Underappreciated Comedy Movies You Need To Watch On Netflix

Gone are the days of endlessly searching the aisles of the video store for some undiscovered gem. Instead, it's all about endlessly scrolling through Netflix in search of something fresh and new to watch. No matter the method, it's hard to know what's good or not, or, in the case of a comedy, whether it's really funny or really stupid. So like Netflix's recommendation engine come to life, here are 10 overlooked comedies from the past few decades that are just as good as—if not better than—all those big, broad blockbusters.

Despite being an A-list movie star, Will Ferrell isn't usually one to rest on his laurels and do the same thing over and over again. He likes to innovate and make good comedy that interests him, and if other people like it, great. This is one of those kinds of movies. Casa de Mi Padre is an exercise in both comic tenacity and silliness, as it's a parody of a telenovela and is filmed almost entirely in Spanish. It should be noted that Ferrell, as a noble rancher in Mexico, doesn't speak Spanish all that well as he deals with both an untrustworthy brother (Diego Luna) and a fearsome drug lord (Gael Garcia Bernal).

Seann William Scott has been largely relegated to bully and sidekick roles, such as Stifler in American Pie and as Chester in Dude, Where's My Car?. In Goon, he's front, center, and often bloody as the star of this charming hockey comedy. Scott plays Doug, a dumb but good-natured guy who works as a bouncer but doesn't really know what to do with his life. Then he discovers he has a knack for being a hockey enforcer or "goon," the guy who violently body-checks opposing players. All the while, and despite the violence he gives and receives, Doug remains sweet and just there to have a good time. Goon was written by Superbad co-writer Evan Goldberg and Knocked Up star Jay Baruchel, who co-stars as Scott's best friend.

Through his semi-improvised mockumentary movies, Christopher Guest has exposed the world to lots of quirky subcultures, from small-town community theater folk (Waiting for Guffman) to folk music (A Mighty Wind) to dog shows (Best in Show). In Mascots, a Netflix original production, Guest takes on one of the most mystifying communities yet: people who dress up as team mascots. Against a backdrop of a big mascot competition where the drama is ridiculously thick, Guest's troupe of familiar faces, including Fred Willard, Jane Lynch, and Parker Posey, bring the world to life alongside newer comedy stars, such as Chris O'Dowd and Zach Woods.

Adults often talk about how hard it is to make friends, what with work and family obligations. A new-to-Los Angeles couple (Taylor Schilling and Adam Scott) meet a young dad (Jason Schwartzman) at a park, who invites them over to meet his wife. Dinner soon turns into an all-night affair, and comedy of discomfort (and regret) of the highest order ensues as the couples learn way more about themselves—and each other—than they ever intended or wanted.

Part light-hearted comedy, part horror movie about the rise of a new antichrist, Little Evil mashes up elements of The Omen with some sitcom-esque domestic hijinks about a newly married, sensitive modern man (Adam Scott) trying his hardest to bond with his wife's (Evangeline Lilly) dark and withdrawn young son (Owen Atlas). Gary just can't seem to get five-year-old Lucas to open up to him, a situation made worse by Lucas' antics at school, such as pouring lye on a teacher's face and convincing her to throw herself out of a window. (Kids!) As it turns out, Lucas's strange ways are nature, not nurture — his biological dad is the actual devil — but Gary will do whatever it takes, with the help of his eager stepdad support group, to literally fend off the forces of evil when Satan wants Lucas back to trigger the end of the world. You know, your typical blended family stuff, just with a touch of evil incarnate.

Usually, movies that are based on a true story are dramas — they seek to capture and retell actual, harrowing moments that happened in real life. But while stories of war and heroes lend themselves to serious movies, life isn't always serious; sometimes, it's absurd, such as the circumstances that led to the 1997 robbery of millions from Loomis Fargo, a company which operates armored trucks. As demonstrated by the events of Masterminds, it was not exactly the crime of the century. A ne'er-do-well named Steve (Owen Wilson) convinces his girlfriend Kelly (Kristen Wiig) to plan the heist by romancing David, a mild-mannered Loomis Fargo driver (Zach Galifianakis), into being their inside man and point man. David makes a ton of mistakes in the lead-up to the robbery, the robbery itself, and its aftermath, including poorly executed threats, bungled escapes, and masking his identity with the name of another guy connected to the robbery. All in all, it's a goofy crime caper where absolutely nothing goes right, which means it's okay to laugh.

The Trip originated as a three-season BBC series, with each "series" edited into three distinct feature films. The locations where stars Steve Coogan and Rob Brydon eat, travel, and ceaselessly joke around change each time—The Trip documents a restaurant and food tour of northern England, and The Trip to Spain and The Trip to Italy are self-explanatory. The series peaks with the Italian version, if only because the scenery of the Italian countryside is so impossibly beautiful, or that the conceit is so clear and fruitful (the protagonists retrace the steps of 19th century Romantic poets), or because Coogan and Brydon are at their silliest and punchiest. The British actors and comedians play heightened, more callous versions of themselves, making fun of each other, each other's work, and engaging in semi-improvised comedy bits and celebrity impressions as they scarf down handmade pasta in one tiny roadside eatery after another. Adding to the comedy and the lost-in-paradise vibe is that neither Coogan or Brydon knows much of anything about food.

This indie ensemble comedy might seem like a Bridesmaids knock-off, but while it's set in the lead-up to a wedding and concerns a small group of close-knit friends, it actually tells an uncomfortable story about people reckoning with the awful things they did in the past, and how that affected their present. Career woman Regan (Kirsten Dunst), functional drug addict Gena (Lizzy Caplan), and party girl Katie (Isla Fisher) reunite to attend the wedding of their old friend Becky (Rebel Wilson), and they're more than a little resentful that the one they used to horrendously call "Pigface" beat them to the altar. As the wedding draws closer, many embarrassing secrets about each other are shared, and the main cast also manages to get up to some cringe-inducing slapstick, such as when the three mean girls get drunk, accidentally destroy Becky's wedding dress, and then get blood all over it. But hey, this is a comedy about a wedding, so you can be sure that almost everything is patched up by the end.

In 2004, Jared Hess emerged as a unique filmmaker with both a quirky taste and approach, as exemplified by his first feature, Napoleon Dynamite. His 2015 movie Don Verdean is a return to form. Taking place in a realistic but slightly askew and absurd earth, Don Verdean straddles two untouchable film worlds — Indiana Jones and religious-themed content — and it pulls it off. Oscar-winner Sam Rockwell stars as Don Verdean, an archaeologist who specializes in locating historical artifacts mentioned in bible stories — or at least he says they are, such as a pair of shears he attests were the ones used to cut Samson's hair. He's widely discredited by both academic circles and true believers, until he gets a chance to "prove" himself. He's recruited by Tony Lazarus (Danny McBride), a degenerate who married a prostitute named Joylinda (Leslie Bibb), who together run a struggling church that's losing congregants to the flashier church next door. Don Verdean and the Lazaruses scheme to get their names in good graces again (or for once) by locating and smuggling more sketchy artifacts, including Goliath's skull. Really, it's a tale of small businesses, self-preservation...and lying through one's teeth.

Finally, a movie about a greedy, street-smart hustler that also involves polka and the pope. That's The Polka King, a true story that's so incredibly ridiculous that it's presented as a comedy. With his likability and Tenacious D-honed rock n' roll showmanship, Jack Black is perfectly cast as Jan Lewan, a polka band leader forced into hucksterism.

Perhaps Lewan's only real crime is a blind adherence to the American Dream...well, that and fraud. In addition to his band, Lewan runs a gift shop and a record label, only he can't quite pay the bills. After a chance meeting with an elderly couple who want to invest in his secretly failing enterprise, he starts selling securities with an impossibly good rate of return. The SEC learns about his illegal scheme almost immediately and orders him to shut it down. But he's already spent the money, so he just starts a new scheme, as well as some others, including leading European tours that include an audience with the pope. (How does he fulfill that promise? Bribing Vatican officials, of course.) His antics eventually involve millions of ill-gotten dollars, and the only way to go is down — spectacularly.