I tend to treat a year end list as a way not to really and concretely rank pieces of art, but to reflect on the intensity of my reaction to films. More often than not, I will not revisit several of the films on this list again, but in the grandness of a year in my life, these ten films meant the greatest deal to me. They found me. They arrived while I was vulnerable, triumphant, disappointed, and anxious. They opened my heart to something new and something unique. They burrowed into my mind and oozed back out in my elation whenever someone asked for a recommendation. They all premiered before December.
I looked back on all my lists for InSession Film (2021, 2022, 2023) and while there were a few December titles that made their way onto these lists, it’s rare that when I reflect on a year in film I choose from those that I might have seen last. I have seen some great movies in December, but to wait and catapult a new, shiny, top of my mind film over something I saw and loved and lived with much sooner in the year, seems like peer pressure to be like those who also make these lists. I like what I like and I won’t wait to tell you about it.
I’m proud to present what I consider to be 10 exceptional films that had a theatrical presence in 2024. If you would like to see a much longer expression of the films I’ve loved in 2024, check out the list I created for 2024 on Letterboxd. For now, my top 10.
- The People’s Joker
There is a point in every queer person’s life where they realize there is a seminal piece of pop culture that is a sort of tipping point. There’s before, which is the life of questioning and ignorance and the after, in which they realize that their life could be more full if they accept the truth about themselves (mine is Hook, though I didn’t realize it until much later). In The People’s Joker, writer/director Vera Drew uses the Batman mythos as a jumping off point for a coming of age story about a transgender woman understanding and accepting herself. It’s brilliant in its mixed media approach and affecting in its message, which is never lost in the strange, acerbic, and vibrant world Vera Drew has created.
- Wildcat
I remember the first time I read a Flannery O’Connor short story and the way it shifted my perspective on what the short story could accomplish. So much so that O’Connor is a writer I return to time and again. Flannery O’Connor stories have a biting cruelty and criticism of people who believe themselves to be above others. She writes of people who have no understanding of humility, people who we relish in their comeuppance. This comes across in Wildcat, a stirring biopic directed and co-written by Ethan Hawke and starring his daughter, Maya. O’Connor’s fierce spirit is in every frame and her words are brought to stirring life in the interstitial adaptations of some of her greatest stories. Maya Hawke is pitch perfect as the opinionated, pious, and razor-witted O’Connor. It’s a spectacular portrait of the tragically short life of one of America’s greatest writers.
- Thelma
I’ve probably written about this film more than any other this year. Thelma‘s the kind of genre chameleon that hits every beat pitch perfectly. It’s got a superiorly crafted script and production that oozes originality and a love of character and genre. It’s also led by an incredibly funny, poignant, and strong performance by June Squibb. Every single person who I have told to watch it, who actually did, has been astonished by the tenacity and heart of it. It’s one of those movies where you laugh through your tears and cheer while laughing.
- Challengers
It’s rare that I gasp in delight at a film. Mainly because many films as sexually charged as Challengers rely on heavy subtext. Yet, when Art (Mike Faist) and Patrick (Josh O’Connor) began to make out as Tashi (Zendaya) leaned back, my face flushed and my heart fluttered out of my chest. It’s only matched in intensity by the incredible psychosexual thrill ride that follows in the most equilateral of all love triangles on screen. Then there’s the churro scene, it made my mouth dry and all the hair, and some other parts of my body, stand at attention. It’s so quick, but it’s oh so glorious, much like the film itself. Luca Guadagnino is a master of the tease.
- The Bikeriders
My thirstiness continued into June as The Bikeriders’ subtextual love triangle graced the screen and roared like a few dozen motorcycles into my very being. I thought I had felt the most erotic allure I was going to feel all year with my previous entry, until Kathy (Jodie Comer) sees Benny (Austin Butler) for the first time across a bar. Writer/director Jeff Nichols frames Butler so serenely and angelically that it’s hard not to want to jump on the back of this greasy bad boy’s bike and let him take you anywhere as long as you can wrap your arms tightly around his torso. Then Johnny (Tom Hardy) pulls Benny in close to whisper in his ear about taking over the club and I’m sure my breathing and heartbeat, thumping, “KISS, KISS, KISS,” was so loud a few people in the audience looked back at me enraptured by the moment I was seeing. A terrific film of triumph, tragedy, and jealousy.
- I Saw the TV Glow
I’ve been a person scared of my truth for much of my life. I’ve been a person who denied myself because it was so much safer than declaring what I knew from head to toe. I see a lot of myself in Owen (Justice Smith) and how they dealt with the new feelings that enveloped them. Writer/director Jane Schoebrun’s I Saw the TV Glow will affect different viewers in different ways, but it is a film that will seep into you. It is a film that in the midst of its chaos you will feel a lump in your throat and a tear down your cheek. There’s a beauty to truth and a tragedy to denial that is overwhelming and all encompassing. I Saw the TV Glow is a film that will linger in my mind for a long time to come.
- Robot Dreams
There’s a point in every person’s life when they meet someone who is undeniably their person. They are a person who keeps the loneliness at bay, who lets you be you. Inevitably, there will be something that pulls you from that person whether it is someone new, or something out of your control. Robot Dreams, an animated, dialogue free film about a dog who builds a best friend out of a robot is one of the most humanistic and deeply moving portraits of friendship I have ever seen. There is a tremendous amount of beauty in it and my eyes are seeping tears thinking about that incredible final sequence. Robot Dreams reminds you of platonic love lost, lets you cherish the love in front of you, and hope for more great loves in the future. A superb film all around.
- We Live in Time
I’m an absolute sucker for a couple falling in love. I’m even more of a sucker for stories that eschew linear storytelling for something more complex and detailed. We Live in Time is not only a tremendous rom-dramedy, but a wholly mature look at the idea of relationships, compromise, and taking a leap without fear of what comes next. It’s a film about the small moments that make up the life of a couple. It’s sexy, funny, tragic, uplifting, and a whole package kind of movie that completely makes you fall in love with it. The chemistry between Andrew Garfield and Florence Pugh is off the charts and they make you believe every moment. It’s the perfect, “I laughed, I cried,” type of movie.
- Hundreds of Beavers
This film is the [expletive] funniest movie I’ve seen in a long time. I laughed so [expletive] hard and so [expletive] long that I nearly choked. The sheer inventiveness not only of the story, but of having people in mascot costumes playing woodland creatures is one of the most [expletive] goofy things that just [expletive] works. Everything about this movie works so [expletive] well it boggles the mind. This is what a modern silent film should be, a throwback that’s entirely of our time. Light years beyond any other comedy this year and, I can’t emphasize this enough, so [expletive] funny.
- Ghostlight
Shakespearean works have endured for hundreds of years because, in spite of the often impenetrable language, the works have a deep humanity to them. The works speak to something within our shared experiences even if we’ve never been queens, kings, or high born nobles. We’ve all felt the blush of first love and the anguish of disapproval. What Ghostlight does is to take a man who is like us and to show him the empathy within each difficult and precisely placed word. It’s a film of overwhelming grief that builds to a catharsis that is so utterly moving it’s nearly beyond my capacity to describe. There is perfection in showing that even in the imperfection of a community production, art can have a profound effect on people. Art can explain our emotions and our inner thoughts more clearly than we know how to. Great art, like Ghostlight, can build a story that lets us come to our own conclusions and to see the pain of another human being as real and valid. Ghostlight is a tremendous opus within a shaggy, loveable exterior.
