

First, I couldn’t see every film that came out this year. I strived to watch as many of the year’s most popular and most acclaimed films as I could, but there are some I am tragically missing.

Second, I saw a lot of really good new releases this year and there are many films that I wanted to include here but reluctantly decided to cut. I have included a small selection of honourable mentions after the main list.

Third, I decided to cut films that were part of the very strange 2020-21 awards season whether or not they opened wide in 2021. Minari, Nomadland, The Father, Judas and the Black Messiah — all excellent, but not included here. Is that particularly fair to those films? No, not at all. Perhaps I should create a revised “best of 2020” list due to how bad I have come to think of my current one. I will note a few of these films in my “honourable mentions” section.

Now, with all of that out of the way, here is my official, definitive, and scientifically-proven list of my Favourite Films of 2021.

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11. West Side Story

Ariana DeBose in West Side Story. © 20th Century Studios.

“If you go with him, no one will forgive you.”

This movie is the reason why I couldn’t in good conscience make this list a clean top ten. Based on the 1957 Broadway musical of the same name, West Side Story, Steven Spielberg’s musical passion project, comes bounding out of the gate with an excess of life and energy. The film, with original inspiration taken from Romeo and Juliet, focuses on two warring ethnic gangs — the Puerto Rican Sharks and a gang of white kids, the Jets — set against the backdrop of 1950s America and the romance that develops between two people on either side of the conflict.

Rachel Zegler, in her feature film debut, leads the incredible cast as Maria, the story’s principal character. Filling out the lead cast is Ariana DeBose as Anita, David Alvarez as Bernardo, and Mike Faist as Riff — wonderful all around. One of the film’s best elements is the vibrant costume work done by costume designer Paul Tazewell. There are some incredible production design and choreography moments here as well. Of course, the musical’s original score and lyrics remain forever iconic.

Surprisingly, West Side Story is Speilberg’s first-ever musical. Yet, the film feels like a perfect extension to everything he’s made before. Spielberg’s films are always musical and highly choreographed, even if Indiana Jones, the crew of the Orca, and Dr. Ian Malcom aren’t breaking into song-and-dance. His highly complex, masterful style is so complimentary to the genre, the film feels as kinetic and engaging as so much of Speilberg’s other work. From the highly-choreographed wide shots, complicated camera movements, and breathtakingly gorgeous visuals, West Side Story is a worthy addition to the master’s filmography. It’s not often we get a movie musical like this anymore and something of this quality feels all the more special. 

Directed by Steven Spielberg.

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10. The Matrix Resurrections

Keanu Reeves in The Matrix Resurrections. © Warner Bros.

“I still know Kung Fu.”

Eighteen years since we last saw the characters, Mr. Anderson is once again back in the Matrix. The Matrix Resurrections, directed by Lana Wachowski without the involvement of her sister and co-director of the original films Lilly Wachowski, begins right back where the original began: the falling green text, the two mysterious voices over the phone, a hotel late at night, a woman in black, and the agents on the prowl. However, things are different now. The man and the woman on the phone are new faces watching the action from afar. There’s a woman in black, but she’s not the Trinity we know. There’s a new Agent Smith. The Matrix is changing. Or, someone is changing it. Resurrections is a filmic case of déjà vu and déjà vu means bad news.

Keanu Reeves and Carrie-Anne Moss return as Neo and Trinity leading an outstanding cast. They’re joined by the energetic and slick Jessica Henwick, Neil Patrick Harris’ as the smug villain known as The Analyst, and by Jonathan Groff and Yahya Abdul-Mateen II as remixed and reimagined versions of Agent Smith and Morpheus.

The Matrix Resurrections is, as some have called it, an “anti-sequel.” It’s a film that’s aware of the glut of sequels, remakes, and reboots that dominate Hollywood. It is about the reservations that both Wachowski sisters had about returning to the Matrix. However, it doesn’t resign itself to a cynical rejection of its former self, but rather serves as an epilogue and capstone to the original films. Born out of very real tragedy in Wachowski’s life, Resurrections is an introspective and inventive blockbuster. It’s self-aware without being cruel. It’s a work of love and it’s a work of grief. It’s not what most will expect from a Matrix outing — something that, I think, will turn many off from the film — but it is the sequel that the series and the characters deserve. 

You can read my full review here.

Directed by Lana Wachowski.

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9. Spencer

Kristen Stewart in Spencer. © Neon.

“Will they kill me, do you think?”

It’s December 1991 and the British royal family has undergone their annual migration to celebrate the Christmas holidays at the Queen's Sandringham Estate in Norfolk. Diana, whose family is from Norfolk, makes her way across the country independently. She’s dreading the holidays. The tensions between her and the rest of the family have never been worse in the wake of her discovery of her husband’s affair. All Diana has are her sons and the ghosts of the past — both her own memories and visions of times long before hers — to keep her company. Three days. Diana just has to survive three days.

In his “fable based on a true tragedy,” Chilean filmmaker Pablo Larraín, the director of Jackie (2016) and Ema (2019), distills all of the drama of Diana Spencer’s life into a turbulent three-day stretch. Larraín’s direction, accompanied by a volatile, fluid script, is fascinating to behold. The film features a gorgeous score by Johnny Greenwood, who also composed Licorice Pizza and The Power of the Dog this year, and unique, grainy, and dreamy cinematography by Claire Mathon. The crown jewel of Spencer is the otherworldly, transformative performance of star Kristen Stewart. Stewart perfectly embodies the hopelessness of Diana’s damaged state. She is heartbreaking and moving and encapsulates the nuance of the character perfectly. 

Spencer is a movie about the importance of names, the burden of the past, and the hopeless downward spiral Diana feels trapped in. “Past and future are the same thing here,” Diana says to her two young sons. When Diana married into the Windsor family, she lost her identity as an individual. She stopped being Diana Spencer. “The thing is, Diana,” her husband says, “there has to be two of you.” But that’s not the life Diana wants. It all might be for the “good of the country,” but what about her good? Is the cost worth it? Can she be Diana Spencer again?

You can read my full review here.

Directed by Pablo Larraín.

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8. Red Rocket

Simon Rex in Red Rocket. © A24.

“I just need a place to crash for a few days. What’s the big deal?”

Set against the backdrop of the 2016 election, washed-up adult performer Mikey Saber reluctantly migrates from his model home in LA to the couch of his estranged wife and mother-in-law in his hometown of Texas City. He promises it's only a temporary situation while he gets back on his feet, but meanwhile, the relentless, unfailing narcissist begins to con his way back into the lives of everyone around him and grooms a young girl who he believes to be his ticket out of Texas. Filmmaker Sean Baker continues the work he began in Tangerine (2015) and The Florida Project (2017) with another story of anti-Americana. Red Rocket is built on authentic experience and real locations, capturing the tragedy and inescapability of the poorest parts of America.

My favourite film moments are when non-professional, unknown, or new actors — like much of the cast of Red Rocket, as well as movies like Roma (2018) and Baker’s other films — deliver performances that outshine most of the pros that year. Simon Rex, a performer best known for his stint in a few of the Scary Movie films, delivers one of the finest performances of the year. While Saber is an awful man, Rex’s performance never accepts the failures of Saber and firmly establishes the grotesque charms that keep him alive. Saber isn’t the bad guy in his own story. The rest of the cast, primarily unknown actors and real-life residents of Texas city, deliver some incredible performances as well. I love reading the stories of how Baker casts his movies, especially this one.

Shot on rough 16mm, Red Rocket is as gross and flawed as the film it's captured on. But there’s something honest about it. Saber might be a failure, but he’s too full of himself to recognize it. The film is as humorous as it is unsettling. It’s a story built firmly in the ground it takes place on and lets its characters be as warped and dark as the America they represent. Red Rocket, like so much of Baker’s other work, captures the absurdity of America and the underbelly of American society so well. As disgusting as the plot points of the movie are, they represent a version of what America has become. It’s magnetic, repulsive, tragic, and jubilant at the same time. 

Directed by Sean Baker.

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7. Licorice Pizza

Alana Haim and Cooper Hoffman in Licorice Pizza. © Metro Goldwin-Mayer.

“Do you like peanut butter sandwiches?”

The ninth film from the acclaimed contemporary master of the filmic craft, Licorice Pizza is perhaps Paul Thomas Anderson’s most personal film yet. The meandering drama takes place in Los Angeles circa the early 1970s and follows the friendship between a precocious 15-year-old actor and entrepreneur and a 25-year-old photography assistant who finds herself rather without a goal in life. The film is about romance, teenage misadventure, the angst of growing up, and fledgling identity in what could be read as Anderson’s answer to Tarantino’s Once Upon a Time in Hollywood (2019). It’s soft, quiet, and relatively low-key compared to Anderson’s other films — a la the towering There Will Be Blood (2007) — but the film radiates love and passion with as much style as ever.

Licorice Pizza stars the powerful duo of Cooper Hoffman and Alana Haim, both in their feature film acting debuts, as Gary Valentine and Alana Kane respectively. Gary is a teenager who can’t wait to get his life started. He’s an actor, then a waterbed salesman, then an arcade owner. He parrots the talk of men much older than him trying to impress his potential business partners and clients. Alana couldn’t be more different from Gary. She’s the youngest daughter of a suburban Jewish family who is constantly eclipsed by her older sisters. She has no respectable job, no education, and no passion. The only thing Alana wants to do is flee Los Angeles, but she has no way of leaving.

Licorice Pizza is an intimate, subtle joy. It ebbs and flows through a series of smaller anecdotes marking the everyday highs and lows of Gary and Alana’s relationship. The film, Anderson’s funniest work yet, moves from one circumstance to the next often never returning to the stand-out supporting characters. The film is captured with gorgeous specificity and rich colouring with its grainy, film photography. It finds itself in the tension between childhood and adulthood. Gary and Alana occupy the ten-year difference between “I have my whole life ahead of me” and “I’ve wasted my entire life.” It’s passionate, personal, and is destined to grow on the viewer with time.

You can read my full review here.

Directed by Paul Thomas Anderson.

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6. Dune

Timothée Chalamet in Dune. © Warner Bros.

“I must not fear. Fear is the mind-killer.”

Denis Villeneuve’s adaptation is a near miracle. Coming from a legacy of failed starts and bad movies, Villeneuve was signing on to an impossible task when he approached adapting Frank Herbert’s seminal novel Dune. The original novel is known for its rich, lore-steeped worldbuilding, complex politics, and lengthy narrative. It was a profound influence on other classics of the science fiction genre like Star Wars and Isaac Asimov’s Foundation series. It’s a monumental task to adapt, which, to my delight, director and co-writer Denis Villeneuve masterfully completes.

Twenty-thousand years into the future, humanity has become the aliens. Our species has returned to a futuristic feudal existence controlled by the Great Houses of the Galactic Padishah Empire. The empire relies on a substance called “the spice” to facilitate its travel through space. The spice is only found on one planet in the universe: Arrakis, also known as Dune. Now, centuries of political rivalries, a disenfranchised indigenous population, a dangerous religious order, and a prophecy about a coming messiah clash on Arrakis to determine the future of the universe. 

Villeneuve’s Dune, which only adapts the first half of the story, is a colossal achievement. The large ensemble cast is brilliant and the visual effects work is flawless. The film has a brutalist, aggressive vision of the future which gives it a very unique texture. There are genius lighting techniques that keep the desert-set film feeling authentic even when the film moves from the real Jordanian desert to a soundstage. I am deeply in love with the first chapter of the Dune saga. The breathtaking film is more than worthy of the legacy of Herbert’s novel. It is a truly unique experience that dares to raise the bar of blockbuster entertainment from the aggressively digital sludge that clogs the genre. I cannot recommend it enough.

Villeneuve can’t be stopped can he?

You can read my full review here.

Directed by Denis Villeneuve.

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5. Inside

Burnham performing “All Eyes On Me.” © Netflix.

“Well, well, look who’s inside again.”

I was conflicted about including this film on this list, especially this high up in the ranking. Inside is listed as a comedy special on Netflix, but the film is hardly a stand-up special as I think of it. There’s no stage, no audience, and it borders on pretty unfunny at times. It is, to quote one writer, a “comedy Gesamtkunstwerk.” Inside is one part musical, one part stand-up special, and one part expression of anguish. It’s certainly the most unique feature on this list, one that pushes whether or not it can be considered a “feature,” but I was too impressed and too moved by it to neglect to include it here.

Created in isolation during the pandemic, Bo Burnham’s self-produced comedy special/ experimental feature/musical/cry-for-help is the most fiercely relevant and one of the most emotionally affecting films of the year. Inside is a film about a lot of things: social isolation, mental illness, the existential dread of getting older, the untold devastation the internet and internet culture has taken on young people, and the overwhelming chaos of the pandemic era. It’s fiercely raw, deeply emotional, and puts to words the collective social stress that defines the last days before the end of the world. To make many large ideas very short, it’s an intense 80 minutes.

Above all, I think Inside is a film about disconnect and growing up in a time in a time when nothing seems to fit right. Inside wants us to be uncomfortable with the world we live in. Its pointed critiques are as much observations about Burnham’s collapsing mental health thanks to the pandemic as they are observations about the failings of society. The world might be coming to the end (only seven years to go!) but we just push on like nothing is wrong. We all keep fiddling while Rome burns because, to quote one of Burnham’s many wonderful songs, “it will stop any day now.”

Directed by Bo Burnham.

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4. The Power of the Dog

Benedict Cumberbatch in The Power of the Dog. © Netflix.

“I just want to say how nice it is not to be alone.”

Don’t underestimate Jane Campion. The Power of the Dog, her first film in twelve years, is a sly, slow-moving Western and an astounding work of a master of the craft. Set in Montana circa 1925, although shot in Campion’s native New Zealand, The Power of the Dog is about the changing of the world, the transition between the new and the old, the effects of years of emotional repression, and the struggle between two brothers and their very different views on how their lives will go. The film is quiet and cruel. It’s a subtle blade that slowly cuts under the skin of the viewer. It’s a film that focuses just as much on what happens out of frame as what’s in front of the camera. 

The lynchpin of the film is Benedict Cumberbatch, who delivers the best performance of the year and the best performance of his career in his tour-de-force. Cumberbatch plays Phil Burback, one of the two Burback brothers who conjointly own a cattle ranch. Cumberbatch’s performance is evil and wicked but offset with a sense of profound insecurity. Burback, ever a viper waiting to strike, desperately clings to the failing machismo of the old west for fear of becoming weak. The film’s title invokes the words of Psalm 22. “Deliver my soul from the sword,” writes the psalmist, “my darling,” or ‘my precious life’ in some translations, “from the power of the dog.” Phil has lost his mind to the dog. He sees the dog with its mouth ready to kill in the shadows of the hills surrounding the ranch.

“Has anyone ever seen what you’ve seen, Phil?” asks one of the ranch hands. No one has. No one should. Phil cannot move past his anger and his grief. When George (Jesse Plemons), his brother, marries, Phil cannot stand the new presence of modern life on the farm because he cannot come to terms with himself. It is in this tension that The Power of the Dog finds itself. It dances on the edge of a knife as it pushes on towards its harrowing conclusion. The film is both wild and constrained. It revels in quiet ferocity and unspoken anger as its characters slowly begin to fall apart and Johnny Greenwood’s score sends out its dissonant chords. The Power of the Dog is here to drive you mad.

You can read my full review here.

Directed by Jane Campion.

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3. The French Dispatch

Timothée Chalamet and Lyna Khoudri in The French Dispatch. © Searchlight Pictures.

“Just make it sound like you wrote it that way on purpose.”

Arthur Howitzer Jr., the editor of the famous French Dispatch magazine based in Ennui-sur-Blasé,, France and played by Bill Murray, has tragically died. As per his will, the magazine will now permanently cease production. However, before the organization officially closes its doors, the writers and editorial staff have prepared one final issue made up of the best stories from the magazines many years to commemorate their fallen leader who they all loved so much. The film, officially titled The French Dispatch of the Liberty, Kansas Evening Sun, is an anthology of three short stories — all of which are structurally designed and shot like newspaper articles. 

The French Dispatch is Wes Anderson’s tenth film and his most Anderson film yet. Each of the film’s stories works as a wonderful short film all on their own, but combined make for an exquisite, familiar journey into the mind of Wes Anderson, one of the most unique and distinctive filmmakers working today. Anderson avoids the trappings of self-indulgence but provides a film that is unafraid to be itself. The cinematography is diverse and gorgeous and features some very clever camera work, the production design is immaculate, the writing is wittily stilted, and the editing is sharp and crisp. Of course, Anderson would be nothing without his players and the massive and overwhelming ensemble cast of faces familiar and new to the World of Wes knock it out of the park across the board.

Despite its sense of grandeur, the film never buckles under its own weight on ambition. Instead, The French Dispatch proves the strength of its creators and the power of a strong creative lead. With a loveable collection of strange, oddball characters, The French Dispatch is a quirky delight from start to finish. The film is ambitious without ever feeling inaccessible. It’s nostalgic, rewarding, and touching. Long-time fans of Anderson’s work and those new to him will be entertained. It’s a movie as chaotic and freewheeling as the newspaper itself. I think Howitzer would be proud.

You can read my full review here.

Directed by Wes Anderson.

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2. The Green Knight

Dev Patel in The Green Knight. © A24.

“Honour. That is why a knight does what he does.”

The Green Knight fits so perfectly in my wheelhouse I feel as if it were tailor-made for me. Tragically delayed from its original 2020 release date, I’ve been greatly anticipating the release of The Green Knight ever since I saw the first trailer and am delighted by the results. Despite being made on a budget of only 15 million, chump change in the filmmaking world, The Green Knight is one of the most impressive films of the year, perhaps mostly due to how resourceful it is. The dark fantasy adventure is one of the most visually unique films of the year with striking production design and gorgeous visual effects. 

The film is based on the 14th century Middle English chivalric romance epic poem Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, a part of the larger Arthurian legend and a decidedly unusual piece of source material for a movie. The film stars the phenomenal Dev Patel as Gawain, the nephew of King Arthur, only referred to as “the King” in the film, and heir to the kingdom. Gawain has grown up in a time of peace when the valour of knights is now a memory. With no stories of his own, he longs for an adventure to define his legacy. “You have no stories yet,” the Queen reminds him. That’s when the Green Knight arrives in Camelot with a curious game.

Writer and director David Lowrey’s adaptation of the ancient text embraces it for all of its controversy and ambiguity and creates a film that both embraces and changes the text in profound ways. The Green Knight is a masterwork of strange, unique storytelling as Lowrey and his cast of players craft a haunting tale of honour, sex, legacy, duty, and violence. Can we ever live up to the legacy of those who go before us? What is honour and what is our honour worth? How do we become great people? These are the questions at the centre of Gawain’s quest. “I fear I’m not meant for greatness,” Gawain says towards the beginning of the film. His fears are left unanswered as he sets out into the treacherous world — a world more hostile and wild than he could have imagined — to meet his uncertain fate.

You can read my full review here.

Directed by David Lowrey.

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1. The Worst Person in the World

Renate Reinsve in The Worst Person in the World. © Neon.

“Yes, I do love you. But I also don’t.”

This movie is, just, so good.

Told across twelve chapters with a prologue and an epilogue Joachim Trier’s latest is a beautiful love song to the struggles of becoming a person and the uncertainty that young adulthood poses. It features incredible leading performances from star Renate Reinsve and her co-stars Anders Danielsen Lie and Herbert Nordrum, making for Danielsen Lie’s second mention on this list. The film is brimming with life and energy. The wickedly clever script is supported by Trier’s electric, compelling direction. The film juggles its tones and themes with ease as it moves between descriptors of romantic, funny, contemplative, tragic, and joyful topped off with its touches of surrealism.

The film is about Julie (Reinsve), a woman without a purpose. Julie has switched from med school to psychology and then, most recently, into photography. She floats idly from relationship to relationship, job to job, never quite committing to one thing or another. She’s currently settled down with successful comic-book artist Aksel (Danielsen Lie) and their relationship seems to be going well. That is until she runs into Eivind (Nordrum) and the stresses begin to grow between Julie and Aksel. The film is a loving ode to the indecisive and the messy. It loves mistakes and it loves to watch people grow because the film knows that, at times, we’ve all felt like the worst person in the world.

The Worst Person in the World wants everyone who sees it to become the best possible version of themselves. The film is profoundly personal and lovingly tender. It’s is sympathetic to its protagonist’s many faults and plays them all as parts of her development as a person. Life often isn’t what we expect. We just have to make do with what we get. I felt the emotions of the movie — its highs and its lows — with every fibre of my being. The Worst Person in the World is a masterful work and redefines the rom-com for a new age.

Tragically, my favourite film of the year is the only one that has not yet received a wide theatrical release. I feel grateful to have gotten the chance to see it at VIFF this year. According to the film’s North American distributor, NEON, it’s supposed to arrive in theatres this February so keep an eye out for local listings.

Directed by Joachim Trier.

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A few honourable mentions of movies this year I enjoyed but never review on the blog:

• Bergman Island, directed by Mia Hansen-Løve. Brightly coloured and slow-moving. It’s a fascinating discussion of the legacy of Ingmar Bergman and the creative process of writing a film. Fantastic performances from all four leads: Vicky Krieps, Tim Roth, Mia Wasikowska, and Anders Danielsen Lie.
• The Father, directed by Florian Zeller. Anthony Hopkins Oscar-winning performance is one for the ages. It’s a deeply emotional film and a beautiful, frustrating portrait of the struggles of dementia.
• Judas and the Black Messiah, directed by Shaka King. Daniel Kaluuya and Lakeith Stanfield bring down the house with two excellent performances in a powerful, moving drama about the life of the late Fred Hampton.
• Minari, directed by Lee Isaac Chung. The intimate portrait of a Korean-Amerian family trying to make ends meet in 1980s Arkansas. Steven Yeun and the rest of the cast are all wonderful here. A great family story.
• Nomadland, directed by Chloé Zhao. Nomadland is exquisite. Soft, personal, and deeply empathetic towards its subjects. Frances McDormand delivers an amazing performance and the cinematography is magical.
• Shiva Baby, directed by Emma Seligman. Shiva Baby deserves a spot next to Uncut Gems (2019) in the great halls of “Jewish Anxiety Cinema.” Films burns with unease. Probably my favourite directorial debut of the year.

Also worth seeing: Titane by Julia Ducournau; One Night in Miami by Regina King; The Card Counter by Paul Schrader; No Sudden Move by Steven Soderbergh; The Last Duel by Ridley Scott; The Harder They Fall by Jeymes Samuel; Bad Luck Banging or Loony Porn by Radu Jude; No Time to Die by Cary Joji Fukunaga; CODA by Sian Heder; The Mitchells vs the Machines by Michael Rianda; Malignant by James Wan; and F9 by Justin Lin.