This past weekend was the 20th anniversary (13th as an outdoor festival) of Riot Fest in Chicago. It’s a three-day (not entirely limited to) punk rock music fest that, over the years, has grown in popularity and the sheer size of the talent they bring in. While this year’s headliners are the more poppy blink-182, Weezer and Green Day, in the past they’d brought in some of the all-time greats, like the reunited Replacements or The Misfits and Jawbreaker. They’ve also mixed more genres into the lineup over the years too. Like bringing in hip-hop artist Run The Jewels or heavy metal legends Slayer. Plus, they have a carnival that goes along with it. All in all, it was a damn good time.
So in honor of Riot Fest’s anniversary, here are the 25 Greatest Punk Rock Feature Films.
25. Breaking Glass (1980)
Breaking Glass is one of the most important punk films of that era simply because it acts as a document of a scene eating itself alive. Punk already had one foot in the grave by 1980, new wave was crawling out of the dirt, and this film sits right in that messy overlap: angry enough to spit in your eye, polished enough to sell you a record. The film is your typical rise to fame story. Kate Crowley (Hazel O’Connor) is a struggling singer who gets a band, the band gets a following, the following attracts suits, and the suits inevitably suck the soul out of everything they touch. What makes it sting is O’Connor herself. She’s raw, electric, awkward, and completely convincing as a frontwoman losing herself in the machine. Punk cinema wasn’t meant to age gracefully, and Breaking Glass is proof. Like its heroine, it burns hot, fast, and messy, and that’s exactly why it still matters.
24. Out of the Blue (1980)
After the film The Last Movie killed Dennis Hopper’s career dead (and for good reason, that movie is unwatchable), he was essentially persona non grata. He couldn’t get arrested in Hollywood. He was destined to do small bit roles forever, but when the director of Out of the Blue left the project due to creative differences (he couldn’t figure out the tone), Hopper, who was already cast in the father role, stepped in to direct it and clearly poured his soul onto the celluloid to prove he was a legit director. Out of the Blue is punk cinema at its rawest—an open wound of a film where every frame feels like Hopper injecting every ounce of his pain desperation into the story. You can also feel his “no fucks given” attitude as well. Hopper took what should’ve been a run-of-the-mill TV melodrama and turned it into a shriek against the void. Punk rock in spirit, nihilist in philosophy, and tragic in execution, Out of the Blue is the cinematic equivalent of spitting blood on the floor and daring someone to call it art. It also has one of the best child performances (Linda Manz is soul shatteringly good in this) in any film ever.
23. Liquid Sky (1982)
Liquid Sky feels like a fake movie meant to be played in the background of Rosanna Arquette’s apartment in After Hours. It is married to its style in such a way, that it’s bordering on self parody. It’s intentionally alienating; it’s a vibe that is not at all interested in your admiration or approval. It exists solely as a counterbalance to everything else. Director Slava Tsukerman didn’t just make a sci-fi film, he built a radioactive fashion show where aliens feed on the sexual frustration of Manhattan art freaks. Anne Carlisle plays both Margaret, a bisexual model drowning in drugs and casual cruelty, and Jimmy, her male doppelgänger who looks like a thrift store Bowie clone. The plot—tiny UFOs land on a rooftop and harvest orgasms as an energy source—isn’t so much told as it is freebased. Scenes play out like performance art stitched together with synth drones, while dialogue feels improvised by people too coked out to blink. It’s ugly, dazzling, incoherent, and hypnotic. In some ways, the ultimate punk film.
22. Fish Story (2009)
Only Japan could make a movie where the fate of the world depends on a forgotten punk record. Yoshihiro Nakamura’s Fish Story is an apocalyptic shaggy-dog tale that ping-pongs across decades, layering stories like a mixtape until everything clicks in one glorious, ridiculous crescendo. A meteor is about to obliterate Earth in 2012. While humanity panics, a small group of survivors hide in a record shop, listening to an obscure ’70s punk song called “Fish Story.” From there, Nakamura keeps rewinding (introducing a failed band that recorded the track, a timid college student, a cult encounter, a cruise ship hijacking) threads so random they feel like they were pulled out of a hat. But every piece snaps together, proving that a three-chord scream of defiance can literally save the planet. It’s part doomsday thriller, part anthology comedy, part love letter to punk rock as both a genre and a philosophy. The film believes in chaos, coincidence, and the power of art to echo through time like a secret weapon.
21. Bomb City (2017)
In 1997, in a small, conservative Texas town, a young man by the name of Brian Deneke was savagely beaten to death and his attacker walked away with probation and a fine, of which he never ended up paying. Deneke’s crime? He was a punk. This is the story of Deneke, his life, his lifestyle and the miscarriage of justice that let a killer walk away scot-free. It’s a scathing indictment of a broken system that demonizes and maligns anyone different. It’s a film designed to sadden you and to piss you off enough that you’ll want to do something about it, but more importantly, its ultimate goal is to remind the world who Deneke was. A young man who liked punk and unfortunately became a martyr because of it.
20. Good Vibrations (2012)
I feel like Good Vibrations hasn’t found the fans it so desperately deserves because it’s a punk movie disguised as a feel-good crowd pleaser. A combination that works like magic but has probably put off gatekeeping losers who think punk has to only be portrayed in gutters or in dirty alleys. The film is about Terri Hooley, the one-eyed record shop owner who kickstarted Belfast’s punk scene in the middle of The Troubles (a conflict in Northern Ireland that lasted for about 30 years from the late 1960s to 1998).
While everyone else was picking sides, he picked vinyl. And instead of getting rich or famous, he got chaos, poverty, and the kind of stubborn joy that only true believers ever taste. The film could’ve easily drowned in biopic clichés (broken marriages, financial woes, the usual “rise and fall” checklist) but it’s too busy buzzing with the energy of the music. Every time Hooley puts a needle on a record, the movie comes alive. It’s less about the man than the movement he ignited: kids who found salvation in noise, guitars, and the refusal to let bombs and bullets dictate how they lived. Fish Story is a fictional movie about punk rock literally saving the world. Good Vibrations is the same story, but for real.
19. Her Smell (2018)
Her Smell is two hours of watching someone set themselves on fire in slow motion. Alex Ross Perry’s punk-rock meltdown movie stars Elisabeth Moss as Becky Something, a grunge goddess turned toxic hurricane who is equal parts talent, terror, and total collapse. The first half is chaos incarnate: Becky rants, raves, and torpedoes every relationship in her orbit. It’s claustrophobic, ugly, and exhausting—like being trapped backstage with the world’s most unstable headliner. But that’s the point. Perry forces you to sit in the wreckage until you start to wonder if there’s anything left worth salvaging.
Then, in the second half, the noise dies down and we see the fragile, broken human underneath. Becky Something is the female equivalent of Bojack Horseman, but instead of self-destruction through alcohol, it’s personal and professional suicide through toxicity. Moss nails both ends of her emotional spectrum so effortlessly, it feels like her submission into the “best actresses working today” awards. Fueled by raw performances, dripping with sweat, bile, and mascara, Her Smell isn’t interested in redemption so much as the possibility of survival. We become the monsters we eventually have to defeat or tolerate.
18. Ex Drummer (2007)
This film is essentially Green Room but instead of having the punks stay in one room until danger shows up, the danger is already in the band. The recently hired drummer of a punk band slowly starts fucking with his bandmates and eventually starts turning them against each other until they figure out what’s happening but by then, it might be too late. The setup sounds like a suspenseful thriller but it’s actually a crazy as fuck dark comedy. There are sequences in this, I guarantee you have never seen in any other film. Once it goes to 11, it never lets up.
17. 24 Hour Party People (2002)
Michael Winterbottom takes the story of Manchester’s music scene and douses it in chaos, comedy, and fourth-wall-breaking swagger. It’s part history lesson, part piss-take, and all celebration of the glorious, drug-fueled mess that birthed Joy Division, New Order, and the Happy Mondays. Steve Coogan plays Tony Wilson, the TV presenter turned label owner who somehow stumbled into being the patron saint of post-punk and acid house. Wilson isn’t portrayed as a genius, more like a cosmic clown blessed with dumb luck and an eye for talent. He’s not building an empire; he’s riding a wave, cashing out his dignity for immortality one botched business decision at a time.The film zigzags between concert footage, surreal tangents, and documentary-style asides, as if the movie itself is on ecstasy and can’t sit still. 24 Hour Party People is about the birth of a scene, the death of idealism, and the pure, uncut joy of music shaping an entire generation.
16. Valley Girl (1983)
A girl from the valley meets a punk from the city and against all odds, they fall in love. But can their love survive peer pressure or will their affair be over as fast as it started? No actor on Earth does lovesick better than Nic Cage. He doesn’t do that many romantic comedies but when he does, he always knocks them out of the park. His eyes can convey melancholy and longing and pure happiness, sometimes all at once. He’s like a puppy dog you can’t help but love. And speaking of can’t help but love, what the fuck happened to Deborah Foreman? Based on just this and My Chauffeur, she should’ve been a star but for whatever reason, she just disappeared. Which is a shame. Oh, and the soundtrack is fucking great.
15. The Devil, Probably (1977)
It follows Charles, a young Parisian drifting through politics, religion, ecology, and sex, testing each one like a cigarette he doesn’t really want to smoke. Spoiler: they all taste like ash. He is nihilism incarnate. He clings to no purpose to give himself purpose. In his opinion, the world is rotting, ideology is useless, and the only thing left for a sensitive soul is to reject it all. Charles isn’t rebelling; he’s resigning. The Devil, Probably is not your conventional punk film. It doesn’t include any of the music or the attitude or the scene or the fashion. But it rebels like a punk. The film itself is punk rock. It’s the cinematic equivalent of a shrug and a suicide note. No spectacle, no melodrama—just a slow-motion collapse of faith in everything. Punk at it’s core is rebellion. It’s fighting against oppressive regimes and broken systems. This movie goes one step further—it rebels against everything. Charles is the ultimate punk, he sees through the bullshit of life, coming to the conclusion that to living is the greatest grift of all. The Devil, Probably talks the talk and walks the walk.
14. Times Square (1980)
Allan Moyle’s debut isn’t a glossy MTV ad for rebellion—it’s a love letter to runaways, freaks, and the desperate kids who thought the neon grime of New York could somehow save them. If punk rock was supposed to be dangerous, then Times Square is the rare film that remembers that danger isn’t just spitting at authority, it’s the threat of actually living on the streets. The film follows two girls, Nicky Marotta (Robin Johnson), a gravel-voiced and magnetic outcast too radioactive for the world to contain, and Pamela (Trini Alvarado), an uptown girl who’s supposed to be fragile but might be tougher than anyone expects. Together they flee into the chaos of 42nd Street, reinventing themselves as the Sleaze Sisters—spray-painting walls, hijacking airwaves, and carving out a space for anyone who doesn’t belong anywhere else. All while Tim Curry purrs on the radio. Times Square doesn’t fully work, but that doesn’t matter. Like its protagonists, its imperfections are its identity. Times Square isn’t neat or safe—it’s a cracked mirror reflecting a city already on the verge of being bulldozed into something shinier.
13. Dinner in America (2020)
The world is finally catching up to Adam Rehmeier’s punk rock mini masterpiece, which makes it’s cult classic status all but inevitable. The film is a coming-of-age story wrapped in chaos, following two misfits who forge an unlikely bond amidst the suburban blandness of the American Midwest. It’s a bold, irreverent, and oddly heartwarming indie gem. Kyle Gallner delivers a ferocious performance as Simon, a rebellious, unapologetically brash punk rocker. His intensity is magnetic, yet he layers the character with vulnerability. Emily Skeggs shines as Patty, a socially awkward outcast with an unassuming charm. Her transformation throughout the film is both heartwarming and empowering. The two couldn’t be more different and yet, it’s their differences that make their unique friendship work.
He blows up at anyone and everything and she sits their and hopes he doesn’t throw a shoe at her or something. It’s a beautiful relationship. They share an unexpected but undeniable chemistry. Their dynamic drives the film, with Simon’s abrasive nature counterbalanced by Patty’s sweet, quirky demeanor. Rehmeier’s sharp script and assured direction balance chaos and emotion, creating a narrative that’s as outrageous as it is deeply human. It masterfully blends biting humor with heartfelt moments. Its irreverent tone challenges societal norms and celebrates individuality, while its comedic beats often land with laugh-out-loud precision. Dinner in America is a love letter to punk culture, with an anarchic energy that permeates everything from the soundtrack to the characters’ defiance of conformity. It was never going to be a hit with mainstream audiences but I’m glad it finally found its people.
I’m really glad Sailor told me about this one. I enjoyed the hell out of it not when II watched it not too long ago. It’s just a fun film with a lot of heart.
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– K. Alvarez
12. Green Room (2015)
A white knuckle nail biter, Green Room escalates tension as effectively as pulling back a rubber band on your wrist or slowly cranking a jack-in-the-box. You know something terrible is going to happen, but no amount of mental preparation can save you from the inevitable shock. One of the best siege films in recent memory, Green Room is about a punk band that plays a gig at a Nazi club, then witnesses a murder, and then must fight their way out of the deadly lockdown.
Taking place in a single location for most of its run time, the film is a claustrophobic nightmare filled with blood and broken bones and vicious violence. It’s a harrowing experience made all the more suspenseful due to the likability of the leads. The punk rockers (which include the late, great Anton Yelchin, the always fantastic Imogen Poots and the underrated Alia Shawcat) have amazing chemistry together and feel like a real band. On the flip side, the Nazis (lead by Patrick Stewart in arguably his greatest screen role) are all believably evil. It’s a relentless thriller that gets under your skin and stays there.
11. Smithereens (1982)
If Times Square is the fever dream of a girl who thinks punk will save her, Smithereens is the hangover that proves it won’t. Susan Seidelman’s debut is the first American indie selected for competition at Cannes, but don’t let that fool you into thinking this is prestige, it’s grit. It’s the scabby sidewalks of early-80s New York, captured before developers could sanitize it into a postcard. At the center of it all is Wren (Susan Berman), a wannabe punk scenester who’s got more ambition than talent and more attitude than connections. She’s broke, homeless, and annoying as hell—but she’s also magnetic.
Every frame with her is a reminder that punk wasn’t just safety pins and leather jackets; it was desperation weaponized as style. Wren isn’t looking for art; she’s looking for an angle. A ticket out. A way to matter. Even if it means using everyone around her like stepping stones. The movie isn’t kind to her. It shouldn’t be. Wren is both tragic and toxic—burning every bridge before it’s even built, hitching herself to losers with guitars and men dumb enough to care about her. The brilliance of Smithereens is that it never romanticizes her. Seidelman knows the dream of “making it” in the downtown scene was just another hustle, and Wren is a hustler who doesn’t have the hustle to back it up.
10. A Clockwork Orange (1971)
Stanley Kubrick’s film is a dystopian masterpiece that continues to captivate audiences with its bold visual style, unsettling narrative, and provocative themes. However, it was very polarizing upon its release due to its graphic depictions of violence and its exploration of taboo subjects such as rape, murder, and psychological manipulation. It not only got the dreaded “X” rating from the MPAA but it also received the “C” rating from the National Catholic Office for Motion Pictures, which stands for “condemned”. It forbids Roman Catholics from seeing the film. Many pointed to the multiple scenes of rape, most notably the infamous rape scene where the attackers sang the usually jovial song “Singing in the Rain” as they assaulted a woman in front of her husband.
This is also one of the earliest examples of a film being cited as the cause of real-life violence, where a 16-year-old boy was accused of beating an elderly vagrant to death and rape happened with the attackers singing the same song from the film. Protests would take place outside of Kubrick’s home and the British release of the film was pulled due to the copycat violence happening because of the film. It would be banned in multiple countries but would go on to be a granddaddy of cult classics that is regularly listed among the greatest films of all time and would even work its way into pop culture. Calling it punk is a bit of a stretch but it clearly embodies the same “fuck you” spirit as punk and its impact on the scene (some bands like The Adicts lifted their entire look from this movie) is undeniable.
—Vincent Kane
09. Throw Away Your Books, Rally in the Streets (1971)
Throw Away Your Books, Rally in the Streets is a manifesto disguised as a collage. A scream against Japan’s postwar malaise that comes out less like a battle cry and more like a nervous breakdown set to a marching band. The line between disenfranchised youth and actual punks is paper thin, so it’s debatable if this even counts but its themes definitely relate to anyone that has felt alienated. There’s a “plot,” sure—a young boy (essentially Japan’s answer to Holden Caulfield if Holden screamed more and read fewer books) drifts through a broken society, disgusted by his family, by consumerism, by the entire hollow machine.
But Terayama doesn’t care about narrative. He cares about rupturing it. He’ll throw in color shifts, seemingly random interludes, slapstick, surreal tableaus, direct address monologues—anything to destabilize the screen until you feel as rootless as the kids he’s filming. This is punk before punk had a name. Not leather jackets and three chords, but pure attitude: impatience, rage, the desire to rip open a stagnant society with nothing but volume and audacity. Uncompromising, exhausting, exhilarating—Throw Away Your Books, Rally in the Streets is a film like no other. You won’t “enjoy” it in any conventional sense. But you’ll never forget the way it makes you feel: like you’re being dared to stop watching and start living.
08. Ladies and Gentlemen, The Fabulous Stains (1982)
A cult movie is usually born from one of two things: something so wild it immediately alienates mainstream audiences or something so ahead of its time it has to sit in the corner for a decade before people catch up. The Fabulous Stains is the rare mutant that’s both. Directed by Lou Adler (yes, the same guy who gave us Up in Smoke) and written by journeyman screenwriter Nancy Dowd (yes, a woman wrote Slap Shot), this is a movie about catching lightning in a bottle. You’ve got Diane Lane (barely 15) fronting a proto-riot grrrl band before anyone even had the vocabulary for it. You’ve got Laura Dern, also a teenager, wide-eyed and tagging along for the chaos.
You’ve got Ray Winstone, still wet behind the ears, looking like he wandered in from a Clash rehearsal. And you’ve got Fee Waybill from The Tubes, Steve Jones and Paul Cook from The Sex Pistols, and Paul Simonon from The Clash filling out the ranks. That’s not a cast, that’s a goddamn punk museum exhibit. The film’s plot is paper thin: three girls form a band, can’t play worth a shit, but tap into something real (anger, style, rawness) and suddenly they’re icons. But what it lacks in story, it makes up for in theme. It’s a commentary on media exploitation, the disposability of youth rebellion, and the inevitable dilution of authenticity. It isn’t perfect (it would work much better rebooted as a mini series) but cult cinema isn’t about polish—it’s about attitude. And The Fabulous Stains has attitude to spare.
07. We Are the Best! (2013)
Most punk movies are about anarchists trying to burn the world down, angry rebels looking for something, anything to rebel against or young people with no other options, just trying to survive but We Are the Best! is about three Swedish girls who can’t even keep their instruments in tune, but decide to start a band anyway—and somehow, that’s more punk than anything. Set in 1982 Stockholm, the film follows Bobo (shy, mop-haired), Klara (loud, spiky-haired), and Hedvig (quiet, Jesus-loving classical guitarist roped into the chaos) as they stumble into punk, not because they’re political masterminds or rock stars-in-waiting, but because they’re bored, pissed off, and need somewhere to put all that restless energy.
Their first song isn’t an anthem, it’s literally just a tantrum set to noise: “Hate the Sport.” And it rules. The genius of We Are the Best! is that it doesn’t mythologize them. They’re not prodigies, they’re not destined for greatness, they’re just kids who happen to find joy and friendship in the racket. The movie captures what punk really is: not virtuosity, not fame, but freedom. The freedom to sound like shit, to be ridiculous, to scream into the void with your best friends and call it art. Punk was never about conquering the world. It was about carving out a little space where you don’t have to play by the rules. And if three girls with one song and a busted bass guitar can do that? Then yeah—punk really is the best.
06. Linda Linda Linda (2005)
Linda Linda Linda is a high school band movie where almost nothing dramatic happens—no one overdoses, no one sets their guitar on fire—but by the end, you feel like you’ve lived through something monumental anyway. The film follows three Japanese schoolgirls who decide to perform at their culture festival. Their band implodes days before the show, so they scramble to put something together and rope in Son, a shy Korean exchange student, to be their singer. She barely speaks Japanese, has no clue what she’s doing, but she’s got the guts to stand there and try, and that’s enough.
What follows is less a plot than a vibe. Long stretches of downtime, hushed conversations, awkward silences, late-night practice sessions lit by vending machine glow. Yamashita has the patience of a documentarian, letting us soak in every small detail: the clumsy way kids communicate when they don’t have the words, the bittersweet ache of fleeting friendships, the way music can stitch all of it together. It’s a quiet film (almost too quiet for what it’s about) but that’s the trick. Punk doesn’t always arrive with a Billy Idol-like sneer and a Molotov cocktail. Sometimes it shows up in borrowed instruments, shaky harmonies, and the courage to make noise with your friends before the moment slips away.
05. Sid and Nancy (1986)
Sid and Nancy feels like the corpse of punk left behind when punk burns itself out. It opens with Nancy Spungen’s dead body in a New York hotel room and only goes downhill from there. What follows is less a love story than a crime scene report set to the sound of chaos and terror. Gary Oldman, in his first major role, doesn’t just play Sid Vicious, he becomes him. He’s feral, pathetic, magnetic, and completely apathetic. He’s a junkie puppy circling the drain. Chloe Webb’s Nancy is no better: shrill, needy, self-destructive, but also tragically human. Together, they’re a chemical reaction that could only end in an explosion.
Their relationship is a grotesque punk fairy tale where two people who found in each other the exact wrong match at the exact wrong time. Even though it’s about a member of The Sex Pistols, the band and their music lurk in the background. This isn’t about the music; it’s about the implosion. The gigs, the hype, the chaos of London’s punk scene—it all blurs into a backdrop for two addicts circling each other like vultures. What’s left is a movie that’s messy, abrasive, and contradictory, just like its subjects. It’s not fun, it’s not uplifting, but it’s hypnotic in its ugliness. Sid and Nancy don’t make you want to join the movement—they make you glad you survived it.
04. Rock ‘n’ Roll High School (1979)
A Ramones fanatic battles it out with the strict new principle of her High School. The plot is paper thin, the acting is, for the most part, bad and the jokes hardly, if ever, land but there’s an undeniable charm to the film. It feels like a hyper active puppy that pisses itself every time it’s excited to see you but the problem is, it’s always excited to see you. For some, the energetic tone will be too much but for fans of punk, they’ll be right at home in the chaos. The cast is great and is game for what they’re asked to do (Clint Howard has never been more Clint Howard-y), there’s a recurring sight gag involving mice that’s pretty funny and the last fifteen minutes or so is a lot of fun. If you’re a fan of the Ramones, films with an anarchic sense of humor and/or character actors such as Mary Woronov or Clint Howard, this is essential viewing.
03. Return of the Living Dead (1985)
George Romero made zombies political. Dan O’Bannon made them fun. Return of the Living Dead is not only one of the most entertaining zombie movies, but it’s also foundational. The only other zombie films that are as influential are Romero’s Dead trilogy. Before 28 Days Later and Dawn of the Dead (2004) made them fast, Return of the Living Dead did it first. Before Warm Bodies let ’em talk to explain why they eat brains, Return of the Living Dead already did it. Before Dead Alive gave every individual body part sentience, making them almost impossible to kill, Return of the Living Dead was about to release its second sequel.
Zombie films owe everything to this movie and that’s just one genre. It was also one of the first movies about punks that didn’t treat them as the antagonists. Almost every film about punks before this was either about an inspiring singer, a homeless teen or an asshole with a mohawk but ROTLD made them the heroes. Well, heroes is a strong term but they definitely broke from the stereotypical mold. In addition to its colorful cast of misfits (especially Trash, the hottest punk in history), the film has a Grade A soundtrack of punk bangers. The Cramps, The Damned, 45 Grave. It’s not just background music—it’s the movie’s bloodstream. Every needle drop turns the film into a punk rock funeral, one where everyone’s invited and no one’s getting out alive.
02. Suburbia (1983)
No other director on Earth understood the punk scene better than Penelope Spheeris. She documented the scene at its inception for her masterpiece The Decline of Western Civilization and then followed it up with one of the strongest punk narratives to date with Suburbia. It’s not a documentary, but it feels like one—scrappy, jagged, stitched together with safety pins and scabs. The film follows a group of runaway kids who crash in an abandoned house in L.A., forming their own makeshift family. They call themselves The Rejected, and that’s not just branding—it’s the truest description of their existence.
Society has no place for them, so they invent one. They’ve got mohawks, they’ve got leather, and they’ve got nothing else. What makes Suburbia hit harder than your average “punksploitation” flick is Spheeris’s eye for reality. She doesn’t dress it up. She doesn’t romanticize it. The performances are raw because most of these kids weren’t actors—they were actual punks pulled straight out of the gutter and put in front of the camera. That roughness bleeds into every frame, giving the film the authenticity of a well-earned scar. Suburbia captures the part of the punk myth nobody wants to admit to: that underneath the slogans and the sneers, it’s just kids lost in the sprawl, waiting to be forgotten.
01. Repo Man (1984)
Outside of documentaries, there isn’t a better example of a film that accurately depicts the punk scene than Repo Man. With that film, Alex Cox did more than just point his camera at disaffected youths in order to show the world what a punk is; he instead created a film that IS punk. A genuine article, Repo Man is a giant middle finger to everything that is Hollywood. It’s fast, loud and doesn’t give a fuck. In other words, it’s the perfect film for the 80’s. This isn’t just a cult film; this is the blueprint for how to make a cult film. A Frankenstein stitched together from UFO conspiracies, Reagan-era malaise, radioactive corpses, and Circle Jerks cameos, all duct-taped into a shaggy sci-fi comedy that makes as much sense as the inside of a headshop at 3 a.m.
Otto (Emilio Estevez), a disaffected punk who falls backwards into a job repossessing cars. But this isn’t about cars. Or maybe it is. Or maybe it’s about how everything in America is for sale, even your soul, and the only thing left to do is laugh at the absurdity. Somewhere out there, a Chevy Malibu is cruising the streets with something glowing in its trunk, and everyone (cops, repo men, secret agents, and televangelists) wants a piece of it. Does that make this film sci-fi? Kind of but that subplot is less about the extraterrestrial and more a commentary on the weird shit you encounter when you operate on the outskirts of polite society. It’s just one more thing to add to the already bizarre vibe. The final image (Otto ascending into the cosmos inside a glowing, levitating car) isn’t just a punchline. It’s the only logical conclusion for a film that refuses logic. Punk rock doesn’t explain itself; it burns until it can’t anymore. Repo Man is the cinematic equivalent: radioactive, ridiculous, and immortal.
Top 25 Punk Rock Documentaries
What are some of your favorite punk rock movies that did not make the cut? Share them with us down in the comments!
