The last few weeks of 2025 have been chock-full of dreadful news related to AI companies and media consolidation. It all makes me feel despair-ridden and keeps me up at night. However, as the year draws to a close, I refuse to let these billionaire wackos ruin my perception of the year's cinema. We must be conscious of these evils, but not let them overwhelm or erase the exciting elements in 2025's cinema scene. The deeply human and communal joys tech companies yearn to erase, that's what these past 12 months of cinematic storytelling have been all about.
God knows how grateful I am that I got to experience multiple films in the IMAX 70mm format and with some of my dearest friends. Witnessing those glorious images on a towering screen with my favorite people produced memories I'll treasure forever. Also thrilling were the exchanges and conversations I shared with various souls in between screenings at events like the Austin Film Festival or Oak Cliff Film Festival. Oh! And visiting Atlanta, Georgia's Plaza Theatre, what a treat! The interior decor there was to die for.
Cinema brings people together. It's a medium containing stories, images, emotions, and so much more that you just can't get in any other form of creative expression. Even after all the trials and tribulations the 2020s have brought the filmmaking artform, 2025 still delivered so many great movies that reminded me why I live and breathe cinema. Now, it's time to explore the peak of this year in my top 25 favorite movies of 2025 list. It was so hard to whittle down my favorites of the year into a top 25 (countless sublime features just missed the cut), but these entries do paint an exciting and eclectic portrait of all that 2025's cinema scene offered.
These are the works that instill hope against all the madness and chaos. Never lose that hope or your compassion for others, dear reader.
Before the proper top 25, a pair of honorable mentions!
Kill Bill: The Whole Bloody Affair (dir. Quentin Tarantino)
Quentin Tarantino's a blowhard in the modern world, as that deeply cursed Kill Bill Fortnite short exemplified. However, I can't act like getting to watch both Kill Bill movies in one theatrical setting wasn't a glorious, borderline religious experience. I'm keeping my top 25 list solely for new movies released in 2025, but spending 260+ minutes with The Bride's saga in a movie theater setting was one of the year's great filmmaking highlights. Uma Thurman's performance, Sally Menke's editing, the incredible sound design, it all comes alive both in an unbroken narrative structure and theatrical environment. What a shame about that Fortnite short playing after the credits...
Fucktoys (dir. Annapurna Sriram)
This hasn't secured U.S. distribution or a proper general release yet (it's still playing on the festival circuit), but oh God, I cannot wait for everyone to experience Fucktoys. It's hard to describe writer/director/star Annapurna Sriram's unhinged creative vision for this feature. It's apocalyptic. But it's also deeply sexy. Grimly funny. Shockingly moving in its depiction of solidarity between sex workers. Beautiful to look at, especially since everything is shot on profoundly tactile film. It's a blisteringly original and provocative work thumbing its nose at the 1% and buttoned-up concepts of "good taste". This is a ribald and wildly fun ride unlike anything else I've seen this year or any other year. Congrats to Annapurna Sriram for joining Aimee Kuge and Vera Drew in the pantheon of exceedingly talented modern filmmakers keeping sublime trashy cinema vibes alive in the modern world.
On to the proper top 25 list! Starting with...
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25. Companion (dir. Drew Hancock)
The moment Companion protagonist Iris (Sophie Thatcher) lamented, “I’m so worried I’m gonna say something stupid in front of your friends,” to her toxic boyfriend, my autistic super self-conscious heart went out to her. I was hooked on whatever happened next to this woman. Luckily for me, writer/director Drew Hancock has Iris anchoring a terrifically fun movie full of lively performances and creative suspense sequences. Thatcher's an absolute riot the entire runtime as the automaton Iris, particularly in an unforgettable scene involving her character speaking German. Companion's a wild ride and just the sort of cheer-worthy movie you want to watch with a crowd.
24. Hedda (dir. Nia DaCosta)
How can I resist a movie where Tessa Thompson and Nina Hoss play messy lesbians who unleash treachery at every possible opportunity? Hedda isn't just Nia DaCosta's new vision of Henrik Ibsen's play Hedda Gabler. It's also a riveting romp full of spiraling bad behavior you just can't look away from. Rather than rigidly reciting a familiar text, DaCosta imbues this story with an unpredictable verve perfect for its chaotic titular lead. This filmmaker's visual chops are more refined than ever with this film's lavish, sprawling backdrops. Thompson and Hoss had me gasping and clapping my hands with glee in equal measures over their go-for-broke performances. Any movie delivering all that, a crumbling chandelier, and another magnificent Hildur Guðnadóttir score is one worth applauding. Needless to say, the Little Woods auteur has done it again!
23. The Chronology of Water (dir. Kristen Stewart)
For her feature-length directorial debut, Kristen Stewart leaves it all on the floor with The Chronology of Water. The whole project fascinatingly leans into the "imperfect", from truncated music cues to the profoundly lived-in 16mm imagery (right down to the frayed edges of every frame) to the editing jostling viewers across so many different time periods. This woman's tormented mind and existence come to transfixing, nightmarish life in Stewart's bravura filmmaking and Poots' equally gusto performance. Regret, messiness, trauma, it's all here in a cocktail of psychological misery. All of these tremendous visual and atmospheric impulses weave a ballad of potent anguish that's impossible to shake. The Chronology of Water may just kick off an amazing directorial filmography for Stewart, but for now, it's still a remarkably evocative and visually subversive work.
22. Marty Supreme (dir. Josh Safdie)
Go! Go! Go! Propulsive energy fuels Marty Supreme, as its titular lead (played by Timothee Chalamet) pursues his ping-pong champion dreams at all costs. Prior Josh Safdie directorial efforts like Good Time and Uncut Gems echo throughout Marty Supreme's aesthetic, but this is no cinematic rerun. This project's got plenty of outstanding cinematography and darkly humorous beats to firmly establish its own identity. Plus, Chalamet's one-of-a-kind performance is a magnificent fusion of sweaty desperation and confident temerity. His Marty Mausr is often so pathetic, yet he keeps us glued to his every move. The evocative cinematography and editing also Mauser's journey so transfixing. The riveting offspring of a screwball comedy, a warped underdog sports drama, and a distinctly Josh Safdie atmosphere, Marty Supreme is enthralling entertainment.
21. Black Bag (dir. Steven Soderbergh)
Sometimes, all a movie needs to solidify itself as an all-timer is a great score. Steven Soderbergh's spy movie Black Bag certainly delivered on that front with a slew of unforgettable compositions from David Holmes. Juxtaposing the world of espionage with a sonic landscape full of jazz music, clanking noises, and Güiro playing creates a spy movie soundtrack like none I've ever heard before. To boot, all those compositions serve an incredibly fun, suspenseful thriller that makes such great use of its stacked cast. Black Bag's got a dynamite, sexy cast and a score that pleases the ears... what more do you need?
20. The Life of Chuck (dir. Mike Flanagan)
So much of The Life of Chuck sounds like it should be insufferable. Maybe it is to many moviegoers. I was enchanted, though, by writer/director Mike Flanagan's adaptation of the Stephen King short story of the same name. Tender beauty permeates this whole film, which oscillates across its three segments between a bittersweet, apocalyptic yarn, a tale of uncovering everyday joys, and a domestic horror drama. Across these various impulses, insightfulness and poignancy seep into The Life of Chuck's smallest moments. That is, after all, where the most profound bits of existence lie in wait. A teacher "who won't last long in public education" can still immensely affect a student's life for the better. Dancing with a stranger can lift up so many different souls at once. Random kindness can still matter in a chaotic world. In both its big and small elements, The Life of Chuck taps a richly moving vein.
19. The Mastermind (dir Kelly Reichardt)
After subverting the standards for what Westerns "look like" with First Cow and Meek's Cutoff, writer/director extraordinaire Kelly Reichardt upends the heist movie with The Mastermind. With her trademark clinical and unblinking images, Reichardt emphasizes the patheticness of Danny Ocean-wannabe James Blaine "J.B." Mooney (Josh O'Connor). Even when he's just hiding away stolen paintings, this filmmaker's camera captures Mooney stumbling around and struggling to accomplish the simplest tasks. It's all quietly darkly humorous while Reichardt's very real handling of the consequences of Mooney's thievery informs several gripping, tense set pieces. The real mastermind here is Kelly Reichardt and her continued ingenious contortions of distinctly American movie genres.
18. Put Your Soul On Your Hand And Walk (dir. Sepideh Farsi)
Starting around 2020 with titles like Boys' State, I began noticing more high-profile documentaries being shot like traditional narrative movies. There's nothing wrong with that approach, but the documentary Put Your Soul On Your Hand And Walk was a devastating reminder of the staggering power of stripped-down fillmmaking approaches in this domain In this feature, director Sedpieh Farsi uses a camera to chronicle her video chats with Gaza resident Fatima Hassouna as Palestine is being invaded by Israeli forces. Keeping Put Your Soul on Your Hand and Walk so streamlined in form allows Hassouna's testimony to come through loud and clear. As she and her people are being wiped off the planet, these video calls reinforce the nuances and humanity of Hassouna, her family, and neighbors. That's all communicated via a camera recording imagery on a cell phone. All the streaming platform money in the world cannot guarantee a documentary this agonizingly heartbreaking and richly human.
17. Weapons (dir. Zach Cregger)
Weapons is a blast. It's the optimal version of a riveting campfire story with all the fun and chills that entails. Writer/director Zach Cregger lends immense craftsmanship to enjoyably macabre cinema with his measured single-take shots, the subtle ways individual stories intertwine, and a splendidly varied score (I love how each character's storyline has such a distinctly different sound). To boot, the proceedings also work as an achingly relevant story about how tragedies inspire people to look for a scapegoat, not opportunities to unite. All of that plus the endless entertainment of Amy Madigan chewing all of the scenery as Aunt Gladys or Austin Abrams killing it as James ("I can't come to the police station because I'm...phobic").
Weapons is entertaining horror cinema done oh so right.
16. Friendship (dir. Andrew DeYoung)
Huzzah
I Think You Should Leave fans, Tim Robinson can indeed sustain his brand of cringe comedy for an entire movie.
Friendship proved that to hysterical results this past summer, partially by deploying very unique visual traits compared to past Robinson productions. Take the visual cues emphasizing the perspective of his character's wife (stealthily played so well by Kate Mara). Or ingenious sequences like a subversion of the typical comedy movie "drug trip" set piece. These qualities make sure this isn't just a feature-length rehash of the hot dog suit man sketch. Robinson's ability to deliver belly-laughs remains intact, but DeYoung imbues plenty of new traits in here too, including a wintery backdrop nicely accentuating the desperation underpinning
Friendship's protagonist. Also, Connor O'Malley has maybe the funniest line of the year with his declaration "we should still be in Afghanistan."
15. Blue Moon (dir. Richard Linklater)
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Rare is the historical drama that begins with its titular lead drunkenly stumbling around in an alleyway before perishing. That opening sequence of Blue Moon establishes screenwriter Robert Kaplow and director Richard Linklater's melancholy ambiance as they chronicle one night in the life of lyricist Lorenz Hart. The whole feature takes place in one bar, yet Linklater, being the king of the hangout movie, makes a limited scope a virtue, not a shortcoming. Plus, this intimacy lets audience spend more time with Ethan Hawke's transformative turn as Hart. Kaplow's script gives Hawke so much riotously juicy dialogue ("cornstalks as high as an elephant's eye...it's just an unpleasant visual!") to sink his teeth into. Hawke's Hart is a motormouth know-it-all whose tangible romantic yearning and sorrow is heartbreaking. This richly nuanced incarnation of Hart is a privilege to spend two hours with, especially with Blue Moon's remarkable ensemble cast (Andrew Scott is so memorable here) and Linklater being at the top of his game.
14. I'm Still Here (dir. Walter Salles)
A man is disappeared early on in
I'm Still Here. This individual is one of many souls whisked off the street and erased from existence during the Brazil's military dictatorship. When Rubens Paiva is gone, though, his wife, Eunice (Fernanda Torres), and kids remain. And they won't stay silent. Director Walter Salles achingly portrays what it's like to exist, rebel, and advocate against injustice during unspeakable circumstances. Suffocating tension is palpable through every inch of the runtime and Torres conveys the sheer weight of these harrowing circumstances through the subtlest expressions.
I'm Still Here is already a masterpiece before its series of epilogues that heartbreakingly depict how fascism's horrors reverberate for generations afterwards. Here is a movie whose scope, filmmaking, and stirring performances reduced me to a puddle of tears by the time the credits began rolling.
13. Eephus (dir. Carson Lund)
Contemplating the inevitability of growing old and things ending has rarely been as amusing as it is in Carson Lund's Eephus. This film follows two baseball teams (largely made up of middle-aged men) congregating on their beloved field for one last game before the diamond is bulldozed. Amusing lines are all over the place in this feature (I'm partial to a back-and-forth exchange related to pizza toppings) while the richly lived-in dynamic between the performers makes it feel like you've stumbled into a real baseball game. Life's finite nature keeps creeping into the margins of Eephus and fascinatingly informs a motion picture that already works like gangbusters as a hilarious hangout film. Lund's assuredness behind the camera in his directorial debut is outstanding, while Cliff Blake's endearing turn as Franny stands out as unforgettable in a cast stacked with great performances.
12. On Becoming a Guinea Fowl (dir. Rungano Nyoni)
“There are some things you cannot challenge.” This is one of many dehumanizing statements Shula (Susan Chardy) hears daily in writer/director Rungano Nyoni’s excellent On Becoming a Guinea Fowl. Nyoni’s filmmaking reaffirms the complicated psyches of women (like Shula) impacted by societally mandated ostracization of both women and sexual abuse survivors. Her visual reflections of these mindsets is stunning and makes use of everything from beaming red lights to ominous pools of water. On Becoming a Guinea Fowl has creative visuals to spare that lend such vivid insight into often silenced souls like Shula.
11. April (dir. Déa Kulumbegashvili)
Writer/director Déa Kulumbegashvili’s default filming approach to April is fascinating. Typically, she opts for extended unblinking shots that have no principal characters in the frame. Even when the script is focused on key figures in cramped indoor spaces, their faces are just cut off by the camera’s position. This creates bold images, but it’s also a perfect visual feat for reminding viewers of the larger world beyond lead character Nina (Ia Sukhitashvili). While she exists in a world where people often dismiss the humanity of those needing healthcare like abortions, April’s often expansive and unorthodox camerawork forces audiences to consider the grandness of existence. This is one of the many extraordinary concepts communicated by April’s one-of-a-kind visual impulses. To say Déa Kulumbegashvili’s understated work is extraordinary is an understatement. Like Eephus, April is a directorial debut radiating the energy of a cinema master.
10. If I Had Legs I'd Kick You (dir. Mary Bronstein)
Mary Bronstein’s relentlessly intense If I Had Legs I’d Kick You often left me chuckling as often it inspired my teeth to clench or nails to dig into my armrest. The madness of juggling so much in everyday existence is so absurdly towering that it loops back right into dark comedy. Bronstein deftly captures that reality in extremely memorable sequences like Linda (Rose Byrne) and her daughter realizing the hamster they’ve purchased is feral. Balancing that bleak comedy with a suffocating, anxiety-inducing atmosphere comes so naturally to Bronstein. Her filmmaking brings out career-best work in Byrne, who sheds any trace of her prior characters in her mesmerizing work as Linda. You can’t take your eyes off her bravura work. Also, who knew Conan O’Brien had a great character actor turn like his Legs performance (as an emotionally elusive therapist) in him?
9. The Alabama Solution (dir. Andrew Jarecki and Charlotte Kaufman)
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Heartbreaking. That was the only word floating around in my mind as The Alabama Solution ended. To witness not only the brutality normalized in the American prison system, but also the rhetoric of powerful politicians like Alabama Attorney General Steve Marshall, who don't see prisoners as human beings...it makes one's soul ache. This documentary sharply rebukes those norms by letting various Alabama prisoners (providing testimonies through secretly filmed iPhone video calls) talk about their experiences and how they're challenging life-threatening structures. This production is already a magnificent accomplishment even before its final 35 minutes deliver an extra transfixing prisoner strike narrative thread. Documentary legend Barbara Kaplan would be proud of Solution's depiction of striking workers standing up against impossible odds. The Alabama Solution unflinchingly gazes upon American agony, but is equally relentless in its commitment to emphasizing the humanity of human beings enduring that agony.
8. Hamnet (dir. Chloe Zhao)
Chloe Zhao has a gift for creating immediately wistful images. Any frame from one of her features feels like a bittersweet memory from your own mind. That gift is excellently applied to Hamnet and the saga of William Shakespeare’s (Paul Mescal) wife, Agnes (Jessie Buckley). Even with countless movies about The Bard out there, few have felt as emotionally impactful or poignantly palpable as Hamnet. In Zhao’s hands, Agnes and her family do not come off as future historical icons. They’re just ordinary souls navigating the emotional anguish of everyday reality. That everyday nature aided by Buckley’s gut-wrenching lead performance. Whether she’s wailing in agony or silently gazing up to the sky, Buckley’s a marvel and full of deeply specific humanity. Zhao’s brand of bittersweet filmmaking is in especially rare form in the tremendously moving triumph that is Hamnet.
7. The Ugly Stepsister (dir. Emilie Blichfeldt)
Writer/director Emilie Blichfeldt's The Ugly Stepsister is a warped vision of the Cinderella story that could only come from a deranged mind. I mean that as the highest compliment! Bilchfeldt's penchant for imaginative stomach-churning imagery is such a refreshing contrast to so many modern horror films that're too buttoned up for their own good. The gag-inducing sights of chisels entering nostrils and lengthy tapeworms all serve a thought-provoking exploration of how ladies perceive their bodies and the creepy commodification of women. Tickling the brain and gag reflex in equal measure, The Ugly Stepsister is also full of thrilling visual flourishes, including terrific period-appropriate costumes. Like if Jacques Demy and Brian Yauza had a maniacal child, The Ugly Stepsister is an exquisitely demented trip. More cinema like this, please!
6. No Other Choice (dir. Park Chan-wook)
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Speaking of freaky cinema, leave it to The Handmaiden and Decision to Leave director Park Chan-wook to make the perfect movie crystallizing the madness of finding a job in 2025. In age of LinkedIn scams, A.I. slop, and unchecked corporate consolidation, only the man who executed Oldboy's twist ending can make the ideal dark comedy reflection of this insane era. Chan-wook's chops are in top-notch form realizing this story about an ordinary man (Lee Byung-hun) who, desperate for a job, turns to murdering other people contending for the same job. The endlessly talented Byung-hun proves divine in handling bumbling comedy. Meanwhile, Choice's adaptation of Donald Westlake's novel The Ax keeps the engrossing twists coming at a steady clip. The darkly hysterical bloodshed and deeply human slip-ups are already fun on their own, but then Park Chan-wook drops the mic with No Other Choice's outstanding ending that echoes, of all things, The Irishman's final shot. This filmmaker's bravura madness has always been enthralling, but distinctly 2020s anguish ensures No Other Choice has Park Chan-wook working in an especially masterful mode.
4. The Voice of Hind Rajab (dir.
Jia Zhangke and Abbas Kiarostami's legacies of merging scripted dramatizations with material ripped from the real world is alive and well in writer/director Kaouther Ben Hania's
The Voice of Hind Rajab. This motion picture follows Red Crescent volunteers answering an emergency call from Hind Rajab, who is trapped in a car in a Gaza warzone. Actual audio of six-year-old Hind Rajab on that fateful January 2024 day is where
The Voice of Hind Rajab's deployment of reality comes in. Her anguish and pleas for help devastate your heart, while the film around her carries an appropriate sense of grueling gravity. Meanwhile, Ben Hania's screenplay deftly illustrates how the endless injustices keeping aid from reaching Hind Rajab are a microcosm of a larger dehumanization of Palestinian lives. Such lives are given such vivid life through elements like Saja Kilani's performance as Rana. Though often framed only from the shoulders up, she's captivating portraying a woman who grows increasingly invested in Rajab's safety.
The Voice of Hind Rajab is a filmmaking masterclass in so many ways, including its fusion of scripted material and gruelingly real examples of a modern genocide.
4. One Battle After Another (dir. Paul Thomas Anderson)
Like Lee Byung-hun, Leonardo DiCaprio spent 2025 proving that handsome actors often make the best goofballs on-screen. As Bob Ferguson in
One Battle After Another, the former
Titanic leading man hysterically channels Tim Robinson more than his suave huckster from
Catch Me If You Can. Shockingly, he's not even the best performance in this Paul Thomas Anderson-directed masterpiece, a testament to how stacked this exemplary cast is. Every inch of this epic tome works like gangbusters, from Chase Infiniti's star-making lead turn to the awe-inspiring camerawork (watching this film in 70mm IMAX is a religious experience), to a script that gave the world phrases like "a semon demon" and "life, man...LIFE!", and a finale that ensured I'll never look at hills the same way again. Why can't every big-budget American movie be this endlessly fun and well-made? Viva la revolution indeed, and viva movies as excellent as
One Battle After Another.
3. Sorry, Baby (dir. Eva Victor)
An unintentional recurring thread across some of 2025's greatest movies was how they allowed viewers to process the most harrowing parts of modern reality in cinematic confines. Whether it was an ongoing genocide in
The Voice of Hind Rajab or
No Other Choice depicting how late capitalism turns working-class people against each other, 2025's most overwhelming facets informed the year's most incredible motion pictures. Eva Victor's
Sorry, Baby very much operated in that mold with its non-linear exploration of coping with sexual assault trauma. It's staggering how Victor excels in every area of
Sorry, Baby, from their direction to their writing to their lead performance. Their craftsmanship informs a movie beautifully capturing the complexities of existing after the unthinkable. And that ending? I'm getting misty-eyed just thinking about it.
Sorry, Baby is an extraordinary accomplishment from start to finish.
2. Sinners (dir Ryan Coogler)
Sinners is one of those movies so enthralling that I want to drop all pretense of being "professional" and just blabber in short phrases about its many virtues. That "I Lied to You" sequence that made my musical cinema geek heart soar. All the great dialogue, like "but you won't steal this pussy?" or the frequent villainous utterances of "SAMMY!" Don't forget that Irish jig sequence, the way aspect ratios shift in IMAX 70mm screenings, or Delroy Lindo as Delta Slim reminding everyone why he's an all-time great talent. I could go on and on...so allow me to also praise that scene where
Sinners slows down for a quiet rendition of "Wild Mountain Thyme" and Wunmi Mosaku's vital work as Annie. Everything here doesn't just work. It all radiates showmanship that so many modern blockbusters lack.
Sinners refused to skimp on the toe-tapping thrills, bloodshed, or pathos, and 2025's cinema scene was all the richer for it. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to listen to "I Lied to You" for the umpteenth time.
1. It Was Just An Accident (dir. Jafar Panahi)
Just like a great score, a single scene can sometimes solidify a movie as a masterpiece. Jafar Panahi's
It Was Just an Accident has such a scene towards the end of its runtime in which Shiva (Mariam Afshari) confronts a man who may have previously tortured her. "You said I want your screams to etch the halls," Shiva announces, "Now I want yours to etch this Earth." I couldn't tear away from this scene (which is almost exclusively rendered in one unbroken take). Both Afshari's performance and writer/director Jafar Panahi's weave such a heartbreaking and transfixing portrait of the past and present colliding. Even before this scene,
though
, It Was Just an Accident is very much an extraordinary accomplishment. Panahi's depiction of how various torture survivors cope and respond to the idea of "revenge" makes for engrossing drama, especially since the camerawork and editing are so superb at keeping viewers uncertain where the proceedings are going next. Once Mariam Afshari nails her big climactic scene, there's just no way of avoiding how outstanding
It Was Just an Accident truly is. Though carrying over many themes and Iran-specific events populating Panahi's prior classics like
Taxi and
No Bears,
It Was Just an Accident is its own astonishing and haunting masterpiece.
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