The best film scenes of 2024

Even if a movie doesn’t end up on The A.V. Club’s best of the year list, that doesn’t mean it lacks memorable moments or scenes that encourage mid-movie pop-offs. A movie doesn’t need to be an all-time great to include something that rattles around forever in the back of your mind. As our staffers pick the best film scenes of 2024, selections from the cream of the crop certainly make appearances, but so too do sequences from films that barely missed the cut—or that invested all their power into just a few minutes of footage. If these short-and-sweet scenes were picked purely based on their post-release reach, there’s probably not anything this year that beats out Challengers’ hotel hook-up or Dune: Part Two’s Stilgar bursting out with yet another “Lisan al Gaib!” But beyond their meme potential, these choices are dense with emotional power, whether that’s employed to make audiences laugh, cry, swoon, whoop, or retch. At certain points during The Substance, all of the above may be applicable. Here are our picks for the best film scenes of 2024.

The tennis ball's POV, Challengers

When Nicole Kidman says “We come to this place for magic,” she’s referring to the cinema that is Challengers. Several of its jaw-dropping, sexy moments qualify for year-end consideration, including the three-way kiss, the churro biting, the sauna conversation, and everything Zendaya and Josh O’Connor get up to in that car. But nothing made audiences sit up straighter than the realization that Luca Guadagnino has turned the audience into the goddamn tennis ball. As the final tournament match inches closer to a conclusion—just when the pressure is high and emotional stakes even higher—Challengers gets goofy. The bold choice amps up the tension as we, the audience, immerse in the frenzy of bouncing between Art and Patrick. (Is this what it’s like to be Zendaya?) Gorgeously shot to depict the court and its surroundings, with nothing but the players’ grunts and Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross’ invigorating electronic score to back it up, Challengers ends with its most distinctive scene. [Saloni Gajjar]

The hallway reveal of the daughters, Daughters

One of the year’s most moving documentaries, about a program holding daddy-daughter dances for incarcerated Black fathers, Daughters flaunts its intimate access with both sides of the dance floor as it builds up to its climactic get-together. Some of these dads haven’t physically seen their children in years, let alone danced with them. Some fear their kids won’t remember them, or worse, remember them so poorly that they’re scared of them. On the other hand, the young girls range from adorably nervous to fully fed-up with the parent they so rarely get to see. Nobody really knows how the reunion will go, though everyone’s dressed to the nines as they sit and wait. It’s there, in the tense but dapper limbo of a concrete prison hallway, that the two sides first meet. There’s heart-dropping hesitation at first, then sprinting, cheering, and embracing. Everyone bursts into tears, and Daughters has so engrossingly captured this story that it’s impossible not to join in. [Jacob Oller]

She didn’t care who he was until he put on the mask, A Different Man

During the first act of A Different Man, Sebastian Stan’s Edward lives with neurofibromatosis and pines after his neighbor, Ingrid (Renate Reinsve). She’s obviously somewhat into him, too, but Edward lacks the confidence to see this. After he undergoes an experimental surgery that leaves him looking like, well, Sebastian Stan, Edward (now going by the name “Guy Moratz”) reconnects with Ingrid and they begin a sexual relationship. This climaxes (not in that sense) in the film’s most devastating scene. Guy is still in possession of a mask resembling his original face. Ingrid knows about the mask (though not about Guy’s identity) and, as they have sex, asks Guy to put on the Edward mask. Guy is uncomfortable but agrees, and it eventually becomes the acceptance he still craves. But as soon as he gives himself over to the moment, Ingrid breaks the mood when she bursts out laughing, dubbing the experiment ridiculous. Seeing the rug fully pulled out from underneath him is a gut punch. His inability to be honest and authentic, as is so often the case in A Different Man, leads to his suffering. And while his misery will escalate—to a near-cartoonish degree—throughout the rest of the film, nothing strikes as viscerally at this moment. [Drew Gillis]

Paul finally becomes the messiah, Dune: Part Two

The history of great speeches delivered in made-up languages is slim but mighty, and that archive got a powerful new entry this year with Paul Atreides’ (Timothée Chalamet) speech to the Fremen in Dune: Part Two. Delivered almost entirely in Chakobsa, a language fabricated for the film, it's not just Muad'Dib that comes into his own in that moment, but also Chalamet himself. Paul is given the near-impossible task of stepping in front of thousands and convincing them to dedicate themselves, life and limb, to his holy war. On another level, in about three minutes, Chalamet needed to convincingly become "the one who points the way" to those in the audience, all in a dialect that doesn't actually exist. The scene succeeds at both goals. In February, director Denis Villeneuve told EW that he was "moved to tears by how magnificent and powerful [Chalamet] was" in that moment—a power that could be felt just as easily on the other side of the screen. It's a coming-of-age moment that will make you want to stand up and shout out "Lisan al Gaib!" with the rest of the true believers. [Emma Keates]

A very special delivery, The First Omen

Of all the violent, disturbing, and horrific new perspectives we’ve gotten on female personhood and pregnancy this year, the one that hits hardest comes from The First Omen. Arkasha Stevenson’s audacious Omen prequel has several moments of visceral and uniquely maternal scares, but the shot of the Antichrist’s sharp, spindly, blackened fingers crowning a vagina is unforgettable. Arriving about 40 minutes into the movie, the first birth scene begins to hammer home the aims of The First Omen and how it will reframe a story about the fear of parenting to one about forced births. Margaret (Nell Tiger Free), the young nun at the film’s center, can already sense something is amiss at the orphanage where she resides. Responding to a distant cry, she comes upon the first of several horrific birth scenes in the film. The First Omen is the first Omen movie made since Roe V. Wade was overturned. Stevenson’s audacious film reframes the miracle of birth as a twisted, darkly religious show of control, reflecting the numerous states enacting stricter bans on and punishments for abortion. That horror is on full display when Margaret happens upon one such forced birth, a sweaty, painful, and unshakable scene capped by one gnarly image of unique horror and power. [Matt Schimkowitz]

The War Rig chase, Furiosa: A Mad Max Saga

It would be impossible for Furiosa to match Fury Road’s guzzolene-pumping feature-length car chase. Thankfully, Furiosa detours into multiple idiosyncratic destruction derbies. Among them, though, The War Rig Chase at the start of chapter three is a quarter-hour of power all its own. Shot over 78 days, the scene isn’t defined by high-speed impact but by director George Miller’s clarity of vision. “We are going to build something beautiful,” Black Thumb (Clarence Ryan) yells as Anya Taylor-Joy and the War Boys begin work on the War Rig, introducing the vehicle’s various elements, from the importance of piss to the mace-twirling caboose, all of which pay off in an epic 15-minute car chase across the hellish two-lane blacktop. It’s hard to think of another film that so wholly melds together all the elements at its disposal, from script to special effects, toward the same goal: Make the best fucking car chase anyone has ever seen. Praetorian Jack hightails it down the highway as Furiosa, disguised as a grunt, clings to the undercarriage, hoping to escape Immortan Joe via the Rig she built for him. Meanwhile, the rev of the Octoboss’ Mortifiers (these names—imagination everywhere) is a starter pistol, and Fury Road’s familiar horns blare. Yet, as creative as the designs, circumstances, and surprises are, functionality is key. From one moment to the next, Miller and his editor partner Margaret Sixel create an unbreakable chain of cause and effect that’s strong enough to withstand the para-gliding bravado of the scene. The camera locks straight into the most critical information as the individual elements burst with originality and creativity. Witness it. [Matt Schimkowitz]

The Notes app, Hit Man

If there were even the slightest doubts that Hit Man’s Gary (Glen Powell) and Madison (Adria Arjona) were a match made in kooky criminal heaven, the multilayered Notes app scene squashes them completely. Rich with subtext and under Richard Linklater’s masterful direction, the two actors prance around Madison’s home in what feels like a choreographed stage play. Without explicitly using words, except for what Gary feeds Madison by typing on his phone, the two align on all levels. It’s provocative and weirdly wholesome. All the while, the scene cements their commitment to each other, because what they’re essentially and silently conveying (while yelling their lies for the listening ears of the cops) is, “I’ve got you, even if it means covering for your crimes.” An already top-tier moment is further elevated by Powell and Arjona’s electric chemistry. [Saloni Gajjar]

The trial, Hundreds Of Beavers

Every scene in Hundreds Of Beavers fits into my personal list of the best film scenes of 2024, but this one is my favorite because of how far into left field it gets. Sure, “a mime-like applejack salesman must learn how to become a fur trapper in a land of man-sized critters in order to survive…and seduce a shopkeep’s daughter” is already pretty absurd, but when two of those man-sized critters—outfitted like Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson—begin investigating that trapper’s successes like murders? That’s when the comedy shows off an unprecedented commitment to the bit. The culprit is apprehended, put on Expressionist trial in front of a beaver-judge and beaver-jury, and defended by a sweaty beaver-lawyer who knows he’s got no case. It could feel like a bit of a brake-slam in the middle of a kinetic cartoon, but instead plays like a perfectly Looney Tunes sidebar all the funnier because of the change-up in tempo. [Jacob Oller]

The panic attack, I Saw The TV Glow

When the dam breaks in the climax of Jane Schoenbrun's I Saw The TV Glow, it arrives in the form of hands clapping, kids singing—and a scream. Justice Smith's Owen has spent the last several minutes talking to camera about how happy he is with his life, his unseen family, his shitty fun center job, and his decision not to believe his high school friend Maddy when she told him he could have, should have, been someone else. Seemingly resigned to his fate, Owen (now burdened with old-age makeup that makes Smith look more ancient than the vast majority of actual old people) is led in an ear-splitting chorus of "Happy Birthday" by his co-workers and boss (a perfectly cast Conner O'Malley). But when the call comes to "Go again from the top!" the thing inside Owen cracks. "You have to help me!" he screams to a crowded room that has suddenly gone robot-still, the candles on the birthday cake burning out like the last of the air has left the room. "I'm dying right now!" I Saw The TV Glow's true horror comes, not in the way it invokes classic TV shows like Buffy The Vampire Slayer or The Adventures Of Pete And Pete, but in the way no one else in the room looks at Owen as he wails; frozen, or maybe just waiting for the outburst to end. Even more horrific: The way he pitifully croaks "I'm sorry, ignore me" as he shoves his heart back into its cage. [William Hughes]

The first kiss, The Idea Of You

For whatever reason, 2024 was the year of age-gap romances. The Idea Of You may not be remembered as the best or the boldest of those, but it was nevertheless a highly enjoyable romance that sizzled with chemistry between leads Anne Hathaway and Nicholas Galitzine. And though it may be relegated by some to the unappreciated "chick flick" category, the craftsmanship is also apparent as The State alum Michael Showalter unexpectedly emerges as one of our best romantic comedy directors. Never is that more evident than in the first kiss between Hayes (Galitzine) and Solène (Hathaway), which is 2024's best on-screen kiss. The choices here are perfect. The lack of score heightens the tension. The close-ups of their hands touching heightens the anticipation. The moment is slow and drawn out as Galitzine pulls her closer by her thigh, pauses with his eyes closed between her breasts; you can hear Hathaway's shaky, uncertain breaths. Despite being pretty PG, the scene is incredibly erotic and charged. Plus it contains everything one needs to know about the film itself: Solène’s reluctance about crossing a taboo boundary is eroded by the undeniable, irresistible pull between them. There are rom-coms out there that skimp on a good kiss. The Idea Of You understands that its ridiculous premise lives and dies by the spark between its leads, and wrings out every drop of sexual chemistry to satisfy. [Mary Kate Carr]

Emily dances after securing the messiah, Kinds Of Kindness

Moments of pure joy are few and far between in Kinds Of Kindness, Yorgos Lanthimos' cinematic short story collection about the complicated art of making other people happy. Oddly fitting, then, that one of its most unrestrained expressions of happiness happens with a tranquilized, kidnapped woman in the background, as Emma Stone's cult agent Emily celebrates having finally tracked down a genuine messiah by busting a groove to Cobrah's "Brand New Bitch." Stone (whose consistent willingness to work sans self-consciousness for Lanthimos has produced one of the best actor-director pairings of the last several years) is mesmerizingly awkward here, throwing herself into the music as the segment's credits (prematurely) roll. The result is strangely voyeuristic, for all that it's playing out in a public parking lot: Eyes closed, limbs flailing, Emily isn't dancing for us, but, in true Lanthimos fashion, to the beat of her own odd internal soundtrack. [William Hughes]

Phool reunites with Deepak at the train station, Laapataa Ladies

Laapataa Ladies (or Lost Ladies), India’s official submission for the 2025 Oscars, is a sweet little gem about the ensuing chaos after two newlywed brides get exchanged on the train while traveling to their husband’s villages. The writing, with a comedic lens and its heart in the right place, tackles the issue of female empowerment. One of the brides, Phool (Nitanshi Goel), itches to find her husband after getting off at the wrong destination. She spends the next several days under the tutelage of an older woman who runs a snack stall, certain her spouse will move mountains to find her. Phool is right. Deepak (Sparsh Shrivastava) relentlessly searches for his wife. When they finally spot each other, the payoff is emotionally intense. She enthusiastically runs into his arms as the soothing “Sajni” plays in the background. It’s a simple yet comforting climax to both Phool and the film’s journey. As a bonus, it’s a neat reminder that Bollywood will always churn out pivotal romantic scenes at a train station. [Saloni Gajjar]

Badass bona fides, Rebel Ridge

Striking fear into grown men's hearts with a Wikipedia page—that's just one of the many ways Jeremy Saulnier plays with classic Western and action movie elements in his gripping thriller Rebel Ridge. Terry Richmond (a remarkable Aaron Pierre) looks every bit the formidable loner who's ridden into town to right a wrong, but he's introduced at the mercy of Shelby Springs cops. When those same cops, led by a smirking Chief Burnne (Don Johnson), look into Terry's background, they initially write the Marine off for his lack of combat experience. This miscalculation proves grievous, but it leads to one of the most breathtaking (and just plain funny) scenes of the year. The reveal is finely calibrated: a WiFi reset acts as a ticking clock; Terry calmly makes one last attempt to prevent a showdown; an officer's "Uh-oh" quickly followed by Burnne's stricken expression. Saulnier, like his protagonist, thwarts expectations at every turn; here, he establishes Terry's bona fides with little more than a few phrases and the glint in Pierre's eyes, stretching the tension taut through humor as much as bone-crunching action. [Danette Chavez]

Getting ready for a date, The Substance

In The Substance, aging and decaying fitness queen Elisabeth (Demi Moore) suffers a death by a thousand cuts. The visceral body horror used to analogize the various indignities that plague our self-loathing society provides plenty of skin-crawling gore and a heightened tone that Paul Verhoeven would buy for a dollar. But it’s Elisabeth’s quietest moment of self-hate that cuts deepest. After watching her younger self’s rapid success from afar and feeling pretty jealous and shitty about it, Elisabeth goes for the easy W and takes Fred, a dweeb she went to high school with, up on a date offer. But old habits die hard, and Elisabeth unravels across a short montage edited by Fargeat, Jérôme Eltabet, and Valentin Feron. Her insecurities will not allow her to settle on any look, even though she’s totally out of Fred’s league. With every flick of the mascara brush, she becomes more flustered and less confident, hitting herself out of frustration and stretching, pulling, and contorting her face in ways The Substance could only dream. As if the fact that she couldn’t psych herself up for a dude punching way above his weight wasn’t bad enough, that she stands Fred up adds insult to injury. Isn’t it great how our insecurities can hurt others almost as much as they hurt ourselves? The Substance is so life-affirming. [Matt Schimkowitz]

Cooper tells Lady Raven he's The Butcher, Trap

"I don't know if you know anything about carbon monoxide; your body wants the poison." That's the sound of Josh Hartnett finally going mask-off at the climax of the riveting first half of M. Night Shyamalan's twisty thriller Trap, revealing to pop star Lady Raven (Saleka Shyamalan) that dorky, firefighting dad Cooper is the killer she and the authorities have been seeking all day. The audience has been watching Cooper for an hour already and gotten clear proof that he's the depraved murderer at the center of the massive manhunt. But it's not until this moment that Hartnett—still cracking dad jokes and grinning from ear to ear—lets us really see The Butcher in his element, showing Raven one of his victims on his cell phone, and telling her the man's life is now in her hands. After all, he could kill him right now, "like calling an Uber"—unless she gives him a reason not to. Trap may be a house of cards that can't hold its center, but Hartnett's performance is the glue that keeps it standing for as long as it does, whether he's growling out threats or pivoting in order to briefly but genuinely tell his latest victim, "By the way, it was a great show." [William Hughes]