(This article is part of our Best of 2024 series.)
Every year brings its own unique flavor to the world of cinema, and 2024 was no exception. This year, more than any in recent memory, felt overstuffed with quality. Most blockbusters were DOA but there were a lot of gems — from the big budget to the extremely independent — sprinkled throughout the year. It was also a strong contender for the greatest year in horror in at least the decade. It was the gift that kept on giving and I hope this year is at least half as great.
These are my five favorite films of 2024 (plus 65 honorable mentions).
47. Furiosa: A Mad Max Saga
There was no film going into 2024 I anticipated more than Furiosa. Fury Road is the best film of the last decade and I couldn’t wait to see Miller’s continuation of the story. But like all prequels, it ultimately ends up telling a pointless story. There is a certain kind of exhaustion that comes from watching a film that mistakes chaos for energy and noise for substance. Despite its grand ambitions and technical prowess, it stumbles into the trap of prioritizing relentless action over storytelling, leaving me dazzled but unmoved. The film’s premise, which delves into the backstory of the indomitable Furiosa (played here by Anya Taylor-Joy), offers tantalizing potential.
How did this steely, one-armed warrior rise in a world as brutal as the wasteland? What forged her resilience? These are questions worth exploring, but the film answers them in the broadest strokes, favoring extended chase sequences and bombastic visuals over the nuances of character and motivation. Taylor-Joy is a capable actress, but her Furiosa feels like a cipher, her arc reduced to a string of predictable beats. Unlike Charlize Theron’s layered portrayal in Fury Road, this version of the character feels hollow, a victim of a script that trades introspection for post-apocalyptic clichés. The supporting cast, while game, is similarly underserved. Chris Hemsworth, as the villainous Warlord Dementus, chews the scenery with gusto, but his character is more caricature than threat—a cartoonish villain without the menace of Immortan Joe.
Miller’s talent for orchestrating mayhem remains undeniable. The action sequences are elaborate and meticulously crafted, filled with roaring engines, crashing metal, and clouds of dust. But in Furiosa, these set pieces feel excessive and repetitive, lacking the visceral tension and emotional stakes that made Fury Road a modern classic. Where that film felt like a symphony of chaos, Furiosa plays more like an endless drum solo: technically impressive but fatiguing to endure. It’s a string of moments instead of a story and the moments aren’t even that memorable.
46. The Bikeriders
The Bikeriders feels like a film that longs to revel in the raw grit of its subject but instead putters around like a guy in a leather jacket riding a moped. Directed by the usually reliable Jeff Nichols, the movie spins a fictionalized tale of a Midwestern motorcycle club in the 1960s, inspired by the photography of Danny Lyon. On paper, it seems promising: a fertile setting, talented cast, and the potential for rich storytelling. Yet, what ends up on screen is a superficial and oddly sanitized ride through a world that ought to feel visceral and dangerous. The narrative itself is disappointingly shallow. Nichols seems hesitant to truly immerse us in the complexities of biker culture or the societal pressures of the era. Instead, the film bounces between disjointed episodes that fail to coalesce into a meaningful whole. An episodic narrative can be done right — Goodfellas (obviously a huge inspiration on this film) is a perfect example of how to tell a multi-year long story correctly but The Bikeriders can’t seem to find interesting connective bits to keep the narrative going.
And that’s due in large part to the ending. After a certain character’s death, the film feels like a studio mandated third act. The entire film hammers home the notion that a certain character is loyal to a fault. They’d rather die than give up riding, so when someone they look up to dies and they don’t seek revenge, it rings so false, it makes the entire film up to that point utterly meaningless. The performances are all great and moment to moment, it’s entertaining but that terrible third act derails it to such a degree, it robs the film of any meaning. By the end of its two-hour runtime, The Bikeriders left me wondering what the point of it all was. It’s a film that never musters the courage to fully embrace its own world. In the end, it coasts along, a beautifully photographed yet emotionally hollow journey to nowhere.
45. Alien: Romulus
The best thing about the Alien franchise is that it allows up and coming directors a shot at flexing their skills. Say what you will about the sequels after Cameron’s masterpiece but they all had a unique signature and Romulus is no different. Fede Álvarez knocked it out of the park in terms of replicating the look and feel of the original, as well as creating indelible images and unforgettable scenes. But like all legacy sequels, it collapses under the weight of its own references. The film aims to return to the series’ horror roots but instead becomes an exercise in derivative storytelling, recycling familiar tropes without the creative spark or thematic depth that made the original films iconic.
What made Alien and Aliens unforgettable was their ability to balance technical brilliance with human vulnerability. Romulus, by contrast, feels soulless, trading suspense and terror for loud, predictable action and characters who exist purely to serve the plot. Outside of the two leads, every other character is annoying to the point where I just waited for them to be Xenomorph chow. It really can’t be understated how much better Cailee Spaeny and especially David Jonsson are than everyone around them. They’re almost in a completely different movie. And that’s ultimately my biggest issue with it, I wish it was it’s own thing because everything . Honestly, the second the horribly looking CGI Ian Holms shows up, it starts to nosedive and it never recovers. I’m looking forward to the inevitable sequel but if it’s more of this, I’m done with this franchise forever.
44. Inside Out 2
Despite being an alleged sex pest, It is hard to overstate Lasseter’s value to Disney. He revitalized that company to such a degree, that when he was ousted, the quality control took a sharp nosedive. I’m not saying they were wrong in firing him but it’s obvious he was the only one there who cared about maintaining Disney’s vision of creativity and originality over product. Which is why I was reticent to see Inside Out 2, it looked like yet another soulless cash grab from a company who loves to milk their cash cows till there’s nothing but blood coming out them udders. But Disney actually surprised me.They delivered a film that, while not as good as its predecessor, does enough to justify its existence.
Where the original Inside Out explored the emotional complexity of an 11-year-old girl navigating a major life change, the sequel boldly transitions into the turbulent waters of adolescence. The film achieves a delicate balance between humor, emotional resonance, and the universal truths of growing up. Riley is now a teenager, and her emotional headquarters is in flux. New emotions are introduced—Anxiety and Envy among them—causing friction within the control room we’ve come to know and love. The emotional rollercoaster of teenagehood is rendered with Pixar’s trademark inventiveness and empathy. If the first was about the beauty of embracing sadness, the sequel is about navigating chaos and change.
The film’s greatest achievement is how it expands its emotional palette without feeling crowded. The film is a metaphorical and literal exploration of growing complexity, with Riley’s experiences serving as a canvas for universal teenage struggles: self-doubt, peer pressure, and the bittersweet realization that childhood simplicity is slipping away. I never wanted nor thought I needed a sequel but now that they proved they could do it, I wouldn’t mind watching Riley grow from a teenager into an adult. The storytelling possibilities are endless.
43. Monkey Man
Now that the John Wick franchise raised the bar in terms of action cinema, any contender to the throne has to be as good in terms of fight choreography, while also doing something wholly original to stand out. Monkey Man won’t have the staying power as those films but for a debut, it gets major props for even attempting to throw its hat into the ring. Directed by and starring Dev Patel, the film is a visceral and kinetic odyssey, blending gritty revenge drama with surrealist undertones. It’s a bold, uncompromising debut from an actor eager to prove his versatility behind the camera. Patel crafts a tale that is both steeped in genre conventions and uniquely subversive, taking familiar tropes and filtering them through a distinctly Indian lens.
The film follows a former convict freshly released into a chaotic world he barely recognizes. He’s a man haunted by his past and the injustices of modern society who embarks on a bloody journey of vengeance, redemption, and self-discovery. What sets Monkey Man apart is its willingness to blur genres. It is, at once, an action-packed revenge thriller and a commentary on the moral decay of society. Patel imbues the film with a raw physicality, using intense fight choreography and tightly shot sequences that pulse with energy. Yet, between the bloodshed, there are moments of introspection, where the narrative slows to explore deeper philosophical questions about karma, justice, and the price of retribution. It doesn’t all work and at times, it’s a bit slow but I love ambition and this film is nothing but.
42. Milk and Serial
Unless you spend countless hours scrolling through Facebook feeds or YouTube shorts, chances are, you’ve never heard of Curry Barker or Cooper Tomlinson. They’re two comedians that make bite sized content whose punchlines often involve awkward interactions or insidious implications. Curry is often confused by something Cooper said (the amount of times he’s been confused by the word “come” cannot be understated) or Cooper is creeped out by Curry being a weirdo. And weirdo is an understatement. Often times, he’s serial killer levels of creepy, which makes sense why he decided to make a horror movie. He’s shockingly good at delivering eerie lines with no life behind his eyes. The film follows two roommates and social media influencers, Milk and Seven (Barker and Tomlinson), who push the boundaries of their pranks to increasingly dangerous levels. The pranks become so elaborate and fucked up, you start to question whether what you’re seeing is real or the game of a madman. Curry Barker made this film for 800 dollars and it’s as tense and well acted as any horror film I saw this year. He managed to tell a compelling story that had me riveted in about an hour for a handful of dollars. Blumhouse should be embarrassed.
41. Civil War
In the annals of speculative cinema, few films manage to hold a mirror to society’s deepest anxieties as effectively as Alex Garland’s Civil War. Set in a dystopian near-future America, the film is a harrowing journey through a nation fractured by internal strife, following a team of journalists as they navigate the perilous landscape of a second civil war. Garland, known for his cerebral narratives in Ex Machina and Annihilation, shifts his lens from the abstract to the immediate, crafting a narrative that is both a thrilling expedition and a sobering reflection on the fragility of democracy.
What sets Civil War apart is its unflinching exploration of journalistic ethics in the face of societal collapse. The film delves into the moral quandaries faced by those who document war, questioning the fine line between observer and participant. It evokes the spirit of classics like The Year of Living Dangerously and Salvador, yet carves its own niche by situating these dilemmas within a distinctly American context. The war itself is never explained because Garland is smart enough to know that it doesn’t matter. When you’re caught in a conflict you didn’t create, it doesn’t matter why there’s a fight, you’re just trying to survive.
While it does feel at times like you’re thrust into the fourth season of a show you haven’t seen, the performances are good enough to immediately ground you in this reality. The plot centers on a war photographer portrayed with compelling authenticity by Kirsten Dunst. Her performance is a masterclass in restraint, capturing the nuanced tension of a professional committed to documenting truth amidst chaos. In any other year, her performance would be in the conversation for an Oscar nom but the fiend was just too stacked for her to be considered. While it isn’t my favorite Garland, it might be his most important. It’s a universe I hope he revisits soon.
40. Beetlejuice Beetlejuice
I’m truly starting to despise legacy sequels. The vast majority of them are nothing but soulless nostalgia porn aimed at elder millennials that take pleasure at pointing at things and saying “I get that reference!” They are lazy, half assed products made by creatively bankrupt studios who value cashing in on easy IP over rolling the dice on something new. There is no reason for Beetlejuice Beetlejuice to exist other than to give Burton a hit he so desperately needs. If his career hadn’t turned to garbage over the last couple of decades, he never would’ve made it, period.
While it’s better than all of the aborted attempts over the years, it still leans too heavily on nostalgia, substituting recycled gags and winking callbacks for genuine creativity. The original Beetlejuice worked because it had a clear sense of its world—a darkly comic limbo where the absurd rules of the afterlife meshed beautifully with Burton’s flair for the bizarre. Here, that world feels more like a wax museum of itself, with characters trotted out for recognition rather than given meaningful arcs. But it’s biggest sin by far, is its lack of focus. It juggles too many half-baked subplots, introducing new characters and ideas that go nowhere, while sidelining the emotional resonance that made the first film unexpectedly touching.
To call this film’s plot a mess would be a colossal understatement. It feels like each of its three screenwriters had a subplot they loved and refused to cut, regardless of whether it made sense to the plot. And then on top of that, Burton then forced them to write in a part for his girlfriend, a character that’s as pointless to the narrative as tits on a fish. You could remove the bride entirely and it would not affect the plot in any way whatsoever. There’s far too much going on with far too much unnecessary nostalgia ladled on top but goddamn it, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t entertained. Maybe it’s the fact that I sorely miss that old-school Burton style that this film, when it works, harkens back to. Maybe it’s the fact that I haven’t seen Keaton having this much fun in years. Or maybe it’s just Bob, the best character of the year. I hate that I liked it and I hate that I know I’m going to see the sequel. God forgive me.
39. Longlegs
One of these days, Osgood Perkins is going to direct the best horror film I’ve ever seen. That isn’t to say that all of his films have been bad or don’t work, they just don’t click with me. He’s operating on a wavelength I’m just not tuned to. His films are deliberately paced mood pieces designed to crawl under your skin and leave scars. I just wish they moved faster or offered more than just dread. The closest he’s come to offering an experience I enjoyed was Longlegs, and that’s due mostly to the fact that it draws heavily from The Silence of the Lambs and Se7en. Like those films, this follows an FBI agent (Maika Monroe) on the hunt for a Satan worshipping serial killer (Nicolas Cage) who may have ties to her past. The narrative structure, oscillating between time periods, enhances the disorientation, pulling the audience deeper into a labyrinth of terror. Cage’s performance is a masterclass in controlled menace, his presence looming large even when absent from the screen. Monroe’s portrayal of Harker provides a compelling counterbalance, her determination and vulnerability grounding the film’s more fantastical elements. I love their performances, I love the slow building dread and I love the look of the film, I just don’t click with it for whatever reason.
38. She Is Conann
Watching the work of Bertrand Mandico, you’d swear they came from the world of music videos but once you find out they didn’t, it makes sense because there’s no band cool enough to have videos directed by someone as idiosyncratic as Mandico. I hesitate to call him a filmmaker, he makes cinematic art installations that are singular. He is Matthew Barney if Barney knew had to tell a story and wasn’t pretentious as fuck. One of his latest films (the man never stops directing), is a feminist reimagining of the Conan the Barbarian mythos, exploring the life of Conann through various ages, each portrayed by a different actress. If the word “feminist” immediately makes you check out, you were never going to vibe with this film’s out there wavelength because that is barely 1% of what’s going on in this thing. It is surreal to the nth degree. She Is Conann is a shotgun blast of cocaine and glitter that’s as gay as it is ultra-violent.
37. Red Rooms
Red Rooms is an unsettling examination into the realm of human obsession. The film follows a super model (Juliette Gariépy) whose life revolves around the trial of accused serial killer Ludovic Chevalier (Maxwell McCabe-Lokos). Her fixation is not merely that of a curious onlooker. She attends court sessions with unwavering regularity, with her motivations cloaked in ambiguity. Plante’s storytelling is marked by a deliberate restraint. He eschews gratuitous exposition, allowing her actions to speak volumes. We watch but we do not understand her obsession. Is she a former victim, a groupie in love with the macabre, or is their another game being played altogether? The director refuses to offer any answers till damn near the end, instead inviting the audience to engage actively, piecing together the psychological puzzle laid before them. Red Rooms is not a film that offers easy answers. Instead, it poses challenging questions about the nature of voyeurism, the allure of true crime, and the fine line between observer and participant. For some, the look into the true nature of evil is so chilling, it leaves them rattled to their core but for me, I wish the payoff was worth the mystery. It’s still a helluva journey, I just wish the destination was as strong.
36. Smile 2
The people who can’t get into these films because the premise is too ridiculous for them, are the same people who have never experienced the work of Junji Ito. He is a master of turning the ridiculous into the unnerving. Yes, a person with a smiling face randomly looking at you is silly but Parker Finn does everything in his power to make it unbearably creepy. He directs the fuck out of this film but as talented as he is, his secret weapon was his impeccable taste in actors because goddamn did he hit the jackpot with Naomi Scott. She sells the terror of being haunted by a force so insane, you can’t wrap your head around it. The character is both well acted and has a great arc. Since she’s a recovering addict, everyone around her is worried she’s relapsing while she’s desperately trying to keep it together despite losing her mind. These movies are more than just their marketing gimmick, the film deftly intertwines the superficial allure of celebrity with the profound horrors lurking beneath. It is as much a critique of the entertainment industry’s exploitative nature as it is a psychological thriller. The director’s penchant for blending commercial appeal with arthouse sensibilities is evident, resulting in a film that is both viscerally terrifying and intellectually stimulating.
Part I | Part III
What do you think of my ranking so far? Which films from 2024 do you think will crack my Top 5?
