It’s an understatement to say that Asian cinema had an incredible year. Across genres, Asian filmmakers across the continent and diaspora offered audiences everything and the kitchen sink. It regaled us with charm and wit, devastated us to our core, provided us with pensive moments and borderline existential crises, and most of all, entertained us to no end.
Films like How to Make Millions Before Grandma Dies and Twilight of the Warriors: Walled In set impressive box office records, while All We Imagine as Light has found critical acclaim in all corners of the world. We saw The Seed of the Sacred Fig capture the attention and imagination of critics and audiences, and Sleep chill them to the bone.
It’s been a good year for Asian cinema indeed.
As we officially shut the door on 2024 and welcome a new year ahead, The Asian Cut looks back at our favourite films of the past year. Happy New Year!
Aavesham
Directed by Jithu Madhavan
Aavesham is the modern perfection of the Indian ‘masala’ flick. With sprinkles of every genre flavour you could ever want in lighthearted entertainment, the movie moves beyond the sum of its parts to become something truly wonderful. In its writing, Aavesham succeeds in becoming one of those cases where the line between commercial entertainers and cinema that sincerely engages with human themes dissolves entirely. It’s a fascinating reconstruction of India’s film landscape’s most well-known signature, coming in from the least expected place — Malayalam cinema, a region that has a storied reputation for its arthouse films. The movie follows a group of teenaged college boys who, studying far from home, seek out local protection from senior bullies. In their misguided quest, though, they end up getting entangled with a darkly enigmatic personality (Fahadh Faasil) who is a big shot in the city’s criminal underground — or so it seems. Amidst magnetic performances, laughter riots, and fun action sequences, Aavesham changes colours many times, unveiling a touching exploration of male vulnerability.
—Rajiv Prajapati
All the Long Nights
Directed by Shô Miyake
Not to sound dramatic or anything, but I’m pretty sure All the Long Nights paralyzed my ability to write. I first watched Shô Miyake’s film back in June as part of the Toronto Japanese Film Festival and was so captivated by it, I couldn’t wait to review it and expound every reason why I connected with the story about two young people attempting to find their place in a world they didn’t seem to fit. Every time I sat down at my computer, though, I twiddled my thumbs until I inevitably gave up. I just couldn’t find the words to perfectly match my immense feelings towards these complex characters and the lo-fi story surrounding them — and truth be told, I still can’t.
All the Long Nights is everything I want and need from a movie. It gives voice to those who aren’t necessarily misfits, but those at odds with the contemporary construct of society; yet, Miyake never condescends. He laughs with his characters and provides them with a gentle existence. It’s a film that speaks to a part of me that I’ve never quite been able to voice.
—Rachel Ho
All We Imagine as Light
Directed by Payal Kapadia
Payal Kapadia’s award-winning drama, All We Imagine as Light, revolving around three women in modern day Mumbai is a thing of beauty in its gorgeous visual palette, mesmerising use of music, and the tremendous performance of Kani Kusruti which internalises so much yet conveys multitudes. A glowing testament to sisterhood and solidarity that never shies away from the challenges and burdens the women encounter, All We Imagine as Light could be considered a very simple tale, but told in a transcendent manner.
—Calvin Law
Payal Kapadia’s second feature offers a profound meditation on finding belonging in a transient world. Set against the frenetic backdrop of Mumbai, the film follows two Malayali nurses and a cook as they navigate the city’s challenges and their personal trials. With understated performances—particularly from Kani Kusruti and Divya Prabha — and Ranabir Das’s evocative cinematography, Kapadia captures the contradictions of urban life: its suffocating density alongside moments of serene clarity. As a mid-film shift to a coastal village disrupts the rhythm, it simply deepens the emotional resonance even more. Ultimately, All We Imagine as Light reflects on the fragile yet vital connections that tether us to a sense of home, making it an emotional and visually rich experience.
—Paul Enicola
An Unfinished Film
Directed by Lou Ye
Fresh of their Best Film and Best Director at this year’s Golden Horse Awards, An Unfinished Film is another, unexpected career highlight by the sixth-generation Chinese master Lou Ye. It’s unexpected not only because the perennially censored independent filmmaker has never made a mockumentary, but also because he’s never made a film as warm as this. An Unfinished Film starts itself as an unbelievably courageous exercise against state censorship, mutating its focus to general totalitarian government practice in the disguise of COVID policies, before somehow settling on an embrace of pandemic-era humanism through viral TikTok clips and songs. It’s excitingly, cinematically fluid in its exploration of truth in a country without any; and for longtime Lou fans, its metatextual references are more than a delight — it’s another chapter in how the restless, embattled icon continues to reinvent himself.
—Jay Liu
Concerning My Daughter
Directed by Lee Mi-rang
In director Lee Mi-rang’s debut feature film, Concerning My Daughter, there reverberates a simple yet profoundly comforting redefinition of love — that mustering the courage to understand may be greater than any love. Through the mother’s bond with an unpopular elderly woman at the nursing home where she works, and her struggle to come to terms with her daughter’s same-sex relationship, Concerning My Daughter traverses various forms of alienation, ultimately turning to sympathy to delineate what love truly consists of.
—Jae Min Lee
How to Make Millions Before Grandma Dies
Directed by Pat Boonnitipat
In his quietly affecting debut, Pat Boonnitipat presents a nuanced portrait of familial love that’s both thorny and tender. The story follows M (Putthipong Assaratanakul), a failed video game streamer whose plan to claim his grandmother’s (Usha Seamkhum) house evolves into an unexpected journey of emotional depth. Seamkhum, a revelation in her first acting role, embodies Amah with a mix of pride and vulnerability, grounding the film’s themes of caregiving and reconciliation. Never mind the film’s occasional dragging pace; its emotional honesty and its ability to find beauty in the routines of everyday life more than offset any shortcomings and make this film a standout. Boonnitipat embraces the complexities of family, crafting a narrative as messy and rewarding as its characters. In a standout year for Asian cinema, this film makes a compelling case as arguably the most “Asian” of the whole lot.
—Paul Enicola
The Last of the Sea Women
Directed by Sue Kim
Sue Kim’s documentary about the haenyeo — women divers on Jeju Island in South Korea — follows a critical moment in history, highlighting the importance of community in the face of adversity, the need for substantive action amidst environment decline, and, of utmost significance, the tragedy of a livelihood lost (or on the brink of being lost) as a result of social negligence, political failure, and capitalist greed. Also: the collection of women Kim focuses on are some of the most inspiring people I’ve seen on the screen this year.
—Jericho Tadeo
My Sweet Land
Directed by Sareen Hairabedian
Sareen Hairabedian’s My Sweet Land is a heart-wrenching and unflinching look at resilience in Artsakh, a region long scarred by war and displacement. Seen through the eyes of 11-year-old Vrej, the documentary delves into the fragile bonds of identity and the human toll of generational conflict. Hairabedian’s personal ties to Artsakh rooted in the Armenian genocide lend the film a raw immediacy and profound urgency. Vrej’s journey, blending innocence with precocious insight, anchors a narrative that balances fleeting moments of joy with the harrowing realities of war. By eschewing melodrama and letting vivid contrasts speak — such as the beauty of Artsakh’s hills and markets set against its relentless turbulence — Hairabedian tells an intimate, devastating story that lingers long after the credits roll.
—Paul Enicola
Paying For It
Directed by Sook-Yin Lee
This adaptation of Chester Brown’s controversial graphic novel by his ex-partner Sook-Yin Lee brings a much needed women’s perspective to the topic of sex work and relationships. It feels much less sleazy and far more humorous than the source material — a memoir in which Brown documents his decision to give up on romantic relationships and only pay for sex instead — thanks to Lee’s direction and co-writing. By adding her side of the story to Brown’s, Lee adds her own view on what it means to seek out connection in unusual ways. And, of course, I deeply enjoyed seeing the underground comic world and inherent throwback Toronto-ness of Paying For It.
—Rose Ho
The Sales Girl
Directed by Janchivdorj Sengedorj
Janchivdorj Sengedorj’s The Sales Girl is something a bit more nuanced than a sex-positive coming-of-age tale, something a bit more tender and faltering, permissive and understanding. The story follows Saruul (Bayarjargal Bayartsetseg), a studious university student who learns her own and her world’s boundaries and potential when she takes on a job working as a clerk at a sex shop owed by Oidovjamts Enkhtuul’s wordly Katya. It’s a story of opposites colliding, sure, but it’s also about learning to shed that which doesn’t serve the self right now, whether that be identities, preferences, or even clothing. The Sales Girl is endlessly charming and jubilantly life affirming for the ways in which it reminds us that it’s not altogether possible to come of age, at least not until you die. We’re always growing and learning and changing our minds — sometimes you need to masturbate and sometimes you need to fuck — and that’s the magic of being alive.
—Alisha Mughal
Santosh
Directed by Sandhya Suri
Sandhya Suri’s Santosh doesn’t pull any punches. Following the titular Santosh as she begins working as a police constable, a job she’s inherited from her husband who was killed in the line of duty. The film presents an unwavering look at the ways in which injustice is baked into or passed off as justice — at hypocrisy itself. Shahana Goswami delivers a bold and studied performance with Santosh, a restrained woman trying her best within a brutal system. When a young girl is found murdered, Santosh finds that she is not immune to the prejudices flowing around her.
Through a persistent and at times merciless point of view, Suri conveys such a dense configuration of social mores and prejudices, leaving them to overcome us with an intuitive cadence. With a hand that allows for the world to emerge before the lens, Suri delivers so much with such impregnable patience, and as a result, a fascinating thing happens: the viewer becomes Santosh. We gain an emotional and intuitive understanding of the woman, for better or for worse, as if her personality were slowly dripped into our veins, and in a more compelling way than any exposition could deliver. This is such a heady film about the unique iteration of Islamophobia in India, casteism, and misogyny — but also so, so beautiful.
—Alisha Mughal
The Seed of the Sacred Fig
Directed by Mohammed Rasoulof
Mohammed Rasoulof’s The Seed of the Sacred Fig is the year’s most urgent and towering film. The courageous Iranian filmmaker has risked it all for art, permanently escaping his home country to finish his film set during the 2022 protests against his totalitarian government. But the film offers more than mere documentation — it somehow also delivers a missing-gun thriller, a family drama, and a searing indictment and examination of Iranian patriarchal corruption from top to bottom. From sheer dramaturgical ambition to actual illegal practice, The Seed of the Sacred Fig stands as the year’s most daringly executed cinematic vision, and Rasoulof unites all these disparate strands of themes and filmmaking styles through conviction and skill.
—Jay Liu
As someone who instinctively goes out of his way to champion Hong Kong films, Mohammad Rasoulof’s towering cinematic achievement, The Seed of the Sacred Fig, somehow still stands above the rest in a crowded group of Asian films this year. Even barring its riveting production history and the very real consequences faced by Rasoulof et al., the film is a pristine example of revelatory storytelling that personifies the importance of freedom of expression through subtle craftsmanship. The Seed of the Sacred Fig grips onto a sense of urgency right from its very first frame, but never preaches, allowing its thesis on sociopolitical tensions to slowly unravel. In a year when Twilight of the Warriors: Walled In and The Shadow Strays (which isn’t from Hong Kong, but certainly leans toward my personal wheelhouse) were both on the docket, it’s a true testament to the film’s quality that despite my very inherent biases, The Seed of the Sacred Fig is clearly my favourite Asian film of 2024.
—Wilson Kwong
Sleep
Directed by Jason Yu
Jason Yu’s debut feature, Sleep, thrives in quiet discord, where love falters under the weight of dread. The film, centered on a couple grappling with a husband’s uncontrollable sleep disorder, is claustrophobic, with its horror grounded in bitter reality. The performances are exceptional: Jung Yu-mi delivers raw intensity as Soo-jin, shifting from a devoted partner to a woman consumed by doubt and resentment, while Lee Sun-kyun’s Hyun-su captures the heartbreaking duality of vulnerability and danger, a man whose terrifying actions remain beyond his control. Unblinking and understated, Sleep observes the couple’s escalating tug-of-war between listening and understanding.
—Lauren Hayataka
Twilight of the Warriors: Walled In
Directed by Soi Cheang
Set during the dying days of Hong Kong’s infamous Kowloon Walled City, Twilight of the Warriors: Walled In is caked with nostalgia only because its creators care and love their hometown so much. The film harkens back to Hong Kong’s glory days through a bedazzling showcase of action choreography and meticulous production design, proving the critically under-threat Hong Kong film industry, and by extension, the city itself, has still got it. Among its biggest surprises, the film trains a new generation of movie stars to take up the action mantle from legendary elders and peppers the film with montages of Hongkongers in day-to-day life. Clearly a film made post-2019 protests, this film invigorates because it’s fighting against forces that seek to clamp it down through love and memory.
—Jay Liu
Viet and Nam
Directed by Truong Minh Quy
2024 was, in a way, a year of innovating cinema, with many titles putting a new spin on familiar filmmaking techniques. Of course, some were more successful than others, but one of the most under-sung and unique cinematic experiences was Truong Minh Quy’s Viet and Nam. This film, about the romance that blossoms between two young miners, is singular in its scope and execution. Visually striking, haunting, and uplifted by a stellar cast of non-actors, it has stayed with me ever since I saw it at TIFF.
—Jericho Tadeo
