Films that define the 2020s

Now that we’re halfway through the 2020s, I’ve been thinking about which films will be regarded as the best of the decade many years from now. To stand out among tens of thousands of movies requires widespread critical appreciation that deepens over the years, along with enough originality in a film’s plotting or construction to keep it to memorable decades later.

Using that logic for the 2010s, I’d include films like Children of Men, Mad Max: Fury Road, Phantom Thread, The Social Network, and The Tree of Life. Each movie is broadly appreciated today, regardless of how many wins it received from various critics groups and craft guilds they received at the time. Each also stands out for its bold, original filmmaking, even if the film’s distinctiveness may not be apparent at first glance.

Take Phantom Thread, which has the outward appearance of a stately, serious period piece. But Paul Thomas Anderson injects enough humor and cattiness to make the picture play like a romantic comedy. He adds modernist flourishes like coded S&M and a partner who grows from muse to equal.

We undervalue how challenging it is to be both critically lauded and steadfastly original. Most movies that regularly crowd top ten lists and win Oscars succeed in one area but not both.

In particular, I expect many films from the last five years to retain their originality, but fall in critical assessment over time. Best Picture Oscar winner Coda already feels relegated to a perfectly fine Sundance drama whose feel-good messaging seemed tailor made for a pandemic-bound 2021 audience. Everything Everywhere All at Once’s zany humor and structure will retain its vocal defenders. The film made a huge amount of money and put the Daniels on the map. Still, the many detractors who find Everything’s multiverse maximalism exhausting may grow over the years.

Others will stand out as critical juggernauts, but hew too closely to other similar films from in the same genre, dulling their long term impact. Oppenheimer is unquestionably Christopher Nolan’s most complex, critically acclaimed work. But by 2030 I suspect it will look like another historical biopic, albeit one with Nolan’s preoccupations with time structure and large film formats. 2025 Best Picture winner Anora is a lovely blend of madcap comedy and class-conscious drama. But it’s also a small scale movie that blends with Sean Baker’s other sex worker tinged ensemble pieces like The Florida Project and Red Rocket.

What follows are seven films released from 2020 through 2024 that I see as having the best chance of going the distance.

The Brutalist

Brady Corbet’s three and a half hour epic on the American immigrant experience feels one of a kind. It blends New Hollywood aesthetics with writing and acting influenced by modern European arthouse films. Many critics had issues with the film’s back half — particularly Felicity Jones’ acting and the bluntness of the screenplay. However, the sheer ambition of this film, created under a micro budget ($10 million, 34 day shoot) could ensure its legacy years from now.

Sweeping, widescreen VistaVision cinematography and a yearning, percussive score round out the package. Also, long after the public moves on from Adrien Brody’s and Guy Pearce’s critical reevaluation, I think we’ll remember their lived-in performances as a fascinating distillation of the conflict between artist and benefactor.

Drive My Car

A three hour, slow paced Japanese melodrama may not sound like the kind of picture to receive universal acclaim. Yet Ryūsuke Hamaguchi’s masterwork became only one of seven films, and the first in a non-English language, to ever win Best Picture from all three major US critics groups (LAFCA, NYFCC, NSFC). Furthermore, aside from Parasite, it’s the most universally revered Best International Feature Oscar winner from the past decade.

If critical plaudits aren’t enough to secure its place in history, the universality and timelessness of its story should seal the deal. Processing grief and tragedy is a fundamental human condition, and how we push through it defines us. Art is a common coping mechanism, and Drive My Car’s exploration of the subject is deeply moving. Its visual iconography of a cherry red Saab 900 blasting through the Japanese wilderness leaves an indelible image.

Dune: Part Two

Not every critic has fully warmed to Denis Villeneuve’s epic sci-fi quest last year, and Dune: Part Two ended up largely shut out of critical award wins outside of sound and visual effects. Yet, as with The Brutalist, sheer ambition will take this movie far; it’s been decades since we’ve seen such distinctive fantasy-inspired science fiction. Even for those less enamored with Timothée Chalamet’s Paul or the Frank Herbert adaptation are won over by the technical fundamentals. The eye-catching costumes by Jacqueline West and Greig Fraser’s epic, IMAX 65mm cinematography are astounding.

Admittedly, the upcoming Dune Messiah could shake up the critical evaluation of all Dune films before it. However, I predict Part Two will live on as the Empire Strikes Back of the Dune trilogy — the most fully realized and well received of the group, without obligations for major character introductions or wrapping up larger story arcs.

Killers of the Flower Moon

Martin Scorsese’s legendary reputation can trap his contemporary movies like Killers of the Flower Moon in a critical bind. Many see Scorsese’s artistic plateau running from the mid-seventies (Taxi Driver) to 1990 (Goodfellas). This colors our perspective on everything he’s worked on since. The notion that the director’s best years are decades behind him can give his weakest work a pass (Hugo, The Aviator, Gangs of New York) but also can unfairly hamper more recent groundbreaking efforts.

I see Killers as a rare exception to the rule, a movie that has the most praise of any Scorsese picture from major critical groups and guilds in over twenty years. Several critics, like Manohla Dargis of The New York Times, argue it’s one of Scorsese’s best ever. While crime is central to the film’s plotting, the 1920s frontier setting makes it feel more like an riff on a Western like The Searchers than Scorsese’s many modern set gangster movies.

The high budget and Jack Fisk’s sweeping, large scale production design sets the film apart from Scorsese’s other historical dramas (e.g., The Age of Innocence, Kundun, Silence). Also, in a filmography overwhelmingly focused on men, Killers is the rare Scorsese film with a woman of largely equal stature and importance to the men. Lily Gladstone’s performance is widely regarded as a highlight of the film.

Nickel Boys

Writer-director RaMell Ross somehow constructed a harrowing, engaging story on America’s racial past shot almost entirely from the first person point of view. It’s a remarkable accomplishment; POV shots are sparingly used in narrative features, but somehow Ross keeps the creative gamble thought provoking, grounded, and deeply humanist for the film’s 140 minute runtime. Something as simple as a hug can feel transformative in first person. It’s also the stylistic flourish that will make Nickel Boys stand out against countless other films that touch on racism in the Deep South.

Ross is notably a first time feature director behind a low-key, small budget drama with the kind of experimental hook that could repel certain critics. But as proof of the Nickel Boys’ broad critical recognition, Ross won Best Director from many critics’ bodies including the DGA, NYFCC, the Gotham Awards, Chicago Film Critics and Toronto Film Critics.

Admittedly, the biggest danger to Nickel Boys’ legacy is how few have actually seen it. Thanks to Amazon MGM botching the film’s marketing and theatrical distribution, Nickel Boys will remain the least widely seen of all the films I’m including on this list. Yet its deeply original, almost avant-garde approach to filmmaking should continue to resonate a decade from now.

Tár

At face value, Tár tells a story of a celebrated conductor rocked by scandal. Early reports suggested it was an austere arthouse spin on “cancel culture.” But as more critics warmed to writer-director-producer Todd Field’s vision, it became obvious the movie offers far more nuance and depth. What could have been generic biopic Oscar bait proves to be an ambitious and daring picture.

Lydia Tár as a character is abusive and controlling in her rise to the top, but Field also examines an audience’s relationship to powerful artists, the fine line between influence and manipulation, and when self importance bleeds into guilt and delusion. At its heart, before the scandal kicks in, it’s also a sprawling character study on how someone maintains their reputation as a rarified capital-A artist through self-creation and self mythologizing.

Tár is also difficult to pin down, mixing in surreal elements like ghosts, a screaming woman in a park, and dream sequences. The film’s nuance, unique blend of genres, and widespread critical acclaim will help with its legacy. Yet Cate Blanchett’s performance as the film’s titular lead is what will seal Tár’s stature over the long run, elevating the movie from a potential cult favorite to widespread respect. Blanchett is already widely regarded as one of the best actors of her generation, but she’s next level here.

The Zone of Interest

There have been many movies on World War II and the Holocaust. Yet none upend conventional narrative and aesthetic expectations the way The Zone of Interest does. Jonathan Glazer and his crew crafted an intentionally cold, dispassionate movie focusing on the commandant of Auschwitz and his family living next door to the camp. The movie never depicts the horrors of mass murder onscreen, yet they remain omnipresent as a sonic hellscape of gunshots and screams in the background.

Lukasz Zal’s cinematography is almost entirely composed of unadorned hidden camera footage. The screenplay dares to depict the Nazis as “relatable” people (e.g., work trips to move up the corporate ladder, big dog and horse lovers) who are able to numb themselves enough to treat their victims as statistics.

The net effect makes Zone more “palatable” on its surface. However, in execution, it’s more disturbing and chilling than many other more directly explicit Holocaust movies. Like with Nickel Boys on this list, the film’s uncompromising arthouse flourishes will confound some, but also cement the film’s originality years from now. Its wins for numerous international feature and directing awards show that even those who find Zone’s vision challenging still recognize its greatness.