2025 Wrap-Up
If you're just interested in my top ten, you can skip my preamble and other categories by clicking here.
As 2026 dawns, I'm less certain than ever where this art form I love so much is headed.
The financial health of the business continues to falter. Theatrical performance isn't the only metric that matters, but the continued failure to return to pre-pandemic attendance levels signals trouble for my beloved theatrical experience. Theatrical exclusivity windows, more necessary than ever to preserve it in the world of convenience streaming has trained us to accept, remain painfully short. Sequels and remakes continue to dominate, with most of the others being either superhero universe movies or video game IP. But even then, the once reliable formulas for making big-budget fare profitable seem to be falling short, causing the major studios to become even more conservative.
Which has spurred more consolidation in the industry. No sooner had the merger of Paramount and Skydance settled than the new, unified company started going after Warner Bros., ending (for now) in a deal for Netflix to acquire their film division. Most frustrating is that it comes on the heels of an incredibly successful year for the studio: seven straight films opened to $40 million, a few of them landed high on the list of top grossers, and many were well regarded critically. But in the modern economic landscape, I guess high quality productions are just leverage for a higher asking price, rather than art for art's sake.
An optimistic read would point out the similarities of now to the 1960s, which precipitated the New Hollywood. Runaway budgets necessitated films becoming hollow spectacle, but the old tricks weren't reliably bringing in a profit any more. Part of the issue was competition from the convenience of television. This led to studios requiring outside financial assistance, such as Paramount being bought by Gulf + Western. All of which sounds bad, but the end result was an incredible revitalization of American cinema, as young voices with fresh ideas and stories came in and made some all-time classics. I severely doubt we're in for another golden period, but I'd love to be proven wrong.
In the mean time, I'll hold on to every good film we get. And this year had a bunch.
The slow start to the year gave way to an overstuffed awards season. Studios are desperate for the credibility that comes with such achievements, and keeping them fresh in voters' minds often means post-Labor Day releases. But also, a handful premiered at spring festivals (or even Sundance in January), and received a much delayed wide release. Some still haven't even gotten that. Which is to say the impression many had (myself included) that the year started unusually slow was the effect of artificial schedule adjustments. The movies themselves are doing great, especially if you open your heart to cinema from around the world. While it's not great that people had reason to discuss the underwhelming start to the year, the glut of quality as the year drew to a close was worthwhile.
Let's get to it, shall we?
The List
Generally, I only consider new releases for this list. However, some films only get an Oscar qualifying run (i.e. a week in a few theaters in NY and LA) before expanding wide in the new year. As long as I don't live in either city, they count for the following year: for example, All of Us Strangers made my 2024 list. That said, if I happened to see the film at a festival, I count it for this year. So Eephus wasn't considered for this year, but No Other Choice was.
I'm borrowing the list format from the movie podcast Battleship Pretension, which begins negative, then gets more positive as we go. It starts with the single worst film of the year, then moves into overrated and underrated, five runners up, then the top ten.
Worst of the Year: Death of a Unicorn
"Eat the rich" flavored satire is all the rage in modern media, and it's easy to see why. Genre movies (especially horror) are also all over the place, owing to their relatively low budgets and reliable profits. Although blending them together can work, it's far from a certainty, as director Alex Scharfman's debut film demonstrates. It's horrifically unfunny, its observations are rote and boring, every performance is a black hole of charisma, and its screenplay is baffling in its mediocrity.
I only saw this because I had some time to kill between Ash and Princess Mononoke, and it managed to fail the already low expectations set by its dreadful trailer.
Most Overrated: The Housemaid
I remain baffled by the response to this film. Not the box office; even my early screening was full of laughter at how preposterous the whole experience is, so it's easy for me to see audiences eating it up for the humor, as well as reveling in its steaminess. But that it's so widely enjoyed by critics seems to point to the proliferation of those who'd rate The Room five stars instead of one. Because I cannot allow myself to entertain the idea that people actually think this movie, one of the worst of the year, is well made.
Most Underrated: Hurry Up Tomorrow
I'm not a particular fan of The Weeknd, nor of director Trey Edward Shults (although he's made a few good films). And yes, Hurry Up Tomorrow is self-indulgent at times, self-aggrandizing at others, and its script is sloppy. But its ethereal atmosphere works for me, and I'll always be intrigued by attempts to explore the insecurities of celebrity. The narrative is an abstract representation of the warring sides of Tesfaye's internal creative process, as well as the more literal battle between the industry and audiences to shape the artist's output to their desires. It's no masterpiece, not by a long shot. However, the music and vibe still work their magic if you let them.
Runners Up
Falling just outside my top ten earns these titles a short mention, but not as much focus as the main event.
15. Eddington
Eddington is a divisive COVID-era satire whose sights land on anything that moves, from virtue signalling protesters to political violence fueled by feelings of male inadequacy to the role tech companies play in our lives while quietly marching forward in the background. It's one of the funniest films of the year, and that it takes multiple viewings for it all to sink in is a distinct strength.
14. Bring Her Back
The brilliantly wielded VHS footage keeps the supernaturally-tinged rituals shrouded in mystery while remaining disturbing, and we understand how their promise is combining with Laura's (Sally Hawkins) grief to drive her to the edge of sanity. Hawkins is incredible, but I get the chilly reception of the film: this is a nasty movie, one of the most upsetting I've seen in quite some time, and audiences mostly go to the theater for fun, not to confront the darkest corners of humanity and the occult and soul-destroying grief.
13. Hard Truths
Pansy (Marianne Jean-Baptiste) is eternally angry and deeply resentful, causing her to lash out at everyone she encounters, be they close family members or random strangers. We're with her throughout a few days, watching her berate people and blame them for her problems, all the while coming to more and more understand the very real pain that is at the core of her unbelievable defensiveness. Until the absolutely devastating moment she puts a name to it, which has been running through my head all year.
12. The Long Walk
It's been a year of emotional horror films (another of which we'll get to shortly), and The Long Walk managed to make me shed a few tears multiple times. The relationships the boys form on the titular walk, forged despite the knowledge that all but one of them will die by the end, and in the midst of extreme physical duress, is further brought to life by the excellent cast, most notably David Jonsson lighting up the screen with his incredible charisma.
11. Black Bag
Leave it to Steven Soderbergh to craft a spy thriller in which the spycraft isn't even the point: rather, he's focused on the relationships of the incredibly messy, petty people involved in it. He shoots the hell out of it, wonderfully wields David Holmes' propulsive score, casts some of the most magnetic and effortlessly sexy actors working today, and sets them loose in a world of soft power and a distrust of everyone. It's magnificent.
Top Ten
Here's the meat and potatoes! My top ten favorite new releases of the year.
In keeping with the year's trends, almost half are festival releases that have yet to be widely released. As such, they haven't gotten full reviews, so I've linked to either my capsule review or more informal Letterboxd thoughts.
10. The Testament of Ann Lee
IFFBoston Fall Focus Mini-Review
If you'd told me at the beginning of the year that one of my favorites would be a musical about the growth of a niche religious group in the mid-18th century starring Amanda Seyfried, I doubt I'd have believed you. But I cannot deny the power of witnessing the passion and faith of the Shakers, and the tight-knit community they built while stubbornly adhering to their closely held beliefs. Ann's journey into faith in the wake of tragedy provide an implication of what attracted more followers, especially as she began to push her grand vision of establishing "heaven on Earth".
Most striking are the percussive musical numbers, in which members use their bodies as drums and their voices as instruments, and whose choreography is often less cleanly ordered than in traditional musicals.
9. 28 Years Later
I will forever remain skeptical of legacy sequels, especially to movies that mean a lot to me (28 Days Later was the first R-rated movie I saw in a theater, and I loved it). Even unplanned sequels a few years later are rarely any good, as proven by Juan Carlos Fresnadillo's 28 Weeks Later. But I was intrigued by the now classic first trailer for this one, and the movie delivered on its promise. It's the closest to a fresh entry in the zombie genre we've had in a bit. Danny Boyle and Alex Garland subvert the entire first act in the next two, instead telling an achingly human story of adaptation and love and the power of remembrance.
The main thing that kept it from rising higher was the very last scene, whose only connection to the story is setting up the sequel (due out in two weeks!), and so should have come mid-credits.
8. Marty Supreme
Electric from the very first moments, Marty Supreme is the most aggressive and anxiety-inducing movie on my list. But that just goes to show that quality does not hinge on the likability of the protagonist. In fact, one of its biggest points is the parallel between Marty's selfish drive for what he wants and the behavior of those with power in the real world. It's a treatise on intoxicating people, and the destructive nature of their gravitational field. And it manages to recreate the enrapturing highs and lows of a back and forth sporting event. Not to mention it contains one of the best performances of the year, and one of the best scores. I'm still processing the totality of the film, as I just saw it a week ago. Fortunately, that means it's still in theaters (as of publication), so you can rush out to experience it for yourself.
7. Sirāt
Letterboxd Review (contains spoilers)
No movie this year has felt anything like Sirāt. Hell, maybe no movie I've ever seen has. It sets its tone from the very beginning as fundamentally about the power of music, and the threat large, anarchic gatherings pose to those in power. There's an implication that the outside world is falling apart, but the crew we end up following is a tightly bonded family whose primary drive is to help each other, no matter the duration of their familiarity nor the various tragedies they endure. At its core, this is a road trip movie, as they travel across the desert through unmarked terrain to reach the next rave. And as with all road trip movies, it's really about the people; how they deal with each other, with grief, with loss, with life, and how they express joy. The characters are colorful and warm, so even as you never get to know them too deeply, they begin to feel like your friends.
Which in turn makes you feel it that much more heartbroken as the walls close in.
6. Sorry, Baby
Since seeing Sorry, Baby in July, I've struggled with how to describe it. The tropes and images conjured by saying "it's about trauma" sell short what writer/director Eva Victor is doing. It's one of the funniest movies of the year, for one. But most importantly, it's not about how Agnes' (Victor) life has been destroyed or derailed by that trauma. Rather, the damage is primarily to her soul, causing her to find comfort in the past, even as her life trudges forward.
So instead of us watching her pull out of a tailspin, we see her friends hang out and chat with her like normal, and check in with her on occasion. Which is lovely, but doesn't seem to further her processing. Instead, aid is found in unexpected places, in people who don't even know the profound impact they've had on her life. The result is a movie that acknowledges you cannot always defeat your past; sometimes, healing is learning to live with it in a healthier way.
5. Sound of Falling
Sound of Falling is the exact brand of grounded story told in a dream-like fashion that consistently bowls me over. Its three distinct timelines are only demarcated by changes in clothing, because part of the point is the continuity of their experiences across time. The details may be different, and the faces definitely are, but the way women are treated by society remains fundamentally broken, and is further imposed by familial adherence to social norms. At the same time, there is joy and freedom to be had in the comfort of each other. So much of what we're witness to is children playing or exploring the world, from dancing in front of a mirror like nobody's watching to playing a prank on the housekeeper to lazily canoeing down a quiet river to this goofy game that mixes bike riding and apple bobbing. The whole time, there's a yearning to be free, accomplished by the characters in various ways, and driven home by the perfect final shot.
While not the most uplifting story, it's beautiful and powerful and touching nonetheless.
4. Resurrection
There's a chance that this will end up as my favorite movie of the year. But it's such a towering accomplishment, such a huge, winding, overwhelming experience, that it will take more than one viewing to get your head around it. And as I won't get to rewatch it until the new year, I can't in good conscience put it higher. But its first impression was so titanic, so rapturous, so moving and so dazzling, that it made the top five regardless.
Framed as a series of short stories about a near-future world in which dreams are outlawed, but bookended by (and littered with) scenes that function as a love-letter to cinema itself, this is the latest and (I'd argue) greatest work from Chinese filmmaker Bi Gan. Unlike his previous two films, which were solidly quiet, contemplative, arthouse fare, Resurrection's segments are more propulsive and energetic. They pay homage to eras of filmmaking, from silent cinema to noir to modern crime stories, while retaining the philosophy and deliberate storytelling that made those earlier works so engaging. And of course, one of them consists of an incredibly impressive single take, as has become Gan's calling card.
More than just a display of technical prowess, Bi Gan has once again redefined what we can expect from the modern theatrical experience.
3. Hamnet
On the one hand, I understand some of the backlash to this film. If you don't find yourself invested in the relationship between Will and Agnes in the first half, there's little in it for you. It's solely about their meeting and brief courtship and home life, including their children. It doesn't have anything profound to say about it, but it's well observed and marvelously portrayed, and does a great job at playing out the single mindedness required of a towering artist contrasted against the demands of a home life, especially when those occur in separate cities.
But I adore it, and the back half doesn't work without the front. Once the big dramatic events are set in motion, and everything begins to spiral, you're set up to experience the gulf that slowly widens between them, and the emptiness that starts to dominate, and the need for something to rush in and fill it. And oh boy, that final scene is one of the best of the year, having made me nearly sob in the middle of a crowded theater on both watches.
Straight forward, yes, but immensely powerful, and anchored by two awards-worthy performances by two of our great young actors.
2. Sinners
For much of the year, my number one was constant. It quickly became clear at my screening that this was something special, and I've been delighted that the rest of the world agreed with my initial assessment.
It's such a moving and fun and powerful hang out movie about twin brothers (played seamlessly by Michael B. Jordan) opening a juke joint that you almost don't need the vampire stuff. It's hinted at around a third of the way in, and becomes a bigger piece just after the halfway point, but much of it just plays as a dramatic threat. This delayed reveal led me to omit its mention from my review, to avoid spoilers. However, once it shows up, the vampirism so perfectly complements and deepens the main story's ideas about cultural identity and appropriation and assimilation and colonialism and music and "the other" and more, such that it becomes inextricable from the narrative.
The music is like nothing else this year. The score itself rules, but the numerous traditional songs are performed so wonderfully as to bring them new life. They aid in making the whole thing feel like a celebration of black culture. Of course, the centerpiece Piercing the Veil sequence is quite possibly the best of the year, and caused me to silently weep on each watch, overwhelming me with the winding beauty and tragedy and history it contains.
1. One Battle After Another
As with last year, I hate to be obvious, but I've gotta be true to myself. And there's a reason the world immediately fell in love with this film.
From the strike of the score's very first piano key, the film emits a crackling energy, a primal rage, a clear-eyed view of humanity at its best and its worst, and everywhere in between. It's not just the story of a man searching for his daughter. It's of a former revolutionary searching for a purpose. It's of a husband searching for the wisdom to be a father. It's of the old generation searching within themselves to impart the younger generation with hope, despite their own failings. And of our past searching for our future.
It seems fitting that one of the most intense and dramatic and smartest films of the year is also one of the funniest. Pat is a buffoon, Sensei Sergio's (Benecio del Toro) demeanor is lighthearted even when his actions are life or death, and Lockjaw (Sean Penn) takes his every absurd action so god damn seriously that you cannot help but laugh.
To be clear, it's not above reproach. There are valid and even important conversations to be had about it. Topics such as how race plays into its narrative, its presentation of violence and revolution and the Left, and what it means that such a film was made by a major studio are all ripe to dig into. Many people have, and I encourage you to read/listen/watch them, as there are a lot of great points out there that are worth considering.
But none of that diminishes this masterpiece. The craft is impeccable, it's full of Oscar-worthy performances, the narrative is propulsive, and the emotional core will shake your bones, whether or not you can directly relate to anyone in the film. It's a unique shot in the arm of American filmmaking, and one badly needed at this very moment.
My ranking of all 185 new releases I saw in 2025 is on Letterboxd.