I realize this isn’t the consensus opinion, but for me, 2024 was a fantastic year for movies. So fantastic, in fact, that making this list was easily the hardest thing I’ve ever done for this blog.

Normally it’s the albums. Music isn’t constrained by the same degree of financial need or release date strategies, and thus people are free to release quality music whenever they want. But movies in 2024 were on something. Maybe it has to do with strike delays or some money finally finding its way back into the system, but I was happier than a pig in shit pretty much all year round. Thus making this list was brutal.

Consider this: Dune: Part Two and Furiosa: A Mad Max Saga are not on this list.

By merit and my passion for them alone, they should both be here. The former filled me with that sense of overwhelming awe that the first one did when I went back to the Chinese Theatre to see it and the latter contained something I’ve never seen in an action movie every five minutes or so. Both are masterworks from master craftsmen with master teams, and I loved them both. (Also, everyone who didn’t like Furiosa is wrong.)

The reason they aren’t on this list has nothing to do with merit. It’s because I saw an opportunity to have no franchises or sequels on my list and I took it. I don’t even care about that either, I’m mentioning it to demonstrate that I had to make up a bunch of arbitrary bullshit just to get to the list that I have. In a few weeks, I’ll look back and regret it.

And that’s when I could think up an unimportant reason. I desperately wanted to put Snack Shack and Rap World on this list, but at a certain point, you just gotta start making cuts, and it broke my heart to lose them both, as well as at least three or four others.

So to get myself to stop thinking about the pain of what’s not here, let’s celebrate what is and list.

SPOILERS BELOW!

Runner-up: Queer

I’m not a scholar on Burroughs. I’ve read Naked Lunch and one or two others. I haven’t read Queer, but I have read just enough of his works to be able to say that I think he’s a very misunderstood writer.

People focus on the chaos of the writing and the narrative style, and it’s easy to see why. It’s so overwhelming a style that it turns a lot of people away at the front door, and those who do make it inside mostly like it specifically because of the franticness. Neither of those groups, by the way, are wrong. But I guess I read him at the right mood and the right time in my life because I was able to see what was underneath the bluster. Specifically, when you actually map out what’s happening in his books and maybe dig into where Burroughs was in his life when he was writing them, what you’ll see is a lot of pain and anguish.

Feeling alienated. Feeling alone. Being gay in a time when homosexuality was verboten to the point where you had to move far, far away from home. Burroughs was, shall we say, not a perfect guy. The same can be said for pretty much his entire generation of writers and poets. But I can’t help but think that a lot of the behavior he portrays in his books comes from a place of self-destructive humor. The space where you don’t care about anything that happens anymore, so you might as well drink that drink and lift that needle.

Queer understands what I’m talking about.

There’s a moment in which protagonist William Lee walks down the streets of Mexico City during yet another night of drinking and brief pleasure and Nirvana’s “Come As You Are” starts playing. If you feel so inclined, you can call the moment indulgent and distracting. You wouldn’t necessarily be wrong. But I think that’s when the movie had me. After all, if I had to pick a song to soundtrack the moment where a man meets someone he’s going to fall in love with who will never really love him back or be able to provide anything he wants, there are worse songs to pick. Maybe it’s Kurt Cobain’s ghost hovering over my head, but even though I didn’t really know where the story was going, I knew that whatever romance William was going to have with Allerton was doomed.

That’s also when I knew that Luca sees the same thing I do when I think about Burroughs. The tragedy in the chaos, the same tragedy that ended up hitting me pretty deeply as I watched it in the theater. I know Queer wasn’t particularly loved, especially in the year Challengers also came out. But it’s the pop culture hill I’m willing to die on in 2024.

I don’t know. It just kinda broke my heart.

10. The Seed of the Sacred Fig

There are plenty of reasons to justify this movie’s presence on this list, and most of them would make me sound smart and worldly. Specifically, the subtext, which is so gloriously unsubtle that calling it “subtext” as opposed to “text” is being rather charitable, and I mean that as a compliment.

Indeed, if I have one criticism of this movie, it’s not that it isn’t understated. Plenty of movies on this list will prove that at least on an intellectual level, I don’t particularly give a shit about that. (I do on an emotional level, but that’s for a different article.) Rather, it’s that I think the metaphor is a tad bit overworked. Set against the backdrop of the Mahsa Amini protests in Iran, the story concerns a father who’s recently been made an investigating judge (giving him heightened authority, including the power to order executions), his loving pro-regime wife, and his two daughters, who secretly take part in the protests. One day, the father’s gun goes missing, and it takes witnessing her husband’s increasing brutality towards his own family to finally convince her that maybe totalitarian regimes aren’t a good idea.

It isn’t graceful in its creation of its microcosm. But it doesn’t matter because it’s still incredibly effective, and not only does a powerful job of exemplifying not just the structural power imbalance, but the lack of respect for women and the pervasiveness of inequality in general. It hit hard when I saw it at the Austin Film Festival, which took place a week before the election. It hits harder now.

However, if I’m being perfectly honest with you all, the cerebral qualities of this movie aren’t why it’s here. Or rather, that’s not what put it over the edge. This movie doesn’t just beat the mind, but the body as well.

There’s a very particular atmosphere to The Seed of the Sacred Fig. Even in the beginning of the movie when the family’s still more or less at peace, it already feels like the walls are closing in. One could argue that’s because this movie begins with Iman, the father of the family, taking a job we know comes hand-in-hand with oppression. But there’s also something about the way it’s filmed. The claustrophobic framing of the family’s apartment. The dreary government offices where Iman carries out his work. The shadows, which only intensify as the screws tighten and Iman loses control.

Then we get to the last thirty or so minutes, which nearly gave me a heart attack. It would be cruel of me to get into why this was the case. Suffice it to say that you spend most of the movie thinking that nobody’s going to die. Then the movie pulls that safety away and keeps piling on the dread.

It doesn’t matter if you don’t know anything about the political situation in Iran. It doesn’t matter if, somehow, the metaphor goes over your head. It doesn’t even matter if you agree with the politics of the Iranian government. (Though if you do, go fuck yourself.) This movie is a perfect marriage of protest and thriller. You don’t need one to enjoy the other.

9. Hundreds of Beavers

How cool is it that this movie exists?

We have all this new technology that has, relatively speaking, democratized filmmaking. There used to be a time when the technology and the equipment you needed to make a film were out of reach, be it because of price or simple availability. Now you and your friends can go shoot something on your phone and use some pretty sophisticated technology to put everything together. And if you know what you’re doing, you can make something truly impressive.

There are plenty of these movies that you’ve never heard of and will never see. I saw a few of them when I was an intern going through the pile of DVDs that needed watching. Most of the time, they’re horror movies, comedies that consist mostly of people talking in apartments, dramas, and documentaries. Little movies that embrace minimalism for the sake of their budgets. But then again, major filmmakers are using the same techniques. Sean Baker got his big break with Tangerine, Steven Soderbergh’s made multiple films using an iPhone (one of which, High Flying Bird, was on a previous list of mine), Park Chan-Wook made a short film Night Fishing on a phone, and Danny Boyle used an iPhone 15 Pro Max to make the upcoming 28 Years Later.

My point is that filmmakers have certain impulses when it comes to making movies on the cheap with acquirable technology, and most of those impulses don’t end up amounting to something like Hundreds of Beavers.

Cramped haunted house horror movies? Sure. Grimy dramas set in the streets and benefit from a low-budget feel? Absolutely. But a black and white movie inspired by silent films, Loony Tunes, video games, and America’s Funniest Home Videos about a fur trapper fighting hundreds of beavers portrayed by guys in mascot costumes? Never in a million years did I think I would see anything like this.

Yet here it is, and it’s glorious.

I’m in awe of this movie. I’m in awe of the fact that somebody put so much time and energy into creating something so singular, and the fact that it found an audience and became somewhat of a hit makes me even happier. We speak about art in grandiose terms, and we’re right to do so. But sometimes, it’s as simple as someone making something fucking cool and weird and it rules. Even thinking about this movie makes me happy, and here’s hoping Mike Cheslik sticks around.

8. All We Imagine as Light

There was, and probably still is, a discourse around sex scenes in movies. Specifically, there were a lot of more conservatively minded folks who questioned why it was necessary to have sex scenes at all. Maybe one or two people were arguing that we should rethink sex scenes given the ubiquity of awful behavior from male directors and the need for intimacy coordinators. But most were just you’re typical sexually repressed conservative Christians, and either way, the conversation was, is, and always will be completely fucking stupid.

There are plenty of movies you could throw at that argument. For me, All We Imagine as Light is at the top of the list.

Prabha and Anu are nurses, roommates, and best friends who live together in an apartment in Mumbai. Prabha is the older of the two. She has a husband courtesy of an arranged marriage who lives in Germany, and Prabha is lucky if she hears from him more than once a year. Even though he’s clearly abandoned her, she still feels a need to remain true to her marriage, which includes rejecting the advances of a doctor for whom she does a bad job of hiding her desire.

Anu is the younger of the two. She’s from a sect of Hindu culture that rejects women from dating Muslim men, which is a problem for her because she’s currently having an affair with one. One might question why it would be worth putting in the effort to keep this secret romance going, but he’s good-looking, charming, and respectful.

Both women feel trapped by the social norms being forced upon them. Prabha eventually learns of Anu’s affair, and she responds by calling her a whore. It’s not hard to see where her anger comes from. Prabha, after all, follows the rules and her reward is a husband who’s deserted her. Anu rejects the norms Prabha’s been conditioned to internalize, and in return, she gets to be touched. But then again, how much is that worth when Anu can’t be in a relationship with the man she loves?

Eventually, the two leave the city to help a friend relocate back to her village. Slowly, they shed the city and all the pressures it puts on them and reconnect with nature and what’s really important. It finally sinks in with Prabha that her husband’s never coming back, and she not only finds peace, but regret for what she said to Anu.

Anu, meanwhile, secretly brings her man with her. She sneaks off to meet with him, and it’s the first time in the movie they are truly alone together. No roommates, no street traffic, not even the whir of a ceiling fan. Just the breeze flowing through the trees as they make love.

It’s not a scene about titillation, but catharsis and freedom. So much of the rhetoric around sex scenes revolves purely around surface debauchery, but those are the people who can only engage with sex on a surface sensory level. To them, sex is a fish catching a hook. They’ll never understand that sex can also be an act of beauty and a balm. They’re Prabha before her eventual growth, upholding values they don’t truly understand for reasons they’ve never interrogated.

We could all stand to be more like Anu.

7. Red Rooms

And now we go to the complete opposite of intimacy!

I’m not a true crime guy. Though I’ve never listened to Serial or any of the big murder podcasts, I’ve seen some of the documentaries, and they’re a mixed bag for me. Some of them have a genuine point to make other than “look at this murder” and exist to point out the cracks in our justice system (The Keepers comes to mind) and some of them offer fascinating portraits of how killers behave, how they think, and what led them to kill. But just as many are irresponsible and trashy, and they’ve created an audience of weirdos and armchair detectives who have no fucking clue what they’re talking about.

Before I get ahead of myself, no, I don’t think most people who are into media about murders or sleuthing cold cases on the internet are like Kelly-Anne, the lead character of Red Rooms. My guess is that most people just find the prospect of murder so far from their reality that something is exciting in thinking about it, and a microscopic percentage of these people are qualified to do the necessary research. They’re not developing gambling habits to bid on snuff films on the dark web or breaking into a victim’s home or camping outside the courthouse to watch the trial.

Kelly-Anne isn’t interested in accused murderer Ludovic Chevalier because she thinks he didn’t do it. She’s into the case because she thinks he did. And by “into the case” I don’t mean she has a passing interest or it’s the tabloid murder de jour. I mean her attraction to the case is a literal one.

So no, I don’t think most true crime fans are like this. But I think a lot of them are closer to Kelly-Anne than they’ll ever admit.

How far down the rabbit hole would you go if you had the necessary skills? I’d like to believe that most people wouldn’t go as far as Kelly-Anne does, but I’m not sure that’s true. We are in an increasingly parasocial age where cyberstalking and exposing yourself to horrors are a daily ritual. How many times did you click on that link despite knowing that you don’t want to see what’s on the other side? A lot of people can’t do what Kelly-Anne does because they lack the know-how. But what if it was easy?

Most people aren’t Kelly-Anne. But there are traces of her in all of us. I talking as if I’m above any of this behavior, but I created a fake social media account in high school because I thought someone unfriended me. Whenever I go on a celebrity’s Wikipedia page, I click that Personal Life section at some point. There were times when I was obsessed with watching fight videos on Worldstar and fuck if I know how many hours I’ve spent on r/PublicFreakouts. I used to think these kinds of impulses were harmless as long as I wasn’t hurting anybody or violating anyone’s privacy. Now I’m not so sure.

6. The Brutalist

I have a very strange relationship with this movie.

On one hand, the hype is real. I saw The Brutalist at the Austin Film Festival in 70mm, and I rarely feel as immersed in a movie as I did with this. Those three and a half hours flew by, and I went back to my hotel eager to do some research only to learn that László Tóth wasn’t a real person. On top of that, if you told me that the budget for this movie was only ten million dollars, I’d have laughed in your face as it looks like one hundred million. It is, in every sense, epic, from the score to the cinematography to the acting and so on.

On the other hand, I also have a deep burning desire to make fun of it and Brady Corbet.

I saw his previous film Vox Lux in theaters, and as much as I try not to use the word “pretentious”, it’s hard not to with that one as it’s maybe one of the most smells-its-own-farts movies you’ll likely ever see. That same energy reeks from The Brutalist, as you can feel it working up a workout-level sweat trying to be a very male auteur definition of the greatest movie of all time. It’s a story about a man building a big thing in a movie that feels like the end product of a man building a big thing, and on a petty note, it’s a degree of self-seriousness that makes me want to shove Brady Corbet into a locker.

That sense is so strong that it enhances the intensity of some of my problems with the movie as a whole. Not only are many of the film’s visuals aggressively on-the-nose (See: the upside-down Statue of Liberty in the poster), but the narrative choices are as well. (“You’ll never guess what that rich guy’s about to do to that poor guy!”) The ending also feels like a throwback to Vox Lux in a bad way in its inability to make the distinctions between heightened visual style, presentation, and actual substance. I have a few more, but you get my point. Those are fairly standard issues in prestige cinema, but when you can feel the effort as hard as you can with The Brutalist, those problems take a new dimension.

Yet I can’t say its efforts to be the greatest movie ever made weren’t in vain because there were moments in the movie where I thought, “Wait a minute. Is this the greatest movie ever made?” It’s not, but it might take you some time to notice because sometimes it’s frequently capable of reaching the heights it wants to reach, and when it does, it’s awe-inspiring.

I may want to bully Brady Corbet, but I can’t say he doesn’t have it. I’m just jealous.

5. Daughters

Couldn’t find an image of the poster that wasn’t blurry, nor could I convince the Squarespace template to not put this caption all the way to the fucking left.

I saw this movie in late August. By then it had been about four months since I knew I was going to be an uncle.

In the months leading up to the birth of my niece, it began to sink in that I could have a huge amount of significance in her life, and it wasn’t hard for me to find my sense of whatever you call paternity but for uncles. She’s not my daughter and I’m not her father, but even the iota of similarity I began to feel was enough for me to be shattered by this documentary about the one day a year incarcerated men get to see their daughters and have a dance with them. The fact that the prison is located in my hometown of Washington D.C. is further acid in the wound.

Now my niece is out in the world. She’s only a few weeks old, and I won’t get to meet her in person until her immunities are built up. But I see the videos and photos my sister-in-law puts in a shared album the family can access. One of those pictures is of her wrapped up in her blanket in the hospital not long after her birth. I look at that picture and I know I’ll probably never have the courage to get anywhere near Daughters ever again.

You should though, because it’s one of the most moving documentaries of the year. The Oscars fucked up passing it over.

4. Evil Does Not Exist

My favorite shot in a movie comes early on in Evil Does Not Exist. It’s a shot from the perspective of a creek. Or at least it feels that way.

Takumi drives into town to pick up his eight-year-old daughter Hana from school. Her teacher tells him that Hana thought Takumi forgot and decided to walk home. This is a problem because not only is the feeling of guilt from the widower Takumi palpable, but so is the danger of the footpath home, which involves trudging through the vast forest. It’s winter and we’re in a small village in the countryside outside of Tokyo. The infrastructure to look for a missing child isn’t as large as you’d want it to be.

Takumi drives away, and we cut to the same shot the movie began with, a shot from the ground looking straight up at the trees as we glide down and down. Then we cut to the shot I’m talking about. We follow Takumi as he walks and walks, and then what I’m assuming is the creek bank rises to the point where we can’t see him anymore. Just earth, the trees, and their roots. But then we clear the bank and when we return to Takumi, Hana is safely perched on his back.

Part of this is, of course, uncle brain. But then again, I saw this movie in a theater in May a week or two before I knew of my impending unclehood, and I was just as moved by the shot then. There’s not much to overthink here. It’s just beautiful.

However, part of the reason I assume it’s a shot from the creek’s perspective is because the creek plays an essential role in the everyday life of the villagers. It’s their source of water for all purposes, and a large facet of their culture is built around keeping it clean for practicality and decency’s sake. The locals feel an obligation to maintain it, and the creek’s importance is given much more weight by giving it a perspective in shots like the one I’m describing. It’s not just a body of water. It’s a character.

This is why the weight in my chest grew several hundred pounds heavier when we learn that a company wants to build a glamping site in town for tourists in Tokyo. I believe in severe punishment for people who talk in theaters, yet an audible “god fucking damnit” nearly escaped my mouth.

In what might be one of the greatest meeting scenes ever filmed, two representatives from the company arrive to give a presentation to the villagers and answer their questions. They give their little spiel, show them a video, and then ask if there are any questions. The villagers respond by giving a long and exhaustively thorough list of reasons why putting a glamping site here is not only needlessly disruptive to their daily lives but also just a bad idea in general.

The main issue is the proposed septic tank. Though the site can accommodate sixty-four people, the tank is only designed for fifty. The company counters that the site won’t be at full capacity most of the time, but the villagers are quick to point out that warmer seasons will bring in more people and the goal for the company is to get as many people on the site as possible. On top of that, because of the tank’s location, when it overflows it could pollute the aquifer that feeds into the spring that connects to the creek. It could poison not just their water, but those who live further downstream, which will inevitably bring tensions as the people who live there will blame them for irresponsibly polluting the water.

It would, in short, ruin everything. And that’s before you get into the forest fire risk and a number of other problems.

The village convinces the two reps, both awed by the sense of decency they see in these people, that they haven’t thought the site through. They bring the village’s concerns to their boss who, in another one of the great meeting scenes, basically tells them to go fuck themselves. Of course this is how it was going to go.

I’ll always love a good capitalism bad movie, but most of them are polemics. There’s nothing wrong with that, but as Evil Does Not Exist proves, a lighter touch can be just as impactful.

3. The Substance

Writing about The Substance feels like a pointless exercise. Writing is an act of the mind, and The Substance isn’t interested in the mind, but rather the body. And not just on a literal level, but a visceral one as well. This is a curb stomping of a movie, and it’s glorious. It also makes it a tough movie to write about because even a toddler could get the message.

I love everything about this movie from the way it looks to the writing to the editing and anything else you could praise about a movie. However, a large part of the reason this movie is on the list is because of the experience I had watching it in the theater.

I saw this movie on Thursday, September 19 at 10:30 PM at The Grove. There are theaters in LA for the film snobs, and there are theaters for the normies, and The Grove is very much the latter. Not only that, but Thursday nights draw large crowds because a lot of people take Friday off, and because of that, my theater was packed and rowdy. It was mostly young couples, groups of friends, and the odd solo film snob such as myself, and just about everybody in the theater annoyed the shit out of me. Laughing, talking, cheering at Nicole Kidman’s AMC ad, which I think should be an executable offense, and then the movie started.

Forgive me if this is elitist, but most of my crowd looked to be in their early to mid-20s, and I would be very surprised if more than a handful of them were familiar with the movies that influenced The Substance. The works of David Cronenberg and Stuart Gordon and Brian Yuzna and so forth. Not that I blame them. Body horror movies aren’t the easiest to watch and few of their films are what anyone would call mainstream. If anything, despite how annoying I found them, I was jealous. I didn’t know where the movie was going, but I was at least prepared when it got there. My audience wasn’t ready, and it made for what was easily the most fun I had in a theater in 2024.

Laughter turned to gasps, gasps turned to “ewws”, and at some point, those “ewws” turned back into laughter, particularly in the last thirty minutes or so when the movie completely loses what was left of its mind. And they were laughing at the right moments too! Nine times out of ten, American audiences fail to recognize satire, especially when it’s visual. Yet my audience broke out in laughter with every gratuitous male gaze infused shot of Margaret Qualley’s body. Granted it’s an extraordinarily unsubtle movie. But it was nice to see a movie with a normal audience that picked up what the movie was putting down.

Cinema, baby. You gotta love it.

2. Nickel Boys

I read the book when it came out in 2019. Like most people who read books, I loved The Underground Railroad, and I was excited to see what Colson Whitehead had in store. On top of that, thanks to a screenplay I wrote a first draft of back in college, I’ve done a lot of research into the kind of reform schools and boot camps The Nickel Boys depicts. The ones I looked into were from much more recent moments in history, but the details remain more or less the same. Prejudice, racism, inequality, and corporal punishments so barbaric and brutal they defy comprehension.

I had read the book. I have read of the horrors of these camps and schools. I’ve read detailed accounts of children slowly dying from untreated ulcers, being locked in dog cages, being forced to eat their bodily fluids, and a whole slew of other violations of the Geneva Conventions that I won’t burden you with knowing. So as I sat in my theater (once again) at the Austin Film Festival, I thought I was ready.

I wasn’t.

You’re going to have to experience this movie. It will crush you in ways you’ve probably never been crushed. But if it brings you any comfort, it’s also astoundingly beautiful and, in my opinion, the best looking movie of the year. So at least there’s that.

1. Kneecap

When Trump won his first election, I was more or less down for the count for four years.

I was doing everything you’re not supposed to do. Constantly panicking and checking the news, which caused me to panic more. Later, I would be told by my therapist that I have an anxiety issue, a prospect that I dismissed a long time ago because I’ve never had a panic attack. Turns out that the constant acidic churn that flooded my chest whenever I looked at the news or social media wasn’t normal. I got stuff done, but some days I couldn’t even get out of bed. What was the point?

In 2022, I finally started therapy. I wish I made this move about fifteen years earlier, but what can you do? I did normal therapy for a bit, and eventually, I was prescribed both Lexapro and, towards the end of 2024, Wellbutrin. The difference the combination of therapy and medication has made in my life has been affirming in ways I could never have dreamed of. I’m more determined to accomplish my goals than ever, I have more confidence in my abilities than I ever have, and most importantly, I can function.

But now here we are.

Luckily, however, I don’t feel the same way. Maybe it’s the therapy or the medication or (probably) both, but I don’t want to be on the mat anymore. I want to go into the rest of 2025 swinging. I want to crack, metaphorically, of course, some right-wing skulls. Or at the very least, I want to say something to them that will ruin their day. I don’t want us to wait for the world to change. I want us to be barbarians at the gate.

Kneecap channels the exact kind of energy I’m talking about.

I was always going to love Kneecap. It’s not just a movie about rappers, but an actual good movie about rappers with actual good raps in it, so it was going to make this list no matter what. But this is an anti-fascist anti-racist anti-colonialist rebellion movie about rappers. I never thought I’d live to see the day.

The messaging of this movie is on point, but it’s also funny as hell. A friend of mine described this movie as “if Trainspotting was about something”, which is right on the money. There’s a debauched absurdity to the amount of drug use and dumbassery on display in this movie. But it’s not just that it’s crass, it’s how it uses its crassness. In most movies, the jokes about drugs and sex would begin and end with “ha ha drugs and sex”. This is a movie in which a woman tells one of the lead characters that she’s going to “blow him like a Brighton hotel.” Anybody who uses power indecently gets routinely mocked, be it the cops or the British government or anybody else. But this isn’t a sophisticated satire. It’s “fuck you”.

I have a friend who’s worked in congressional campaigns and various niche corners of political work. He believes Democratic candidates need to take the gloves off. Specifically, he wants them to make those connections between various high-level Republicans and Jeffrey Epstein’s flight logs and various other court cases. He wants candidates to label the GOP as the chosen party of pedophiles.

That’s the energy I’m talking about. That Kneecap energy.

Honorable Mentions

Anora
Challengers
Chris Grace: As Scarlett Johansson
Civil War
Dahomey
Dìdi
A Different Man
Do Not Expect Too Much From The End of the World
Dune Part: II
Flow
Furiosa: A Mad Max Saga
How to Have Sex
I Saw the TV Glow
Inside Out 2
Kinds of Kindness
Love Lies Bleeding
Megan Thee Stallion: In Her Words
Monkey Man
No Other Land
Nosferatu
The Outrun
The People’s Joker
The Piano Lesson
Rap World
Rebel Ridge
Robot Dreams
Sing Sing
Snack Shack
Soundtrack to a Coup D’Etat
Strange Darling
Trap
Union
The Wild Robot

Will Watch Someday

The Beast
Between the Temples
Close Your Eyes
The First Omen
Last Summer
The Remarkable Life of Ibelin
I’m sure there’s more!