All 10 Best Tom Rhys Harries Movies Ranked (Best to Worst)

Guy Ritchie’s return to British crime aristocracy crackles with swagger, fast-talking machismo, and razor-sharp cross-cutting. The film weaves an intricate web around a London weed empire threatened by cutthroat American buyers, dry-witted mob fixers, and unhinged street gangs, delivering kinetic dialogue and stylized tension. Harries slots cleanly into this cynical ecosystem as Power Noel, bringing a slick, privileged edge that meshes with Ritchie’s hyper-stylized world. Though an ensemble piece overflowing with outsized stars, the appearance solidified his ability to hold his own within big-budget studio showmanship, staking an early claim as a versatile British talent who can instantly telegraph social class and quiet danger.

Uberto Pasolini strips Homer’s epic down to its bruised, psychological bones, framing Odysseus’ homecoming not as a triumphant conquest but as a hollow, traumatic ordeal. Bathed in austere Mediterranean light, the film trades grand mythological spectacle for visceral family ruin and quiet dread. As Telemachus, Harries delivers the emotional anchor of the entire production, capturing the profound disillusionment of a son raised on myths only to meet an unrecognizable phantom. His chemistry with Ralph Fiennes crackles with grief, longing, and suppressed rage. It marks a striking artistic leap, demonstrating Harries' commanding ability to elevate classical tragic material with modern vulnerability and gravitas.

Frauke Finsterwalder’s feminist costume drama subverts the traditional Empress Elisabeth mythos, transforming the Austro-Hungarian court into an intoxicating, sun-drenched sanctuary of emotional power games. Told through the eyes of a smitten lady-in-waiting, the picture balances brittle comedic absurdity with an undercurrent of tragic claustrophobia. Stepping into this delicate psychological battleground, Harries radiates seductive aloofness and period charm. He navigates the screenplay’s satirical tone without ever puncturing its emotional delicacy, supplying just enough aristocratic friction to unsettle the central dynamic. This sophisticated European art-house credit proved that his artistic instincts extend well beyond conventional Anglo-American commercial territory.

Set against the sweltering Welsh summer of 1976, Marc Evans’ nostalgic coming-of-age feature blends schoolyard melancholy with the euphoric pop-rock anthems of David Bowie and The Beach Boys. The production captures working-class adolescent restlessness with warmth, refusing easy melodrama in favor of genuine communal heart. In his screen debut, Harries shines brightly as Evan, a choir-boy talent caught between domestic turmoil and artistic expression. His vocal performances carry an earnest, unvarnished beauty, instantly establishing him as a performer of striking instinct and musicality. Looking back, this breakout role laid the groundwork for everything that followed, marking an unvarnished exhibition of his natural empathy.

Adapting Dylan Thomas’ lyrical radio play for television requires immense theatrical dexterity, and this collaborative production honors the text’s surrealist cadences and eccentric coastal folklore. The visual structure relies on poetic cadence rather than conventional plotting, demanding that every actor treat language as music. Harries embraces the Welsh literary heritage with obvious relish, blending into a prestigious ensemble while bringing distinct tonal clarity to his assigned voices. His stage training comes to the fore here, displaying an acute ear for rhythmic verse and regional idiosyncrasy. It stands as a vital cultural touchstone in his career, cementing his deep connection to classical Welsh storytelling.

Ric Roman Waugh’s desert-bound chase thriller favors geopolitical claustrophobia over disposable spectacle, trapping an exposed CIA contractor in a lethal dash across Afghan badlands. The cinematography emphasizes punishing heat and isolation, creating a relentless procedural rhythm driven by surveillance drones and armed pursuit. Harries enters the fray as Oliver Altman, handling high-stakes tactical panic with calibrated realism. While the machinery of the action genre naturally prioritizes kinetic violence, he gives his bureau-bound operative genuine moral anxiety and professional exhaustion. It represents Harries expanding his footprint into contemporary global thrillers, illustrating that he can sell institutional dread and bureaucratic crisis with effortless conviction.

Transporting Britain’s most hopelessly vulgar quartet to the Australian backpacker circuit unlocked a playground of cringe comedy, sunburned hubris, and desperate bravado. The sequel doubles down on gross-out humor, yet works because its central characters remain pathetic architectural disasters of adolescent desperation. Harries provides an indispensable comedic foil as Ben, the dreadlocked, acoustic-guitar-strumming spiritual poser whose faux-enlightenment drives Will insane. Harries attacks the caricature with pitch-perfect deadpan arrogance, making his insufferable privileged traveler instantly recognizable and deeply punchable. It remains a memorable comedic detour, highlighting his sharp sense of satire and effortless comic timing within mainstream British farce.

A bizarre collision between gothic British boarding school satire and creature-feature splatter, this horror-comedy takes gleeful aim at institutional elitism while unleashing subterranean monsters upon snobbish prefects. Its frantic tone occasionally clashes with its satirical intent, but the sheer chaos provides plenty of grindhouse amusement. Harries plays Clegg, throwing himself into the eccentric schoolyard hierarchy with palpable physical energy. He leans comfortably into the heightened melodrama of teenage panic, keeping his character grounded even when the narrative descends into messy creature carnage. While not a critical juggernaut, the film underscores Harries' willingness to take unhinged genre swings without blinking.

This fantasy sequel embraces classic sword-and-sorcery tropes, trading prestige budgets for earnest, family-friendly adventure anchored by Patrick Stewart’s noble dragon voiceover. Focusing on sibling rivalry over an inherited magical throne, the plot offers straightforward mythical conflicts and practical combat choreography. Harries leads the narrative as Edric, carrying the heavy lifting of green-screen heroics and conflicted royal destiny. Even when constrained by formulaic genre mechanics and television-tier visual effects, he injects genuine gravitas and wounded nobility into the material. The film stands as an early proving ground for Harries in a leading action role, proving his capacity to anchor high-concept lore.

Exploring the tragic unraveling of an actor consumed by vanity and body-horror mutation, this conceptual project outlines a grim descent into classic comic-book tragedy. The narrative centers on artistic hubris, catastrophic transformation, and the criminal underworld of a decaying metropolis. Harries' involvement represents his continued gravitational pull toward dark, transformative genre archetypes, signaling his ambition to inhabit twisted, psychologically fractured characters. Because the production remains largely an untested curiosity rather than a fully realized canonical triumph, it sits at the perimeter of his established work. Still, the underlying premise hints at Harries' growing appetite for complex, villainous character transformations.