High quality older movies are hard to find across most streaming services. Titles more than a decade old are largely buried under noisy home pages and poor algorithmic recommendations. Even specific searches for a title, actor, or director often give disappointing results.
When we lose cinema’s past greats, I worry we’re losing a treasure trove of films that could appeal to potential movie lovers. Without them, many view movies only as modern blockbuster franchises, limiting their interest to occasional trips to the multiplex.
Older movies expand our perspective through the lens of different time periods and creative teams. Many remain exceptional highlights of genre or showcase remarkable performances. Mainstream studio releases from decades ago regularly featured original, non-franchise stories across a range of genres. Genres that were once commonplace — romantic comedies, courtroom dramas, adult-oriented thrillers — rarely get much exposure given today’s blockbuster-dominated theaters. Ultimately, a richer back catalog encourages interest in the medium.
Movies using unorthodox aspect ratios like 4:3 and 1.66:1 have surged in recent years. Notably, this trend has grown beyond arthouse and festival circuits into mainstream releases like Longlegs, Maestro, and The Holdovers.
For the right movie, boxier ratios convey intimacy, making the shift both welcome and long overdue. The narrower and taller frame mutes the impact of landscapes, moving action, and large ensembles of actors. Characters take center stage, and this focus can make them loom larger than life. This approach harkens back to the classic 1.5:1 aspect ratio of 35mm photography, a format especially flattering for portraiture and full body shots. As director Andrea Arnold notes, who has favored the 4:3 ratio for her films, people are “not small in the middle of something.”
It’s understandable that several of my favorite recent films using 4:3 or 1.66:1 feature humble, low key character studies. For example, Perfect Days follows the routines of a toilet cleaner in Tokyo. The Holdovers presents a holiday-set chamber piece featuring a college professor, a few of students, and a school cook. All We Imagine As Light centers on the lives of two nurses in Mumbai.
But a shakeup in aspect ratio benefits more than small scale stories; it’s also an effective visual signifier of history. The 4:3 ratio originated in television and early studio films like Casablanca and The Third Man. When Osgood Perkins shoots Longlegs in 2:39 for present day scenes while setting flashbacks in 4:3 with rounded corners, he cleverly nods to seventies and eighties VHS horror. Bradley Cooper’s Maestro captures the Leonard Bernstein’s early days in 4:3 and black and white, matching the cinematography of the era.
Every year people talk about the gap between movies that garner big box office returns (e.g., Deadpool & Wolverine, Inside Out 2) and those that win awards with smaller, more cineaste audiences (e.g., Anora, The Brutalist). Those in the former category are practically everywhere, while many would be moviegoers have never even heard of the latter.
Are movies just becoming less mainstream? Is it an art form in cultural decline in favor of TV, music, gaming, and other forms of entertainment?
Box office and moviegoing habits point in this direction. Most people are heading out to theaters and splurging on PVOD less often, focusing mostly on huge blockbuster “events”. The rest of their free time goes elsewhere. If a movie doesn’t end up on their streaming service of choice, it ceases to exist.
I’ll never forget my first David Lynch movie and the one time I saw the visionary director in person.
Like many other budding teenage cinephiles, I was in a phase where I was actively seeking out “edgy” and “messed up” movies. It was the mid nineties, and I was on a tear: Pulp Fiction, Reservoir Dogs, unrated cuts of Natural Born Killers, Scarface, and RoboCop. A friend recommended Blue Velvet as “dark shit”, so I rented it on VHS.
The film’s Rockwellian intro left me a little baffled. White picket fences, red roses, blue sky, fireman waving in slow motion — this was a dark film? But then a man watering the lawn had a stroke and fell to the ground. A nearby child looked confused by what was happening. A dog growled in slow motion as the camera pushed into the grass and the sound gave way to bugs gnawing and one of Lynch’s trademark drones. The transition from idyllic suburbia to dread piqued my interest. Lynch’s direction left me unsettled, even though nothing on screen was as explicit as the many other ultra violent movies I had watched prior.
While their aesthetic and thematic elements differ, small scale, character-driven drama ties together most of my top ten this year. It’s a mostly international list, with only three of my ten picks from American directors, and majority set beyond US borders. I’m unsure if these commonalities reflect the recent guild strikes, my shifting tastes away from big studio offerings, or just random happenstance of what stood out this year, but it’s a trend I wouldn’t be shocked to see continue into 2025.
My list is in alphabetical order; the wide range of genres and subject matter makes pitting individual choices head to head too challenging. While mood and time available may dictate which among the below I revisit, I’d still highly recommend all of them.
After weeks of research and anecdotal experience navigating local multiplexes, it’s painfully clear that small movies have largely disappeared from theaters. If you enjoy original, small, or otherwise offbeat movies that don’t follow the franchise IP or horror templates, you’ll likely be watching them at home.
The clearest evidence of this phenomenon comes from analyzing global box office returns against budget, for which the traditional industry rule is to aim for a worldwide box office of two to 2.5 times budget to ensure profitability. I focused my research on small to medium budget movies ranging from under 10 to 50 million.
The success stories are almost always horror movies that open wide and easily recoup their budget by opening weekend. MaXXXine took a 1 million budget and lukewarm critical reviews yet still made 22 million in theaters. Longlegs was made for under 10 million and generated an astonishing 109 million at the box office. A 2024 remake of Speak No Evil has made 76 million worldwide against a budget of 15 million.
There’s never been a larger concentration of movies available. Paradoxically, it’s often hard to actually find something you want to watch. The enshittification of streaming is the most prominent obstacle; movies disappear without notice, price hikes occur regularly, and engagement tactics prioritize the bottom line over your satisfaction.
One of the best ways to navigate such a challenging landscape is a bit of introspection. Spend a few minutes to capture why you liked a movie, and you’ll likely find the long term quality of what you watch next will improve.
While introspective notetaking at first glance sounds like lightweight film criticism, it’s actually about saving you time and money. Five minutes now could save you two hours and twenty bucks later. Practically anyone, from home theater cineastes to casual watchers, will benefit by the practice.
The more movies I watch, the greater my appreciation for films that reach a pinnacle of what the medium can achieve, even with noticeable weaknesses. These flawed masterpieces are a rare phenomenon, so count me surprised to see two examples – Queer and The Brutalist – a day apart from each other at TIFF this year.
The films have widely different aims. Queer is a languorous, trippy chamber piece drama centered on one lonely person. The Brutalist is an epic, propulsive immigrant story tackling various American thematic elements, from capitalism to art, racism to xenophobia. However, each movie has parallel strengths and weaknesses. Both films have extraordinary acting and technical underpinnings, underscored by visionary directors. Yet each film’s ambition bumps into unsatisfying final acts that wrap up their stories on a sour note.
Queer generates a sense of place that’s unlike any other movie I’ve seen, effectively Edward Hopper on acid. Most of the story takes place in 1950s Mexico City, but the setting has a slippery, hard to pin down aesthetic that splits the difference between realism and fantasy to land on some trippy, hyperreal midpoint. Several elements, like the outfits and acting mannerisms, are grounded and period-appropriate, but they are smashed against an overly saturated color grading with a production design and lighting setup that doesn’t disguise an artificial set. The mix of new and old, natural and hyperreal, extends to the soundscape with an anachronistic soundtrack (e.g., Prince, New Order) and a Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross score that mixes woodwinds with synths, creating an enveloping sense of longing. Watching a well dressed, drunk William Lee (Daniel Craig) stumble down the street as Nirvana’s “Come as You Are” blares in the background is quite the experience.
The Toronto International Film Festival (TIFF) plays over 200 films across 18 theaters for eleven days. Such dizzying variety provides countless options for film lovers, but unless you happen to be a high-tier TIFF member or are otherwise very lucky, there’s a strong chance at least one from your wishlist is “off sale,” meaning there aren’t any tickets currently available.
But don’t give up; there’s a chance you’ll be able to get tickets later for that movie mid-festival, even on the day of the screening. If you check periodically on Ticketmaster, new inventory can free up alongside reasonably priced resale tickets. Alternatively, you can try rushing a screening, queueing up at a special rush line for a chance to buy tickets based on any remaining empty seats in the cinema around showtime.
As someone who’s attended TIFF for multiple years, I’ve had a reasonably decent success rate acquiring tickets through rushing and last minute Ticketmaster buys. Both methods form the majority of what I watch at TIFF each year. Certain strategies can dramatically increase your odds of success.
Watching Apple gate their movies so heavily behind their streaming service is a bummer. Reports suggest Apple Original Films is abandoning wide theatrical distribution in favor of negligible theatrical qualifying runs before appearing on Apple TV+. If closing the door on theaters wasn’t enough, Apple has never released Blu-rays for any of their films, and most aren’t available for rental or even digital purchase. Relegated away from most common distribution platforms to a sixth place streaming service, far fewer people will ever watch Apple-financed films.
Some might question if that’s a real loss given Apple’s iffy track record across critical pans and financial flops like Argylle and Ghosted. But I give credit to Apple as a financier behind top tier talent crafting original stories. It’s a strategy once commonplace in the early 2000s and earlier, but an anomaly in today’s four quadrant IP landscape.