It’s easy to dismiss the claim that ‘2025 was a terrible year for movies’ as online cynicism. However, in this critic’s personal opinion, the majority of this year’s most anticipated releases turned out to be massive disappointments, from the unanimously praised TIFF People’s Choice Award winner The Life of Chuck and the sports-horror film HIM to unfocused duds from previously reliable filmmakers like Luca Guadagnino and David Cronenberg. Even the better films from the past twelve months had noticeable flaws holding them back from being genuinely great. In addition to this, there is industry uncertainty being fueled by two factors: the rapid adoption of artificial intelligence in mainstream storytelling and Netflix’s looming acquisition of Warner Brothers Discovery. Nevertheless, we endure, and the best of this year’s films endured long enough in this critic’s mind for one reason or another to warrant their well-deserved appreciation before the focus turns toward 2026.
But first, a look back at 2025 in film:
Worst Films: Captain America: Brave New World, HIM, I Know What You Did Last Summer, The Alto Knights, Hurry Up Tomorrow
Biggest Disappointments: Shelby Oaks, Until Dawn, The Life of Chuck, Clown in a Cornfield, The Surfer
Overlooked Gems: 100 Nights of Hero, Father Mother Sister Brother, The Plague, Bélen, Roofman
Honorable Mentions: Sisu: Road To Revenge, Hotspring Shark Attack, Ne Zha 2, It Was Just An Accident, Frankenstein
Special Acknowledgement: Eephus (Carson Lund)
Taking place in the nineties, Eephus is a hangout movie set in New Hampshire following two fictional amateur baseball teams, Adler’s Paint and the Riverdogs, as they play one last game at their traditional baseball diamond before it gets demolished and replaced by a school. The film does move at a slow pace that may test the patience of casual audiences, and there are brief opportunities for a narrative throughline that don’t go anywhere, such as a revelation that one of the players was on the board that voted the incoming school into existence.
All that is by design, however, because Eephus is the cinematic manifestation of the physical and mental experiences a fan has at a ballpark; it’s where one goes to do more than just watch a sporting event, but look around for something happening, like the clouds drifting across the blue sky, or the humorous ways the outfield tries to distract the player up to bat. Carson Lund’s debut feature proposes baseball as the sports equivalent of slowing down to smell the roses. There’s also a tinge of melancholy that comes with this meditative approach, because it leaves one thinking about how American football has overtaken baseball in this day and age as our new favorite sport, and our national pastime has become, well, a thing of the past, as evidenced by sparsely populated bleachers, on which a lone senior citizen calls for his grandkids to come watch an incoming exciting play with him, only for it to fall on deaf ears.
He’s not the only poor soul that time forgot, though, as the older men on these teams are playing because they want to forget about the pain in their legs, while others are there to avoid the responsibilities of adulthood, but Franny the statistician still does it for a pure love of the game. And the longer this final showdown between two rivals drags out, the sadder the extremes to which they go to cling to their traditions against time’s invisible ticking. Eephus reminds us that nothing lasts forever, and that all good things must come to an end. But in the face of uncertainty once they do, we should all live like Franny and just be happy we were there to witness them. Read our site’s review here.
And now, onto the main list.
15. Blue Moon (Richard Linklater)
Richard Linklater’s cinematic retelling of songwriter Lorenz Hart’s failed pursuits at the opening night party of his first creative partner Richard Rodgers’ Oklahoma! is one of the year’s most overlooked gems for its play-esque execution, captivating writing that opens audiences’ eyes to Hart’s philosophies on songwriting, dreams, eloquent verbiage and charismatic personality, further celebrated by Ethan Hawke who disappears into the role of the melancholy songwriter by exuding his flamboyant charisma with an endearing restraint and confidence in the delusions that his career isn’t on the decline, while also wearing his inner sadness and pain with striking facial expressions and powerful nuances. Blue Moon is a quietly devastating, yet beautiful ode to a forgotten musical legend, and a bittersweet reminder to welcome love in life, whether or not in that way.
14. Sirāt (Oliver Laxe)
What starts out as a straightforward narrative of a man called Luis (Sergi López) searching for his daughter Mar with young son Esteban in tow at a massive electronic dance music festival quickly unfolds into a nightmarish trip through the Moroccan desert with a band of concertgoers looking for the next rave to attend. The camaraderie between Luis and the ravers feels natural and authentic, thanks to the experienced Lopez serving as the lightning rod for the non-actors surrounding him in the film’s ensemble. Meanwhile, Laxe’s white-knuckle suspense builds gradually to a fever pitch as his journey sends his cast of characters up steep cliffs, across vast deserts, and even against law enforcement that doesn’t want these outsiders to exist with the world on the verge of collapse.
And yet, underneath the surface of this deceitfully simple Spanish film is something philosophical at play. Sirat begins with a title card that defines the film’s title as a bridge in Muslim mythology that connects the world between paradise and hell. Are Luis, Esteban and these EDM enthusiasts already on the proverbial bridge toward their ideal version of heaven? Is their voyage representative of that characteristic of the human condition, the one that drives us to live and pursue happiness? What is it to pursue connection, human, familial, spiritual or otherwise, if senseless suffering and unforgiving strife await those who crave such pleasures? The experience of watching Sirat leads one to ask a litany of questions, with the fusion between Kangding Ray’s phenomenal electronic musical score and the sound design from Laia Casanova aurally keeping on-screen these men and women’s most innate desires, taunting this troupe with a sound that’s so close, yet so far away.
13. Weapons (Zach Cregger)
The only nitpicks here about Zach Cregger’s latest are that the nonlinear structure occasionally undercuts the emotional power of the stellar first act, and it can be debated that the runtime should have been longer to add more depth to this ensemble. Other than that, Weapons is a riveting, moving and creepy psychological horror about everything humanity uses to process tragedy, from literal armaments and dangerous vices to our intelligence and even our own loved ones. The performances here are tremendous, with the disappearance of these children apparent in the eyes of each actor, and Cregger builds tension differently depending on the scenario with long takes, creative editing and an atmosphere dripping with an ominous mood, while the humor contributes to the realism rather than distracts from it. Weapons is a wonderful film that excels as well in conjuring terror as it does captivating human drama.
12. Bugonia (Yorgos Lanthimos)
Yorgos Lanthimos’ newest whatzit, this one inspired by an ancient Greek folktale, can be read in a multitude of ways the more one watches it, whether it’s from the perspective of Jesse Plemons’ unnerving sociopath on a revenge trip driven by vitriol and conspiracy theories, or Emma Stone’s mysterious executive yearning for a reason to have faith in humanity as she tries to escape captivity. The elements of black comedy and visual motifs within Bugonia hit as hard as the deep colors of Yorgos’ brilliant aesthetics, as well as his ominous warning for the world. Read our site’s review here.
11. Sorry, Baby (Eva Victor)
The sadness of Agnes’ reality after what she calls ‘the really bad thing’ is thick with a cold, suffocating tone throughout Eva Victor’s directorial debut, but it’s countered by a sardonic sense of humor and affecting poignancy incredibly well both through a sharp, tight script and Victor’s own relatable lead performance, one which conveys her lasting anxiety and disconnect from the world through blistering authenticity and truth. It’s one thing to write about one’s traumatic experience, but it’s another to feel the emotional toll it wreaks inside over and over, one take after the other, and with Sorry, Baby, Victor tells her personal story about a horrible tragedy and her learning to cope with it through an upstanding bravery and honesty.
10. Highest 2 Lowest (Spike Lee)
The story here does wrap itself up a little too nicely and as a director, there’s a lot Spike Lee has an opinion about, which renders his latest all over the place and scattershot. And yet, his vision for his latest film is dripping with love for New York City in the late Eddie Palmieri’s salsa orchestra during a brilliantly choreographed chase sequence, Jean-Luc Godard in the wides of protagonist David King’s lavish penthouse, and Akira Kurosawa in an ingenious reimagining of the Japanese legend’s classic neo-noir into a funny and engaging thriller in the world of hip-hop music. There’s also a fascinating exercise in self-reflection going on with the old fashioned aesthetic choices in Highest 2 Lowest’s first act, as if Lee is ruminating over his own place as a filmmaker with meme culture and generative AI molding a presence within the industry.
Lee’s own personal arc is also reflected in that of main character David King, and to that end, it’s no wonder why Denzel Washington chose to work with him for the fifth time in his career. The Oscar winning actor conveys the music mogul’s progression toward grounding himself and adapting to the times by unlocking an almost primal intensity that’s only seen in other collaborations with Lee like Malcolm X and Inside Man. The original High and Low is a masterpiece that critiques the illusion of luxury, but Highest 2 Lowest is its own beast of a film, one dripping with cynicism about law enforcement’s inefficiency, while also highlighting the similarities and differences between the old and new schools of Black celebrity, from their egos and aspirations to their harsh beginnings, bolstered by two of the best sequences Spike Lee has ever staged.
9. No Other Choice (Park Chan-wook)
Here comes a film that serves up yet more proof there really is no other filmmaker like Park Chan-wook. His newest piece of genre-bending bliss about an upper-middle class father who takes deadly measures to get back into full-time work in paper manufacturing after his employer of 25 years abruptly lets him go is such an unsettling, yet dazzling watch not only for its dark sense of humor, from visual gags that suggest growing a tree of iPhones to executives only reacting to an ex-employee’s trials when he mentions cancelling Netflix, but also brilliant character development. Yoo Man-su is a married father of two children, not a killer (a far cry from Oh Dae-Su in Oldboy), and therefore tries to carry out his crimes through methods that in his mind retain his humanity.
Yoo is only threatened by the inner pride he feels providing his family with their dream life building to an insecure high, and the full extent of his wrongdoings being discovered, which is built up thoughtfully with creative first-person camera angles that put us in the perspective of Park’s loved ones. And as the family patriarch, Lee Byung-hun keeps the film’s ambitions on track with a terrific lead performance that threads Park’s needle perfectly between situational slapstick and grounded, realistic satire. As hilarious and twisted a film as No Other Choice is, this latest cinematic achievement from Park also serves as a warning to corporations and the billionaires in charge: their greed and disconcertment in replacing the common worker with automation and AI only begets more soullessness in the workforce and amongst citizenry.
8. Rental Family (Hikari)
This dramedy about a struggling actor starving for connection could have been schmaltzy and saccharine if the script fell into the wrong hands, but thankfully co-writer/director Hikari’s authorial vision guides Rental Family on a path which grounds the film in the beauty of Japanese culture, celebrating the eccentric personalities it breeds while also criticizing the effects of the country’s irrational standards on its labor force, and even morphing the experience of watching this beautiful story into an ethereal one that bonds us cosmically to the deities above us, our friends and loved ones, the environment and even cinema itself. Read the full review HERE.
7. Sentimental Value (Joachim Trier)
Co-writer and director Joachim Trier expands his exploration of modern society from millennial anxieties to fractured families in Sentimental Value, a Norwegian family drama which successfully delivers an emotional gutpunch that matches, if not surpasses, that of Trier’s predecessor. The unit at the center here is the Borg family, of which sisters Nora and Agnes return to their childhood home for their mother’s funeral, and their filmmaker father Gustav not only seeks to reclaim the house for himself, but also shoot a new film inside it with Nora as the main character. However, his eldest daughter declines, harboring resentment for his disappearances and irrational, violent demands on herself, Agnes and their mother during their upbringing. Nora is left trying to keep her life as a stage actress afloat without setbacks in the form of nervous breakdowns, while Agnes plays mediator between her eldest sister and their father, who moves forward by casting actress Rachel Kemp as the lead instead.
Actress Renate Reinsve connected with domestic audiences in The Worst Person In The World, and continues on a proverbial roll here adding dimension after dimension to Nora’s character in subtle ways, from the way she looks at Gustav with silent resentment over his disconnect and audacity in trying to use her after everything he’s done, to her anxieties flaring up minutes before the curtain rises on a stage play, showcasing the lasting, debilitating effects that a lifetime of seeking approval from her father’s irrational standards had on her psyche. But Stellan Skarsgard counters that with an affecting humanity in his role; it’s clear that Gustav is really trying to make things right with both his daughters, while also selling his disconnect with a tender obliviousness, like when he gifts his grandson with DVDs inappropriate for children.
In Sentimental Value, Trier’s direction both emphasizes the reality of the plot and further tells the story of Gustav’s interior focus and progression. The handheld photography is only noticeable in rare instances such as when tensions between himself and Nora reach a zenith, but when he’s blocking the climactic one-take shot with Rachel, the camera is as steady and relaxed as one can get. Meanwhile, the emotions of the story strike a chord via a tender soundtrack and the common motif of the house itself representing generational trauma; further explored in the script Trier co-wrote with Eskil Vogt which occasionally flashes to the past in order to fill the gaps within this saga of a family rocked by tragedy, its consequences across decades, and amount to a restrained, powerfully sincere suggestion of when and how to move beyond it together.
6. Sinners (Ryan Coogler)
What can be said about Ryan Coogler’s period horror spectacle that hasn’t already been said? His stellar foray into the horror genre may take a lot of time to get going, but that’s solely to establish an intriguing world filled with compelling characters from twin brother main characters Smoke and Stack returning to the Mississippi Delta after seven years working as gangsters for Al Capone to open a juke joint, to elder pianist and serial boozer Delta Slim as well as Smoke’s love interest Miss Annie, who dabbles in the art of voodoo magic.
The other fascinating element throughout Sinners is the musical one hidden from the film’s marketing campaign that goes beyond another incredible score from Ludwig Goranson. The soundtrack comprised of an incredible fusion between ragtime, blues, hip-hop and ancient African tribal drums plays a commanding part in the film’s statement about what gives a man the power of timelessness, and the will to stand toe to toe with his ancestors in addition to the legends whose example he follows. And with both nuanced facial expressions and magnetizing vocals, newcomer Miles Caton steals the show as Sam, the young preacher boy blessed with this ability and dreams of becoming a blues musician against the wishes of his pastor father.
Coogler also takes familiar tropes from the vampire subgenre and turns them on their head in creative ways, such as by cutting away to the next scene just as a villain leaps toward an unsuspecting victim, and a recurring use of these monsters requiring an invitation into the Smokestack Twins’ juke joint that builds tension higher and higher up to the film’s satisfyingly violent climax. But everyone in this community that just wants a place to enjoy themselves is fully aware of what they’re up against, as they’ve fought an eternal battle to retain their identity and culture in a world that tries to steal and misappropriate it into their own image, while pigeonholing their victims into lives of nefariousness. It’s a fight African Americans continue to fight today, and Sinners confronts that along with the private, intimate wars inside Black families through the Smokestack twins’ arcs and Sam’s personal journey, complete with messages sure to inspire audiences to pursue their talents and resist hate in all its forms. Read our site’s review here.
5. The Ugly Stepsister (Emilie Blichfeldt)
Fans of the fractured fairy tale horror subgenre who have been yearning for the more demented side of the classic Cinderella story by the Brothers Grimm to make it to celluloid will not be disappointed by the terrifying facials of lead actress Lea Myren, director Emilie Blichfeldt’s amazing skill to place at least one unpleasant detail in every shot amongst exquisite decadence of the production and costume design, as well as the extremes she goes in the writing to develop Elvira’s quest for Prince Charming into a disgusting, yet beguiling experience not for the squeamish. Read our site’s review here.
4. 28 Years Later (Danny Boyle)
Danny Boyle and Alex Garland reunite in the world they created with 28 Days Later in 2003, and their return to the zombie horror subgenre not only lives up to the original film, but even surpasses it in some aspects. The directorial choice to shoot on an iPhone is a modern equivalent to the first film’s lo-fi aesthetic and pays off wonderfully; the camera’s quality loss is often visible, adding a raw, dirty realism to the ensemble’s journeys on the mainland. Boyle’s expert direction also extends to surreal landscapes which look like paintings, and disorienting editing that reveals the fury which motivates Aaron Taylor-Johnson’s scavenger, Jamie. Meanwhile, his son Spike is played by Alfie Williams, who at the age of 14 years old, does the heavy lifting and communicates incredible power in what should be a breakthrough performance for the young actor.
Garland’s writing also cleverly expands on Boyle’s rage-ravaged world by showing what humanity looks like at this point in time, complete with societal roles reminiscent of colonialism and even medieval forms of combat, as well as a society that celebrates the kills of its hunters, who label each zombie with a different name that matches their shape and size, like animals. And yet, the film’s throughline even moves past the zombies themselves as they have their own facial expressions filled with pain or wrath depending on the monster, while the first part of what will be a larger story is driven by personal, emotional stakes for Spike and his mother, ultimately setting the young hunter on a quest to find the balance between the masculine fascination with violence and feminine grace within himself. 28 Years Later gets this new trilogy of films off to a riveting start, blazing a trail for more innovative explorations in upcoming entries.
3. Marty Supreme (Josh Safdie)
What’s been advertised as your standard formulaic sports biopic *very* loosely based on real life table tennis prodigy Marty Reisman turns out to be an equal parts skewering and deconstruction of white male privilege in an epic adventure that sees Marty Mauser go to incredible lengths to realize his dream of being a star athlete in ping pong; whether it’s abandoning his pregnant girlfriend, disrespecting his parents, wooing a stage actress or destroying everything he touches. Both Benny and Josh Safdie have gone their separate ways to each direct anti-sports films that are fantastic for entirely different reasons; while The Smashing Machine used empathy to tell its story about a UFC fighter on a path toward personal rehabilitation, Marty Supreme is a grand After Hours-esque odyssey that sees Josh refine his usual handheld, anxiety-inducing filmmaking style into something resembling controlled chaos as Marty’s actions cause havoc and effects that come back to haunt him in later points of this narrative.
1950s New York City is replicated with pinpoint authenticity, yet ingeniously juxtaposed with a soundtrack full of 80s music as if to emulate the underdog story that Marty believes himself to be in, and the protagonist’s cocktail of entitlement, charisma, and assertiveness are all spellbinding to watch for Timothee Chalamet’s career-best performance, further cementing himself as this generation’s biggest movie star. One can go back and forth about their thoughts on the climax, but Marty Supreme is a fascinating character study of a man-child who neither wants to grow up nor feel the consequences of his actions, an especially satisfying watch for those who want to watch privileged tools get humbled, and a timely takedown of American exceptionalism. Read our site’s review here.
2. Train Dreams (Clint Bentley)
This period story does wear its influences on its sleeve and possesses familiar imagery, but this birth-to-death tale of a fictional logger in the early 1900s Pacific Northwest resonates with audiences as a timely, beautiful snapshot of 20th century America at its purest, without all the technological advancements our society has today. Co-writer/director Clint Bentley’s choice to shoot the film with all natural lighting shows the beauty of nature for all its details, from ripples of water and the saturated colors of grass and foliage to the gorgeous intimacy of dinners between logger Robert Grainer and his wife Gladys Olding in between his arduous travels to help clear forests and build train tracks for a railroad company.
It’s in these trips and a heartrending turn in the second act that separates Train Dreams from other period pieces in this storybook vein by focusing on the physical and emotional consequences of working under capitalism then and now, therein asking us how our society has or has not evolved from this point in time as far as its unforgiving wages and expectations; even isolating characters against darkness to show how close to death they really are. Grainer’s experiences and allies over the course of his life often peak his curiosity over his place in the universe, fully aware that what he’s building will eventually be rendered obsolete after he’s gone like the trees he cuts down, and what his purpose is if there’s more to life than his strenuous labor and affecting longing, which Joel Edgerton conveys through pained devastation on his face in arguably the best performance of his career thus far, while Bryce Dessner’s delicate but grand in feeling musical score accentuates the epic yet quiet biography.
There’s no mistake about it: Train Dreams is a moving, timebending tale of a simple man not like us, yet one with our mutual desire to live in comfort with a beautiful family, and comprehend what it really means to exist.
1. One Battle After Another (Paul Thomas Anderson)
Paul Thomas Anderson saw Film Twitter’s reactions to Licorice Pizza and responded to them with an amazing three-hour comedy-thriller that essentially makes the statement, “So you really think I’m a racist and a pedophile apologist? Hold my beer.”
Once PTA’s white knuckle latest begins, his narrative about a team of ex-revolutionaries on the run from their greatest foe upon his resurfacing after 16 years of inactivity hits the ground running once it starts and never lets up, ramping up tension with handheld photography and the unpredictable keys of Jonny Greenwood’s musical score in order to further emphasize the struggles that come with life in divisive times. Meanwhile, meticulously paced and suspenseful action sequences go on for long stretches of time, layered with so much going on in the frame for as long as the camera tracks hapless but well-meaning Bob Ferguson as he follows allies into the middle of a contemporary Civil War but just wants to charge his phone, which is certainly relatable in modern America.
It takes some time for the occasionally juvenile comedy to tonally mesh with the high stakes of this adventure, but the strange sense of humor lands in the names of the organizations that populate and surround Baktan Cross as well as the comical situations Bob finds himself in decades after leaving revolutionary life. But whether he’s frying his brain with marijuana or on the run with sensei Sergio, Leonardo DiCaprio is one of the three acting MVPs in this ensemble, with Sean Penn communicating blistering intensity every time his withered face takes up the frame, and Chase Infiniti breaking through with her own verbal fire in conveying Willa’s spirited self-reliance and her desire to fight for what’s right, as well as silently when one of her father’s old friends teaches her the violent ways of the French 75.
But what permeates throughout this masterwork is Bob’s unconditional love for Willa as her father, and his spellbinding, almost surreal search propels One Battle After Another into more than just the best film of 2025: it’s a hopeful message that the next generation will be the one to save our world, and an opportune plea to fight for the causes that need to be fought for in this era, but not at the expense of our humanity.