20) The Guest

A big old blast of fun is sometimes exactly what you need from the movies, and this smooth, stylish throwback to the films of John Carpenter does the trick. Director Adam Wingard and writer Simon Barrett took an axe to the horror genre in You’re Next, and they give the action genre the same treatment in The Guest, filling their script with references to old classics while delivering a sucker-punch of a twist that makes it all feel shiny and new.

Their ambitions for the film wouldn’t work without a terrific cast, and Dan Stevens is absolutely on fire in the lead role of a mysterious wanderer who enters the home of a grieving military family, insisting that he was a close friend of their KIA son. Alternately charming and devious, he’s like a cross between the Terminator and the Six Million Dollar Man as envisioned by Quentin Tarantino. Maika Monroe, too, does great work in the role of the family daughter, who is suspicious of their new houseguest and, in searching for the truth, manages to unleash hell on Earth.

The Guest is high-octane pulp, a playful and bloodstained romp executed with style and panache. With its throbbing electronic soundtrack and neo-noir visuals, it doesn’t feel like any other movie that came out this year. Perhaps Wingard and Barrett, atypically courageous and inventive filmmakers, were the only ones who could have made it. All I know is that I’m damn glad they did.

19) Frank

Michael Fassbender gives one of the year’s weirdest and most unexpectedly affecting performances as Frank‘s titular character, the enigmatic leader of an outside-the-box band called the Soronprfbs (yes, it’s meant to be unpronounceable). His face entirely obscured by a giant papier-mâché head, Frank is an utter riddle, even to those who know him.

Director Lenny Abrahamson enjoys milking the confusion – why would this musician hide himself away, emerging with near-indecipherable music that still manages to tap into our primordial emotions? What is he hiding? Frank is a movie about our obsession with people like Frank, about how our culture builds up musicians into near-mythical creatures only to rip into them for displays of humanity. It’s also a rousing statement about the true nature of artistry, and the sacrifices that some make in their efforts to achieve greatness.

Its final third isn’t as palatable as the first two, but Frank deserves kudos for not being afraid to swim in deep waters. It’s a subversive black comedy, a surprisingly poignant drama and a terrific portrait of a musician just strange enough to feel real.