I wouldn't call 2024 a good year in most respects, though I suspect it'll age better than the next few. It was a particularly weird year for movies - studio releases were sparse due to the effects of last year's strike, but rather than create openings for outside-the-box projects to shine, the box office top 10 list was dominated by franchise installments. There was no equivalent to Barbenheimer this year, and Disney took the top two spots with a great sequel to one of their animated films and a franchise superhero flick exemplifying the word "mediocrity."
I saw both of those, though there are quite a few in the top 10 I didn't get to. Beyond that, this has been a light year for me, movie-wise. I haven't really had the time to watch as many movies or shows as I'd have liked throughout. Plus, this year's releases have been somewhat back heavy, so my annual Christmas project delayed me from catching up on numerous things on my watchlist.
But I still managed to see a decent amount, most of which was at least pretty good (I saw plenty of bad stuff as well, but the bulk of that wasn't released in 2024, and therefore falls outside the range of this exercise). Though "good" and "bad" aren't really what this is about, either: as a reminder, this is ranked from my least favorite to most favorite. While there's presumably some overlap between what I like and consider good, it's far from a one-to-one relationship.
Definitely keep that in mind when you get to the #1 spot.
The rules, arbitrary as they might be, are that movies qualify if their US release was in 2024 (you'll see a handful that are technically 2023 movies but were only available overseas or in festivals). TV seasons count if their last episode aired in 2024 (that one's proving to be a problem, but I haven't managed to come up with a better way of doing this).
NOT RANKED: She is Conann
I considered placing this dead last. In a sense, it was the movie I watched this year I enjoyed the least. Hell, it's one of the most unpleasant, disturbing things I've seen in my entire life, which...
Okay, I'm still kind of timid in some respects, so that's not saying all that much. I'd heard this pushed some boundaries, but I naively assumed the sword & sorcery elements would nullify whatever gore was in this. But this thing ain't sword & sorcery. This is post-structural nightmare fuel defying conventional genre, and gore should have been the least of my worries.
I was uneasy watching this. Not so uneasy I couldn't finish; I wasn't physically ill or anything, and I was oddly captivated by the whole thing, but I very much did not enjoy it. But even with all the caveats around this being a subjective list, I can't bring myself to place this last. It's supposed to be unpleasant. It's supposed to challenge the viewer. It's supposed to disgust us and - if we like Conan - I'm pretty sure it's supposed to insult us.
In that respect, I kind of think this is a masterpiece. Visually, it's genius, even if it's the sort of genius I never want to watch again. It's repulsive art, and that deserves praise. Hell, it might be one of the better movies I saw this year.
Also, as I said a moment ago, I was captivated. This movie was many things, but it sure as hell wasn't dull. It elicited emotion masterfully. But I really disliked the experience and have no desire to revisit it.
If you're reading this and wondering whether you might want to give this one a shot, here's my advice: there's a 2021 body horror movie called, "Titane." Watch that first, then when you're done tell yourself the guy who was disgusted by She is Conann liked Titane. Then proceed accordingly.
THE RANKING
54. Joker: Folie à Deux
Keep in mind, this is a ranking based on preference, not quality. If I'd been doing this from worst to best, this would swap places with Madame Web and only be the second worst movie I saw this year. But Madame Web had a sort of energetic badness that was weirdly fun to watch as it all unraveled into nonsense. Joker: Folie à Deux just got more or more boring as it went.
The first third wasn't so bad. It was bad, mind you. But not so bad. For a while I was really convinced I was going to say I liked this better than its predecessor. But, for all its faults, the 2019 movie was nowhere near this boring. Also, it was anchored by a fantastic performance from Phoenix. That performance was largely wasted, granted, but it was there. This time... not so much.
I don't think it's Phoenix's fault - this script just didn't have the same interest in building up a character. Instead, Folie à Deux is mostly interested in wedging in musical numbers. Astonishingly bad, profoundly dull musical numbers that don't move the story forward or offer any kind of depth to the characters or themes.
There are a couple cool sets, I guess. The cinematography is mostly pretty good. But... Jesus... what a slog.
53. Madame Web
Madame Web's villain spends the movie trying to escape fate, only to discover that his actions have merely brought him to the end he was trying to outrun. In the same vein, the movie appears to have been produced with the goal of not being another Morbius, as the tone and style are virtually the opposite of that film's. And yet, in the end, whatever Sony's executives said and did to avoid another Morbius resulted in just that.
On some level, I can respect at least some of what they were trying to do here. The movie's stylized with comic sensibilities: between that and the setting, I'm guessing they wanted to evoke the Raimi Spider-Man movies. Or perhaps the director was inspired by the 2002 Birds of Prey series the movie seems to homage in its closing minutes. Honestly I found myself thinking of that show quite a bit earlier: this looks a lot like a CW show from that era.
That isn't a good thing.
Not a lot about Madame Web is, really. While I respect what they were going for, it fails on levels I've rarely encountered in movies with this kind of budget. You can make out the edges of the style they were influenced by, but it's too subdued to convey the campy fun that can let that style work. Lines of dialogue that are meant to be funny (I think) instead just linger awkwardly.
And worst of all, the action utterly fails to deliver on the promise of a precog battling an evil Spider-Man, a premise I actually think could have had quite a bit of potential in the right hands. But the movie really feels as though it's made by people who don't understand the genre elements they're playing with, and consequently we're not even given sequences of the character learning from failed timelines in order to create one in which she wins. That's the bare minimum you should get from putting these powers onscreen - this is failing on a basic "show don't tell" level.
Setting all that aside does this no favors: if anything, its characters and their relationships fare even worse. None of these people behave rationally, and the closest this comes to character development is having various characters repeat cliched behavior ad nauseum.
It's all astonishingly bad, to the point that, even after months of hearing how bad this was, I was left dumbfounded by the realization that the reviews weren't exaggerated or unfair: this really is as awful as you've heard. Just a pointless, boring, emotionally empty attempt at building out a cinematic sub-universe no one asked for.
52. Lisa Frankenstein
Lisa Frankenstein has two central issues which, when compounded, prevent the film from working. First, the movie either lacks or fails to convey a point. I'm using a fairly broad definition of "point" here: no strong theme comes through, it doesn't really satirize culture in a way that has traction, and the characters aren't likeable or interesting enough to stand on their own. Simply put, outside a surface-level homage to '80s goth movies, it wasn't clear to me what this was trying to do. While I can't discount the possibility I just failed to "get it," the movie's lackluster critical response makes me suspect this is a pretty common response. The movie's fans seem to cite its design and comedy style, which....
Okay, the design is pretty great, no question there. The sets, costuming, and perhaps most importantly lighting are all on point, and - depending on how invested you are with the look - that might even be enough to warrant checking this out. It wasn't enough for me, however, and the reason mainly boils down to the aforementioned comedy.
To be fair, this has some great jokes and standout moments. But I didn't find it consistently funny enough to be able to ignore just how empty the whole thing left me feeling. That's the other central issue - it's just not funny or entertaining enough to work in spite of its lack of substance. And it really needs one or the other: either it needs to feel meaningful, or it needs to be fun.
Style alone can only take it so far.
It's probably my fault for hoping for more.
But as soon as I realized I was watching a Hallmark Christmas movie romcom set in Iceland incorporating elements of pulp adventure with a premise centered around the Yule Lads, I allowed myself to get excited. I didn't even need it to be good - fun and interesting would be enough.
And, to be fair, aspects were. The use of Icelandic actors and locations was a great start, and there were some fun moments. However the movie failed completely to capitalize on the interesting possibilities and tones offered by its genre. There's no suspense or excitement here - not even an attempt.
I like that Hallmark is trying new things. I just really need them to try a little harder.
50. Carnage for Christmas
I almost put this in the "not ranked" section, because I feel a little bad comparing an independent production made by a 20-year-old with films with much higher budgets. And, to be clear, Carnage for Christmas displays more innovation and skill than a number of movies placing much higher on this list, to say nothing of actually having a reason to exist that's not tied to a corporate earnings report. The fact this is this low isn't a reflection of the talent involved, only the realities of low-budget filmmaking. The fact it beats out a few major productions, on the other hand, is incredible and indicates writer/director Alice Maio Mackay is probably going to become a household name sooner or later.
But like it or not, money (or more specifically production value) counts. On top of that, this really isn't my favorite genre: there are slashers I like, but it takes a lot to win me over. This comes close at times with its effective use of heavily stylized lighting, but at the end of the day I found the cheap sets a little too distracting and the overly complex storyline unsatisfying.
At the end of this movie I was left extremely impressed with Mackay but not so much with the film.
49. Sugarplummed
This Hallmark holiday spoof has a strong start but fizzles out about halfway through. What's supposed to be a sendup of Hallmark tropes and cliches devolves into one itself, then even seems to celebrate that with a self-serving finale suggesting the corporation is itself a meaningful Christmas tradition.
And maybe it is, but for fuck's sake they shouldn't put it in their movies (sorry for the cursing, but watching Hallmark movies leaves you hungry for that kind of language).
I liked a lot of the humor in the first half. This thing really does have fun with its premise for a while, and Janel Parrish seems to be having the time of her life channeling Amy Adams from Enchanted. I also appreciated seeing one of these where the central relationship is a friendship between two women, rather than the usual romance. But even during the good parts, there are moments where this can't escape the Hallmark curse: almost from the start this embraces the Christmas movie cliche where the lead is explicitly fixated on giving her family a perfect Christmas. I didn't like it when Clark Griswold learned his lesson in 1989, I haven't liked it in the Christmas Vacation knockoffs through the '90s and '00s, and I certainly don't like that it's become a go-to motivation for Hallmark and its imitators now.
Just so we're clear, the point of a character flaw is for the audience to identify with it. Taking Christmas too seriously would be something most everyone would understand. Being fixated on making Christmas perfect... not so much. Dial this back, Hallmark.
I could have let that slide if the movie had maintained its comedic sensibilities and delivered something consistently fun, but by the halfway mark the fun has basically dissipated, leaving us with a generic second half. That's not the worst thing in the world, mind you - when Hallmark is on point, they're fine, and this certainly averaged out to "fine."
This was not a good movie.
Conceptually, I really like what this movie is doing. Drawing inspiration from silent comedies (in particular I'm reminded of Charlie Chaplin's The Gold Rush), as well as live-action kid's shows, classic Warner Bros cartoons, and '80s video games, they've created something unique while simultaneously exploring connections and similarities between these mediums, genres, and styles. It's certainly fascinating as an experiment and a lot smarter than the intentionally juvenile humor suggests.
46. An Almost Christmas Story
I have complicated feelings about David Lowery's Christmas special. Honestly, "complicated feelings" tends to describe my reaction to Lowery's work in general, with the addendum my opinions almost always land on the "liked or loved it" end of the spectrum, despite a handful of reservations. This time is different, though that's less a reflection of the special's quality than my background and interests.
If I was only rating the first half, this would be ranked quite a bit higher, but this high concept Christmas romcom runs out of steam and plot around the halfway mark. As the movie downshifts and pretends the stakes (which were already pretty low, even by the standards of this subgenre) weren't already mostly resolved, the movie loses its edge.
This is better than it had to be. Hell, it was probably better than it had any right to be, given that it's a Netflix romantic comedy greenlit to capitalize on the inherent absurdity of its premise. But solid writing, direction, and some inspired casting choices resulted in something decent. Not great, mind you - I wouldn't even go all the way to "good" - but decent.
This one suffers a lot from comparisons to its predecessor. The first Adult Swim Yule Log presented the world with a Lynchian horror film hidden inside of what was advertised as and at first appeared to be a literal Yule Log video. Between that outlandish concept and shockingly high quality, the movie felt revolutionary: a fantastic comedy/horror with layered themes that seemed to materialize from nothing.
Was Ghostbusters: Frozen Empire going to be a season-long TV series that got turned into a movie, and they just forgot to restructure the plot? There's around a half-dozen *main* plotlines, and each gets maybe five minutes of screentime between half-hearted comic relief and VFX heavy action set pieces.
I honestly don't know where to put this. The film represents an extremely ambitious exploration of the limits of narrative structure, pointedly establishing potential arcs and abandoning them. It's a movie that delights in setting up Chekhov's guns and pointedly highlighting its decision not to fire them. The film has little resolution in the traditional sense, turning instead to the audience's perception as a source of change and growth. It's a fascinating idea, in the abstract.
40. Echo, Season 1
I'm torn on Echo. There's a lot to like about this show, starting with the fact it actually delivers a superhero who feels unlike the scores of those who came before her. Conceptually, of course, you can see where the show is drawing ideas from Daredevil, but as much as I love Charlie Cox's take on that character, the fact Echo actually cast an actress who communicates through sign and is an amputee kind of makes the Man Without Fear look like a poser. As an action star, Alaqua Cox feels new and authentic, and the show makes good use of her talents.
Where it stumbles is tone and pace. I can't think of another series that seemed this confused as far as whether it was intended for an adult or young audience, featuring bleak, violent sequences that give way to childish sincerity in the last episode.
That sincerity was actually a saving grace, at least as far as I was concerned. While I was rolling my eyes when the show explained the meaning of Echo's name for the third or fourth time, I eventually came around to accept and even embrace the heartfelt love this clearly had for its characters and their background.
I felt less generous towards the pacing. It's not that the series is too long - it's only five episodes. The problem is that Echo isn't plotted right for its length. If they'd had ten episodes instead of five, I think the numerous side stories and minor characters would have worked better. But as is they don't have space to feel flushed out, and several feel like distractions from the more interesting narrative at the series' core. I understand why we needed connections for Maya to care about, but we really didn't need this many.
Still, what works here works really well. I kept thinking of Fast and the Furious while watching, in the way both blend a sort of innocent wonder with action. I enjoyed this one quite a bit, despite aspects that just didn't click with me.
The perfect conclusion to the Fox Marvel legacy. And if you think that's a compliment, you've forgotten most of the Marvel movies Fox produced.
Sort of a mashup of what I assume started as two separate movie scripts: a standalone Mothra flick and the titular Godzilla/Kong team up. Of the two, I preferred the human-centered Mothra story, which is a surprising reaction to one of these. The Godzilla/Kong/Scar King stuff was fun enough, but any sense of scale or grandeur beyond "amped-up music video" was missing. That said, I dug the Lisa Frank infused designs and constant '80s energy driving this. It was neat and fun, no question; for better or worse, it felt like an adventure cartoon in the vein of a Kaiju-fied GI Joe movie, which is hardly a bad thing. But all things considered, this felt kind of trivial and disposable in a way none of its predecessors did.
Usually when I say a movie is half good and half bad, I mean it's got good and bad elements interspersed throughout - in this case, I mean I found the first half a chore to sit through, but the second half was kind of delightful. To be fair, I suspect I'd enjoy the first half at least a little more on rewatch - some of the difference can be attributed to the movie taking its time acclimating the viewer to its tone and style. But even if it (mostly) pulls it off, it's hard to entirely dismiss feeling like you're watching an awkward, trashy flick for forty-five minutes.
Sidenote: I think this is technically the second season of the Tales of the Jedi anthology series released last year, but I'm going to use the title it was released under. There's been so much Disney+ Star Wars over the past few years, it's difficult to figure out how any of it's supposed to be cataloged.
This one was a little frustrating, particularly because I enjoyed it overall and absolutely loved the action scenes. The problem is that only half the movie plays out like an action/revenge flick, with the other half seemingly aiming for a dramatic thriller merging Indian and American action tropes. Or at least I think that's what Patel is aiming for in his directorial debut - honestly, I've only see a handful of actual Indian action movies, so I'm not exactly an expert on the industry. But from my limited experience, elements of Monkey Man echoed aspects of cinema I've seen there that aren't typical in modern US productions, or at least not those taking themselves this seriously. I'm talking about antagonists seemingly motivated by pure evil, political parallels explored textually rather than subtextually, and a wide-ranging tone that ultimately leans towards the dramatic despite an otherwise fun premise.
I'm a bit of an outlier here, but I had a lot of fun with this one. The movie does a good job folding a premise you'd expect to be a bit darker into a family friendly template without losing the sense you were watching something a little edgy, even if the "edge" in question is mostly an illusion. I enjoyed the way the movie's story follows diversions, which are allowed to be a bit weirder than usual.
For better or worse, Frieren struggles to decide where it falls on the scale of offbeat fantasy and high concept genre reinvention, ultimately waffling back and forth. The premise seems to imply the latter, as it more or less proclaims its intent to explore philosophical issues surrounding the ephemeral nature of existence using the lens of high fantasy tropes. Early on, I expected it was going to use its setting without resorting to the genre's usual storylines and cliches. The series more or less promises to be a fantasy series set after the adventure is over.
Taken on its own merits, Furiosa is an emotionally rich post-apocalyptic fairytale with some phenomenal action sequences and awe-inspiring designs. The problem is that it doesn't exist in a vacuum, but rather as a follow-up to one of the best regarded action films of the current millennia. And, as should surprise no one, it doesn't measure up to its predecessor.
Shudder has been getting a lot of mileage out of period horror recently. I'm mostly familiar with their Christmas stuff (The Sacrifice Game, Brooklyn 45, etc.), but this is playing with some similar gimmicks.
On the surface, it's a fantastically dark comedy that ratchets up the tension it builds before (spoiler alert) ending on the most anti-noir note imaginable. Underneath that, it makes for an intriguing meta-textual examination of truth and identity, a point driven home in the tongue and cheek acknowledgement in the end credits. Whichever aspect suits your fancy, you're in for a good time.
My two main takeaways from this are that the show's plot is only tangentially part of the Terminator franchise (to the point I wonder if it started as an unrelated story), and... that it's still probably the best path forward for the Terminator franchise. This is basically an elaborate, ponderous SF story about time travel, temporal wars, and all the elaborate stuff that Terminator movies avoid because it's more complicated than "slasher robot tries to murder someone."
The quality of this series is almost less important than how exciting it is to see something new from the franchise, which is a good thing because said quality is a bit hit-or-miss. That's more true in the first half than the second: this picks up momentum as it goes and builds into something genuinely great by episode 7... before backsliding slightly in the finale. Not too far, fortunately - the eighth installment is still solid - but it's a notable drop from what came directly beforehand.
I'm not saying the ending isn't dumb, because obviously it's a dumb ending. And, yeah, this needed another script revision or four to fix the dialogue. Or maybe four fewer script revisions - sometimes these things start pretty good and get sabotaged by idiot executives with notes. All I know is that wasn't the right number of rewrites, because a lot of that dialogue was NOT GOOD.
Like many in my generation, I consider Batman: The Animated Series (along with its various spinoffs) one of the most influential and best television series of my lifetime. That of course complicates my relationship to this show, which is perhaps best described as an alternate approach to the same underlying idea (being undertaken by one of the original showrunners, no less). The question sort of became where this would fall on the spectrum between existing as an unofficial continuation of the series (such as the almost-but-not-quite-in-continuity movie, Justice League: Crisis on Two Earths) and an entirely new show with a handful of borrowed elements (this could describe virtually every DC animated show and movie since that wasn't overseen by Bruce Timm).
One of the year's biggest surprises, Knuckles is - shockingly - actually pretty good. I should note that I mostly enjoyed the two Sonic movies in spite of themselves, but I'm under no illusions they weren't bad. But this fixes most of the major issues, or at least does so for enough of the combined runtime to feel satisfying (a runtime, I should note, that's more inline with a long movie than a traditional television season, but that feels about right for the story).
A tense, grounded action flick reminiscent of First Blood in both tone and use of police as antagonists, despite being built around a protagonist who's essentially the exact opposite of John Rambo. The movie succeeds thanks to a combination of exceptional direction and an equally exceptional lead performance.
Like the original, this doesn't leave all that much of an impression, but it makes for an enjoyable experience. These movies are mostly exercises in design and tone, coupled with some delightful comedic performances, which is all you can really ask for from this premise. This isn't Burton at his best, but it captures all his whimsy, free from pretense or (as far as I can tell) studio interference. Here's hoping they actually give us a third installment. I had fun with this.
This is one of those movies that forces me to reflect on the semantics behind the term, "favorite." That's not even touching on quality, which I'm already struggling to gauge here - I feel comfortable saying it's a good movie, but I'm hedging on weighing in on just how good.
21. Monarch: Legacy of Monsters, Season 1
If this had been six episodes instead of ten, I think it might have been in competition for the top of my list. As it is, I had a blast, not just seeing these iconic monsters on the small screen but also getting time to explore a world that's had to adapt to their presence. The most memorable moment in the series isn't one where Godzilla appears (though those were great, too) but rather the time he didn't.
My only real complaint is that it felt like the story being told was stretched a little thin. I didn't mind the show holding back its monsters for the first half, but after a while it started feeling like it was spinning its wheels. Which... I mean... that's what it was doing, right? Killing time to meet an arbitrary episode count?
I want to stress this is a nitpick. The show was a joy to watch overall, the characters were fun, and when the series reached points where its budget landed on screen they were breathtaking. This was a great program, and I loved it.
I'd just have loved it more if it had been more concise.
This obviously isn't the best Alien installment. Or the second. Third place is probably out, too, though I bet we all disagree which movie that is.
This sort of genre experiment usually fails because either a lead actor won't commit to the absurd premise, the script isn't good enough, or the director isn't ready... only this time the writing is great, the cast understands the assignment, and first-time director Michael Lukk Litwak is up to the task. I spent the runtime simultaneously enjoying this as a romantic comedy and marveling that - despite all probability - the outlandish story was working.
I'm honestly writing this without checking first: was that ending controversial? It feels like something polarizing. But it also feels inherently Lynchian, which is something the target audience for a film like this might appreciate.
The first installment in this reboot was my second favorite movie of 2021 (at least when I made the list), but I remember thinking I didn't actually care all that much whether the sequel actually materialized. Mainly, I felt like Villeneuve had already given me everything I wanted from the franchise, and a second film wouldn't be an appreciably different experience from rewatching the first one.
The trailers for this really didn't impress me. Until reviews started rolling out, I more or less wrote this off as an early contender for one of the year's worst: just another toy commercial assembled by executives.
Robot Dreams is the sort of family film you can watch with your kids and trust they'll have a fun time while you're emotionally scarred for life. It's beautifully executed with the metaphor and subtext balanced so the experience ages with the viewer.
I suspect a large part of the reason this installment wasn't as well received as the preceding trilogy is the genre (or at least sub-genre) shifts a bit. The movies from Rupert Wyatt and Matt Reeves approached the material from a relatively serious science-fiction point-of-view, while the quasi-reboot feels closer to the pulpy, adventure end of the genre. The difference is admittedly more in flavor than substantive, but this certainly feels more fantastical (plus some aspects of resolution at least imply an element of mysticism).
13, The Imaginary
Gorgeously bright animation contracts a kind of darkness rarely seen in kid's movies these days. Visually and conceptually it echoes Inside Out and The Snowman, and it pulls no more punches. The villain is reminiscent of Judge Doom from Who Framed Roger Rabbit, and his companion stepped right out of a horror movie.
Despite its PG rating, parents should be warned this is liable to fuel a lifetime of nightmares, the way movies like Secret of NIMH, Watership Down, and the like did for my generation. But they're likely to be inventive, fascinating nightmares.
12. Only Murders in the Building, Season 4
What sets this apart from other murder mystery shows is the way the series focuses on the victims' lives more than their deaths. Counterintuitively, this is a show about life, not death, that uses the pretense of a murder investigation as an excuse to delve into its characters, both living and dead. The show has a seemingly limitless wealth of empathy which it extends to its flawed victims, quirky heroes, wacky side characters, and even its killers.
Granted, this has yet to return to the heights it reached in its first season, but that's kind of the price you pay for a premise and characters this good. Even as it's settled into a less profound, more sustainable comedy/mystery series, it remains fantastic and never seems to run out of surprises.
11. Agatha All Along, Season 1
Easily one of the top three live-action Disney+ MCU shows, Agatha All Along delivers a level of comic book weirdness often missing from these adaptations, some fantastic performances, one of the year's most memorable songs, and not one but two episodes that feel revolutionary. That it accomplishes all this on a relatively low budget makes it all the more impressive.
I love almost everything about this series, from the delightfully weird characters to the fakeout around the setting most of us didn't see coming, despite it feeling obvious in hindsight (I'm a sucker for stories that hide surprising twists inside obvious ones).
The one quibble I have is that the tonal shift at the end of the series, while clever, corresponded with a shift in the way its leads were characterized. We lost a lot of what made Agatha, Billy, and Rio so much fun when we shifted into the last act. The banter and flourishes felt muted, which made sense in context but also made the last two episodes less enjoyable.
That's a minor complaint, though. Overall, I really liked this one and hope Marvel uses it as a roadmap for future stories.
10. Inside Out 2
What's notable about Inside Out 2 is largely that it manages to recapture the magic of the original. This is really no small feat - the fact the first film was as good as it was felt miraculous at the time, and the premise didn't seem to lend itself to a follow-up. But this really works, in part because it doesn't make the mistake of trying to up the stakes. If anything, Riley's minor identity crisis is less significant than her confrontation with depression, but the interplay between the characters in her head with her troubling behavior gives a story about a kid having a few bad days at hockey camp more gravitas than superhero movies where the fate of worlds hangs in the balance.
9. X-Men '97: Season 1
This is one of the most surprising and ambitious seasons of television I've seen in a long time. The series was marketed as a sort of "lost season" continuing the adventures from the '90s X-Men cartoon. I think most of us expected a blend of nostalgic references and comical jokes about the era. The series overdelivered in ways that were at times jaw-dropping.
There are a handful of reasons this isn't higher, and most center on the nature of the medium. When I'm compiling these, I tend to look at three factors: how high the highpoints were, how the work affected me overall, and how it left me at the ending. I'm not sure anything this year beat out X-Men '97 on that first point: if I do another end-of-decade list, the episode, "Remember It," will certainly be in consideration. But I consider television seasons, not episodes, in my end of year lists, so moments like those only take this so far.
The best moments of this show were incredible; the worst were... actually, still pretty good. The series never failed to be entertaining. But the difference in quality was still jarring and at times left me wanting more. The larger issue is a common one: the season finale - while certainly not a low point - was a long way from the best episodes. That's not in any way a failure, but it isn't the sort of slam dunk I look for from "best of year" contenders. That post-credit tease implying they might reverse the most meaningful choice they made didn't help, either.
My other reservation is, admittedly, kind of baked into the premise. The animation and designs here are simplistic and childish. That's to be expected, as the gimmick was to continue the look and feel of the '90s series. Intellectually, I respect that, but I can't help but feel it was undercutting the show effectively recutting twenty- and thirty-year-old comics into perhaps the single best X-Men story told in any medium.
Which, to be clear, I think this was, at least at points. "Remember It" in particular was the best thirty minutes I've seen from this franchise, eclipsing any of the previous shows, movies, or even comics from a story perspective. It was incredible. So were numerous other episodes and sequences throughout. But the writing was so good, it sometimes felt like they were doing it a disservice by tethering it to an outdated art style originally chosen to keep costs down. Even with various updates and improvements, this still looked like something a few decades old.
I'm not really calling this a flaw, so much as acknowledging an area where the tug-of-war between exploring nostalgia conflicted with genuinely great writing. And I'd be lying if I said I didn't love hearing that music and those voices (or at least similar voices - I know there was some recasting) again. But while the series got a bit of a leg up thanks to standing on the shoulders of its predecessor, that also wound up being a limitation.
8. Star Trek: Lower Decks Season 5
One of the better series endings I've come across in a long time, this completed the arc of the show beautifully. Lower Decks started as a parody of Star Trek and gradually transformed into, well, just Star Trek. It dipped its toe in that water previously, with various episodes (particularly season finales) having relatively sincere tones, but this was different. As the individual characters grew and developed from wacky, childish weirdos into adult weirdos, they took their place as Federation officers. That's satisfying.
But it's also a good sign that the decision to end this here - regardless of who made it or why - is probably for the best. If Lower Decks had a sixth season, the characters would need to backpedal, which would betray the story they spent five seasons developing. Either that, or it would have to proceed without its signature tone.
This is the time to say good bye, at least for the time being. There's no reason they couldn't make a movie in the future or maybe spin off a couple of the characters into a live-action project (last year's Strange New Worlds crossover proved that could work). But I don't think a continuation of this series could maintain its tone without sacrificing stuff that shouldn't be sacrificed.
7. I Saw the TV Glow
The experience of watching Jane Schoenbrun's second feature film is best described as what a David Lynch movie would be like if it were comprehensible. That's not a swipe at Lynch - the incomprehensibility is intentional and can be a feature - but if you imagine someone managing to bottle the bizarre vibe, genre mashing, and tonal dissonance of his work and use it as a pallet for a relatively straightforward metaphor, you'll have an idea of what you're in for.
I should also note I'm not intending "straightforward" as any kind of backhanded compliment against Schoenbrun. Their movies are intelligible and approachable, not simple. The depth is largely emotional, rather than intellectually vague, resulting in a poetic and moving experience. This is a beautiful, heart-wrenching film crafted by a filmmaker whose command of tone and pacing is incredible to behold.
This is the sort of hypnotic film that leaves you in awe. I loved it.
6. My Old Ass
This would pair well with Petite Mamam, and if you don't realize that's high praise, you need to go watch Petite Mamam immediately.
Watching "My Old Ass" you almost feel like you could strip out the 10% of the movie that's comprised of ridiculous fantasy and be left with a pitch-perfect coming-of-age dramedy. But who'd want to? The ridiculous fantasy stuff enhances the drama and comedy, and it's absolutely delightful. Also, it's some of the most narratively innovative time-travel I've seen since... well... Petite Mamam.
Just a wonderful, joyful experience of a film.
5. Nightbitch
Look, you've got Amy Adams starring in a werewolf dramedy about motherhood that prominently features Weird Al's "Dare to be Stupid" (best known from the best scene in the 1986 animated Transformers movie): I don't know what to tell you. This movie rules even before it reveals it absolutely has something to say. It's smart, weird, funny, disturbing... it's kind of got it all.
This isn't a criticism - just a note on personal preference - but I'd have preferred an ending a little more in line with the surreal supernatural/horror elements. I think this might have claimed the top spot on this list if it had gone a different way.
I'm apparently an outlier, but I loved this movie. I thought it was smart, moving, funny... basically everything you'd associated with a classic Christmas movie. I'm at a bit of a loss to explain why so many critics responded as they did. The reviews mostly don't outright trash it, but the consensus seems to be that it falls somewhere around "mediocre" on the spectrum. Maybe they were turned off by the movie being picked up by a streaming service? Or maybe my obsession with Christmas movies has shifted the way I respond to the genre into an entirely different dimension - I'm not at all discounting the possibility my reaction might just be "wrong" (to the limited extent that term can ever apply to an opinion about art).
Whatever the reason, I feel like I need to lodge a strong dissent in support of this film. To be clear, this isn't a case where I think critics are being a little too harsh (see "Dear Santa" above for that scenario) - with the caveat I've only seen this once, I would currently place it on the short list of truly exceptional animated Christmas movies, alongside Nightmare Before Christmas, Arthur Christmas, and 101 Dalmatians. I am genuinely shocked by how far my appraisal is from the norm.
3. Fargo, Season 5
This just barely qualifies as 2024, thanks to the last three episodes premiering last January. Before I even get to the season, I want to take a moment and reflect on how impossibly good the series has been as a whole. I actually think this might be the best live-action show I've ever encountered: the blend of dark comedy, wrenching drama, and at times profound reflection isn't the sort of thing you expect to find on the small screen and certainly not sustained over multiple seasons. The tone is pitch-perfect, the production values are on par with theatrically released films, and the casts they're able to attract for each season-long arc are phenomenal.
Season 5 is no different. I'm not sure it's quite as good as the first two, but it's up there, with the added benefits of featuring the best protagonist we've gotten to date (rarely have I watched a show and been this invested in whether the lead would live or die) and what might be the best whimsical hired criminal so far (and, it must be noted, this is a competitive category when it comes to this show).
It's fantastic and one of the best things I've seen this year. I'm stretching to find anything to criticize, though I've got a couple nitpicks. First, I think there was a missed opportunity at the end of the series when the writers seem to have forgotten the epilogue would have occurred in the midst of the COVID pandemic. It's not just that it's annoying that the reality of that time was being glossed over: there were thematic and story beats that could (and in my mind should) have been impacted. The bulk of the series was set in the months before the pandemic upended society, and I felt like that was being positioned as a sort of countdown for several characters (particularly the antagonists, many of whom wouldn't have fared well in 2020).
I also felt like some aspects of the last episode were a bit underplayed. To be clear, I'm not complaining about the story beats or choices - I am very happy with how the resolution was written - but merely that after an amazingly tense, cinematic setup, the actual climax was a bit of a letdown (just a bit, though). For those who have seen this, I also want to clarify I'm mainly talking about the first half of the episode - the dinner sequence was, in my opinion, absolutely perfect.
My next note concerns a couple episodes near the middle, and... I'm not really critiquing so much as explaining where my reaction was muted. The content here was fantastic, particularly from a moral standpoint, as the show more or less dropped the subtext and addressed issues of domestic abuse head-on, without subtlety or ambiguity.
The thing is, I really like subtext, subtlety, and ambiguity, particularly in stories like these. I can't fault the showrunners for opting to essentially reach out to people who need help - I wish more media did things like this so well. But this is a case where my assessment of the show differs with my reaction, and I base this list primarily on reaction.
On the other side of the spectrum, I really like where they took the mother-in-law from a story and character perspective but question whether they did enough to resolve the underlying issues around her business from an ethical point-of-view. They certainly called out the economic injustice at the heart of the story, but the ending almost implies some sort of higher good can emerge from that, which felt a bit irresponsible even before it became clear the country was on the verge of transitioning into a full-blown oligarchy.
Again, these are quibbles in the midst of a season and series of television that's as close to perfect as almost any I've encountered. If you haven't seen Fargo, it's incredible and well worth checking out.
2. Orion and the Dark
1. Bluey, Season 3
Ask almost any parent and they'll tell you Bluey is delightful. Actually, ask a growing number of adults without kids, and they're likely to tell you the same. This series is wonderful and much more complex than you'd expect from something made with preschoolers in mind. The trick is the way the stories are layered, creating a show where a child and parent can watch together and take away two very different experiences. Episodes are crafted with multiple points of view in mind, and some of those contain an immense amount of depth.
I almost forgot to include this, at all. The seasons tend to drop in chunks, with installments ambiguously existing as specials. The third season technically began in 2021, which raises the question of whether any of it can possibly be considered in the context of any end-of-year list. Plus, my kid watched a bunch of these when I wasn't around, so I wound up seeing them out of order (actually, this show has the distinction of being the one thing on this list I'm not 100% certain I've seen every episode).
Then the election happened. The fucking election. And when the dust cleared after a long day of work, I felt... the way most of you probably felt. I started to put on a movie, but I didn't make it past the studio logo. Instead, I found myself rewatching The Sign, the half-hour almost-but-not-quite-finale to the season.
It was past the kid's bedtime, but she heard the music and we told her she could come down and watch it with us.
The Sign is about understanding that no one really understands what the future will hold and that because of this the best - perhaps the only - real approach to life is to embrace those you love, make the best choices you can, and face an uncertain future together. It's about hope in the face of tragedy and caution in the face of victory. And, crucially, it was what I needed the evening of November 6th.
For what it's worth, the third season includes a number of my favorite episodes: Bedroom, Obstacle Course, Rain, Fairytale, and Cricket are all among the best in the series... though none of these are actually from 2024. Actually, only three episodes from season 3 were released this year. But one of those was The Sign, which is really what's driving this placement.
Simply stated, The Sign was what I needed in 2024, and I doubt I'm alone in that. On top of that, this remains one of the all-time great kid's shows, and if the unusual release calendar prevents me from ranking it every year, I might as well give it the kudos it's due.
CLOSING THOUGHTS
Take all this with a grain of salt - there's so much I didn't get to this year, including several TV shows I couldn't squeeze in. What We Do in the Shadows, What If...?, and Arcane all came out this year (Arcane is a particularly big omission: the first season is a big part of what inspired me to start including TV seasons in these rankings). I'm planning on watching them all, but I just couldn't find time before the end of 2024. And speaking of notable omissions, I watched the first few episodes of Penguin but haven't had time to catch up (if anyone's curious, I find the show technically fantastic but kind of conceptually underwhelming - this really isn't what I want from Batman stuff, no matter how well it's executed).
Skeleton Crew is shaping up to be a contender on next year's list, with the caveat Disney+ shows have a tendency of starting strong before devolving in their later installments. And of course there are tons of shows and movies on the horizon I'm looking forward to (Death of a Unicorn looks incredible, and I'm really excited to see what Gunn does with Superman), along with God knows how many surprises.
As I said at the outset, this year's list feels a little light. I actually hope next year's will, as well. I've got plans for a new novel and (assuming I follow through) that'll certainly take time away from my movie watching.
I wish I could say this had been a good year, and I certainly wish I could say I had high hopes for 2025. But the truth is things are bad and shaping up to be worse. My advice is pretty obvious, but I'll say it anyway: take care of each other and of yourselves. Seek out media that the worst people alive don't want you to watch and watch it. And of course create art, if only to reaffirm the fact art can only be created by actual humans.
I'm certainly not suggesting that watching movies and creating art are the only acts of resistance we need to engage in, but in times like these make no mistake: reading and viewing art - particularly art created by marginalized communities - is a form of defiance.
The next few years are going to be hard. Make sure you give yourself space to relax when you can.
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