Against all odds, 2025 was another year where I watched movies. Once again, I kept track of each one and compiled them into tiers for the satisfaction of my brain; and once again, I have written brief thoughts on each of them for hopefully the gratification of you, dear reader. Like last year, I hit exactly 60 films, which is my annual goal.
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Just Trash
Wag the Dog, dir. Barry Levinson (1997)
The more movies I see that David Mamet wrote, the more convinced I am that Glengarry Glen Ross' scintillating script was an aberration. Wag the Dog is smug and pointless, a film in which every event on the news is framed as a psyop. Mamet reveals himself to be a moron every time he talks about politics, driven by pettiness and reactionary, conspiratorial thinking, so it should not be a surprise that he wrote a film about politics that, beyond some barely funny cracks at jingoism, is more or less nihilist.
A nihilist message is not necessarily a bad thing, but you still have to do something with it. One of my favorite comedies, Burn After Reading, mocks humanity's self-importance in the face of our lives' ultimate insignificance and absurdity. Wag the Dog's message is that The Powers That Be use The Media to lie to you, but its skepticism is so shallow and goofy — again, without being funny — that it becomes useless. When the United States government has illegally interfered with and waged wars on actual countries, hiding behind patriotic slogans and lying to its citizens, that government fabricating a brief military campaign to hide a scandal just does not serve as the prescient farce Mamet believes it to be.
Did Not Enjoy
The Lost Weekend, dir. Billy Wilder (1945)
A film as empathetic toward alcoholics as The Lost Weekend must have been revelatory in 1945. Eighty years later, it comes off more like a noble but imperfect first step. The simplicity of its portrayal of addiction, from the causes to the symptoms to recovery, did not work for me. Though far from a failure, the film just was not my thing.
Margin Call, dir. J.C. Chandor (2011)
Margin Call is a highly competent film about the start of the 2008 financial crisis from within an investment bank, featuring an all-star cast who all-around does a fine job. It is also entirely devoid of stakes. Unlike The Big Short, an indignant film that took great pains to show the impact of the crash on real people, Margin Call is a film about suits trying to mitigate their losses in a situation of their own making. The closest any of them comes to interesting is played by Paul Bettany, a hardened nihilist with a soft spot, and the closest any of them comes to sympathetic is played by Kevin Spacey, whose dog is dying. The lower-level employees about to lose their livelihoods are almost all nameless and voiceless. The boardroom drama is not even that compelling. The film lacks tension, a message, or appreciable entertainment value. At least it looks nice.
A View to a Kill, dir. John Glen (1985)
There are few things to hate about A View to a Kill but a dearth of things to like. Half of Roger Moore's lines are unfunny quips, Christopher Walken is wasted on an uninteresting villain, the action ranges from just fine to feeling like a waste of time, and, yes, Moore is way too old to still play an athletic, suave James Bond. It ultimately is not that entertaining.
Okay Enough
The Big Clock, dir. John Farrow (1948)
The Big Clock relies a bit too much on recurring gags, creating an incongruent tone, but it is a mostly capable thriller.
Blow Out, dir. Brian De Palma (1981)
I come out of every Brian De Palma film wishing I liked it more than I actually did. Blow Out is the prime example. De Palma and cinematographer Vilmos Zsigmond take huge swings with the camera and mostly succeed, creating some genuinely stunning shots that are worth seeing on their own. There are some satisfyingly methodical scenes following John Travolta working as a sound engineer. I just had difficulty staying invested for the whole film.
Blue Collar, dir. Paul Schrader (1978)
Blue Collar is a better artifact of its time, released when American institutions were failing and therefore viewed as untrustworthy, than it is a film. It feels confused, with its most coherent point being that capitalism breeds an "I've got mine" attitude among those who move up the ladder. Yaphet Kotto and Harvey Keitel are both good, and Richard Pryor contributes some out of place but amusing humor.
Dial M for Murder, dir. Alfred Hitchcock (1954)
Dial M for Murder is not unenjoyable but is the kind of movie whose plot is only possible through stupidity — namely on the part of John Williams' chief inspector, who is both too willing to believe lies and quick to move to illegal means to solve the crime.
Hot Rod, dir. Akiva Schaffer (2007)
I expected to adore Hot Rod or to hate it. I landed squarely in the middle, laughing heartily at a few scenes and wishing others did not bear the signature of The Lonely Island's whole deal. It's hit-and-miss but a small investment at 88 minutes.
It's a Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World, dir. Stanley Kramer (1963)
Part of me respects how fully It's a Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World commits to the bit. Another part is exhausted. The theatrical cut spends much of its 3 hours running in place, destroying as much as it can in the process and repeatedly revisiting the sexist hate sink that is Ethel Merman's character. It is an overwhelming experience that entertains and annoys by leaning into its excesses. I never want to go through it again.
Old School, dir. Todd Phillips (2003)
Some jokes land well. Some don't land at all. Plotlines disappear without resolution, and the final act feels like it's from a different movie, which are flaws that are not that important in a movie like this, but they do suggest the script needed a couple more drafts. It's an acceptable 2000s comedy.
Ronin, dir. John Frankenheimer (1998)
Ronin includes perhaps the best car chase sequence I have seen in any film. The rest is surprisingly flat and stiff when considering the pedigree of its cast and director. David Mamet wrote it, though, so perhaps that explains its shortcomings.
Speed, dir. Jan de Bont (1994)
If you want to watch a movie about a bus that has to keep moving or else it explodes, Speed fulfills that promise, even if its dialogue is worse than it has to be and the movie overstays its welcome by 10 to 20 minutes.
The Score, dir. Frank Oz (2001)
Another middling Robert De Niro-led crime film. There are some regrettable, distinctly early-2000s elements — namely Ed Norton's character posing as a mentally challenged janitor — but The Score is passable. Ideally, Marlon Brando would have had a more distinguished final role.
The Wrecking Crew, dir. Denny Tedesco (2008)
A perfectly enjoyable documentary about session musicians, if inferior to Yacht Rock and especially to Twenty Feet from Stardom.
Good
Being John Malkovich, dir. Spike Jonze (1999)
A film that rides the line between affected quirkiness and genuinely novel, weird comedy. It doesn't always come down on the right side of that line but is more enjoyable than not.
Being There, dir. Hal Ashby (1979)
I go back and forth on Being There, a film where a man with some sort of mental handicap and a complete lack of ambition or inkling of deceit becomes a Christ figure. It valorizes naïveté against a backdrop of Washington cynicism, which is alternatingly noble and eye-roll-inspiring satire. It is not as funny as it wants to be but did make me laugh. Ultimately, I did like its offbeat charm more than I disliked it.
Crimson Tide, dir. Tony Scott (1995)
Gene Hackman and Denzel Washington battle for command of a nuclear submarine. Viggo Mortensen, James Gandolfini, and Steve Zahn are there, too. That should be enough to sell you on this one.
Cronos, dir. Guillermo del Toro (1992)
The grotesque mixed with the sentimental is Guillermo del Toro's thing, and his debut is a prime example. The amount I liked Cronos increased in the weeks and months after I saw it. Perhaps that is just because I was no longer squirming at its body horror, but its quality is real.
Dark Waters, dir. Todd Haynes (2019)
Perhaps not the best "what did they know, and when did they know it" movie but an all-around purposeful, righteous, well-made drama.
Dazed and Confused, dir. Richard Linklater (1993)
Richard Linklater basically remade Dazed and Confused with the far less commercially successful Everybody Wants Some!!, and I think I like the remake better. Dazed and Confused is still a fun hangout movie touching on universal themes of youth.
Dope, dir. Rick Famuyiwa (2015)
I have some problems with Dope. It is very much a movie that gives its modern teenager protagonists the same tastes as its middle-aged director. It forces plugs for rappers on executive producer Pharrell's label into its dialogue. It all feels just too neat at times, typified by a tensionless, breezy resolution to the story's big conflict. I nevertheless enjoyed watching it and found it a worthy addition to the coming-of-age movie canon.
The Fog, dir. John Carpenter (1980)
Atmospheric horror and suspense in the most literal way. Not John Carpenter's best but still plenty of fun.
Frost/Nixon, dir. Ron Howard (2008)
This is perhaps a better exhibition of acting than it is a film, with its out-of-place mockumentary moments and how much it inflates the importance of the titular Frost/Nixon interviews. But the acting, particularly that of Frank Langella, is so compelling that the film works.
Hausu, dir. Nobuhiko Obayashi (1977)
Everything I heard about Hausu was that it is positively insane. I can now confirm this. "Good" and "bad" do not feel like the right words to describe it because it is so loaded with camp and fever-dream visuals. The best way to sum up the film is that it succeeds at its goal of being the most over-the-top haunted house movie you will ever see. Come for the madness; stay for some bizarrely ahead-of-its-time fourth-wall breaks and creative camerawork.
Malcolm X, dir. Spike Lee (1992)
Every biopic has to escape the feeling that it is on rails, and every biopic relies on having a proper lead. Malcolm X does not totally succeed at the former, but Denzel Washington is as brilliant and fiery a star as there is.
Mickey 17, dir. Bong Joon Ho (2025)
Another film that is more good than bad but decidedly imperfect. Mickey 17's Trump satire — or maybe just Mark Ruffalo's Trump impression — comes on a little too strong and in ways feels feeble now that its subject is president again. (A line of dialogue about losing two elections betrays the fact filming concluded in January 2023.) It also distracts from some philosophical threads attached to the protagonist's situation, which can feel incomplete. Robert Pattinson does a great job (two great jobs), much of Bong Joon Ho's signature dark humor does land, and the special effects are excellent. I still left wanting more.
Monkey Man, dir. Dev Patel (2024)
Early on in Monkey Man, a character asks, "You like John Wick?" It's an obvious comparison, in ways both superficial and otherwise, to the point that "John Wick, but Indian" is the elevator pitch: A handsome, bearded Asian star in a suit ruthlessly pursues vengeance, befriends a dog, and kills dozens in scenes of spectacular and creative violence, shot with an even more spectacular and creative combination of cinematography, color, and editing. On these levels, Monkey Man is excellent entertainment, if perhaps excessively brutal at points.
What elevates Monkey Man, though, is its clear desire to be more than a clone of John Wick or the similarly kinetic Hong Kong action films of the 80s and 90s. (For one, Dev Patel barely ever uses a gun.) It is patient, taking a while to get to its first string of true action scenes and taking even longer between that sequence and the final, bloody climax. While it does not go too deep, and Western audiences might need context, the film criticizes the queerphobic, Hindu nationalist bent of India's far-right ruling party. Fury may obscure or cloud its brain and its heart, but they are unquestionably there.
The Night of the Hunter, dir. Charles Laughton (1955)
What I would give for a version of The Night of the Hunter that came out a decade later. Shot spectacularly, with textbook lighting on making a villain all the more sinister and creating tension, this film is technically brilliant. I just sensed a few concessions to a more palatable 1955 release, including a tidy ending. A horror-thriller about an intrusive evil in godly guise should have gotten to truly live in its darkness. That was all that kept me from putting this in a higher category.
Notorious, dir. Alfred Hitchcock (1946)
A precursor to Alfred Hitchcock's best works, Notorious is inconsistent but expertly shot and effective at creating tension. It is hard to ever go wrong with a trio of leads as strong as Cary Grant, Ingrid Bergmann, and Claude Rains.
Predators, dir. David Osit (2025)
Documentarian David Osit takes a critical look at the voyeurism and cheap satisfaction of To Catch a Predator and delivers, from the opening minute, a truly revolting viewing experience. This is an excellent, unsettling, at times enraging film that is short on satisfying conclusions.
The Rock, dir. Michael Bay (1996)
The Rock aspires only to pure, dumb spectacle, and it achieves that. That does not absolve it of a padded first act, all the women in the movie serving as temporary props, a juvenile gay hairstylist gag, and the obnoxiously tacked-on bit of Stan Goodspeed (Nicholas Cage) referencing classic rock songs. Nor is it as absurd and fun as Con Air or Face/Off. But it sure is a fine example of pure, dumb spectacle.
Rosemary's Baby, dir. Roman Polanski (1968)
I was less frightened by Rosemary's Baby than unsettled by it, finding its supernatural bits a bit hokey compared to the more grounded fears of lack of autonomy, childbirth, and absent fathers. I am glad that, having crossed both this and Chinatown off my list in the last few years, I no longer have to see any "essential" films by Roman Polanski.
Sentimental Value, dir. Joachim Trier (2025)
Working again with the excellent star of his The Worst Person in the World, Renate Reinsve, Joachim Trier tells a similarly patient story about pain, reconciliation, and trying to communicate when you don't know how. I never quite felt like this was a superlative film but saw some of myself in it, which is, after all, one of the purposes of art.
The Sixth Sense, dir. M. Night Shyamalan (1999)
The direction M. Night Shyamalan's career has gone since his breakthrough, and the ubiquitous jokes about its surprise ending and "I see dead people," have overshadowed the real twist of The Sixth Sense: It's actually good! The script has clear imperfections, including a needless twist thrown into a funeral scene, but the point of the film is the relationships a frightened, lonely kid has with his tortured doctor and with his single mother. It shocked me to find out that The Sixth Sense has a heart.
Sneakers, dir. Phil Alden Robinson (1992)
An absurd cast makes Sneakers worth watching, even if it's not quite as smart and fun as it thinks itself to be. Dan Akroyd and David Strathairn aren't working with great material, which includes a exceedingly 90s portrayal of hacking that just seems off in the 2020s. But it really is hard to go wrong with Robert Redford, Ben Kingsley, Sidney Poitier, Mary McDonnell, Stephen Tobolowsky, and James Earl Jones. It's an enjoyable caper film.
Throne of Blood, dir. Akira Kurosawa (1957)
Macbeth, but with samurai. Constant fog on the slopes of Mount Fuji, Akira Kurosawa's always impressive sets and costumes, and a classically intense, bug-eyed performance from Toshiro Mifune sell a familiar but timeless story.
Top Secret!, dir. Jim Abrahams, David Zucker, and Jerry Zucker (1984)
Two decades after its release, David Zucker said Top Secret! "really isn't a good movie" despite how funny it is. I see what he means: It's three or four different parody concepts smashed into one, a lot of the references are instantly dated (ask anyone younger than 40 if they know The Blue Lagoon), and its high volume of jokes means there are some misses.
However: I laughed the entire movie. That is the goal of a comedy. Top Secret! does its job and then some.
The Town, dir. Ben Affleck (2010)
The Town is the best version of a movie that wishes very badly it was as good as Heat and The Departed.
Wake Up Dead Man, dir. Rian Johnson (2025)
The more Knives Out movies Rian Johnson makes, the less fresh they feel. The interruptions of serious moments with humor feel a little less advisable, the solution to the mystery feels a little more convoluted, and Johnson's style of lampooning various grifters and idiots of the right just doesn't feel as satisfying or insightful. They are still effective, high-floor films. Wake Up Dead Man is better than Glass Onion but substantially less fun than the original, where the secondary characters stood out more, the jokes landed better, and the premise was naturally more novel. I trust Johnson and Daniel Craig enough to go see a fourth installment but think we can stop after that.
The Warriors, dir. Walter Hill (1979)
The style, the conceit, and the gloriously synthy score to The Warriors are far better than the rest of the film. I grant many of its flaws are the result of a small budget, including underwhelming acting, but it also could have used a better script that does more than just occasionally gesture at social commentary. Its strong foundation is still enough to make it an exciting movie.
Weapons, dir. Zach Cregger (2025)
Horror movies are usually marketed terribly. Take Weapons, which looked like just another "creepy kids" movie, where children run like Naruto into the darkness as the adults try to figure out what's going on. I did not want to see this movie.
When Weapons drew such a widely positive response, though, I figured I had to see it. I am very pleased that this is not a cheap "creepy kids" movie — in fact, the kids barely feature at all until the third act. It's a smart, well-paced horror movie that earns the freaky bits in large part by taking detours from being a horror movie. The mystery and less-than-supernatural elements are more compelling than the scares. There are no exposition dumps. People act irrationally but act like people. I was not blown away but am happy I saw this film.
The Witch, dir. Robert Eggers (2015)
The Witch is a movie that barely has any witches, and that works to its benefit. While the supernatural is always present, and occasionally reveals itself in chilling fashion, the real tension comes from interpersonal conflict. The problem the characters face is a mostly absent antagonist, turning everyday worries and simmering distrust and into crises and accusation. It's not a new trick in horror, but it is a nifty one.
Yes, God, Yes, dir. Karen Maine (2019)
Yes, God, Yes is easily the second-best film about a girl attending Catholic school in the early 2000s I watched this year. It is still a brisk, funny movie concerning guilt and sexual discovery.
Great
Almost Famous, dir. Cameron Crowe (2000)
Almost Famous comes right up to the edge of getting too caught up in the myths of journalism and rock and rock journalism without going over. Its characters have actual depth, underscoring the artificiality and transactional nature of their relationships. A worse movie would get sentimental the way Almost Famous does and overdo it. I enjoyed myself far more than I expected.
One Battle After Another, dir. Paul Thomas Anderson (2025)
One Battle After Another is a phenomenally scored, exhilaratingly shot, suspenseful, often funny thriller that argues that when the state comes to abduct your neighbor for not being white enough, you cannot actually help them by being able to recite Marx. The film perhaps suffers from tonal incongruity and is overly adversarial toward high-minded ideologues, who are in fact necessary to move society forward. But this story's true hero is the regular but resourceful karate teacher (played by Benicio del Toro) who keeps his community safe and avoids being picked up by the feds for planting bombs. The point of leftist activism under fascism, Paul Thomas Anderson argues, is in the title: You cannot win a war all at once, but by fighting one battle after another.
Sinners, dir. Ryan Coogler (2025)
Sinners holds the audience's hand a bit at the beginning, and it has about four more endings than is necessary. But the time in-between is as rich and entertaining a film as you can find, featuring an exceptional soundtrack and editing. I dearly hope — in vain, I'm sure — that this is not the start of a new franchise, but a flagbearer for a new wave of wholly original blockbusters by talented young directors. Or at the very least, I hope it gets the kids listening to Howlin' Wolf.
Superbad, dir. Greg Mottola (2007)
Superbad is crassly hilarious (and at times just crass) but possesses surprising maturity, sending the right messages in the end about having a healthy approach to sex and about open, sincere, positive male friendship. Its subversion of the usual sex comedy tropes is welcome.
Three Colours: Blue, dir. Krzysztof Kieślowski (1993)
I worried for the first half-hour of Blue that it would be worse than it was, setting up what in a lesser film would be a melodramatic story full of grand revelations and realizations. But it was instead quite deliberate and focused on its central character's journey through seclusion to find out what acceptance, community, and love mean after suffering ultimate tragedy. Blue treats recovery as a process, not the endpoint of a character arc.
Young Frankenstein, dir. Mel Brooks (1974)
Like my favorite comedy of all-time, Hot Fuzz, Young Frankenstein operates as a tribute to the films it parodies as much as it is a lampoon of them. In both regards, it excels: Mel Brooks clearly reveres the Universal horror movies of the 1930s and 1940s, with sets and effects straight out of the era (including original props from the 1931 Frankenstein), and he gets you to laugh at punchlines you knew were coming.
Top Ten
10. Halloween, dir. John Carpenter (1978)
For years — half my life at this point — I knew everything about Halloween. I'd seen so many clips and internalized all the key shots. I knew the whole plot to both the original and its first sequel (which I didn't see in 2025), plus beats from their legions of successors. When I actually watched Halloween for the first time, I was as acquainted with it as any film I've seen.
It still landed. Halloween is a masterclass of building tension and atmosphere with a gradual pace, smart camerawork, and a fantastic score. The characters are more intelligent than is typical in the slasher genre. Whether you know what's coming or not, an excellent movie is an excellent movie.
9. Matewan, dir. John Sayles (1987)
In this stridently pro-labor film with heavy Christian overtones, Kevin Tighe just about steals the show playing an extraordinary strike-breaking Satan. This is not to overlook the rest of a deep cast — namely Chris Cooper (in his screen debut), James Earl Jones, Mary McDonnell, David Strathairn, and Bob Gunton — but a story about class solidarity needs an appropriately skin-crawling and heinous villain representing capital. Tighe is more than up for the part.
8. Chungking Express, dir. Wong Kar-wai (1994)
God, I feel like such a sap for loving this movie. But it works. It is shot expertly, at times magisterially. The hokey bits might not come off as romantic in the real world but have unavoidable charm on the screen. I grew tired of hearing "California Dreamin'" and "Dreams" (or "Mung Tsung Yan") until I welcomed them. Chungking Express brought me laughter and warmth.
7. Oldboy, dir. Park Chan-wook (2003)
Stylish, disturbing, well-paced, surprisingly restrained, and emotionally devastating, Oldboy is just as good as its reputation. Other revenge films, if they aspire to this level of craft, typically fall well short.
6. American Fiction, dir. Cord Jefferson (2023)
Maybe it's the dumb white lefty in me, but I thoroughly enjoyed watching this film in which I — the dumb white lefty — am the butt of the joke. American Fiction is a sharp satire of white perception of Blackness as monolithic, and it is a largely apolitical family story about acceptance and self-awareness. One half of the film would not work as well without the other, and each holds up its end of the deal.
5. Anatomy of a Murder, dir. Otto Preminger (1959)
Court procedurals from 1959 are not supposed to be as nuanced, thought-provoking, carefully constructed, and morally ambiguous as Anatomy of a Murder. Maybe it gets a little caught up in the theatre of a trial, but James Stewart going toe-to-toe with George C. Scott is undeniably electric drama. This is a superb picture.
4. The Apartment, dir. Billy Wilder (1960)
Billy Wilder's follow-up to Some Like It Hot is another subversive and cynical work, but with a surprisingly more serious and sweet tone. Sure, there are gags. Jack Lemmon couldn't not be funny with a script containing such moments of wit. Wilder clearly holds corporate America in disdain. But the heart of the film is in two people trying to break from the dependent relationships in which they have caught themselves and trying to find something better. I wish I had seen The Apartment years ago
3. Ordinary People, dir. Robert Redford (1980)
Ordinary People is one of the best films I have seen about depression and day-to-day survival. It is gut-wrenching without being manipulative, not bogging itself down with cinematic shouting matches and melodrama but focusing on the mundanity, little disappointments, and well-rehearsed lies about being okay that amplify distance and self-loathing. When the tension builds and snaps, it is earned. Mary Tyler Moore is key to the whole thing, giving a performance that is not evil or spiteful but believably selfish, indifferent, and cold. It is a phenomenal directorial debut from Robert Redford.
2. Threads, dir. Mick Jackson (1984)
No film has ever impacted me quite like Threads. Watching it in a theater with a couple dozen other people was an unforgettably eerie experience, each one of us too stunned to make a sound or even squirm in our seats. I spent much of the back half looking to the exit, wanting badly to walk out but feeling compelled to see this through to the end, as staying just felt too important. When it was over, I did not cry or scream but felt physically broken, full of a despair that haunted me for days. It was hard to perceive anything — the crowd at a baseball game, a favorite song, the trees along the Mississippi River, the sky itself — without thinking of how quickly it could all be erased. That effect is the point of Threads, and it is why it is such a vital film. I will never watch it a second time.
1. Lady Bird, dir. Greta Gerwig (2017)
I watched so many coming-of-age movies in 2025, and Lady Bird was by far the best. Saoirse Ronan clumsily trying to flirt in a grocery store made me laugh harder than any other film moment I saw all year, followed closely (if not immediately) by Timothée Chalamet's detached, edgy pillow talk about the war in Iraq. This is an uproarious film and also a deeply affecting one, capturing the hope, restlessness, awkwardness, teenaged nonsense, and difficult lessons of growing up as well as any film in the genre.
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