Yes, yes, I know; I can’t believe I’m still talking about TIFF. I absolutely planned on publishing this piece a few days ago, but then a travel disaster struck, and I got stuck in Dallas overnight on my home and have now come down with a flu that feels like I’ve been thrown off a mountain.
So even though this diary is coming to you a few days late, it is easily the piece I’m most excited to write. When I left Toronto last year, I was disappointed in myself for not taking advantage of the international aspect of TIFF. I more than made up for that this time around; non-English language films were my biggest sub-category, and furthermore, on the whole, the non-English language features were easily the best films of the festival. Whether you like sci-fi, period pieces, or tense family dramas, there are some absolute knockouts on this list. Let’s take a Tylenol-fueled deep dive into some foreign films that need to be on your radar.
Anatomy of a Fall:
During film festivals (and in general), I find it a bit difficult to stay present. I’ll start stressing over schedules, getting to my next venue in time, and unwritten reviews, and my over-anxious mind begins to wander. Anatomy of a Fall captured my attention and held on tight from that very first frame. I was riveted. Certain scenes have replayed on a loop in my mind for over a week, and I’ve been able to find even greater nuance and appreciation for Sandra Hüller’s perfectly calibrated performance. She plays Sandra, a woman who stands accused of murdering her husband after he falls from a second-story window.
“Complex female character” can sometimes feel like a buzzword or mere marketing ploy. But I’m not sure I’ve seen a woman like Sandra on screen before. At times, she’s cold, aloof, and downright cruel. Every time I became sure of her guilt, there’d be a tender moment or a display of raw emotion that made me question my assumptions. There are so many layers, twists, and revelations, but while Anatomy of a Fall is wildly entertaining, Justine Triet has crafted something so far beyond a typical whodunit. Anatomy of a Fall is a masterful drama that tackles marriage, and its never-ending resentments and power struggles with a clear vision and a unique perspective. I was hanging on every word.
I’m absolutely baffled by France’s decision not to submit Anatomy of a Fall, the Palme d’Or winner, as their entry into the Best International Feature race at the Oscars. From my perspective, it is one of the strongest and best-executed films of the year and of the decade so far. We are living in the year of Sandra Hüller, watching one of the best actresses in the world deliver not one but two brilliant performances, and we are so, so lucky.
The Green Border:
The Green Border is another film that I simply cannot shake. Shot in just 37 days across three continents, The Green Border follows three perspectives—a Syrian family of refugees trying to cross the border into Poland, a Belarusian guard who must send them back, and the activists who aim to help them despite personal risk.
The Green Border was the most difficult film I saw during the festival. It is unflinching in its depiction of the refugee crisis in Europe and in showing the physical and emotional trauma these migrants face while seeking safety. The Green Border also has one of the boldest endings I’ve ever seen. I commend director Agnieszka Holland for her commitment to telling these stories and highlighting these ugly truths. The Green Border is a film that must be seen.
The Beast:
To qualify for a government job in the year 2044, Léa Seydoux’s Gabrielle is told she must erase the traces of her past lives that burden her subconscious. The Beast weaves through multiple timelines where each version of Gabrielle becomes inevitably linked to George MacKay’s Loius.
I have to be honest here; I’m not sure I followed The Beast completely. I found myself getting a bit lost in the mechanics of the worldbuilding and found some of Gabrielle’s alternate versions more interesting than others. Still, what makes The Beast stand out is how original and bold it is. It’s ambitious, too ambitious, but I’m happy to invest my time in a film that is so committed to trying something new, even if only 80% successful. Seydoux and MacKay are fantastic together, and I completely bought into a magnetism that brings these two together across time and space. The Beast uses science fiction to study the power of human connection and creates a fascinating love story in the process. I’m itching to watch it again.
A Normal Family:
As someone deadest against having children, I am absolutely fascinated by the idea of nature vs. nurture and the monstrous kids subgenre (We Need to Talk About Kevin, Defending Jacob, and Ashley Audrain’s novel Push are some notable examples). Thus, I loved Herman Koch’s novel, The Dinner, about two friends who abuse and murder a homeless man and the ripple effects that has on their quartet of parents during the titular dinner.
With apologies to Laura Linney, I found the American adaptation to be a disappointment and lacking any real substance. All this to say that I was immensely interested in A Normal Family and director Jin-ho Hur’s take on the material. Finally, we have a worthy adaption, one that even elevates the original.
In this version, the kids are actually cousins, and one of the parents is a much younger stepmother. These changes add brilliant familiar resentments and gender dynamics into an already chilling exploration of the darkness lurking in the human psyche. The tension is always brewing under the surface, and every move is planted just right. Just like a good meal, A Normal Family is oh-so-satisfying with an extra serving of disturbing on the side.
Monster:
Hirokazu Koreeda is one of my favorite filmmakers, and his film Broker was one of my top titles of TIFF last year. Monster was one of my most anticipated titles in the lineup this time around. I knew nothing about Monster, just that Koreeda directed it, and that meant I had to see it. Frustratingly, every showtime conflicted with something else on my schedule. Luckily, I was able to get a digital screener, and I’m so lucky and grateful that I did. While I would have much preferred to watch the film in the cozy TIFF bubble and not on my computer, that did not impact my experience with the film or the impact the film had on me.
Monster follows a young boy who accuses his teacher of bullying. What Monster does so well is give space for so many perspectives—the boy, his mother, the teacher, the principal, and his classmate, without ever becoming muddled or overwhelmed. Each time we see the event unfold, a new layer unfolds, and a missing piece is put into place. Perhaps every character is complicit—is a little bit of a monster—or maybe the big bad here is the pressure society imposes on even our youngest and most innocent.
With Monster, Koreeda explores masculinity, morality, and the inner lives of children with tenderness and humanity. Monster is another film I recommend without hesitation.
The Zone of Interest:
The Zone of Interest is Sandra Hüller’s other brilliant performance of 2023. I saw both films back-to-back in what became a very messed up (and emotionally draining) double feature.
Jonathan Glazer’s latest feature is about a Nazi commandant who is raising his family in a sprawling compound behind Auschwitz. We never actually see the atrocities of the concentration camp on screen, but that’s precisely what makes The Zone of Interest so deeply disturbing. We watch this man’s children frolic in overflowing gardens, all the while knowing the violence being inflicted on other children just yards away.
The Zone of Interest is really a horror film about blind ambition and the lies we tell to placate ourselves. I can understand why the film garnered raves out of Cannes and seems on its way to becoming an awards season darling, and I do admire The Zone of Interest. But I felt like I spent most of the film waiting for something to happen. The Zone of Interest feels more like an exercise in building an atmosphere and establishing a mood rather than storytelling. It all left me rather cold and ambivalent.
The Boy and the Heron:
The caveat to end all caveats— even a mid-tier Hayao Miyazaki film is better than the very best from another, lesser filmmaker.
After the death of his mother, a young boy moves to a new town and encounters mythical creatures that send him on a life-altering adventure.
Miyazaki spent seven years making and developing The Boy and the Heron, and that passion is abundantly clear. The colors, the music, everything works together to transport you into this new world. Every frame is gorgeous, and the worlds are each deeper than the next. When you seek out The Boy and the Heron—and I sincerely hope you do—watch it on the biggest screen you can find.
Unfortunately, the film meanders too much in the middle, and I found myself losing interest. If the story had been a little sharper, I would have hailed The Boy and the Heron as Miyazaki’s newest masterpiece. It’s not. But I’m so grateful to have more Miyazaki to treasure.
Achilles:
It feels strange to recommend a film based on its final few moments, but writer-director Farhad Delaram’s ending is a shock to the system. The kind of conclusion that recontextualizes everything that came before it.
Achilles follows a young man (Mirsaeed Molavian) working in a mental hospital who takes an interest in one of the patients (Behdokht Valian) and breaks her out of the institution, giving her a chance to rediscover who she is.
The film moves along fine, a two-person character study about outcasts in isolation. It’s only at the end that you realize Delaram’s scope and ambition are so much more significant. Achilles is a bold first feature, and I’m very much looking forward to what comes next.
After the fire:
After the fire follows a family seeking justice after the death of a young man at the hands of police—an excess of power, grief, rage, and family tension all come together to create a gripping drama. What is scariest of all is that while the film takes place in a French suburban town, this is a story that could happen anywhere. We live in a world where police violence has become a universal truth. Mehdi Fikri takes on these complexities with bold confidence and proves more than capable in his execution. Another standout first feature.
Evil Does Not Exist:
After Drive My Car, I knew I was going to be on board with whatever Ryûsuke Hamaguchi wanted to do next. Evil Does Not Exist was not what I was expecting, nor does it do where you think it’s going to go. Evil Does Not Exist is about the environment, the cold disregard of profit-hungry corporations, and the average citizen left behind to suffer the consequences. It’s contemplative and a very slow burn but trust in Hamaguchi to have a deliberate purpose behind it all. The stripped-back beginning makes the bolder, left-field ending hold more power. No one harnesses small, quiet moments quite like Hamaguchi, who is quickly becoming one of my favorite filmmakers. Don’t miss this one.
The Promised Land:
On paper, The Promised Land shouldn’t be all that interesting. It’s about an 18th-century Danish general (Mads Mikkelsen) turned farmer who sets out to create a new settlement in hopes of gaining favor with the king. Honestly, the first 20 minutes had me wondering if my film radar was broken. I stuck it out. And in return, I got an immensely satisfying historical drama. Mikkelsen is as charming as ever and quickly becomes an easy hero to root for. There’s a mustache-twirling villain and a whole side character to invest in. Will Mikkelsen’s character be able to grow the potatoes he needs to survive the winter and establish his colony? Will the king deliver the land he promised in return? Those questions prove to be quite compelling. The Promised Land is well-made from top to bottom. A very pleasant surprise in a very strong lineup.
![2025 Oscars: Can a Late-Breaker Still Win Best Picture? [POLL]](https://www.awardsdaily.com/wp-content/uploads/2024/10/gladiator-350x250.jpg)
