Every March, we celebrate Women’s History Month, dedicating the month to honoring the achievements of women throughout history and in our modern times. For many film lovers, this month is spent highlighting the work of women both on and offscreen, and watching work made by, for, and about women.
For those looking to add some new films and voices to your watchlists this year, here is a list of 10 films directed by women that deserve more attention than they get.
Chilly Scenes of Winter (1979), by Joan Micklin Silver
The creation of Joan Micklin Silver’s 1979 film Chilly Scenes of Winter is, unfortunately, an all-too-familiar story of a woman having to fight to make the film she wanted to make, with obstacles at every step. Even after this film’s completion, Silver still had to fight an uphill battle, with the distributor, United Artists, insisting that the film be released under the alternative title Head Over Heels and promoted as a more straightforward romantic comedy. It’s a shame, as it both compromised Silver’s artistic autonomy and misrepresented this incredibly intelligent and subversive film to fit into a genre distinction perceived as more successful (as in, one that makes a studio more money).
In Chilly Scenes of Winter, Silver masterfully weaves a story of a man’s obsession with an ex-lover, one that starts out seemingly harmless and slowly devolves into something disquieting. This evolution is so subtle and sustained that you almost wouldn’t notice it until it escalates. John Heard plays the film’s central character with such impressive restraint that it anchors the movie and allows the audience’s uneasiness to grow ever so slightly and steadily throughout. At no point does this film completely tip over the edge; instead, it teeters on the edge for its entire runtime.
Merrily We Go to Hell (1932), by Dorothy Arzner
Dorothy Arzner is remembered today for several firsts. She was the first woman to direct films during the Golden Age of Hollywood, the first woman to join the Directors Guild of America, the first woman to direct a film with sound, the inventor of the earliest boom microphone, and certainly the first openly queer woman to do all of the above. These accomplishments paved the way for future generations of women who dreamed of working in Hollywood. But when you look beyond the raw statistics, you’ll see that Arzner was also a master of her craft, constantly pushing boundaries technically and creatively.
Her 1932 feature Merrily We Go to Hell is a perfect snapshot of the work she was doing in the 1930s, as well as of the kinds of films being produced before the enforcement of the Hays Code began in 1934. The film follows a woman named Joan Prentice (Sylvia Sidney) and her marriage to Jerry Corbett (Fredric March), a reporter and playwright. Jerry’s relapse into alcoholism and his eventual adultery cause Joan’s faith in him and their relationship to falter and eventually shatter, and she must then reckon with the fact that her marriage is no longer making her happy. The film explores how people’s worst vices stand in the way of their own happiness, and Joan is the perfect protagonist for this story in that she wants to believe the best of people even when they keep letting her down. Joan and Jerry’s marriage is portrayed with complexity, and Arzner’s skilled direction, paired with Sidney’s and March’s performances, lends an authenticity to the characters that keeps the audience enraptured.
Peppermint Soda (1977), by Diane Kurys
“For my sister… who still hasn’t returned my orange sweater.”
This quote appears on a title card during the opening of Diane Kurys’s coming-of-age drama Peppermint Soda, and it perfectly captures the experience of sisterhood. This film tells the story of two sisters, Anne (Eléonore Klarwein) and Frédérique (Odile Michel) Weber, growing up in France in the 1960s. This movie could simply have been a well-executed story of girlhood and growing up, but Kurys digs deeper. What results is a thematically rich story of two young women coming into their own beliefs and personalities. Frédérique, age 15, is encountering politics for the first time in her life, and what starts as a seemingly ordinary teenage rebellious streak leads her to become outspoken against oppression and violence in her neighboring communities. Anne, who wants nothing more than to feel included in her sister’s life, struggles her way through school, acting out in her attempts to appear more adult.
Kurys achieves a tricky feat with this film: successfully capturing the intelligence that children actually possess without portraying them as so mature that we lose what’s special about their adolescence. She respects her protagonists and their autonomy, and what results is a beautifully shot film that is smart, heartfelt, and clearly comes from a very personal place.
Shoes (1916), by Lois Weber
Lois Weber is not only an important figure in the history of women in Hollywood but also an essential director in the history of cinema. Working in the silent era, she was best known for using her films as a form of political and social commentary, and she was unafraid to address controversial subjects head-on.
Weber’s 1916 silent film Shoes is a great example of how, even in the early days of Hollywood, movies could make powerful statements about the real world. The film tells the story of a young girl named Eva (Mary MacLaren) whose family is struggling through intense poverty. Eva’s hopes of a better life are framed by her desire to buy a new pair of shoes, as hers wear down and fall apart due to harsh weather and long days on her feet at work. The new shoes she wants serve as a material representation of her larger dream of seeing her family happy and financially prosperous.
Even without sound, the images Weber constructs onscreen are dynamic and full of life, and MacLaren’s incredibly expressive performance as Eva completes this beautiful portrait. Weber uses dreamed and imagined sequences that give the audience glimpses into Eva’s mind, such as a very memorable scene in which a large hand with the word “poverty” inscribed on it reaches down and clutches Eva in her sleep. Weber’s inventiveness in this film is truly impressive, and it is a commonality among her decades-spanning body of work.
Showing Up (2022), by Kelly Reichardt
Kelly Reichardt’s work has been steadily gaining attention and acclaim in recent years, with her newest film, The Mastermind(2025), drawing many new fans to her distinctive style. Her films often feel very stripped-down, from the minimalist design to the slice-of-life storytelling to her actors’ performances. However, the richness of her work’s story and emotion cannot be overstated, and her 2022 film Showing Up is a beautiful display of her talents as a director, writer, and editor.
This film is a perfectly orchestrated symphony of visuals, performances, writing, and sound, all working together to tell a deceptively simple story of a young sculptor named Lizzy (Michelle Williams) in the days leading up to an important exhibition. Beyond being a story of one woman’s experience as an artist and as a person in the world, Showing Up is also an examination of how we value different types of artwork (and by extension the people who make them). Lizzy’s dedication to her work leads her to disregard her friends’ and family’s experiences, with her singular focus on her own deadlines and expectations, and she can’t seem to find real empathy for the people in her life. What she comes to learn is that art and people aren’t valued for their perfection but rather for their individuality. The unique thoughts and experiences of each person are what enable them to create something memorable.
Morvern Callar (2002), by Lynne Ramsay
Similarly to Reichardt, Lynne Ramsay’s work reached many new audiences last year with her film Die My Love, which was lauded for itsraw, authentic portrayal of mental illness, motherhood, and the general experience of struggle. Her second feature, Morvern Callar, is just as effective. The titular character, Morvern (Samantha Morton), is living in the immediate aftermath of her boyfriend’s suicide, and in her grief, makes a series of impulsive decisions that begin to spiral out of her control, though she can’t seem to stop herself.
Ramsay has an incredible gift for visual and auditory storytelling, and there are so many individual images in this film that linger in the mind. Her talent elevates this story from intriguing to enthralling, and Morton gives a performance that keeps the audience from taking their eyes off her for even a second. Lingering under everything Morvern does is this sense of longing for something more, or some greater purpose that she hasn’t yet discovered, and her complete refusal to acknowledge that maybe this is all there is.
“Nothing’s wrong with here, Morvern,” her best friend, Lanna (Kathleen McDermot), eventually says to her. “It’s just the same crap that’s everywhere, so stop dreaming.”
The Holy Girl (2004), by Lucrecia Martel
Lucrecia Martel is an Argentine writer and director who is best known for her first feature film, La Ciénaga (2001). Her films have been critically well-received at festivals around the world, and she was described by Filmmaker Magazine as “one of the finest emerging talents in world cinema.”
Her second feature, The Holy Girl, premiered in competition at the Cannes Film Festival in 2004 and was instantly lauded by critics. With this film, Martel does not shy away from difficult subject matter. She approaches religion and sexuality with nuance and intelligence. The film’s protagonist, Amalia (María Alché), experiences tension between her unwavering religious beliefs and her developing sexuality, and the lines between right and wrong blur in a way she has never encountered before. After an uncomfortable experience in which an older man touches her inappropriately, she becomes preoccupied with understanding the encounter and trying to derive some greater religious mission from God from it.
Hedda (2025), by Nia DaCosta
Nia DaCosta is one of the most exciting new directors to emerge in the last decade, with an impressively diverse portfolio for having only worked as a feature film director since 2018, when her film Little Woods premiered at the Tribeca Film Festival. She has now done everything from horror remake Candyman (2021) to an MCU installment in The Marvels (2023) to her most recent film, 28 Years Later: The Bone Temple (2026).
Her 2025 film Hedda is particularly special in that, despite being an adaptation of Henrik Ibsen’s famous 19th-century play “Hedda Gabler,” it feels like DaCosta’s most personal film to date. The film is an incredibly smart work of adaptation, where simple decisions — like changing Hedda’s race and gender-swapping her primary love interest — open up a world of new possibilities for a play that, in its original form, is problematic in its portrayal of women.
Tessa Thompson and Nina Hoss deliver exceptional performances as Hedda and her former lover, Eileen. If there’s one thing Nia DaCosta has already proven in her career so far, it’s her willingness to make bold creative choices when given the freedom to do so, and Hedda sees those decisions paying off in a remarkable way.
Starstruck (1982), by Gillian Armstrong
No list would be complete without a big, bright, and fun movie musical, and Gillian Armstrong delivers on all fronts with Starstruck. Best known for her 1994 adaptation of Little Women, Armstrong is an award-winning Australian filmmaker with a talent for creating exciting, crowd-pleasing cinema. It’s a shame that Starstruck has largely flown under the radar since its release, as it delivers on everything you could possibly want from a musical. Jo Kennedy is absolutely electric in her performance as aspiring teenage singer Jackie Mullens, and the musical numbers are catchy and dynamically staged.
Throughout the film, we see Jackie reckoning with her own dreams as she learns from the wacky experiences she encounters. Despite being flashy and fun, there is a real sentimentality at the heart of this film, and a certain bittersweetness about aging and the realizations that come with it, which is a huge part of what makes it so magical and sets it apart from similar films.
Sometimes I Think About Dying (2023), by Rachel Lambert
With Rachel Lambert’s upcoming film Carousel having just premiered at Sundance, it’s a perfect time to revisit her previous film, Sometimes I Think About Dying. The film follows a woman named Fran (Daisy Ridley) who, as the title suggests, sometimes thinks about dying. These daydreams, portrayed through beautifully staged shots of Fran lying lifeless in various natural environments, are representative of the larger fact that she is missing out on things in her real life because she is so stuck in her own head. When she has a flirtatious moment with a new coworker, her own fears about opening up begin to stand in the way of a genuine connection.
This film is quiet and gentle, and it will bring tears to your eyes by the end. Fran is a deeply relatable character because her life and relationships have many facets for audiences to latch onto and find personal connection with. The beauty and genius of Sometimes I Think About Dying is that, even as Fran makes mistakes and does things that are hurtful to others, we still can’t help but root for her to find her way out of whatever internal conflict is preventing her from forging meaningful connections with others.
List Courtesy of Claire May Lewis
Feature Image Credit to Momentum Pictures via MUBI