To celebrate the year of 2024 in cinema, Clapper contributors were offered the chance to write small vignettes about their favorite films of 2024 which have been compiled into this article. Here are Clapper’s favorite films of 2024!

The social politics of being a man are much more complicated than they seem, and oftentimes it verges on silly before it angles into tragedy. That's what The Bikeriders is all about: men trying on an identity that leads to unexpected ends. Jeff Nichols deftly captures what happens to any ideology or club that wildly outgrows its core principles, mostly through the recollections of one of its member’s wives, Kathy (Jodie Comer). As she tells it, being a biker begins as an imitation, then a uniform, then an identity, with outsiders copying and joining until the sight of motorcycles and leather jackets slowly evolves into something else.

These men seem completely unaware of how they’re unconsciously raising the stakes with each decision they make, and as the violence escalates you always get the sense that most of them don't want to follow through or they're only acting out because they "have to," which is such a stunning reflection of our current times. When there are men who feel beaten down, unwanted or consider themselves outsiders, where do those choices lead them?

To put it simply, Luca Guadagnino’s Challengers is a flawless feature. The film is supremely crafted and wonderfully held together by Guadagnino’s visual direction and Justin Kuritzkes’ perfect screenplay. The film explores the concepts of passion and relationship through a devilishly fun script that unfolds layer by layer to reveal the rich tapestry of context and events that led to the tennis match the film is built around. While the personalities of these characters and their unique identities are built in the film’s screenplay, they are ultimately defined by the film’s ménage à trois of captivating performances by Zendaya, Mike Faist, and Josh O’Connor who all deliver some of the strongest performances of the year. This list of positives doesn’t even include mention of the electric score from Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross which continually enhances the production. From every angle you look at Challengers, perfection is found.

The fact this didn’t do well enough to ensure further installments of the Mad Max universe proves why we can’t have nice things. Furiosa: A Mad Max Saga is thrilling, epic, and high-detailed storytelling that rewards viewers with each subsequent watch. Not only does it chart Furiosa’s rise from abductee to slave to rebel, but—if you pay close attention—entire character arcs involving side characters without the aid of any dialogue or close-ups. has complete faith in his storytelling and in audiences devoted enough to suss out the “whys” behind a character’s choices or the various empires they inhabit.

Perhaps Furiosa was released during a time where that type of patience and awareness is in short supply. However, regardless of whether it was a hit or a bomb, it still stands as one of the greatest films of this year.

Jane Schoenbrun has crafted the type of film that comes once every few years: a one-of-a-kind artistic experience that will speak differently to each viewer. Whether it resonates as an allegory for the egg-cracking moment in gender transition, a cautionary tale on waiting to come out and embrace one’s true self, or an existential horror about growing old and the seediness of nostalgia, I Saw the TV Glow is a gripping, self-assured, and unique cinematic gem, with an impeccable original soundtrack that I have been playing non-stop since its release.

Joker and Folie à Deux have to be seen together as a collective piece. Without which the two as separate entities don’t work and fail to communicate and evoke the thesis intended. Of which is to test the viewer in both morality and accountability, with good but unfortunately never great artistic intent. It is without a shadow of a doubt a conscious decision to release the two features in arguably one of the most politically divisive times on either side of the spectrum. Folie à Deux opposes that thematic and tonal process of its predecessor, and now having those very same angry, bitter and hateful viewers in its sights - burns its bridges, box office and audience - sets its target to ingenuously chastise, berate and mock. Now granted, Phillips is nowhere near as cinematically talented nor confident to fully elevate nor confront this thesis unlike Lana Wachowski’s The Matrix Resurrections. For starters, Phillips's choice to use musical vignettes to evoke thematic and emotional feelings on the surface works to propose Arthur’s, and the audience's, inability to take responsibility and hide behind forms of art and culture without actually confronting nor acknowledging the issues or problems at hand: clear in the world of social media. It attempts to tell the viewer that living through venom and hatred of violence even with a social-political backing through reality or fiction leads to one or more levels of tragedy and emptiness. In a world of much needed accountability, it is both surprising and commended that for what should have been a sure-fire box office hit/simplistic addition, ultimately (from Todd Phillips) has the gump to sacrifice itself (what a martyr) to provoke and prod those it has in its sights.

If Juror #2 is indeed Clint Eastwood’s final foray into the cinematic medium, it highlights and continues to evoke the tremendous skill and brevity such an astute and highly talented filmmaker possesses. This is a feature that presents - in its entirety - the faux opportunity of being free from justice and accountability: No matter the depth, struggle and complexity of the circumstance, it cannot be outrun, bought, or ignored. Be that Eastwood's comments on the political or social state of the world or more so a man - with the utmost respect - who is closer to meeting his maker and being judged, and thus finds common ground with characters confronting consciences. It is this deeper thematic that propels Juror #2 into a different category completely, perhaps this is Eastwood’s palette cleanser or more so a foreboding warning to those who think they can play an un-winnable game against justice. A journey that Justin slowly but surely succumbs to thinking he can win, questioning how far he’ll go. What better dark and beautiful weight Eastwood ends this vital piece of cinema on, if not Colette standing wordless with a knock on the door cutting to black, left to ask ourselves, if we the viewer, like Justin himself, think we can outwit and outmanoeuvre justice, if we stay in our safe spaces, ignored proper retribution, how far would we go to escape justice? Only, every viewer knows what happens next at that door, we all know deep down what that outcome is and will be: justice.

Gia Coppola's The Last Showgirl is a beautiful reflection on an aging and evolving America and those trapped in what this country used to be. Pamela Anderson leads a stellar ensemble piece that is deeply effective and moving. The visual texture and language within the film help weave together a reflection of modern Americana that is almost dreamy and timeless. As John Steinbeck wrote in his 1962 travelogue, Travels with Charley: In Search of America: “I wonder why progress looks so much like destruction.”

Following a real-life FBI investigation of a white supremacist splinter group, The Order captures a warning shot that is still being heard decades later. There is a scene where a senior neo-Nazi meets up with young upstart Robert Mathews (Nicholas Hoult) and cautions him against his plan to terrorize citizens and overthrow the government. He reminds him that the goal is getting white supremacists into the U.S. government and, eventually, the White House as well.

To say the least, that prediction has come true, and considering the bulk of this film’s subject matter, (domestic terrorism, moral degradation, assassination) it isn’t for the faint of heart. But this isn’t just a feel-bad movie. It illuminates a chapter of American history that has remained in the margins and raises some urgent questions about its future. Not surprisingly Justin Kurzel proves to be the perfect director for this material—bringing his brand of true crime out of Australia (Snowtown, Nitram) and transposing it into rural areas during the Reagan era.

However, more than anything The Order captures how hateful ideologies function like a social disease, spreading and seeping into everything it touches. The characters who catch it and buy into its philosophy quickly become a lost cause, and characters tasked with tracking them down discover there is no straightforward way toward defeating them. With each passing year this becomes more apparent, and during a recent interview between Kurzel and Marc Maron, who co-stars in the film, they wondered if, “There’s an Order in every small [U.S.] city now.” This film could easily slip through the cracks and escape attention at the end of this year, but it’s worth noting. The subject matter is too timely to dismiss.

Pedro Almodóvar’s English-language debut deservedly won the Golden Lion this year. Tackling mortality and female friendship through the controversial lens of euthanasia, The Room Next Door uses visual references to Edward Hopper and direct quotations from James Joyce’s The Dead to celebrate the beauty of life whilst living in a dying world and body. Both Julianne Moore and Tilda Swinton are deeply moving in here, it is a wonderful film that deserves more love and attention.

Amidst all of the body horror and grotesque gore in The Substance, the secret to Coralie Fargeat’s dark fairy tale is its genuine sense of humor. Demi Moore’s fiery return to the big screen is one for the ages, a physical tour-de-force performance in which she goes from beauty starlet to the wicked witch of old fables, tongue firmly in cheek, giving herself completely to the French filmmaker’s brutal dismantling vision of aging and feminine ideals in contemporary society. At once shocking and hilarious, it is a truly unforgettable horror that has already broken into the zeitgeist.

The second masterpiece to drop from Luca Guadagnino in 2024, Queer is a near-flawless adaptation of William S. Burroughs' 1985 novella of the same name which itself lays the foundation for an incredibly personal and raw capturing of queer desire and extreme loneliness. Guadagnino's films have always hit at just the right moment for me. From Call Me By Your Name releasing when I was a confused teenager trying to figure out how to unravel the powerful emotions within me to now Queer which again shows a reflection of some of the larger ideas and emotions I am experiencing, Guadagnino's filmography continues to be a testament to the power of authenticity behind the camera. It also is marvelous how Guadagnino uses the rich tapestry of established queer media to bring the film to life. From the editing and visual ideals of Jean Cocteau to the visual design of Rainer Werner Fassbinder, Queer is a piece that connects queer souls of the last century to build a singular beautiful cinematic statement.

In a year as grim as 2024, one of its shining moments was getting to experience Wicked on the full screen. Brimming with colour and life, Jon M. Chu has managed to take the brilliant stage musical and turn it into a magical extravaganza of song and dance that feels eerily relevant to our socio-political climate. It is impossible not to love the towering vocal range of Cynthia Erivo or the lovable goofball performance of Ariana Grande, who is indeed the biggest acting surprise of 2024. The hardest thing is having to wait a whole year for Wicked: For Good; give it to us already!

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