Best Films of the 2020s (So Far)
- Daniel Woodiwiss
- Jul 16
- 13 min read
Updated: 5 hours ago
Here are words that feel truly surreal to say: we're officially halfway through the decade. A little over halfway at this point, given that we're a couple weeks into July. We're as close to the year 2030 as we are far away from COVID-19 reaching American shores yet. Time warp, right?
Anyhow, in recognition of the midway point, and with a nod to the recent viral New York Times ranking of films of the 21st century, I wanted to mark this half-decade, one that has been marked by as much magical cinema and music as it has horrendous sociopolitical times, with an assessment of the best of the best of the 2020s to date. Yesterday, I published my personal ranking of the half-decade's best albums-- today, it's back to the movie world.
I went back and forth on how big to make this list, but settled on a Top 20 to cut myself off from simply naming every movie I loved, and also because it made mathematic sense: if the Times did 100 films for 25 years, it makes sense to scale this list down to 20 for 5 years. Besides, there's some poetry in "20 for the '20s."
Before we get into the rankings, an "honorable mention" tier of 10 films that were deeply in consideration for this list, and just missed the cut. Listed alphabetically, not in ranked order:
All of Us Strangers (2023)
Asteroid City (2023)
Everything Everywhere All At Once (2022)
Flee (2021)
I'm Still Here (2024)
Judas and the Black Messiah (2020)
Killers of the Flower Moon (2023)
May December (2023)
Nope (2022)
The Worst Person in the World (2021)
Now, to the Top 20.
Friendship (2025)
That's right, we're kicking it off with one from this very year! When I, an avid I Think You Should Leave watcher and undying fan of I Love You, Man, first heard tell of a Tim Robinson/Paul Rudd buddy comedy, I was obviously excited, but I just naturally assumed that this would be a Rudd-centered comedy and we'd see a toned-down Tim Robinson in a supporting role. Boy, was I wrong. And the absurdist comedy excels precisely because it's written for a brand of comedy Robinson has perfected. One of the funniest, most laugh-out-loud new comedies we've gotten in a while. I truly never knew where it was going next.
Barbie (2023)
Lost amidst both the entirely-predictable-but-nevertheless-annoying cynical backlash to this film and the truly unhinged reaction to equate director Greta Gerwig's exclusion from Barbie's otherwise 8 Academy Award nominations with a devastating blow to the feminist movement was just how cool of a success story Barbie was. A film about a well-known doll, imagining not merely its origin story but rather the entire intricate world it lives in, and what happens to that world when existential dread sets in. A zany and downright hilarious comedy with both dance breaks and fourth-wall breaks. A startlingly poignant commentary on both what it means to be human in this world and what it means to be a woman in this society. A project helmed entirely by a female producer and lead actress and a female director and lead writer. The result? A record-breaking $700 million box office performance and an awards season that yielded accolades upon accolades. It was the buzziest release of this decade, and its tandem pairing with eventual Best Picture winner Oppenheimer the undisputed cultural moment of the 2020s thus far. What a triumph.
Anora (2024)
Did this need to win every single major Oscar? No. Is it a great movie regardless? Yes. Was the online discourse about this film in the wake of its Best Picture win some of the most unhinged and off-base I’ve ever seen? Also yes. Anora might not be your thing, and that’s fine if not! But despite my initial apprehension, it was my thing. Sean Baker and Mikey Madison do an impressive job telling the story of a sex worker without being victimizing/othering towards her in any way. Ani may not be a classic “heroine,” but it’s clear the only actual villains are those at the top of the class pyramid. Oh, and amidst the many moments of poignant cultural critique, it’s downright hilarious.
Navalny (2022)
From a fictional story about powerful Russians, to a real documentary about them. The 2023 winner for Best Documentary Feature told the story of the formidable rise of the late Alexei Navalny, the man who would represent the most real and most serious challenge to Vladimir Putin's power in decades. It's at once a fascinating look at the stranglehold of the corrupt power of the Kremlin, and a tale of perseverance in the face of enormous injustice, even at the risk of one's own livelihood. It's also got real-life thriller suspense; there was more than one occasion in the latter half of the doc where my jaw literally dropped at what the cameras were revealing.
The Fabelmans (2022)
I went into watching this movie pretty agnostic about Spielberg, and came out with a new level of appreciation for the auteur and his story. I went into it fully expecting this was a typical “the MAGIC of the MOVIES!” film. It’s not. It’s a fun, funny, but also emotional, mostly autobiographical story from the director, who eschews his somewhat trademark fluff for a really nuanced look at art as obsession, and as escape from family trauma. This may not be a life-changer or anything, but it’s just so very good.
Sinners (2025)
Ryan Coogler (Black Panther, Creed, Fruitvale Station) simply doesn't miss. Neither does Ludwig Göransson (Oppenheimer, Black Panther, Tenet) who could be forgiven for already polishing a place on his shelf for a third Best Original Score Oscar in 6 years. The buzziest film of 2025 so far is, for the most part, not nearly as unconventional as you might expect from a vampire tale set in 1920s Mississippi that doubles as a racial history fable; just generally really good storytelling, and a terrific movie theater experience. That said, there are two extended musical scenes in the middle of the film that are genuinely some of the most stunning I've seen in a very long time.
Pig (2021)
The film that got me fully on the “Nicholas Cage IS a great actor, actually” redemption arc. Pig came and went without a ton of fanfare, and I’m not surprised it didn’t get a lot of Oscars attention: it’s very indie, and more than a little strange. But it’s such a touching, oddly riveting little movie, and Nicholas Cage is nothing short of terrific as the recluse truffle-hunter in search of his beloved pig. At just 90 minutes, it doesn't overstay its welcome or try to make anything about the story grander than it needs to be. It's sweet, strange and surprisingly emotional.
The Holdovers (2023)
This is just such a delightful little movie, one that feels like a throwback to an era when this kind of film was more commonplace. Were it not a late-in-the-year limited release in one of the most loaded years for movies in recent history, I would not have been surprised to make a bigger mark on both the awards circuit and mainstream psyche. The writing is near-perfection, but still would not have worked nearly as well without the dynamic trio as its heartbeat: Paul Giamatti, as good as he's ever been as the embittered and oft-excluded veteran schoolteacher. Eventual Oscar winner Da'Vine Joy Randolph as the grieving but enormous-hearted cafeteria worker. And Dominic Sessa, an absolute revelation in his first role, as the volatile and troublemaking but enormously bright student forced to quarantine with those adults for Christmas.
A Real Pain (2024)
A delight of a movie. The kind of film Europeans tend to do a lot better than Americans- simple, sweet, sad, heartfelt. An air-tight screenplay by Jesse Eisenberg, and while I don't always love him as an actor, he thrives in this role, and Kieran Culkin plays off him so well. Culkin, who would go on to win the Oscar for Best Supporting Actor, got some mild criticism for simply "playing himself," but the upshot is that, truly, the role of Benji could have only been played by Kieran, who injects the more dynamic of the two main characters with so much heart, hurt, hilarity and neuroticism that he breaks and heals your heart all in one.
Women Talking (2022)
Listen, we love a movie title that cuts to the chase. It’s not an exaggeration to say “women talking” is…pretty much all that happens in this movie. And yet? It’s riveting. There’s a reason Sarah Polley won the Oscar for her screenplay; every word in every conversation feels so necessary and deliberately chosen. Buoyed by terrific acting performances across the ensemble cast, Women Talking is hard-hitting, poignant, devastating, and, somehow, imbued with real warmth and tenderness.
Conclave (2024)
From Women Talking, to a movie that could aptly be named "Men Talking." An intricate look at the mechanisms and internal politics of papal elections. A masterclass in gossipy men talking strategy in hushed voices in dark rooms, helmed by great acting performances. Even before it revealed its startling timeliness with the quick passing of Pope Francis (and ensuing actual, real-life conclave, the first of its kind in well over a decade), I loved so much about this movie. The wardrobe! The cinematography! The score! The hushed politicking! The crises of faith! Ralph Fiennes in fine form!
Flow (2024)
Flow earned two Academy Award nominations this year, including a nod for Best International Feature, and when it took home Best Animated Feature, became Latvia's first-ever Oscar winner, setting off a heroes' reception in the small Eastern European country. Eschewing any spoken lines for a film consisting entirely of real-life animal sounds, it plays like Life of Pi meets an episode of Planet Earth. One of the most innovative animated films I've ever seen, and whether this was filmmaker Gints Zilbalodis's full intent or not, couldn't help but see a timely and poignant refugee story in the animals' odyssey.
Oppenheimer (2023)
The less commercially-successful but more critically-acclaimed half of 2023's "Barbenheimer." This 3+ hour epic, adapted from the 2005 biography American Prometheus, cleaned up in the major categories at the ensuing Oscars, including handing beloved director Christopher Nolan his first-ever trophy for both Best Director and Best Picture. It is, of course, the story of renowned scientist J. Robert Oppenheimer helming the team that founded the deadliest weapon in recorded human history, but it's too reductive to simply term this a "biopic." There is a good amount of biographical exposition, of course, but it's as much if not more so a character study of a brilliant man with multiple moral failings despite an intact ethical compass. The vast majority of the action in the film centers, across two timelines, on the political pressure at the time to develop the bomb, and the political fallout, years later, of the titular character's own political beliefs and personal regrets. That, at 180 minutes even, Oppenheimer doesn't seem to drag or feel bloated in any way is an enormous credit to Nolan and the acting performances, in particular the masterclass from lead Cillian Murphy. There are flaws in this film-- how could there not be? --but it's an unbelievable acheivement, and a shocking but fully deserved enormous box office success.
Dune (2021)
Dune, based off Frank Herbert's 1965 novel, takes place in the distant future on a distant planet. The complex geopolitics of the time the action occurs in, as well as the intricate world-building Herbert did in the book, led many to assert that his novel would be difficult to adapt into a film. The first attempt at this, in the form of David Lynch's 1984 adaptation, seemed to support this hypothesis, as the film was widely panned by critics despite the acclaim of the director and the cast. This latest adaptation, from Denis Villenueve, has intentionally split into three parts, and perhaps in part because of this, has been considerably better received, at least through its first two installments. Similarly to Peter Jackson's Lord ofhte Rings trilogy that defined the 2000s, that both Dune and Dune: Part Two are even cohesive films is a triumph in itself, but that they're actually really damn good is magical. Thanks to both not coming on the heels of a pandemic and the buzz generated by its predecessor, 2024's Dune: Part Two was the considerably bigger and more successful chapter thus far, but as a standalone film, I remain slightly partial to the original. 2021's Dune first blew my mind with the visual feast that was the planet Arrakis, and felt-- and still feels --so lush with rich story and character development.
Palm Springs (2020)
I'll confess, there's a strong nostalgia pull with this one. Released in the heart of COVID-19, Palm Springs marked the first new release I had seen in an eternity, and I have an incredibly fond memory of getting to watch it with my little brother in the midst of quarantining with family in South Carolina. Turns out, a rom-com about accidentally getting sucked into a never-ending time loop was the perfect quarantine film! Lest you think this movie was a success simply due to its circumstances, though, I have rewatched it multiple times since and have been both delighted and relieved to find it really is as good as I remember. It owes its central conceit to Groundhog Day, yes, as does virtually any timeloop movie, but it's still wholly original, and consistently laugh-out-loud hilarious. What's more, the chemistry between Andy Samberg and Cristin Milioti is real, and that plus a hysterical supporting turn from J.K. Simmons injects real heart into this audacious, silly rom-com that could.
No Other Land (2024)
The reigning Oscar winner for Best Documentary Feature was unlike just about any documentary I've seen; it hardly has much of a narrative arc. It's not investigative journalism, necessarily. It's not "found footage," although it perhaps most closely resembles this form, stylistically. It's simply the incredible story of a young, strong Palestinian man who thinks to film the gradual and never-ending destruction of his community, and of a sympathetic Israeli partner of about the same age, who aids and abets in getting the story as far and wide as possible. It's simply a window into a reality that so few West of Palestine see, and that frankly, we all need to see. For as heavy and tragic as it is, there are more than few moments of real beauty, and triumph of the human spirit. It's such an arresting and gut-wrenching work that deserves to be seen much farther and wider than its extremely-limited release in the Western world has allowed of it. Free Palestine and their resilient people.
The Zone of Interest (2023)
Another in the "I've never seen anything like this" category. And, as supported by Jonathan Glazer's incredibly bold Oscars speech for Best International Feature, a film that shares a not-insignificant thematic parallel to No Other Land. I'll confess that my initial reaction when credits rolled on my first viewing of zone of Interest was "...huh." It is after all, by design, a movie about not much at all. But the effectiveness of its devastating simplicity wormed its way into my brain for days, weeks, even months after. I can't say it's a film I'm eager to return to, but it is one that I am eager for everyone to see. It's an awfully audacious thing to make a "slice of life" movie about the Nazi commander of a concentration camp and his family, but Glazer manages to do so brilliantly, yielding a film unlike anything I've ever seen, and a story that should remind us what "never again" truly means.
Anatomy of a Fall (2023)
I'm not sure which is craziest, that the same calendar year gave us two of the greatest foreign films in recent memory, that said foreign films were the two best of an unbelievably brilliant year in cinema, or that both movies (one a British-Polish production, one French) starred the same lead actress. Both eventual Oscar winner Emma Stone and awards favorite Lilly Gladstone certainly deserved their flowers for their performances in 2023 as well, but for my money Sandra Hüller was robbed of an Academy Award for her performance in this film specifically. Hüller drives the pulsating whodunit with an emotionally restrained, layered, and mysterious portrayal of Sandra Voyter, a true-crime novelist accused of killing her husband. The (Oscar-winning) screenplay is absolutely airtight, expertly setting the tension and pulling our hearts and minds in every which direction. Worth note is that it's also an example of both one of the best child acting performances and one of the best animal acting performances-- Messi the dog!!! --in recent memory.
Sound of Metal (2020)
The only movie from Hollywood's COVID year that truly felt like a timeless standout to me (well, apart from Palm Springs, of course). Sound of Metal tells the fictional but entirely real story of a heavy metal drummer who unexpectedly and rapidly begins losing his hearing. It's a human tale, one about grief and acceptance, and a more in-depth and profound look at the deaf community than we're used to seeing in the movies. It's just an achingly good film, with so many moments that grow and shatter your heart all in one. I have a distinct memory of watching it for the very first time, and arriving at a scene that led me to think "if they end it right here, it would be a perfect ending for a perfect little movie"-- and just then, lo and behold, credits began to roll. Also, for as much as that year's Best Actor race will be remembered for the shocking-- and to many, infuriating -- decision to award Anthony Hopkins over the recently deceased Chadwick Boseman, spare a thought for the actual best acting performance of that year. Riz Ahmed was nothing short of phenomenal as the proud, talented but deeply broken Ruben, in all parts of his journey with grappling with his new reality.
The Banshees of Inisherin (2022)
I did not expect movies about a rift in male friendship to bookend this Top 20 list, but here we are. I think it's fair to ask if Martin McDonagh's 2022 film would have instantly lodged itself among my personal favorites if I had not watched it mere weeks removed from my maiden voyage to Ireland, in which I immediately fell in love with the beautiful country and their people's strong and gentle spirit and acerbic wit. However, I have no doubt that its quality would have floored me no matter what time and place in my life it found me. McDonagh, a playwright in addition to screenwriter, has proven himself to be one of the sharpest writers of the 21st century, and his direction is brilliant as well in this simple, hilarious, heartwrenching dramedy. Every single acting performance from the cast-- really, every single one -- is note-perfect; longtime buddies and sparring partners Colin Farrell and Brendan Gleeson deserved every amount of acclaim they received and more, but flowers also are in order for Barry Keoghan's tremendous turn as the poor fool Dominic and Kerry Condon's masterful work as the caring but firm and forthright Siobhán. This movie is as Irish as they come: sweet, sad, wistful, uproarious, insightful, and tinged with music, mystics, and the spirits of both contentment and rebellion.
For all you casual-to-severe film nuts, I recently left the Stone Age and finally got on Letterboxd! If you're a Boxer (unclear to me whether that identifier is a thing, I'll report back), feel free to give me a follow for more compilations like this and searing hot takes!
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