The Most Disturbing Movies Of 2018

Perhaps it's a reflection of the wildly unstable times in which we find ourselves, but 2018 has been a seriously intense year at the movies. One that's seen even the lovable Paddington Bear spend time behind bars, and the Avengers' heroic numbers cut dramatically in half — with as much of the universe's population in tow — by the snap of a finger. While we all wait for heroes to rise and battle the evil forces at work in our own world, it seems that for the time being, Hollywood will continue mirroring the general unease around us while sometimes papering over it with the sunnily distracting confections we desperately need.  

While darkness reigns, know that it's also helped deliver some of 2018's best, and most shocking, cinematic journeys. From a harrowing bit of pulpy detective fiction to a bloody tale of revenge, a racially charged farce, a troubling story of biological appropriation, and all manner of nervy narratives in between, these are the most disturbing movies of 2018.

Whether you're talking about a classic like Rebel Without a Cause or more modern fare like Heathers and Kids, it's clear Hollywood loves a good tale of teenagers running amok. Joining the ranks of those lauded tales of youthful rebellion is Cory Finley's Thoroughbreds — and as far as tales of youthful rebellion go, Finley's sly, bracingly immersive crime dramedy is one for the ages.

Thoroughbreds follows two once-friendly upper-class teens who live on opposite ends of the human emotional spectrum — one incapable of feeling anything, while the other feels everything. When they're reunited after years apart, each finds themselves in a position to help the other right a perceived wrong. That help comes at a high cost for each, and together the disparate teens hatch a dastardly plan to take control of their rapidly spiraling lives.

Said plan involves a brutal act of violence which the pair eventually enact with unnerving precision. Finley wisely allows the crime itself to play second fiddle throughout Thoroughbreds, focusing instead on the tragically inventive young minds behind it. Those minds are brought to vivid life by Olivia Cooke and Anya Taylor-Joy, whose penetrating performances draw you into the human side of Finley's drama even as his crisp, incisive scripting both bolsters and betrays their seemingly hardened wisdom. While that callous duality lands some of Thoroughbreds' biggest laughs, it also lends an exacting edge to the film's final moments, which may leave you giggling while also fighting a nasty chill in your spine.

Some say revenge is a dish best served cold. Coralie Fargeat would likely disagree, and her debut feature, set in the sweltering Moroccan desert, is her proof. Part nerve-wracking survival story and part full-tilt tale of righteous vengeance, Revenge unfolds in the suffocating heat of a sun-bleached valley, and while its blood-soaked narrative uses that setting to serve up a steamy helping of primal payback, it does so while embracing another classic saying; the one about hell having no fury like a woman scorned.

The woman in question is a pampered American party girl named Jen whose sexy desert getaway with Richard is interrupted when his pals show up early for a hunting trip. That sexy weekend pivots dramatically after a deplorable act of sexual violence that leads Richard to make in impetuous decision that sees Jen left for dead in the unforgiving desert.

Only Jen (played with steely sensuality and simmering savagery by newcomer Matilda Lutz) doesn't die, and wakes to find herself in the midst of a deadly cat and mouse chase. Her transformation from object to avenger — which admittedly requires a degree of willful suspension of disbelief — leads to one of the best "hunters become the hunted" narratives in recent memory. Said narrative is brutal and bloody and inventive in ways we can't go into without spoiling the fun. Just know that Fargeat gracefully guides the almost dialogue-free action to a final showdown that will leave you gasping, clapping, and absolutely shaken to the core.

Many American filmgoers had never heard of Boots Riley before Sorry to Bother You hit theaters this year — not as a filmmaker, and not as the frontman of politically charged hip-hop groups the Coup and Street Sweeper Social Club. They know him now — that sort of thing tends to happen when you write and direct one of the year's most deeply disturbing, yet wildly entertaining, and refreshingly original movies.

Unfolding in a beautifully realized alternate version of present-day Oakland, the film follows the story of a young black telemarketer (Lakeith Stanfield) who experiences a meteoric rise to success after uncovering his inner "white voice." What follows is a hilarious, often horrifying madcap farce that plays like a mashup of Being John Malkovich and Get Out, only angrier and more perceptive than both.

Sorry to Bother You may be chock full of comically inspired moments, but it's absolutely venomous in its presentation of gender and race relations, economic structures, and geopolitical naiveté in the U.S., and never misses a beat as it pivots effortlessly from one acidic topic/shocking moment to the next. Riley's cast — including Tessa Thompson, Danny Glover, Steven Yeun, and a never creepier Armie Hammer — doesn't miss a beat either, and they keep Riley's politically charged, sci-fi fantasia grounded in a particularly hard-hitting ways — though it may leave you wincing the next time you see a horse, man.

When Jeff VanderMeer published Annihilation a few years ago, the book's hard sci-fi edge and brooding, Lovecraftian narrative made it an instant classic of modern science fiction literature. That reputation also made it an easy target for a big-screen adaptation. To say fans of VanderMeer's book were excited when hearing that Alex Garland (fresh off directing 2014's sci-fi masterpiece Ex Machina) was handling that adaptation would've been an understatement, though they were likely a bit confused when Garland's Annihilation finally arrived in theaters after months of delays and behind the scenes troubles.

That's because the Annihilation that arrived in theaters wasn't exactly VanderMeer's Annihilation. Garland took some serious liberties with the story's general construct — an all-female expedition into a mysterious disaster zone where the laws of nature don't apply — to craft a narrative all his own. Given that biological appropriation is a key plot device in both book and film, it sort of seems natural; his Annihilation works as both a direct adaptation and a wholly original story that's every bit as effective, horrifying, and emotionally charged as the original. Garland even bests VanderMeer's source material when it comes to scares, with a blood-curdling bear/woman beast that serves as one of the most unsettling creature creations of this or any year. If only Garland had left the door open for a sequel, we might've gotten to see even more of his haunting, unearthly delights.

With no fewer than a couple dozen or so films utilizing society's "like/share" obsessiveness to varying degrees of effectiveness, social media has proven ample fodder for cinema in recent years. Rest assured, Robert Mockler's sobering social media drama Like Me is nothing like those movies. In fact, this incisive feature debut is not like any film you've ever seen before.

That's a good thing. Even from its jarring opening moments, Mockler's film is clearly out to shock. His tragic tale of a young woman (played with breathtaking austerity by Addison Timlin) broadcasting her own crime spree across social media is tailor made to do exactly that. Part road movie, part hallucinatory crime thriller, and part isolationist chamber drama, it opens with an attention-grabbing heist and ends with a brutal act of violence. The moments in between find Mockler skillfully laying the groundwork for a hushed and harried character study uniquely tuned in to the emptiness that accompanies a life lived on social media.

It's no surprise, then, that Like Me is most alive emotionally when the woman hits the road with a kidnap victim (the always amazing Larry Fessenden) in tow, or during a surprisingly prescient moment with a homeless man. Still, the film's vivid photography and kaleidoscopic editing ensure that even its muted moments come and go with galvanizing energy. That manic mix of styles makes Like Me the sort of soul-crushingly spirited film you simply cannot unsee... so make sure that you do.  

After unleashing his sweaty-palmed cops vs. gangsters action epic The Raid in 2011, Gareth Evans proved himself a pure action stylist with keen dramatic instincts. It was no surprise, then, that Evans followed that film with the equally bonkers (if slightly less satisfying) sequel The Raid 2 — even if said sequel proved Evans not just a master of staging, but more than capable of finding human drama in all that bombast.

All of which is to say there was good reason to be excited when Netflix announced they'd be producing Evans' new film Apostle. Even more so that the film would see the director tackling the horror genre for a slow-burning period thriller about a troubled man tasked with retrieving his sister from a creepy, island-dwelling religious cult... who heedlessly worship the bloodthirsty deity holding their harvest hostage for human sacrifice.

At least, that's how things appear in the first hour of Apostle. That hour sees Evans admirably ignoring his action instincts, instead swinging a hypnotically unholy pendulum before viewers' eyes, imbuing Apostle with a near-suffocating gothic energy along the way. He spends the next hour smashing that pendulum into bloody, pulpy bits, and making you long for the time when a bloodthirsty deity was all you had to fear. What can we say of that last hour except it's full of dastardly deeds, unspeakably gruesome acts, fantastically grotesque imagery, and a soul-choking sense of dread — and that Evans executes it so well, you'll be glued to the screen for every nightmarish moment?

Even as we endure the age of remakes, we're also privy to a virtual golden age of genre mashups, with J.J. Abrams' Bad Robot Productions almost single-handedly spearheading the movement. The latest edition to their genre-jumping oeuvre is the gloriously unhinged World War II horror thriller Overlord, and few 2018 films arrive as well equipped to delight and disturb in equal measure.

Odds are you've heard Overlord categorized as a "nazi zombie horror flick." Such a description is not wholly inaccurate, but it's a little bit misleading. Yes, there are lots of evil nazis in Overlord. And yes, the dead aren't always exactly dead in the film. But we can tell you there's a lot more more going on in Overlord than meets the eye.

The film — set on the eve of D-Day — is first and foremost an excellent WWII movie, one that opens with a harrowing parachute drop behind enemy lines and morphs into a traditional story following a band of soldiers on a suicide mission that will turn the tide of the war. That mission leads them to a French village teeming with nazi soldiers and scientists seeking to... well, the less said about that, the better. Just know that the stomach-churning things uncovered in that village are the stuff of nightmares, that they twist the film in ways you'll never anticipate, and that they help make Overlord the action-packed, blood-soaked war/horror hybrid we never knew we needed.

Speaking of obsessive, slow-burning dramas with complicated narratives and challenging characters, Sara Colangelo's The Kindergarten Teacher is one for the ages. This devastating film follows an emotionally dissatisfied, poetry-loving kindergarten teacher (Maggie Gyllenhaal) who finds a ray of light when one of her young students displays a gift for words. Believing the boy to be a genuine prodigy, she begins putting extra time and effort into helping flesh out the child's creative instincts. But what begins as a noble endeavor to help nurture a gift quickly spins into a near predatory need to be a part of not just his process, but his life.

Nothing can prepare you for where this film goes, and the less you know about it before jumping in, the better. Colangelo lets the action unfold with an assured, calculating cool that belies her years, and Gyllenhaal's passionately internalized work as the kind-hearted but deeply disturbed teacher is quite possibly the best of her massively impressive career. With its soul-crushing blend of soulful intellect, ethical insight, and cringe-inducing unease, The Kindergarten Teacher is not just one of the best movies you'll see this year, but it's an absolute must-watch for parents, and teachers, and pretty much anyone with a child in their life — and you can currently do from the comfort of your own couch, because it's on Netflix.