The best action movies of 2023 were films of struggle. Many saw the light at the end of the tunnel for the genre’s lumbering luminaries. The grizzled veterans putting their bodies on the line for our pleasure — ranging from Keanu Reeves’ John Wick to Tom Cruise’s Ethan Hunt to Denzel Washington’s…is the guy just named The Equalizer? — fought the passage of time and, for the most part, came out on top. Cruise still has at least one more Impossible Mission to tackle while Wick has seemingly been put to rest before, but there is climactic peace in their quests for an end. That fight, not always against a devious foe but often against wrongs dropped on your doorstep, pokes its head up in the younger-skewing entries this year, films like Nimona, Polite Society, and the new Spider-Man and Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles movies that see their heroes yearning for community and understanding. Life isn’t fair. The old-timers know this, just like the youngsters are learning it. Some have just gotten better at punching that fact in the face than others. The best action movies of 2023 remind us of the sadness that accumulates across a lifetime of battling this injustice, and give us hope that the new blood will be able to face their foes more productively — even if they still kick a massive amount of ass.
Here are the 15 best action movies of 2023:
15. Jawan
I for one fear and respect the ageless power of Shah Rukh Khan, much like I fear and respect the ageless power of Tom Cruise. King Khan returns to the big leagues with Jawan, a crime-fighting epic in which he plays a Neil Breen protagonist exposing his government’s corruption. He also plays that protagonist’s father, in bearded, cigar-chomping Schwarzenegger mode. Nearly 60, and alternately treated like a grizzled badass and the same leading man he’s always been, SRK gives dozens of performances in here, from matinee idol to the actual Joker. It’s showstopper after showstopper, all performed with the grace and subtlety of a nuke. The potent, ridiculous swagger of SRK permeates every action scene and expository dump of Jawan, punishing arms dealers and health ministers alike with his ass-beating self-assuredness. His shirt is always falling off, his dancing always on point. Making it impossible to look away, filmmaker Atlee hyper-focuses on details (like the crushing of an AirPod or the dropping of a single globule of blood) as the movie zips between high-speed and slo-mo magic. There’s a guy that looks like Bane. Why not? Imagine if all the Fast & Furious movies were condensed into three non-stop hours of madness, starred a gang of (completely justified) women prisoners, and opened with a sequence where a horse runs through a fight scene while completely on fire. That’s Jawan. —Jacob Oller
14. Nimona
You know that joke about how we would all side with the queer coded villains of our childhood? ND Stevenson’s now decade-old webcomic-turned-graphic-novel Nimona is a commitment to that bit. Like its source material, Nimona is a legend for the freaks and the queers, a story told in figures, archetypes and tropes. Nimona understands that villains are often made villainous for their bodies and identities. Nimona embraces queer coding and turns it into a subversive power fantasy. You should absolutely go read Nimona. It won’t take much longer to read than it will to watch the 99-minute film (and you should watch it after), but with that space, Stevenson establishes and subverts the archetypes and tropes that shape not just narrative, but world view. It’s not subversive of just form or structure, but of narrative and ideology. Now in the hands of Spies in Disguise directorial duo Nick Bruno and Troy Quane, Nimona is roughly the same chaotic gremlin that fans of Stevenson’s work loved—with some notable reworks to fit into an animated kids movie on Netflix. It kinda skips the whole villain arc of the original story, which I would be more annoyed about if the many other adjustments and the reworked scope didn’t make this such a good standalone adaptation. The movie still captures the heart of Nimona. It may make for a less subversive take on villainy, but remains a thoughtful commentary on systems of power and the othering of non-normative bodies. Instead of entering years into a stagnant stand-off between the Institute and evil Boldheart (Riz Ahmed), Nimona (Chloë Grace Moretz) now finds the fallen knight hours after he’s framed for killing the Queen of his kingdom. Nimona is as charming as ever, with animation and voice acting capturing the comic-book action. The film adds an additional layer of class to the whole thing, as Boldheart was set to be the first knight of the realm not descended from noble lineage, and his and Goldenloin’s (Eugene Lee Yang) relationship is brought more to the fore. The two together are adorable, with as much care in their animation together as in any action scene. There’s never a moment that feels like their queerness is being toned down. There are other quibbles I have with exactly how Bruno and Quane explore identity, marginalization and systems of power, but none that greatly detract from my enjoyment of the film more than the lingering presence of Netflix’s history of transphobia. The most significant revision to Nimona is making its lead more explicitly trans, without ever saying it. And I don’t think it ever has to, to be clear. It may even understand that aspect of the character better than Stevenson did at the time of writing. It’s just that, on Netflix, transphobia gets to be explicit, but not trans people. And I don’t think Nimona would really stand for that.—Autumn Wright
13. Sisu
Thank goodness Jalmari Helander got sidetracked by COVID. If not for the pandemic, the showy filmmaker of Rare Exports: A Christmas Tale might’ve spent his time making a sci-fi comedy instead of the stripped-down Nazi-smasher Sisu. In the vein of so many Westerns and modern actioners with strong, silent (often legendary) heroes, Sisu positions the gruff and grizzled Jorma Tommila as a Finnish supersoldier-turned-miner during WWII. He strikes gold, the Nazis strike him, he strikes back. Nearly dialogue-free and barely 90 minutes, Sisu is about as barebones an action movie as you could hope for, despite it seeing its protagonist demolish tanks, planes and an outrageous number of dirty Nazis. Tommila glowers well enough, but it’s the warped ideas that Helander and fight choreographer Oula Kitti have him pull off — like sucking the air from an enemy’s lungs after slicing his throat underwater, or tossing a mine right onto someone’s juicy noggin — that make Sisu an outrageous delight. “Sisu” is meant to be an untranslatable term referring to an indomitable, stubborn will. But we get the meaning well enough, watching “the Immortal” survive hangings, drownings, gunshots, explosions and plane crashes. We never doubt his safety, but we’re always excited to watch him pull through. That’s an elegant, intangible quality so many action movies miss, and one most could get nearer to if they just had their hero fight a bunch of racists. There’s not much to Sisu, but there doesn’t have to be — what is there satisfies a particularly primal itch so well, that it feels greedy asking for more. And with Tommila’s gold miner around…well, greedy is the last thing I want to be. Also: Don’t worry, the dog lives in this one.—Jacob Oller
12. Extraction 2
It used to be that making brawny, kind of stupid action movies was a hard-won career niche, achieved over multiple years by one-named superstars like Arnold or Sly, often followed by several more years of laboring to prove greater versatility (or not). Now musclebound invincibility is its own kind of versatility flex – a way for a sort-of action hero like Chris Hemsworth to prove that he can sweat, bleed, and kill to a greater degree than allowed by his most famous role as a Marvel superhero. Not counting a blurred figure of ambiguity at the end of the first Extraction, Tyler Rake (Hemsworth) was last seen dead in a river after saving the imperiled son of an Indian crime lord. Extraction 2 follows Tyler’s rescue, coma, awakening, physical rehabilitation, and retirement to a remote cabin, all of which happens with both painstaking slowness (in the world of the movie) and unintentional comedic swiftness (in terms of actual screen time). Extraction 2 performs a flex designed to distinguish itself from the many bullet-spray, henchmen-slaughtering action movies it resembles: A prison rescue takes place over the course of a massive 21-minute action sequence, shot to resemble a single take. Though large swaths of this sequence are believably continuous, it was obviously not actually done in one, especially when the full planes/trains/automobiles breadth of the sequence reveals itself. It’s a gimmick, as much a stab (and shot, and punch, and ten more stabs) at credibility as Hemsworth’s burly-man physicality – a performance of strenuousness, sweating to show ’em how it’s done in a way that, say, the John Wick movies (which also sometimes use long takes, minus the look-at-me thirstiness) don’t need to bother with. And yet: There’s no need to outsmart yourself from enjoying the relentless, still-impressive spectacle of Tyler Rake plowing through a prison riot, shooting it out with a helicopter, and at one point engaging in fisticuffs whilst literally (well, digitally) on fire. If the fake oner becomes more obviously computer-assisted as it leaves the prison and traverses several different vehicles, there’s also an almost Wicked playfulness as returning director Sam Hargrave (a longtime stunt coordinator) keeps swerving his way around, over, and through all of the self-imposed obstacles, whether human or computer-assisted. Adding to the fun is the physical work of supporting badasses Bessa and especially Farahani. Extraction 2 makes a structural gamble by consolidating the majority of its action into two 20-minute sections: That first big setpiece, and then another, more traditionally cross-cut sequence featuring the heroes attempting to defend Ketevan (Tinatin Dalakishvili) and her kids from an office-tower assault somewhere in the Gunmetal Grey District of Vienna. 40-plus minutes, which is to say roughly 35 percent of the movie’s runtime, consists of exciting, impressively staged action, easy enough to follow that its forays into gory nastiness are never in doubt. The scrapes are satisfying close and many of the visual effects well-hidden. If Extraction 2 isn’t necessarily smarter than its predecessor, maybe it’s somewhat less stupid. Its self-conscious action craft puts a little bit of brain behind all that performative brawn.–Jesse Hassenger
11. Polite Society
Facing normal teenage problems with grace and acceptance is just unrealistic. Jumping headfirst into the deep end of conspiracy, ridiculous plotting and over-the-top genre-hopping pastiche is a far more relatable way to deal with growing pains. The world of musicals belts this angst out. Punk kicks that world’s ass, to similar ends. But when the enthusiastic force behind Peacock’s We Are Lady Parts (a show well-versed in both), writer/director Nida Manzoor, faces this moody madness on the big screen, she retaliates with Polite Society, a silly, energetic headrush of action-comedy. Playing in the stylish, piss-taking space of Gurinder Chadha and Edgar Wright, Manzoor’s feature debut attacks adolescent fears—failing to achieve your dreams, settling for less, fading from loved ones—with spin-kicks, fake mustaches and evil plots so absurdly sinister that even the most jaded, monosyllabic teens will have to crack a smile. The exploits of Ria (Priya Kansara) and her entourage of high school dorks (Seraphina Beh and Ella Bruccoleri, sidekicks who get all the punchlines and weaponize them accordingly) are simply ridiculous, and in this ridiculousness, they transcend the kung-fu movie parodies and the Bond-villain schemes filling Polite Society to inhabit the Teenage Sublime. Ria looks up to her big sis, Lena (Ritu Arya), whose art school passions and shag haircut scream “cool role model.” Even when she drops out, that’s something to admire—she’s a badass, living by her own rules. So when Lena meets a guy, a handsome rich guy at that, it sinks Ria. In the real world, she’d feel like the world is ending. In Polite Society…the world might actually be ending. That’s where Manzoor finds her biggest success: Reflecting how heightened and out-of-control everything feels when you’re young, translating it to genre tropes and sitcom sidequests. She’s gotta stomp their relationship into the dust, one outsized mission at a time. It’s exceptionally cute, and sharp enough that even the more predictable gags do some damage.—Jacob Oller
10. Kill Boksoon
“Killing people is simple compared to raising a kid.” Any mother will recognize the emotion with which veteran Korean actress Jeon Do-yeon delivers this line, playing ruthless assassin Gil Bok-soon. I may know nothing about the ability to mark an opponent’s neck with a felt-tip marker, but I am well-familiar with the exhaustion and constant gnawing in your mind, especially when you’re a single parent. Just as Jeon Do-yeon’s Crash Course in Romance is wholesome, Kill Boksoon is a stylish and slick action film, featuring exhilarating fight sequences and cool camera angles to amp up the drama. The plot keeps it simple. We meet Boksoon on the job. She’s been assigned to kill a Korean-born Japanese gangster. How will Boksoon match up to a yakuza? Admirably at first, but then using her wits. Turns out, she has a supermarket run to make. The scene immediately transfers to the shopping aisles of a grocery store in a transition smooth as butter. And the plot just keeps building. There’s some level of story about Gil Boksoon being part of a company of gangsters with strict rules, and that a renewal of her work contract is coming up. She has to contend with both professional rivalry and the eyerolls and smart-alecky answers from her sassy daughter Gil Jae-yeong (Kim Si-a). Spy stories or yarns about assassins are an intriguing opportunity for character study. The idea of a mild-mannered character with a secret identity tickles a lot of curiosities. How did they end up doing the job they do? How do they deal with co-workers or families? What does a bad day for them look like? These portrayals become downright fascinating if the protagonist is an unlikely one—the surprise factor is always a neat trick. In the case of Kill Boksoon, that element comes from the charged relationship between Boksoon and her daughter. As a professional, Boksoon is ready for any challenge, no matter how lethal. She is never one to back away from a fight, even if she’s considered its many outcomes and the potential to lose. However, she constantly finds herself letting her guard down, unable to reveal her true identity. Her daughter has her own set of struggles at school, which she can’t take to her mom, especially when Boksoon’s work keeps interrupting her attempts to connect with her daughter. The story does not matter much, however. The film is firmly centered on Jeon, and she delivers. She is at once alluring and efficient with her kills. Her chameleon-like ability to turn from a concerned mom to a dangerous killer, without the viewer doubting either aspect of her persona, is riveting. Like many Korean action films, there’s plenty of bloodshed and bludgeoning to make a certain section of fans happy. Even though I’m not in it for the gore, Kill Boksoon finds a kind of terrifying beauty to such moments. Throw in some philosophical one-liners about life, promises made and broken, and honor in the middle of all the slo-mo clashes, and it becomes an entertaining watch.—Aparita Bhandari
9. Shin Kamen Rider
Hideaki Anno’s ongoing existential crisis has been extending past his Evangelion work, weighing tokusatsu films like Shin Godzilla and Shin Ultraman down with the crushing angst of violence and survival. Shin Kamen Rider applies this emotional realism to its various animal mutants while keeping Anno’s penchant for extreme camera angles (like shots from below the corner of a desk, so you can only barely see the people talking) and the cartoonish physics of the source series. Sosuke Ikematsu’s Takeshi Hongo AKA the grasshopper-augmented Kamen Rider leaps and twirls through the air, crushing heads and pounding blood from the faces of his enemies, only to be horrified by the beast he becomes. Discussions of power, loneliness, isolation, and our responsibilities to one another ground Shin Kamen Rider, even when Kamen Rider faces a completely hideous bat-man. Yes, there’s a bat-man, a wasp-woman, and a spider-man — even those exhausted by superhero movies might be tickled at the off-putting realism invested in these familiar combinations. Anno amps up the energy with his editing (co-cut by Emi Tsujita) and keeps shocking us into the perspectives of his absurd characters through phone camera footage and shots you’ll swear came from a GoPro. It’s silly, dense, inventive and exhilarating. The non-stop plot, seeing Kamen Rider facing down his fellow mutants one after another, combined with the ever-evolving visual style, can be overwhelming — even disorienting. But, as is often the case with Anno, there’s meaning in the madness and ennui in the eccentricity. Blending an old-fashioned brawler with a ’70s serial, prestige TV depression and the “from the mind of a child” maximalism of Hausu, Shin Kamen Rider is a delightful deconstruction that still believes in heroes.—Jacob Oller
8. Creed III
Creed III is bravely taking its chances without Rocky or his accompanying emotional baggage (or, no small thing, his theme music). Creed II took a baby step away from its parent franchise, developing Creed’s world while leaving time for a Rocky subplot (and a Stallone co-writing credit that seemed, frankly, like the result of a miscommunication, given that he didn’t write the first one). This time, Rocky is mentioned briefly but unseen, and Creed’s big opponent is a sui-generis figure from his past, not Rocky’s. (Creed II featured Viktor Drago, son of Rocky IV’s supervillain Ivan.) Stallone may grumble, but the spinoff process is complete. The series belongs to Creed now. Which also means that it fully belongs to Michael B. Jordan–not least because he takes a Stallone-like step into the director’s chair with this third installment. That weird alchemy between autobiography and self-mythologizing that makes the Rocky sequels fascinating even as they fail to live up to the magic of the original is very much active here, as Donnie feels the tension between his traumatic childhood and the luxury he now enjoys as a retired boxing champ. That tension tightens when Damian Anderson (Jonathan Majors), a friend of Donnie’s from his group-home days, emerges from a multi-year prison sentence and asks for some help starting a belated boxing career. As Damian, Majors gives the scary, wounded, funny, charismatic performance he was supposed to have delivered in that Ant-Man movie; this time, he’s in a movie that understands how to coax out a range of emotions in dialogue scenes, and how to frame its actors, together and separately, to catch the flicker-like gestures that signal those shifts. Indeed, some of the most riveting scenes between Jordan and Majors downplay macho fireworks, like their reunion over lunch, driven by Majors’ pained menace. Did Jordan study Heat for this scene? The shots aren’t cribbed from it, but the patience and unshowy strategy could be. Elsewhere, Jordan takes bigger swings from behind the camera. He’s spoken of his anime fandom (something else he’s gifted to his character; young Donnie has an anime poster in his bedroom), and how that influenced some of his directorial choices. That’s most evident in the film’s climactic boxing match, which features such bold stylizations — graphic-panel closeups, backgrounds that switch to dreamlike symbolism — that it’s hard not to wish for similar adventurousness in the other fights and training montages. But even when Creed III treads familiar ground, this series feels like the ideal outlet for the on-screen persona Jordan is building: a resilient man who needs to better understand the power he’s fought so hard for.–Jesse Hassenger
7. The Equalizer 3
With Denzel Washington on the cusp of 70, The Equalizer 3 certainly qualifies as a “Geriaction” film of the kind Liam Neeson now almost exclusively appears in. But Antoine Fuqua’s trilogy-capper handles the age factor with unusual grace for the genre. Much of the movie is centered around the toll that opening massacre took on Washington’s aging body, and his slow recuperation with the help of his new Italian friends. However, rather than the long wait for him to be fighting fit again becoming dull or frustrating, it only adds to the tension. The bad guys are so resoundingly, sadistically awful, it truly does seem that only Robert McCall can stop them. And while he’s not able to, they direct all their violent energies towards Gio—a sweet local cop with an adorable young family. Gio’s survival is intimately linked to McCall’s recovery, and that makes it feel all the more urgent. And yet conversely, the other reason The Equalizer 3 fares so well among its peers is that Washington is so charming, such a radiator of unbridled star power, we just don’t need to see him embroiled in violence to have a good time watching him. The Equalizer 3 knows and loves its leading man, and trusts we’ll be happy to bask in his charisma as he sits in cafes and chats with the friendly citizens. Yes, he is still doing the teabag thing, only this time it’s against the most picturesque of backdrops. As he walks around the local market with his new friend Aminah (Gaia Scodellaro), who’s just gently teased him about his new purchase (“Ah, I see Stefano finally sold that hat!”), it’s hard to imagine anyone not being content to watch Washington relax and live the dolce vita for the next 90 minutes. Alas, there are bad guys to equalize! It’s the mix of sentimentalism and splattery violence that makes The Equalizer 3 so unexpectedly endearing. There’s a whole subplot here involving Dakota Fanning as a CIA agent, and it’s completely superfluous; clearly just there as a nod to the rapport she and Washington had in 2004’s Man on Fire, when she was 10 years old. Though the narrative would have rolled along fine without her, the two are still so lovely to watch together, it’s difficult to begrudge The Equalizer 3 for leaning into that schmaltzy nostalgia. Another sugary twist, as to her character’s parentage, is a little eyeroll-inducing—and yet there’s something weirdly sweet about that detail being in the same movie that was, only minutes earlier, so enthusiastic to show us what a man looks like with a hacksaw bisecting his face. Although the John Wick franchise, which also started in 2014 and (sort of…) finished this year, has understandably stolen The Equalizer’s thunder when it comes to action scenes, Antoine Fuqua can still engineer them with impressive verve. Maybe it’s just the Italian setting, but there’s a majestic sweep to the setpieces in the franchise’s third entry that gives them an operatic feel; the pulse-pounding, classical-infused musical leitmotifs add further excitement and propulsion to the already robust sequences. Yet, there’s a stripped-down simplicity to the climactic one that has a gratifyingly nasty bite. In terms of the pure pleasures of solidity, of seeing a movie work within well-worn conventions to such a nourishing degree, of basking in the reflected glow of the starriest of star power, of seeing a trilogy arc ended with care and love, The Equalizer 3 was unsurpassable.—Chloe Walker
6. The Killer
Naturally, an unnatural filmmaker like David Fincher could only make a hitman movie like The Killer. Adapting a vivid-yet-cold graphic novel into a thrilling-yet-mundane piece of character work, the Titan of Takes meticulously creates a nameless assassin who’d prefer if he wasn’t human at all. A technological man for technological times. Michael Fassbender’s narration-heavy performance as the Killer is one of robotic self-delusion. He is a man who loves perfection, who loves planning. A man who loves challenging executions and loves to think of himself as someone who—if he could just plan enough—is capable of anything. Embedded in his eventual failure is self-effacing humor, mocking this very ideal. It’s easy to pretend that you can optimize your life to programmatic perfection. There’s a whole industry devoted to this capitalistic goal, filled with productivity apps, tech wearables and organizational best practices. The Killer uses this worldview as its setting to ask, “Ok, what happens when you miss?” The Killer isn’t a self-aware guy, and Fincher-favorite writer Andrew Kevin Walker (Seven, rewrites of The Game and Fight Club) knows how to turn obnoxious, comic-like voiceover into revealing psychological commentary. The Killer refers to some suburbanites as “normies,” and you wonder if, after seeing his work co-opted as copypasta, Walker is now conversing directly with the edgelords. Maybe that’s why, despite his surface similarity in appearance, profession and aesthetic to Le Samouraï, the Killer is intentionally not the “cool” kind of hitman. He’s your friend’s dad, always traveling for work, addicted to his Apple Watch and airport amenities. His life is a series of suitcases, lines, and Ubers. Fincher’s process-focused photography—cut with precision by editor Kirk Baxter, framed with hard lines and a little more distance than you expect by cinematographer Erik Messerschmidt—makes it clear the Killer is going through the motions, whether those motions are assembling his sniper in the middle of the night, dumping those gun parts, or stopping by McDonald’s for an Egg McMuffin. Though the characters are irredeemable, the message is universal: We all end up in the same place, so what’s the use in pretending you’ve “solved” life? The unreliable conversation between aesthetics, genre and character creates something realistic, novel and modern—something Fincher is perfectly keyed into. By applying our technocapitalist present to the kind of person that this reality inevitably creates, Fincher’s created a thoroughly entertaining look at a pathetic crook—all while delivering a self-deprecating blow to clockwork living.—Jacob Oller
5. Mission: Impossible—Dead Reckoning Part One
A scene in Mission: Impossible—Dead Reckoning Part One defines all Tom Cruise is and will ever be, arguably charting—in the language of death-defying action and in the voice of Hollywood A-lister beatitudes—the whole arc of contemporary blockbuster franchise filmmaking. Recovering with his team of Impossible Mission Force (IMF) agents following one of the worst catastrophes they’ve yet faced, Ethan Hunt (Cruise, asexual and totemic) admits to a new team member that, while he can’t guarantee he will keep them safe, he can guarantee that he’ll care more about their lives than his own. Not expecting such unmitigated humanity in the midst of such potential worldwide cataclysm, the new agent stares through welling tears. “But you don’t know me,” they say. “Does it matter?” Tom Cruise and Ethan Hunt both respond. Whether Cruise is capable of making a film that doesn’t reckon with his legacy? That’s not this one’s job. Helmed by director Christopher McQuarrie on his third go at M:I, Dead Reckoning Part One reaches back 28 years to the first film, not only bringing back Kittridge (Henry Czerny) as the head of the IMF, appointed apparently after Director Hunley’s (Alec Baldwin, ejected from the franchise with impeccable timing) murder in Fallout, but culling reverently from De Palma’s penchant for paranoid close-ups and canted angles, for long-held shots obsessed with the creased faces of defiantly sweaty men, studying their buttery eyes for omens. Dead Reckoning Part One’s plot, as convoluted as the best in the franchise, comes together stupendously. Every facet, from sound and set design to Cruise’s sheer athleticism to how McQuarrie knows exactly where to place the camera to embrace that athleticism, coalesces into a very real, often breathtaking sense of peril that’s mostly absent from every other IP that’s lasted this long. Cruise is showing us what kind of death it takes to achieve the immortality cinema promises.—Dom Sinacola
4. Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles: Mutant Mayhem
A visual tour de force of hybrid 2D and 3D animation, Mutant Mayhem is not only the most authentically New York version of the Turtles yet, it’s arguably the most inventive. Rowe, Spears and production designer Yashar Kassai have rendered the brothers as if they’re hand-drawn, complete with messy sketch lines, doodle flairs and a graffiti aesthetic. This is the ultimate paint-outside-the-lines take on the Turtles and it works on every level. Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles: Mutant Mayhem is swinging for the fences with its story and voice performances to ambitiously, quantifiably shake up the artistic rut that theatrical computer animation has been stuck in for the last two decades. Another plus is that the brothers are voiced by non-adult voice actors Nicolas Cantu (Leo), Brady Noon (Raph), Shamon Brown Jr. (Mikey) and Micah Abbey (Donnie), who recorded together, and were encouraged to excitedly talk over one another like a gaggle of real, tight-knit brothers would do. It translates into rapid-fire, organic quips and seemingly effortless timing that conveys a rapport that is singular to this iteration. It also elevates the script so that it doesn’t sound like it was written by a bunch of 40-year-olds trying to be hip and young. Rowe and Spears have a firm hold on their pacing, especially in how they use comedy to enhance their action beats. They also chart a progression to the brother’s battle prowess that is satisfying and pays off in satisfying full-circle moments. There’s also much to be admired in their choice to frame a lot of sequences with hand-held camera blocking, which leans into the unpredictable youth of the heroes that works so well in the gritty New York environs they’re sparring in. The filmmakers are also delightfully experimental throughout the Mutant Mayhem, using inspired live-action inserts, segueing into different artistic styles (including a homage to Eastman and Laird’s comic art) and embracing the asymmetrical character design that gives the film a fresh and energetic looseness. Rowe and company prove that there’s no strength to the myth of IP fatigue when you have the vision and passion to reinvent with such bold and fun intention.—Tara Bennett
3. Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse
Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse webs its way into a far more jaded world, one overstuffed with superhero sequels, and specifically, multiverse storytelling. And yet Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse swings in and, yet again, wipes the floor with its genre brethren by presenting a sequel that is both kinetic and deeply emotional. The script by Phil Lord, Christopher Miller and Dave Callaham (Shang-Chi and the Legend of the Ten Rings) smartly builds upon the foundation of its already established characters, their relationships and the ongoing consequences from the first film to further explore the lives of secret teen superheroes Gwen Stacy (Hailee Steinfeld) and Miles Morales (Shameik Moore) a year after the first film. The writers do so with a clear agenda to not only best themselves visually, but by upping the game of the now-familiar multiple-timeline tropes. Together with the talents of directing team Joaquim Dos Santos (The Legend of Korra), Kemp Powers (Soul) and Justin K. Thompson (Into the Spider-Verse), Across the Spider-Verse—across the board—swings for the cinematic fences in the rare sequel that feels like every frame has been crafted with the intention of wringing every bit of visual wonder and emotional impact that the animators, the performers and the very medium can achieve. The hybrid computer-animation meets hand-drawn techniques established in the first films returns with a more sleek execution that’s a bit easier on the eyes, which affords the animators to get even more ambitious with their array of techniques and character-centric presentations. The depth and breadth of the animation and illustration styles are jaw-dropping. There are frames you just want to fall into, they’re so beautifully rendered and conceived. If there’s any critique, it’s that the more action-centric sequences are almost too detailed, so that the incredible work of the animators moves off-screen so quickly that you feel like you’re not able to fully appreciate everything coming at you. As a middle film in the trilogy (Spider-Man: Beyond the Spider-Verse is due in theaters in 2024), it’s a joy to be able to say that Across the Spider-Verse stands well on its own, based on the merits of its story and stakes. There’s also a killer cliffhanger that sets the stage for a third chapter that doesn’t feel like it’s cheating its audience like some other recent films have done (cough Dune cough). In fact, repeat viewings of Across the Spider-Verse to bridge the gap until the final installment next year sounds like a great way to savor this film as it so richly deserves.—Tara Bennett
2. Fist of the Condor
A silent, hairless man made of muscle. A mysterious text, filled with ancient ancestral ass-kicking knowledge. An animal-based fighting style. A possible identical twin. A revenge-tinged showdown. These are the throwback components making up the neo-classical Chilean martial arts movie Fist of the Condor. Marko Zaror, who’s come stateside before as a villain squaring off against Keanu Reeves and Scott Adkins, reunites with filmmaker Ernesto Díaz Espinoza for a transcendently simple standalone feature. If you’re not familiar with Zaror (I was not), Fist of the Condor is the perfect introduction to the secret weapon best known by direct-to-video action enthusiasts and Robert Rodriguez completionists. He’s jacked, he’s stoic, he can pull off all sorts of silly stuff with a straight face and, most importantly, he’s a great fighter. If you’re looking for 85 minutes of old-school action and the best pure martial arts movie of the year, look no further. This naturally sets expectations high, possibly for a film with the same charming disdain for reality as Riki-Oh: The Story of Ricky. But Fist of the Condor, though not without its moments of wry humor and gory excess, is a much quieter experience. Think ‘70s kung fu, with its casual lore, minimal characters and mythic tone. Fist of the Condor isn’t non-stop brawls, but something that could inspire the next Wu-Tang Clan. Incorporating both Zaror’s intended introspections and the magical abilities martial arts movies love to unlock through those limit-pushing actions, the training montages do what they’re meant to do: They train us. We learn to love this disciplined dork, and anticipate him putting his education to use in actual fights. Espinoza (who wrote, directed and edited the film) builds this tension perfectly, then reminds us in the moment, quickly cutting between Zaror’s rapid pummeling of a wooden Wing Chun dummy and him putting those same flying fists to work on some poor biker’s face in a barroom confrontation. It’s amazing to watch the human body move so fast, and more amazing to watch it exactingly execute the same sequence of moves again and again. Zaror is a phenomenal talent, displaying the kind of precision and awareness that lets Espinoza shoot wide and long. There’s not much cheating here. Espinoza can experiment with camera placement without worrying about ruining a particular strike or dodge, simply because his stars are such beef machines. He makes it all simple, which gives the indie film room to breathe. Other action movies from 2023 may have bigger setpieces, crazier stunts, more scenes of Tom Cruise trying to kill himself. But none are as ambitious and successful in their pure dedication to good ol’ fashioned hand-to-hand fighting as Fist of the Condor.—Jacob Oller
1. John Wick: Chapter 4
Early in John Wick: Chapter 4, our titular Baba Yaga—played by Keanu Reeves after a decade as a near-mute terminator monk, his monastic frock a fine three-piece bulletproof suit and his tonsure a greased-down mane the color of night—is still in hiding following Chapter 3’s cliffhanger. Of course, an ever-increasing bounty on his head hasn’t stopped him from continuing to murder a lot of people, including the Elder (George Georgiou), who’s not the same Elder from Chapter 3, because, as this new Elder explains, he killed the last guy and took over, as the Elder did before that guy, and the Elder before that guy did to the guy before that guy. The convoluted hierarchy of the John Wick Murderverse exists only to multiply and grow more convoluted: In Chapter 2, no one sat above the High Table, except for, as introduced in Chapter 3, the Elder, who sits above and also beside it, but apparently has his share of problems. Just as the membership of the High Table is susceptible to sociopathic sibling rivalry (see Chapter 2), there will always be another Elder to kill, another personal war to wage, another henchman to shoot repeatedly in the face. “No one, not even John Wick, can kill everyone,” we hear said in an awed tone. But no, he must kill everyone. This is what we want and this is how this ends, how John Wick can be free: He kills the whole world. If Chapter 3 began immediately following Chapter 2, rarely letting up from its video game formula as levels grew more difficult and bad guys became more immune to John Wick’s superpower (murder), then Chapter 4 is the franchise’s most deliberate entry yet. With three movies worth of stakes and worldbuilding behind it, Chad Stahelski’s latest hyper-violent opus is a modern masterpiece of myth-making indulgence and archetypal action cinema. Stahelski and Reeves know that their movie must inhale genres, superstars, models, singers, Oscar winners and martial arts icons, DTV and prestige alike; consume them and give them space to be sacrificed gloriously to a franchise that values them. Behold Donnie Yen—who feels absolutely at home in the Murderverse—but also Hiroyuki Sanada and Rina Sawayama and Clancy Brown and Scott Adkins, the latter given a lengthy neck-snapping set piece that’s both scene-chewing madness and an expected physical display from Adkins. It’s all patient and omnivorous and beyond ridiculous. Stahelski wields bodies to push them to god-like ends. Everything on screen is stupendous. This is what we want, to watch John Wick murder the whole world, forever and ever amen.—Dom Sinacola