As is always the case with Scorsese, "Silence" is subjective, raw, and intensely passionate when it comes to depicting the emotional and physical suffering of individuals. This is a brutal film, particularly when the Japanese imprison and torture the Jesuits to force them to commit apostasy. But it becomes detached, at times almost academically cool-headed, when it pulls back for a wider look at the competing/conflicting value systems on display. We empathize with the Jesuits at first because they're at the center of the narrative, but the more we hear from Japanese characters, the more we begin to understand why they're so adamant about refusing the Europeans access to their land in order to spread different ideas without their approval. Based on a 1966 novel by Shūsaku Endō, this is also a terrific study in anthropology as practiced by people outside of the cultures they're examining. Shūsaku's novel (and the original Japanese film based on it) tried to understand the mentality of European missionaries, while Scorsese is an Italian-American Catholic sincerely attempting to understand the point-of-view of 17th century Japanese cultural gatekeepers. To consider the lineage of this story as it passed from one artist and country to another is to realize that art is an ongoing international conversation, unconstrained by time and changing styles, unimpeded by borders. and ennobled by curiosity and empathy. There are no easy answers in the end, and "Silence" doesn't pretend otherwise. This is a movie designed to provoke introspection and arguments, as well as a repository of everything its filmmaker has learned from studying other films about these subjects: simultaneously a sermon, a prayer, and a spectacle of endurance. (Matt Zoller Seitz)

12. “A Separation” (2011)

Asghar Farhadi’s masterpiece is a story of cascading understandable decisions, many informed by culture and religion. The key to its brilliance is in how much Farhadi balances the scales, refusing to demonize anyone even his story feels increasingly headed toward tragedy. We are trained as viewers, as people really, to pick sides. From a very young age, the books we read and the films we watch present us with a protagonist and an antagonist, but life doesn’t always work that way. There often isn’t a clear-cut hero or villain, especially in the construct of a disintegrating relationship or family. What’s so memorable about Farhadi’s film is the manner in which he clearly feels empathy for everyone in his story, exposing the relatable humanity in his characters, and illustrating how often we are pushed and pulled by restrictions of society. It would have been so easy to turn Nader (Peyman Moadi) or Simin (Leila Hatami) into villains—we’ve seen that movie hundreds of times before. It gives us a sense of comfort to watch people overcome the villains in their lives. But that kind of comfort food doesn’t last. Movies like this remind us life is far more gray than black and white as it lingers in memory. (Brian Tallerico)

11. “The Social Network” (2010)

Some movies are perfect storms of collaborative artists meeting at just the right time in their careers. Aaron Sorkin’s gift for dismantling ego through dialogue; David Fincher’s detailed craftsmanship; Jesse Eisenberg’s willingness to make intellect unlikable; even the propulsive rhythms of Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross—there’s not a single element of “The Social Network” that feels off. It is a perfectly calibrated and constructed film about how a misanthrope created one of the most influential companies in the world. The decade that followed Fincher’s Oscar winner and the impact and controversies around privacy and manipulation that have dogged Facebook have only deepened the legacy of this modern classic.