The 100 Best Movies on Hulu (January 2018)

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The 100 Best Movies on Hulu (January 2018)

It used to be simple: Hulu had the best selection of TV, and Netflix ruled the movie landscape. But while the red giant has invested in original programming, Hulu has quietly expanded its film catalog to replace its deal with Criterion. Now the best movies on Hulu include a variety of classic films, indie gems and recent blockbusters. There are movies here from our Best Anime Movies of All Time, Best Documentaries of All Time and Best Horror Movies of All Time. The selection has changed dramatically since we compiled this list last year: Hulu now even has Columbus and doc Whose Streets?, which were both on our list for the Best Movies of 2017.

You can also check out the best TV shows on Hulu. Or, for extensive guides to the best movies on other platforms like Netflix, HBO, Amazon Prime and The Best Movies in Theaters, or visit all our Paste Movie Guides.

Here are the 100 best movies on Hulu right now:

barbarella poster (Custom).jpg 100. Barbarella
Year: 1968
Director: Roger Vadim
Barbarella was a unique film when it was released in 1968, and it remains something very unusual as it approaches its 50th anniversary: A blend of science fiction, fantasy and erotica that plays it both campy and straight, depending on its mood. Jane Fonda’s Barbarella is a young space vixen trained in the “art of love,” but she’s also something of an ingénue without any experience in the real world. The sets, costumes and production design rightfully earned the film attention upon its initial release, being fabulously lush and colorful, making for gothic grandeur in space, except with more boobs, and Space Mutiny’s John Philip Law to boot. The film may have sold itself upon a vaguely defined promise of titillation, but those artistic flourishes ended up proving more influential for the next generation of ’70s science fiction. Barbarella is never going to be a film afforded much respect, but B-movie directors of its day can testify to the lasting impact it had on both exploitation and tawdry sci-fi. —Jim Vorel

a-beautiful-mind.jpg 99. A Beautiful Mind
Year: 2001
Director: Ron Howard 
A Beautiful Mind is Russell Crowe in his prime. John Nash began showing early signs of schizophrenia as he entered graduate school at Princeton and Crowe’s eyes simulate perfectly the isolation and anti-social feelings Nash must have been going through during those times. Ed Harris plays the government agent who recruits Nash to look for patterns in newspapers. Their chemistry is intense and Nash’s frustration and fear of the Soviets brings insight into his character and his mind. —Muriel Vega

the-rescuers.jpg 98. The Rescuers
Year: 1977
Directors: Wolfgang Reitherman, John Lounsbery, Art Stevens
A bright spot between The Jungle Book, released in 1967 just after Walt Disney’s death, and his company’s renaissance with 1989’s The Little Mermaid, The Rescuers took four years and $8 million, time and money reflected in the quality of the production. Based on a pair of Margery Sharp fantasy novels, the story tracks a pair of mice, Bernard (Bob Newhart) and Miss Bianco (Eva Gabor) as they travel the Devil’s Bayou in search of a missing child. It’s a charming tale, celebrating how big hearts come in packages of all sizes. —Josh Jackson

lemon.jpg 97. Lemon
Year: 2017
Director: Janicza Bravo
Lemon is a blistering, 80-minute indictment of and elegy for white man-child protagonists. You know this movie. You’ve seen myriad versions of it staged over, say, the last two decades of pop culture or so, from The 40-Year-Old Virgin to Knocked Up to the majority of Adam Sandler’s oeuvre. But you haven’t seen this movie as staged by Janicza Bravo, an outsider to the self-validating dynamics of the fraternity of white male screw-ups. She’s thus better equipped to provide fresh commentary on that fraternity than any random white male might be. Even better, she’s more talented, too. Her film is an exquisitely wrought portrait of white guy ineptitude disguised as superiority and acumen, though this assumes you equate “exquisite” with wallowing in abject human misery for an hour and a half. In her feature debut, Bravo demonstrates a raw skill behind the lens suggesting a higher ceiling than most of her peers, though her film is no less awkward than anything they’ve made, either. Lemon is a tragicomic ballad of chagrin and stunted masculinity, and yes, it is at times a literal shitshow, a comedy of bodily functions to complement its endless parade of embarrassments. But the sight of Bravo’s co-writer and leading man Brett Gelman fishing a cell phone out of a used toilet doesn’t at all undermine the sophistication and style of her filmmaking. —Andy Crump

the-crow-movie-poster.jpg 96. The Crow
Year: 1994
Director: Alex Proyas
Alex Proyas’s gothic cult classic, in which Brandon Lee’s Eric Dravin flits from rooftop to rooftop, makeup supernaturally intact, is almost hilariously bleak, a sort of Hot-Topic-toned cousin to something from Hermann Warm’s wettest of dreams. Because of that, The Crow is either something completely understood, an object with which a select few audience members can truly sympathize, or something to be consumed in bewilderment—like an H.P. Lovecraft story or what Rob Zombie does. After this and Dark City (1998), it became clear that a studio could put their trust in Proyas to later take over the Blade brand (however successful): So shamelessly stylized and earnest is Proyas’s emo heart. —Dom Sinacola

47-Netflix-Docs_2015-queen-versailles.jpg 95. The Queen of Versailles
Year: 2012
Director: Lauren Greenfield
Lauren Greenfield only meant to take a few pictures of a very wealthy family in the midst of all their opulence. Her subjects were the Siegels—the self-made billionaire, the trophy wife, the eight not-as-maladjusted-as-you-might-think children, the monochromatic menagerie of animals. But once the family began opening up about their lives, the woman behind the camera decided to stick around a little while longer, positing that there might be more to this story than just infinity symbols for account balances. Her perseverance resulted in an alternately hilarious and heart-wrenchingly cautionary tale about the excesses of the American dream. —Tyler Chase

the-flat.jpg 94. The Flat
Year: 2012
Director: Arnon Goldfinger
When Arnon Goldfinger’s grandmother Gerda passes away, he’s left with the task of cleaning out her flat in Tel Aviv. A Jewish couple who moved from Berlin on the eve of the World War II for obvious reasons, Gerda Tuchler and her husband, Kurt, filled their apartment with enough German novels, furniture and knick-knacks to disorient any houseguest. It was a move of physical necessity, so they brought their physical environment with them and created a European oasis in their new locale. But as Goldfinger begins to go through the stashes of photographs, letters and assorted paper stowaways, he finds something even more disorienting: his grandparents’ closest friends, the von Mildensteins, contributed to the very circumstances from which the Tuchlers fled. While other family members play dress up in old furs and scoff at the antiquity of bookshelves lined with Nietzsche, Goldfinger patiently turns his eyes toward old newspapers and soon finds himself on a paper trail into a family history he didn’t know he had. An old clipping from a Nazi publication with the headline “A Nazi Goes to Palestine” stars none other than Leopold von Mildenstein, which gets Goldfinger wondering who his grandparents really were and why Nazis would be traveling to visit them after the war. Like many who take the time to research who and where they come from, Goldfinger finds that not everything is as linear as branches on the family tree, and the answers that he’s looking for aren’t always there. —Gabrielle Lipton

shaun-the-sheep.jpg 93. Shaun the Sheep
Year: 2015
Directors: Mark Burton, Richard Starzak
Can a viewer die of excessive cuteness? That’s the most concerning question plaguing the otherwise adorable, slight Shaun the Sheep Movie, which does risk being cloying but mostly moves along with a wry smile on its face. The stop-motion film from Aardman Animations stars Shaun, the bug-eyed lamb who made his debut in the terrific, Oscar-winning 2005 Wallace & Gromit short, A Close Shave. As in his U.K. series spin-off, which started two years later, Shaun doesn’t speak a word throughout his big-screen premiere. Writer-directors Mark Burton and Richard Starzak sometimes strain to sustain the dialogue-free conceit, but one suspects they know that, even when the momentum flags, Shaun has plenty of cheerfulness and good will in reserves. —Tim Grierson

sliding-doors.jpg 92. Sliding Doors
Year: 1998
Director: Peter Howitt
An inventive charmer from England, Sliding Doors grafts the rom-com treatment onto the philosophical notion of the “butterfly effect,” which asserts that the smallest incidents can have a profound impact on one’s life. In the case of the film, this defining moment is a young woman’s s attempt to catch a train. From here, her life splinters into two parallel realities—one in which she catches the train and discovers her boyfriend’s infidelity and one in which she misses her ride and remains oblivious to his indiscretions. While much of the film’s energy goes into servicing this complex gimmick, it’s the sharp writing and charming performances from the likes of Gwyneth Paltrow, John Hannah and John Lynch that keeps this from merely feeling like a needless exercise in story structure. —Mark Rozeman

robin-hood.jpg 91. Robin Hood
Year: 1973
Director: Wolfgang Reitherman
Robin Hood came along in what may be seen as one of Disney’s more fallow (or at least unremembered) periods in the early ‘70s, but it’s among their better efforts from the era, capturing much of the same charm as the earlier Sword and the Stone. It’s a somewhat simplistic retelling of the old Robin vs. King John story, but the voice-acting is superb and the surprisingly mature story is suitable for both children and adults in equal measure. It’s the kind of straightforward adventure story that no longer gets made unless the film is meant to appeal as a full-fledged comedy at the same time. Robin is a great hero, though—enough that my childhood self always found great appeal in this movie and the imagined thrill of splitting an arrow down the middle with a spectacularly placed twang of my imaginary bow. —Jim Vorel

prince-avalanche.jpg 90. Prince Avalanche
Year: 2013
Director: David Gordon Green 
Prince Avalanche finds David Gordon Greene perfecting the balance between his work in easy comedy and Terrence Malick-inspired dreamscape territory. The film, based on an Icelandic movie from 2011 called Either Way, is at times funnier than some of his straight-up comedies. It’s also a thoroughly enjoyable relationship movie about two men, one young, one old(ish), that is utterly devoid of sap—not an easy task when clichés are so easy to lean upon. The story takes place sometime after a severe wildfire has claimed a wide swath of forest near Austin, Texas, in the mid-1980s. Lance (Emile Hirsch) and Alvin (Paul Rudd) are spending the summer working as a two-man road crew in the burned-out state park, painting yellow lines on roads, planting posts, and camping out in the woods each night. Lance is barely present; he’s an airhead whose attitude defines “working for the weekend,” as he single-mindedly longs for a chance to go back into town and hook up with girls. A chunky, longhaired Emile Hirsch channels Jack Black in the role, smartly playing dumb the whole way through. Alvin, on the other hand, is a pretentious pseudo-intellectual who fancies himself something of a modern-day Thoreau. Once again, Rudd plays the straight man hilariously, as the two fight over whether Alvin’s German-language lesson tapes or Lance’s ’80s hair metal cassettes should be the soundtrack to their tedious and rather Zen-like work. Lance and Alvin talk and talk and get drunk and clash and make up, and the film never gets boring in the meantime. Their final, drunken dust-up is hilarious and berserk, offering a release of tension for characters and audience alike. —Jonah Flicker

kiki-poster.jpg 89. Kiki
Year: 2017
Directors: Sara Jordenö
With the help of model/activist Twiggy Pucci Garçon (who gets co-screenwriting credit here, in addition to appearing prominently), Sara Jardenö returns to the voguing scene Jennie Livingston so memorably captured in the legendary 1990 documentary Paris is Burning. What she finds is perhaps less immediately revelatory than it was almost 30 years ago, when Livingston first brought the voguing scene to a wider audience through her film. Which is probably to be expected, because much has changed since then, with AIDS no longer the scourge it once was, and with trans people of color becoming more visible. But as Kiki poignantly demonstrates—and as the real world constantly reminds us now in the midst of the Age of Trump—much more work still needs to be done. Thus, Jardenö’s greater focus on personal stories here is welcome, showing us an array of figures, some of whom are in the stages of gender transition, some who are trying to help others in the community and keep the voguing scene a safe space for them to fully express themselves. Kiki may be more of an activist documentary than Paris is Burning was, but it is no less affecting for it. —Kenji Fujishima

bronson.jpg 88. Bronson
Year: 2009
Director: Nicolas Winding Refn
Michael Peterson was an extremely unruly individual. Since his days in elementary school he took to throwing viscous punches at whomever got within arm’s reach. As an adult, a bald, mustachioed, incorrigible brute, he became known as the most dangerous prisoner in Britain’s corrections system, a man who’d take a bloody mile and three teeth if you gave him an inch of freedom, a man who adopts as his fight name “Charles Bronson.” I’m not sure such a man is worthy of this gorgeous treatment. The film is lit beautifully and moves through sets that are dingy and theatrical like the booths of a carnival side show. Bronson himself looks like someone who’d be in one of Ricky Jay’s journals of anomalies, except that his only claim to fame is throwing mean punches willy nilly. He’s shut up like an animal, but as he’ll tell you himself he’s never killed a soul. He’s taken hostages. He’s made some nasty threats. But the final scenes of a man locked away in a cage barely bigger than he is raise questions about matching punishment to the crime. Part of what makes the film so fascinating is director Nicolas Winding Refn’s excellent sense of order. He knows when to loll about, when to coil the film quietly like a spring, and Tom Hardy playing the bare-knuckle Bronson gives an awe-inspiring, apoplectic performance as rage personified, pacing as if he can barely wait for Refn’s cue to bare his teeth and kick forth. —Robert Davis

crystal-fairy.jpg 87. Crystal Fairy & the Magical Cactus
Year: 2013
Director: Sebastián Silva
If Michael Cera was typecast as the poster boy for Type B romantic heroes—awkward but sweet, soft but humble, geeky but loveable—his turn in Sebastián Silva’s Crystal Fairy marked his arrival as an unlikeable Type A anti-hero. In one of the actor’s two Chile-based collaborations with Silva (the other is Magic Magic), Cera’s Jaime is an ugly American, obsessed with mind-altering drugs and oblivious to his own self-centeredness. Stoned at a local party, he invites fellow American Crystal Fairy (Gaby Hoffman)—a hippie, hairy, sometimes off-putting and often-naked free spirit—on his quest for a rare mescaline-producing cactus on a camping trip with friends. The sparse plot nonetheless provides opportunities for a little self-reflection and some original, dark humor, making the druggy affair a worthwhile trip. —Josh Jackson

paper-heart.jpg 86. Paper Heart
Year: 2009
Director: Nick Jasenovec
In Paper Heart, comedienne Charlyne Yi takes it upon herself to investigate her own romantic anomie in a series of forcibly adorable interview segments with married couples, Tarot readers and Michael Cera. Calling the experience a documentary isn’t entirely accurate, as a scripted courtship with Cera (playing himself in repressed man-child excess) makes this as much a handheld art romp as an objective exercise in puppy love. But sequences including a sobering interview with a gay New York couple inject much-needed substance into what could have been an overdose of rambling post-Juno ironic detachment. This pleasant examination on the frailty of human attraction might not reverse divorce statistics, but it does make for a delightful date-night alternative. —Sean Edgar

League_of_their_own_poster.jpg 85. A League of Their Own
Year: 1992
Director: Penny Marshall
Although a film about women’s baseball during WWII, the real star of the feature is not one of the girls; it’s Tom Hanks. His portrayal of a fallen baseball great trying to regain respect (and kick the bottle) is one of the actor’s finer moments. Who can ever get tired of that famous quip, “There’s no crying in baseball!” a staple that baseball commentators throw out like it’s their fastball? It’s still a great line mulled over to this day. That’s when you know a movie has weight. Geena Davis and Lori Petty’s sibling relationship is swell, too. —Joe Shearer

joshy.jpg 84. Joshy
Year: 2016
Director: Jeff Baena
In the movies, when a bunch of bros meet up at a vacation house for some R&R, it usually results in a weekend blast of bacchanalia or somebody getting killed. Or both. Thankfully, Joshy isn’t like most movies. Yes, it has the trappings of a buddy hangout film, but it’s far more mature than the genre it leans on, and more entertaining, too. With five main characters, a host of cameos and a precipitous balance between comedy and darkness, Joshy gets a lot done, and does it very well. Writer-director Jeff Baena doesn’t have us thinking about partying at first. The title character (Silicon Valley’s Thomas Middleditch) arrives home to his fiancée, unaware that by night’s end their relationship will meet its harsh, abrupt end. Months later, with the deposit to their Ojai bachelor party house in the balance, Joshy invites his pals to get together anyway. Only three show up, and they’re a study in contrasts: Ari (Adam Pally) is a stoner who’s married with a new baby, Adam (Alex Ross Perry) is a hesitant nerd, and Eric (Nick Kroll) is an overconfident, overly outspoken partier. Sure, there’s drinking and drugs and silliness in Joshy, but they’re rarely the focal point of the action. They’re a natural part of the environment, which makes sense once you’re in your thirties and dealing with the realities of life. For as much as I enjoy a good Seth Rogen pukefest, it doesn’t have to be the cinematic blueprint of what it means to hang with the guys. —Norm Schrager

superbad poster.png 83. Superbad
Year: 2007
Director: Greg Mottola
Every generation of teens has its generation of teen movies, and Greg Mottola’s Superbad is the epitome of mine. In Seth (Jonah Hill) and Evan (Michael Cera), my friends and I had a mirror for our own insecurity and awkwardness—they were our modern-day Anthony Michael Halls. In Fogell/McLovin (Christopher Mintz-Plasse), we had an icon of weird who somehow ended up a winner, a sort of photonegative of Ferris Bueller (Matthew Broderick). And in Superbad’s constant dick jokes (care of a script by namesakes Seth Rogen and Evan Goldberg), we had an accurate representation of the way we all talked, maturity be damned. The film would join the pantheon of mid-2000s comedies—most notably Anchorman and Step Brothers—that created a white-adolescent-boy language made up entirely of lewd, absurd references. It’s a rom-com in many respects, but unlike its predecessors, Superbad is a romance between two buddies, a story wherein the ostensible sex drive is secondary to Platonic need. Most of John Hughes’ ’80s oeuvre centers on the cringe-worthy struggle of X character getting Y other character to notice their existence in order to have Y inevitably fall for X. No matter what else Sixteen Candles and Pretty in Pink have to say, their endgame remains Molly Ringwald getting with the correct Good Guy. Ditto Amy Heckerling’s iconic contributions to the genre, Fast Times at Ridgemont High and Clueless, and the literary reimaginings (Ten Things I Hate About You, et. al.) that followed in the latter’s wake. In Superbad, Seth and Evan’s versions of the Good Guy aren’t Jules (a precocious Emma Stone) and Becca (Martha MacIsaac): they’re each other. In the film’s denouement, with the two leads snuggled up close in sleeping bags, Seth literally says, “I just wanna go to the rooftops and scream, ‘I love my best friend, Evan.’” For teenage boys struggling with anxiety over the seeming hopelessness of losing their virginity, Superbad provides a welcome respite, an acknowledgement that focusing your entire life upon your dick is pointless when there’s fulfillment to be had by your side the entire time. —Zach Blumenfeld

witness.jpg 82. Witness
Year: 1985
Director: Peter Weir
In any discussion of Pennsylvania’s cultural eccentricities, we’d be remiss to leave out the Pennsylvania Dutch, otherwise known as the Amish, whose population still tops 300,000 to this day. Peter Weir’s Witness is, surprisingly, still the only mainstream cinematic treatment of the Amish, a group that’s often the butt of jokes and general misunderstanding in popular culture. Witness takes an open-minded approach, depicting the Amish as a group of people who, though they live according to a rigid set of beliefs, are not terribly different from the rest of us where it counts. That said, this is very much a film of the Reagan era, playing up the juxtaposition between a city rife with depravity and the quaint, simple life of the Amish. Harrison Ford (in the role that garnered him his only Oscar nomination) plays John Book, a police officer forced to hide out with an Amish widow, Rachel (Kelly McGillis), when her son (Lukas Haas) witnesses one of Book’s fellow officers (Danny Glover) commit a murder. The Philadelphia of Witness is almost cartoonishly corrupt and conspiratorial, but the film balances this with its sensitive rendering of its characters. Raised in the Amish community, Rachel is generally naïve to a lot of American culture, but she’s still a mature, fully formed human being, and the film doesn’t take the easy way out by “rescuing” her from her Amish life. John and Rachel share a crucial understanding, but in the end they step back into their own worlds, unable to bridge the gulf. —Maura McAndrew

melancholia.jpg 81. Melancholia
Year: 2011
Director: Lars von Trier 
If you want a really, really disturbingly beautiful apocalypse, you can’t go wrong with Lars von Trier. Melancholia is the second of a trilogy of films in which the director dives into the nature of depression. It revolves around two sisters, Justine (Kirsten Dunst) and Claire (Charlotte Gainsbourg)—after a staccato series of prologue images set to Wagner (if you’ve ever experienced severe depression you’ll recognize the choppy, distanced, “underwater” quality of this first section), we open on Justine’s wedding reception. There is something seriously wrong with these people. Or is there? It seems like Justine’s boss is actually harassing her for ad copy in the middle of her own wedding toast. It seems like her father is a raging narcissist and her mother is “honest” in a way that makes you want to never take a phone call from her, ever. Everything seems off. And that’s before anyone realizes a runaway planet called Melancholia might be on a collision course with Earth. —Amy Glynn

john dies at the end poster (Custom).jpeg 80. John Dies at the End
Year: 2012
Director: Don Coscarelli
Your ability to withstand the absurdity of John Dies at the End will depend almost entirely on if you’re able to tolerate nonlinear storylines and characters who, woven together, tax the lengths of the imagination. An oftimes crude and farcical combination of horror, drug culture, and philosophical sci-fi, it’s a film you won’t entirely grasp until you’ve seen it for yourself. Central is a drug known as “soy sauce,” which causes the user to see outside the concept of linear time, existing at all times at once, similar to the alien beings from Vonnegut’s Slaughterhouse-Five. Also appearing: phantom limbs, an alien consciousness known as “Shitload,” a heroic dog, Paul Giamatti and an evil, interdimensional supercomputer. No drugs necessary—John Dies at the End will make you feel like you’ve already ransacked your medicine cabinet. —Jim Vorel

CoverUpintheAir.jpg 79. Up in the Air
Year: 2009
Director: Jason Reitman 
Ryan Bingham (George Clooney) lives his life traveling, and he loves it, even though his job is to fire workers for employers who can’t break the news themselves. The gig’s a downer, but at least he gets to fly. His remote boss is played by the great Jason Bateman, Vera Farmiga plays a fellow traveler, and when these actors pair off they’re fantastic. The film is primarily a portrayal of Bingham’s isolation and the depressing circumstances of his job, and in doing so provides a spot-on illustration of the the life of the jaded business traveller who knows his way around an airport better than his own home. —Ryan Bort

journey-to-west.jpg 78. Journey to the West: Conquering the Demons
Year: 2013
Director: Stephen Chow and Derek Kwok
No list like this would ever be complete without an entry care of Stephen Chow, and so while the Hong Kong director’s Western breakthrough, the bonkers Shaolin Soccer, is also available to stream, the even bonkers-ier Journey to the West is a better place to start. Monumentally popular in China, breaking all-time box office records (even beating out Transformers 4, so you know this shit means business), Journey is based on a Chinese literary classic of the same name, but saturated with Chow’s now infamous wit, slapstick, and barely-containable glee at the possibility of fantasy filmmaking. Every scene is an elaborate tour de force of stunts and battles and exaggerated athleticism—just like every scene in every film of his to come before—but Journey takes that extra step to imbue its traditional genre tropes with grotesquerie and phantasmagorical imagination, transforming a pretty basic story about one monk’s path to enlightenment into Terry Gilliam’s wet dream, replete with pig monsters and monkey spirits and steampunk and practically everything in between. So much more than a martial arts flick, this feels like a super-gifted filmmaker doing exactly what he was born to do. —Dom Sinacola

christmas-tale-poster.jpg 77. A Christmas Tale
Year: 2008
Director: Arnaud Desplechin
A Christmas Tale is a lively, capricious, mischievous ensemble delight—the kind of movie Noah Baumbach would make if he were French and a little more hopeful about humanity. Abel (Jean-Paul Roussillon) and Junon (Catherine Deneuve) have three grown children, two of whom have long been estranged. Now, as Junon needs a dangerous transfusion to survive cancer, everyone convenes in the family home to celebrate Christmas together. Though the film deals with many exceptionally depressing topics (mental illness, hatred, life-threatening disease, lost love, betrayal) director Arnaud Desplechin never veers into maudlin territory. Instead, with a lightly stylized touch, A Christmas Tale avoids taking itself or its characters’ foibles too seriously. Family members might hate each other, but something like love is underneath it all. On top of his story about a hilariously contentious family reunion, Desplechin has heaped cinema itself, spinning up a maelstrom of irises and dissolves, Vertigos and Tenenbaums, Minguses and Herrmanns, to end up with something that feels almost, maybe, strangely, ever so slightly touching. —Alissa Wilkinson

eight-days-a-week.jpg 76. Eight Days a Week
Year: 2016
Director: Ron Howard 
The best documentaries, regardless of subject, give us something new. They teach us. They offer fresh perspective. That is really, really hard to do when you’re making a documentary about the Beatles. After more than 50 years, you’d be hard-pressed to find anyone unfamiliar with the story of the Fab Four. Eight Days a Week, Ron Howard’s new Beatles documentary, focuses exclusively on the band’s touring years, from 1962-1966—and while it certainly doesn’t break any new ground, it’s a fun retelling of the band’s meteoric rise. What it does feature are new interviews with surviving members Paul McCartney and Ringo Starr, as well as a generous amount of archival interviews with John Lennon and George Harrison. Previously unseen, fan-recorded concert footage and some revealing studio outtakes are littered throughout, and while the film hits all the major points you’d expect it to (Beatlemania was crazy!), it’s so enjoyable you’re reminded there’s a reason this well keeps getting re-tapped. Just like the Beatles’ records will continue to spin across the world, from generation to generation until the end of time, we’ll keep poring over footage of these lads and talking about how they changed music—and pop culture as a whole—forever. —Bonnie Stiernberg

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