For this gallery, we decided to rank only Sydney Sweeney's movies, and not her music videos, short films, or TV series (so you won't see Euphoria, even though it's one of her best performances). Also, remember that we're focusing on her acting and not so much on the quality of the film, so you might find terrible movies ranked higher than they deserve. | © Sony Pictures
If you’re coming in expecting a Sydney Sweeney showcase, this one can feel oddly stingy. She’s the anchor as Penny Jo Poplin, but the movie keeps drifting into “quirky crime-thriller hangout” mode where everyone gets a slice and nobody gets the full meal. The setup—an artifact on the black market, small-town dreams, bad people circling—should hum with tension, yet the tone can wobble between grit and offbeat laughs like it can’t commit. Sweeney does what she can with the wounded-optimist energy, giving Penny Jo a sincerity that doesn’t read naïve, but the writing doesn’t always meet her halfway. It’s watchable, just not a role you point to when you’re making the “here’s why she’s a star” case. | © Bron Studios
You can almost feel the “early credit” label stamped on every scene here, and not in a charming, scrappy way. Sweeney plays Kelsey Connors in a low-budget thriller that leans on familiar danger beats—outsiders, a remote location, a bad vibe that inevitably turns worse—without building much dread or personality. The filmmaking has that straight-to-video flatness where the story keeps telling you it’s intense, but the rhythm never tightens enough to make it true. She’s competent, even likable, which is basically the problem: the movie isn’t good enough to reward that effort, and the character work is too thin for her to elevate on instinct alone. If you’re ranking “movie roles,” this lands near the bottom simply because there isn’t much of a role to rank. | © Red Thread Pictures
This is a quiet, bruised little film that lives on mood, awkward pauses, and the kind of emotional mess people pretend they don’t recognize. Sweeney is Lana, the younger woman who slides into the story like a spark you’re not sure is warmth or a warning sign, and she plays that ambiguity well. The movie’s problem is that it can get so committed to being understated that it starts to feel distant, like it’s watching its own characters from across the lake house instead of getting in the room with them. Still, Lana gives Sweeney space to do something more interesting than “supporting girlfriend energy”—she’s magnetic, unpredictable, and not always easy to like, which is exactly why she’s the most alive thing in it. A better film around her and this could’ve climbed higher. | © High Pony Pictures
Blink and you’ll miss her: Sweeney shows up as Shooting Star #2, and that’s basically the whole gig. But the movie itself is such a bizarre, hypnotic spiral of Los Angeles paranoia that even a tiny appearance feels like it’s part of the texture—another piece of the city’s weird, glossy mythology. What helps is that she fits the film’s off-kilter vibe without trying to “announce” herself; it’s more like she’s one more signal in a story obsessed with hidden messages. As a role, it’s obviously minimal, which caps how high it can go in any ranking. As a moment in her filmography, though, it’s an early glimpse of how naturally she reads on camera, even when the script gives her next to nothing to chew on. | © Vendian Entertainment
Yes, this is the one everybody roasted, and the jokes weren’t exactly unearned. The dialogue can be clunky, the plotting is a mess, and the movie often feels like it’s sprinting through scenes it hasn’t bothered to earn. Still, Sweeney as Julia Cornwall is one of the easier parts to watch because she leans into the character’s awkwardness instead of fighting it—wide-eyed but not helpless, nervous but not bland. She can’t fix a script that keeps stepping on its own toes, yet she does carve out a clear teen voice inside all the superhero noise, which is more than some of the film manages for itself. It’s not a “great performance” showcase, but it is a real studio-scale role with visibility, physicality, and a few flashes of charm that survive the chaos. That alone puts it above the true footnotes. | © Columbia Pictures
The whole thing runs on one vibe: “Isn’t this guy a mess?”—and after a while, the answer stops being funny. Sydney Sweeney’s Holly mostly exists to underline how childish Zeke really is, which means she’s stuck playing the sane person in a movie that would rather chase chaos. She gives Holly a believable patience that reads more exhausted than supportive, and that’s the most honest part of the dynamic. The problem is the script treats her like a prop for Zeke’s image, not a character with a life of her own. Solid work, thin role, and the movie isn’t clever enough to justify the leanness. | © American High
It wants to be a prestige thriller, but it often feels like a very expensive exercise in emotional blackmail. Sweeney’s Claire Garrett is written as a walking crisis, and the movie keeps yanking her from “fragile” to “dangerous” so fast you can see the gears turning. She’s the best argument for sticking with it: jittery, defensive, and unnervingly hard to read in a way that feels intentional rather than sloppy. Still, the twists lean on manipulation more than insight, and the drama can get so heavy-handed it flattens nuance. Great intensity from her, mixed payoff from the film. | © Apple Studios
This rom-com is shinier than it is smart, and the writing regularly mistakes bickering for banter. Sweeney does a lot of unpaid labor as Bea Messina—selling irritation as chemistry, and keeping the character from becoming a carousel of “misunderstanding” reactions. The movie’s big emotions are often forced, the conflict is flimsy, and the momentum depends on you not thinking too hard between the pretty locations. Even so, she commits to the bit with sharp timing and enough edge that Bea doesn’t come off like a mannequin in designer outfits. It’s a crowd-pleaser with mixed taste, elevated mainly because she refuses to phone it in. | © Columbia Pictures
For a survival story, it’s weirdly bloated and polished—like the movie is more interested in looking epic than feeling desperate. Sweeney’s Margret Wittmer is one of the few characters who reads as practical instead of theatrical, and that grounded energy helps whenever the film drifts into melodrama. But the script spreads itself thin across a stacked cast, so her role can feel like “the sensible one” surrounded by louder, messier arcs. The tension comes in bursts, then slips back into prestige posture and over-explaining. She’s good in it, but the movie makes “good” feel smaller than it should. | © Imagine Entertainment
It’s basically “elite arts ambition goes bad,” and the film doesn’t pretend it invented the blueprint. What saves it from feeling like a bargain-bin imitation is Sweeney as Juliet Lowe, because she plays obsession with an ugly sincerity—no glamour, no wink, just need. The writing leans hard on familiar beats, but she makes the spiral feel personal, like it’s driven by humiliation and hunger rather than plot convenience. Some scenes still land with a thud, and the symbolism can feel like it’s underlined in red marker. Even then, she carries the mood with real bite, which is why it ranks higher than the flashier-but-flimsier entries. | © Blumhouse Television
Locked in a fluorescent room with the clock ticking and nowhere to hide, Sydney Sweeney has to win with micro-expressions instead of big “actor” moments — and she does. Reality lives and dies on restraint: the tension isn’t car chases or twists, it’s the slow squeeze of silence, small talk, and questions that never quite land softly. That makes it riveting in short bursts… and also a little punishing if you want anything resembling momentum. As Reality Winner, Sweeney keeps the performance painfully human, letting nerves, defiance, and confusion overlap in the same breath. The movie itself can feel like a filmed endurance test (because it basically is), but that’s also why her work stands out: she doesn’t decorate the role, she survives it. You respect it more than you “enjoy” it — and that’s not an insult; it’s the point. | © HBO Films
This is the kind of erotic thriller that starts spicy and ends up sloppy, like it’s making it up purely to shock you every ten minutes. Sydney Sweeney’s Pippa is the reason it doesn’t collapse completely: she sells the curiosity, the shame, and the adrenaline of crossing lines you swore you wouldn’t cross. The film, though, can’t decide if it’s condemning voyeurism, indulging it, or just using it as an excuse to crank the heat — and the tonal whiplash gets worse the longer it goes. Some twists feel less “clever” and more “desperate,” and the moralizing comes off hypocritical when the camera is so clearly enjoying itself. Still, Sweeney commits hard, never playing Pippa as a wide-eyed victim; she’s messy, complicit, and increasingly feral in a way that makes the character oddly believable. Great lead energy, mixed-bag movie, and a finale that’s… a lot. | © Amazon Studios
A sports biopic lives or dies by whether the lead can make the “standard beats” feel personal, and Sweeney drags Christy over the line through sheer force of commitment. She plays boxer Christy Martin with bruised intensity — not glam, not polished, not trying to be liked — and that choice is smart because the story gets ugly fast. The problem is that the film around her can feel strangely conventional, like it’s checking off the inspirational-montage syllabus while the real mess of the life story is fighting to break through. It wants grit, but sometimes lands on the safe version of grit, sanding down the edges when it should be leaning into the discomfort. Even with that, she disappears into the physicality and keeps the emotional turns from feeling like screenplay bullet points. If the movie had her bravery and a sharper point of view, it’d be higher — but as a performance, she earns the rank. | © Black Bear Pictures
Religious horror can be laughably generic when it’s all candles and creepy whispers with nothing underneath, but Sweeney powers this one with real panic and conviction. As Cecilia, she starts with sincere faith and a gentle steadiness — then the film steadily strips that away until she’s running on survival instinct and righteous fury. The script still plays in familiar sandbox territory, and some reveals feel like they’re designed to provoke gasps more than thoughts. But when the movie goes for body-horror nastiness and emotional punishment, she doesn’t blink; she makes the suffering feel specific, not just “scream queen” performance cosplay. There’s also a mean little intelligence in how she flips Cecilia from obedient to dangerous, like you can watch the moment the character decides she’s done being handled. It’s not subtle, but it’s effective — and she’s the sharpest instrument in the room. | © Neon
The role demands two things at once: total vulnerability and the sense that something is being held back, and Sweeney nails that tightrope without making it look like homework. Millie Calloway has to feel believable as someone you’d hire — polite, helpful, eager to start over — while also carrying the “don’t trust anyone in this house” electricity that keeps the thriller moving. The movie is unapologetically pulpy, and it leans into the fun of secrets, power plays, and escalating dread instead of pretending it’s above the genre. What makes it work is how she calibrates the shifts: soft when she needs to be, sharp when she’s cornered, and never so innocent that the character becomes a doormat. Even when the plot turns the screws in big, crowd-pleasing ways, she keeps Millie grounded enough that the twists land as tension, not nonsense. It’s the cleanest mix of star power and “actual acting” in her movie career so far. | © Lionsgate
Sydney Sweeney has a knack for making even a small moment feel like the whole scene quietly pivots around her. Whether she’s playing raw, funny, messy, or flat-out unsettling, her best movie roles don’t just “work”—they stick.
So where does The Housemaid land in the bigger picture of her film career so far? Here’s a ranked look at 15 of her movie roles, from the ones that never quite click to the performances that prove she’s way more than a buzzy name on a poster.
