100 Best Movies on Kanopy Right Now

If we were to list down the best of the best movie musicals ever made, most of the titles would probably come from the Golden Age of Hollywood. But we’d be remiss to forget that just a few years later, all the way across the pond, came The Umbrellas of Cherbourg, a French romantic musical from Jacques Demy. It’s certainly in the running for the most gorgeous musical ever made, with the bold, dreamy colors, incredible camera work, stylish costumes, and two beautiful leads front and center, but what makes Cherbourg great is the lush composition made by Michel Legrand. With the sweeping violins and the tragic lyrics of Devant le Garage, to the catchy, jazzy Scène du Garage that starts off the film, Les Parapluies de Cherbourg brings together sublime visuals and sound into one of the greatest musicals ever made.

Released in between Francis Ford Coppola’s famed Godfather trilogy, The Conversation is the director’s undersung gem of a film. It follows surveillance agent Harry (Hackman) as he obsesses over a conversation he’s asked to record. Hyperaware of how privacy is rendered useless by people like him, he starts to get overly suspicious about everything and everyone. A birthday card is greeted with hostility instead of warmth. A lover interested in his inner life is seen as a threat to his guarded persona. Paranoia eats at him from the inside, and yet he loves what he does. He’s great at it after all. The Conversation poses a moral question—should Harry interfere and save someone he thinks might be in danger?—but it works best as a thriller. The pacing is slow then sudden; the climax crashes onto you with a severity that will make you hit pause. Crucial to all this is the impeccable score and editing, both by Walter Murch. Fewer films than this have been able to make those two aspects stand out. The ending is also one of the most memorable in recent cinema.

The Bengali novel Devdas has undeniably captivated the entire Indian subcontinent with its tragic love triangle, spawning numerous adaptations, but arguably 2002’s Devdas is one of the best ones. Co-writer and director Sanjay Leela Bhansali takes the classic tale and transforms it into a spectacular, well-crafted period drama musical that pleasures the eyes and hits all the right notes in all production aspects– the performances, the sets, the costumes, the camera, the lighting, the music, and the choreography– while still transcending the story with key changes that feel natural and effortless. Devdas is Bollywood and Bhansali at their finest, with its full three hours breezing through in pure splendor.

The medium of cinema has been used as a tool for revolution, but so too was it complicit in genocide. That was true of the Khmer Rouge regime, as the remaining footage of the time came entirely from the state, to be used in re-education programs and propaganda to hide the difficult realities caused by the administration. In response, three decades later, documentarian Rithy Panh reclaims the medium, juxtaposing archival footage of Pol Pot’s programs and Cambodia before, with clay figurines formed from his memories. It’s a grim recollection, but The Missing Picture takes back cinema to keep a collective memory that must be preserved.

When it comes to work, most apply to a job, take a 9-5 role for some decades, and then retire once enough funds have been acquired, the body gives out, or they reach the statutory age in their respective countries. This path isn’t as straightforward for the artist. La Belle Noiseuse is a portrait of an artist in his later years, only making a return due to an unexpected muse. It is quite lengthy, almost four hours, so it may feel like a daunting task for casual film viewers, as much as it is for the painter, but the way Rivette dedicates the time to the etching, the turn of the page, the brush of the paint upon the paper feels so calming, with the artist and their muse at their most natural. It’s easy to deduce the inevitable connection that forms, but La Belle Noiseuse is much more interested in the creative process, rather than the romantic drama, more interested in exploring the way art endeavors to capture the soul, even when the muse continues to remain elusive.

The end of the world, of course, forces people to contemplate one’s life purpose, the choices they made, and the opportunities they chose over others. Andrei Tarkovsky examines this idea in The Sacrifice– juxtaposing a hypothetical third World War with main character Alexander’s choices, the choices that led him to a successful acting career, but also led him to regret that he hasn’t done more to take action, until the deal he made with a cross between the Christian God and pagan sacrifice. The ideas are philosophically heavy, marked with Tarkovsky’s dreamlike imagery, long takes, and slow pacing, but it feels much more personal considering the sacrifice he made in leaving his family to create his last two films abroad. The Sacrifice is a masterful meditation on life itself, a deeply moving anti-war film that was a decent send-off of one of the greatest filmmakers ever to have existed.

Is there anything more lovely than hearing Martin Scorsese talk about cinema? Maybe it’s just the film nerds in us– we are, after all, always on the hunt for A Good Movie to Watch– but it’s just wonderful to hear Scorsese talk about movies, especially from directors he loves and are inspired by. Made in England: The Films of Powell and Pressburger is about the influence of The Archers, and while it’s mostly a straightforward documentary, director David Hinton makes it something like a cohesive film course on the directors, with Scorsese as lecturer. Oftentimes letting the directors’ shots and music speak for themselves, with Scorsese adding needed context, it won’t be a surprise that Made In England would be a treat for film nerds, but it also would be a great introduction for casual viewers, or viewers that want to start watching classic films, like those of The Archers.

Many people would rather see happy, positive depictions of people like them, but sometimes, it’s important to see the sides that we don’t really like to see, but should have some awareness of, in order to address them. It’s because of this director Lee Tamahori initially thought that adapting the Maori novel Once Were Warriors would end up as a flop– the novel depicts the worst sides of modern Maori people, as disenfranchisement pushed many to poverty, alcoholism, and abuse. However, Tamahori ended up crafting a fierce, intense debut by focusing on Beth Heke and her children– granting more screentime to their healing rather than their suffering. Once Were Warriors isn’t an easy watch. Tamahori makes the alienation, the rage, and the hardship feel palpable. But he mostly reminds people to return to their roots, returning to one’s culture to truly heal as a society, and this is why Once Were Warriors proved to be one of the best films ever made from New Zealand.

There are plenty of films about dreamers, but none as wild and wacky as Fitzcarraldo. The film follows the titular opera-loving foreigner, who’s obsessed with creating an opera house in the middle of a jungle, and tries to get the funding for it throug the rubber business. It’s a pretty wacky premise, and a pretty wacky tale, but it’s the perfect film to challenge famed eccentric auteur Werner Herzog, who got a 320-ton steam boat hauled into the Amazon, had multiple recasts due to illness, and had conflict with leading man Klaus Kinski so tense that assassination was offered by one of the extras, among other troubles. Strangeness aside, Fitzcarraldo proved to be an audacious, operatic epic, garnering numerous nominations for the Palme d’Or, Golden Globes, and the BAFTAs.

Before the advent of cruel reality shows and their doomed attempts at realism, and before shows and movies like The Office and Borat made mockumentary the popular genre that it is today, there was a little Albert Brooks film called Real Life. In it, Brooks plays a version of himself obsessed with portraying the “real life” of a classic American family on film, and yet whenever he feels bored, he can’t help but meddle and poke at his subjects to start a fire. The results are unexpected. The humor is quick and deadpan. The satire is sharp and frighteningly prescient. It’s the perfect movie about how truth—no matter how hard we try—can never really be captured in a form like film. All the while Brooks keeps you on your toes with his razor-sharp script. Your favorite mockumentary films will suddenly feel small after watching this underrated great.