All 10 Best Jodie Whittaker Movies Ranked (Best to Worst)

Joe Cornish’s 2011 alien invasion thriller remains a razor-sharp collision of inner-city social realism and John Carpenter-esque creature-feature pulp. Set across the concrete walkways of a South London council estate during Guy Fawkes night, the film bristles with kinetic pacing, practical monster designs, and a fierce street-level vitality that never condescends to its young antiheroes. As trainee nurse Sam, Whittaker anchors the story's moral compass. Beginning the night as the victim of a street mugging, she undergoes a raw, completely convincing transformation into an armed defender alongside the kids who ambushed her. Her grounded, no-nonsense grit prevents the genre frenzy from tipping into cartoonish excess, cementing Sam as one of British cinema’s sharpest modern heroines.

Hanif Kureishi’s bittersweet screenplay and Roger Michell’s delicate direction turn what could have been a tawdry Pygmalion retread into an achingly poignant meditation on aging, desire, and human frailty. Anchored opposite an Oscar-nominated Peter O’Toole in twilight grandeur, the film balances wry British melancholy with unapologetic emotional candor. In her big-screen debut, Whittaker gives a startlingly fearless performance as Jessie, a surly, uncouth young woman who refuses to be romanticized. Instead of playing an ethereal muse, she injects the character with abrasive Northern honesty, weaponized petulance, and sudden flashes of tender vulnerability. It remains the foundational showcase of her dramatic range, proving she could stand toe-to-toe with acting royalty without flinching.

Set against the bleak streets of 1970s Belfast during the height of the Troubles, this vivacious biopic charts Terri Hooley’s defiance of sectarian violence through three-chord punk rock. Directors Lisa Barros D’Sa and Glenn Leyburn inject the material with raw, infectious joy, celebrating musical rebellion without minimizing the omnipresent dread of political strife. Whittaker plays Ruth Carr, Hooley’s steadfast yet increasingly exhausted partner. While the film could easily sideline her in favor of garage-rock mythmaking, she infuses Ruth with tough-minded resilience, pragmatic love, and devastating clarity as domestic life frays under Terri’s manic idealism. She provides the emotional bedrock that keeps the film’s freewheeling punk euphoria tethered to reality.

Adapted from Richard Curtis’s charming trilogy of children’s books, this spirited holiday animation paints a warm portrait of a coastal seaside community upended by a blizzard of epic proportions. Directed by veteran animator Simon Otto, the film thrives on Curtis’s signature ensemble warmth, weaving miscommunicated plans, parenting anxieties, and childhood innocence into an appealing seasonal web of mishaps. Whittaker lends her distinctive Yorkshire cadence to Mrs. Trapper, bringing an earthy maternal warmth and nimble comedic timing to the animated chaos. Her vocal work feels distinctly spontaneous rather than polished or detached, demonstrating how effortlessly her expressive vocal delivery conveys genuine emotional intimacy even within the stylized confines of CGI family entertainment.

Lone Scherfig’s adaptation of David Nicholls’ bestselling novel unfolds across twenty years through a singular, recurring date: July 15th. The film’s strength lies in its lavish period snapshots and the shifting emotional distance between two mismatched friends navigating adulthood, heartbreak, and unvoiced yearning across London and Edinburgh. Amid the high-stakes melodrama between Anne Hathaway and Jim Sturgess, Whittaker delivers a burst of buoyant naturalism as Tilly, Emma’s gregarious university roommate. She sidesteps conventional best-friend stereotypes by investing Tilly with warm, uninhibited eccentricity and sharp comic instincts. Even in limited screen time, she establishes a rich, believable history that enlivens every chapter of Emma’s personal evolution.

Kevin Macdonald crafts a claustrophobic submarine thriller that operates as both an old-fashioned heist caper and an indictment of disposable working-class labor. Trapped in a rotting Soviet vessel scouring the ocean floor for sunken Nazi bullion, Jude Law’s desperate crew succumbs to paranoia, oxygen deprivation, and volatile greed. Whittaker occupies the film’s crucial, bittersweet memory sequences as Chrissy, Robinson’s alienated ex-wife whose departure sparked his downward spiral. Though largely relegated to brief flashbacks and psychological hauntings, her brief appearances give Law’s bitter captain a tangible sense of grief and regret. She brings an unvarnished authenticity to a working-class relationship hollowed out by economic desperation and unfulfilled promises.

Ian Fitzgibbon’s Dublin-set crime caper runs on the fumes of late-period Celtic Tiger swagger, tracking a hapless trio running through the night from an unforgiving mob boss. Propelled by Mark O’Rowe’s rhythmic, profanity-laced dialogue, the film mixes pulpy urban noir with eccentric black comedy, bolstered by lively turns from Cillian Murphy and Jim Broadbent. As Brenda, the suicidal neighbor caught in the violent crossfire, Whittaker grounds the frantic genre theatrics with dry Northern grit and cynical wit. Her deadpan reactions cut through the film's machismo, even if the script occasionally leaves her adrift amid the escalating gunplay. She remains an arresting presence in an undeniably derivative romp.

Christopher Smith shifts away from his trademark horror pedigree to deliver a breezy British family comedy anchored by Jim Broadbent as an incarcerated Santa Claus. The narrative coasts on brisk pacing, eccentric prison escapes, and genuine seasonal heart as an estranged father and son scramble to save the holiday. Whittaker steps into the role of Alison, the exasperated mother trying to maintain stability for her son amid her ex-con partner’s chaotic return. Her performance is warm and grounded, lending practical weight to a premise that routinely threatens to spin into pantomime. It is modest, unpretentious studio work, demonstrating her reliable ability to humanize conventional domestic archetypes.

Vicente Amorim’s adaptation of C.P. Taylor’s theatrical drama attempts to dissect how an ordinary, moral university professor slides incrementally into the horrific machinery of the Third Reich. Viggo Mortensen brings quiet gravity to the protagonist, yet the film struggles to translate its stage-bound interior monologues into convincing cinematic storytelling. Whittaker plays Anne, the neurotic, abandoned wife who struggles to maintain domestic order as John’s descent accelerates. Despite her sincere emotional investments, her character is constrained by a clipped screenplay that treats personal domestic drama as an afterthought to ideological discussions. Whittaker wrings genuine pathos from a frustratingly underwritten, thankless supporting assignment.

Oliver Parker and Barnaby Thompson’s high-camp revival of the classic schoolgirl franchise trades vintage Ealing charm for hyperactive mid-2000s British pop culture anarchy. Between synchronized dance numbers, slapstick heists, and Colin Firth’s deadpan humiliation, the farce operates at a fever pitch that values frantic broad gags over narrative coherence. Whittaker pops up in a minor comedic role as Beverly, the scatterbrained school receptionist. While she embraces the cartoonish absurdity with infectious enthusiasm, the film gives her very little room to exercise actual comedic timing or character shading. It stands as an ephemeral, lightweight footnote in her catalog, notable mostly as an early glimpse of her mainstream screen presence.