Five Movies That Changed Viewers’ Minds

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Welcome back to The Daily’s Sunday culture edition.

Some films impart a message that lasts, especially if they offer another way to see the world. The Atlantic’s writers and editors answer the question: What is a movie that changed your mind?

The following contains spoilers for the films mentioned.

Priscilla (streaming on Max)

Priscilla, Sofia Coppola’s 2023 film about Priscilla Beaulieu’s relationship with Elvis Presley, is terrific to look at but hard to watch. Priscilla is 14 when she meets an already famous 24-year-old Elvis. While still a teenager, she moves with her future husband to Graceland, where she wears sophisticated clothes and sits in plush rooms. As the film critic Anthony Lane wrote in a New Yorker review, to call the movie superficial, “even more so than Coppola’s other films, is no derogation, because surfaces are her subject.”

Priscilla is a revisionist project: It aims to tell the other side of Elvis’s story, to convey another perspective on a beloved cultural figure whose life has been the subject of countless books and biopics. So I wasn’t surprised that I left the theater unsettled, with a darker view of this artist whose songs I’d sung in elementary-school revues and whose home I’d visited on a high-school-band trip. But beyond the straightforward record-correcting objective of the movie (which is inspired by Priscilla Presley’s 1985 memoir, Elvis and Me), Coppola’s choice to end the film on a stark, ambiguous note reminded me that an abrupt conclusion can be as satisfying as a tidy one. That, in a movie concerned with the way things seem, feels true to life.

— Lora Kelley, associate editor

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The Death of Stalin (streaming on Pluto TV)

Totalitarianism, when it’s not terrifying, can be absurd—the constant bowing to a Dear Leader, the seemingly arbitrary list of enemies and outlawed ideas that change every hour, the silly pomp of statues and parading armies. It’s almost impossible to capture the humor without undermining the horror. But The Death of Stalin, Armando Iannucci’s 2017 satire, brilliantly reveals the ridiculous side of authoritarian rule, and it opened my eyes to the small, shuffling, utterly banal individuals who undergird even the scariest systems.

Iannucci makes little effort at historical accuracy—I mean, Steve Buscemi plays Nikita Khrushchev—but he gets at deeper truths. The story takes place following the sudden death of the titular dictator. The power vacuum that opens is filled with scheming and backstabbing politicians, including Khrushchev, Lavrentiy Beria, and Georgy Malenkov. But Iannucci mines it all for laughs, and they are plentiful. The pettiness, the servility, the insecurity of these men are all on display as they spin around Stalin’s corpse. And watching this transfer of power reduced to a bizarre human drama reminds you about what makes tyranny possible: very ordinary people.

— Gal Beckerman, staff writer

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Rivers and Tides (streaming on Tubi)

When a friend first showed me Rivers and Tides, I had never heard of Andy Goldsworthy, and I had surely never seen anyone do what he did. The documentary follows the British artist through fields, forests, and tidelands as he creates sculptures and ephemeral works from materials he finds, often challenging our assumptions of what those materials, and their environments, even are. One frigid morning, we observe Goldsworthy snapping icicles apart, and whittling them with his teeth, to reconstruct them into a fluid form that seems to cut back and forth through a boulder; when the rising sun finally hits the sculpture, it’s spectacular. Another day, we see him collect fallen autumn leaves and arrange them over a pool of water into a surreal graphic gradient. Witnessing his way of seeing and collaborating with the world around him transformed me. I haven’t looked at a leaf—or twigs, or snow, or even stone—the same since.

— Kelsey J. Waite, senior copy editor

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The Devil Wears Prada (streaming on FuboTV and Prime Video)

The Devil Wears Prada came out in June 2006, the same month I graduated from college. I saw it in a movie theater a few weeks into my first full-time job, and it was a revelation to watch its portrayal of the compromises, disappointments, and small victories that come with pursuing a career. The Devil Wears Prada is heightened and fantastical and unbelievable in all sorts of ways: The protagonist, Andy (the role that made me love Anne Hathaway forever), wears over-the-top clothes in an impossibly sleek office and kisses a suave older man on a lamp-lit Paris street. But the film is remarkably realistic and perceptive about work. Andy makes professional choices that alienate her from her parents, her friends, and her boyfriend. Even she doesn’t seem to fully understand why she is so determined to succeed at a job she never wanted in the first place. The film ends with her throwing her phone into a fountain and taking a job that more clearly aligns with her values and goals. But what’s stuck with me are the scenes where she is trying as hard as she can to prove to her boss, and to herself, that she can do anything that’s asked of her. Her ambition is remarkable—and it’s served as both an inspiration and a cautionary tale to me in the many years since.

— Eleanor Barkhorn, senior editor

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Anora (available to rent on YouTube, streaming on Hulu March 17)

Of all the sex workers depicted in films, the titular protagonist of Anora—a movie that deserves at least three of its five Oscars—might be one of the few who actually feels like a worker.

At the strip club, Anora has shifts, a boss, and a mean colleague. Although sex work is technically illegal (albeit somewhat decriminalized) in New York City, she seems to have a somewhat normal job—until one night, when she gets close to Vanya, a new client. The story progresses like “Cinderella,” except the prince is the mediocre son of a Russian oligarch. Vanya marries Anora and gives her a taste of his opulent life. But when Vanya’s parents find out about the marriage, the love story is over.

Before watching Anora, I’d imagined that if work conditions improved for sex workers, they would be treated humanely. But Anora showed me—or perhaps reminded me—that society’s contempt for women in this industry is profound, and that better policies, important as they are, might never change that.

The beauty of Anora is that it never occurs to her that she is less-than. That a scion of the Russian oligarchy was never going to stay married to her seemed obvious to all of the characters—and perhaps also to the audience—but not to her. Anora screams and fights back, but even she has a limit to the amount of humiliation she can take. At the end of the movie, unable to continue holding her head high, she collapses into tears.

— Gisela Salim-Peyer, associate editor

Here are three Sunday reads from The Atlantic:

The Week Ahead

Snow White, a live-action remake starring Rachel Zegler and Gal Gadot (in theaters Friday)
The Residence, a murder-mystery show about an eccentric detective who must solve a murder at a White House dinner (premieres Thursday on Netflix)
Red Scare, a book by Clay Risen about McCarthyism and the anti-Communist witch hunt (out Tuesday)

Essay

My Hometown Became a Different Country

By Tetiana Kotelnykova

Horlivka had always been a Russian-speaking city, but before 2014, our graduation ceremonies and school concerts were held in Ukrainian. We would sing the Ukrainian national anthem at the end of every event. Then, suddenly, the Ukrainian flags were taken down. The anthem was no longer sung. The Ukrainian language vanished from classrooms. The disappearance was so abrupt and absolute that it felt unreal, like a dream whose meaning was obscure to me. I remember asking my teacher why everything had altered so drastically. She didn’t have an answer—or maybe she was just too afraid to say.

Read the full article.