Best Movies of 2025: Bold Visions and Unforgettable Performances

HOLLYWOOD, CA — Cinema in 2025 unfolded with a striking mix of ambition and imagination. Filmmakers stretched genres, blended tones and found new ways to make familiar stories feel urgent again. Audiences were pulled into intimate character pieces one week and swept up in grand, world‑building spectacles the next.

It was a year when “Sinners” roared with electric fury; “One Battle After Another” snapped with ideological bite; “Hamnet” glowed with spectral grace; and “Frankenstein” soared with operatic force. As we bid our fond farewells to 2025, we look back at the films that stirred our senses, sharpened our perspectives and showcased the year’s most compelling visions.

From intimate dramas to sweeping historical epics, from feverish fantasies to bold character studies, here are our 13 favorite films of 2025 — in no particular order.

The Best Movies Of 2025

“Bugonia”

Emma Stone, Jesse Plemons; directed by Yorgos Lanthimos

Yorgos Lanthimos’ “Bugonia” is a genre‑bending, surreal sci‑fi thriller that reimagines the 2003 South Korean cult film “Save the Green Planet!” through the filmmaker's unmistakably skewed lens. Emma Stone stars as Michelle Fuller, a biotech CEO accused by two delusional abductors — played by Jesse Plemons and newcomer Aidan Delbis — of being a shape‑shifting alien sent to wipe out humanity.

What begins as a paranoid kidnapping spirals into a meditation on belief, truth and the human need to impose meaning on chaos.

Lanthimos leans into deadpan absurdism, surreal narrative turns and a refusal to offer emotional handrails. Stone delivers a cool, enigmatic performance that shifts from passive to otherworldly, while Plemons brings chilling restraint to Teddy’s unraveling fanaticism. Delbis adds a tremor of vulnerability as Don, whose longing for purpose fuels his complicity. The film’s middle stretch sags under its escalating paranoia, but the final act erupts into cathartic, Lanthimos‑grade surrealism that reframes everything before it.

Final word: Unsettling, darkly funny and defiantly strange — a film that rewards surrender over certainty.

“Frankenstein”

Oscar Isaac, Jacob Elordi, Mia Goth; directed by Guillermo del Toro

Guillermo del Toro’s “Frankenstein” is a mournful, operatic reimagining of Mary Shelley’s classic, steeped in grief, empathy and the fragile mercy of creation.

Oscar Isaac plays Victor Frankenstein, a brilliant scientist hollowed by loss and driven toward the impossible, while Mia Goth brings warmth and quiet resilience as Elizabeth, the confidante who anchors him to the world he’s slipping away from. Jacob Elordi, nearly unrecognizable beneath layers of prosthetics, delivers a hauntingly tender performance as the Creature — a being born into loneliness and desperate to be acknowledged.

Structured in two acts, the film first charts Victor’s descent into obsession, shaped by childhood trauma and emotional isolation. The second act shifts to the Creature’s awakening and rejection, reframing monstrosity as something deeply human.

Del Toro favors mood over momentum, sculpting each frame with chiaroscuro and emotional precision. Dan Laustsen’s cinematography stretches shadow and space to mirror inner turmoil, while Alexandre Desplat’s score deepens the film’s elegiac pull.

Final word: A somber, compassionate requiem — less horror than a meditation on what we owe one another.

“Hamnet”

Jessie Buckley, Paul Mescal; directed by Chloe Zhao

Chloé Zhao’s “Hamnet” is a meditation on absence, a quietly shattering portrait of a family undone by loss and the legacy it leaves behind. Adapted from Maggie O’Farrell’s novel, the film reframes the death of Shakespeare’s son as the emotional fault line that reverberates through “Hamlet.” Jessie Buckley anchors the story as Agnes, a mother whose fierce intuition and mystical tenderness give the film its pulse, while Paul Mescal plays Shakespeare not as a mythic figure but as a man fractured by ambition and hollowed by regret. Jacob Jupe’s Hamnet glows with fragile luminosity, his brief life becoming the film’s heartbeat.

Zhao brings the grounded intimacy of “The Rider” and the lyrical sweep of “Nomadland” into Elizabethan England, favoring stillness over spectacle. Domestic rhythms — candlelit laughter, rituals of care — give way to the quiet devastation of illness and absence. Łukasz Żal’s cinematography sculpts grief in shadow and light, and Max Richter’s score threads through the film with restrained, mournful clarity.

Final word: Lyrical, intimate and devastating — a requiem for a child and the art born from loss.

“If I Had Legs I'd Kick You”

Rose Byrne, Conan O'Brien; directed by Mary Bronstein

Mary Bronstein’s “If I Had Legs I’d Kick You” is a darkly comic plunge into maternal chaos and emotional freefall. Rose Byrne delivers a blistering performance as Linda, a therapist whose life collapses — literally — when her apartment ceiling caves in, forcing her and her mysteriously ill daughter into a cramped hotel room. With her husband (Christian Slater) conveniently absent and her own therapist (a sharply unsettling Conan O’Brien) growing increasingly hostile, Linda spirals through a series of surreal, tragicomic encounters that blur the line between crisis and catharsis.

Bronstein, who also penned the script, shapes the film with claustrophobic energy and jagged humor, balancing raw vulnerability with a biting sense of the absurd. Byrne oscillates between sardonic wit and aching desperation, grounding the film’s wild tonal swings with emotional precision. The title — a phrase Linda repeats in therapy — becomes a mantra for her simmering rage and helplessness.

Unpredictable, offbeat and emotionally unvarnished, “If I Had Legs I’d Kick You” is a messy, intimate portrait of a woman pushed to her breaking point.

Final word: Sharp, chaotic and painfully human.

“Jay Kelly”

George Clooney, Adam Sandler; directed by Noah Baumbach

Noah Baumbach’s “Jay Kelly” is a poignant, globe‑trotting character study anchored by George Clooney as a fading movie star confronting the wreckage left in fame’s wake. What begins as a routine publicity tour becomes a reckoning with legacy, regret and the cost of performing a self that no longer fits.

Adam Sandler plays Ron, the loyal manager who has spent decades absorbing the emotional fallout, and together the two drift through Europe in a haze of memory, confession and uneasy companionship.

Baumbach’s script blends dry humor with aching introspection, giving Clooney one of his most vulnerable roles in years. Sandler delivers a quietly devastating turn, shedding his comedic instincts for something rawer and more interior. Laura Dern adds bite as the publicist who understands the machinery of celebrity all too well, while Billy Crudup, Riley Keough, Greta Gerwig and Jim Broadbent enrich the film’s emotional texture without overwhelming its core.

Shot on 35mm and steeped in melancholy, “Jay Kelly” becomes a meditation on identity and aging — a slow burn that lingers long after it ends.

Final word: Wistful, wounded and wise.

“Marty Supreme”

Timothée Chalamet, Gwyneth Paltrow; directed by Josh Safdie

Josh Safdie’s “Marty Supreme” is a swaggering, high‑velocity portrait of ambition in overdrive. Set in 1950s New York — all neon spill, cigarette haze and basement‑club bravado — the film follows Marty Mauser (Timothée Chalamet), a table‑tennis hustler who believes his own legend long before anyone else does. Safdie stages the underground ping‑pong circuit like a contact sport, full of eccentrics, bruised egos and the kind of chaotic energy that defined his earlier work.

Chalamet delivers one of his most kinetic performances, playing Marty as a showman whose hunger outpaces his talent. Gwyneth Paltrow and Odessa A’zion sharpen the film’s emotional edges, while Kevin O’Leary, Tyler Okonma and Abel Ferrara add the oddball texture Safdie thrives on. Darius Khondji’s grainy 35mm cinematography and Daniel Lopatin’s nervy score fuse into a sensory portrait of a city — and a young man — vibrating with restless ambition.

Final word: Scrappy, propulsive and unmistakably Safdie.

“No Other Choice”

Lee Byung-hun, Son Ye-jin; directed by Park Chan-wook

Park Chan‑wook’s “No Other Choice” is a razor‑edged, darkly comic thriller about economic desperation and the violence it quietly breeds. Adapted from Donald E. Westlake’s novel “The Ax,” the film follows Yoo Man‑su (Lee Byung‑hun), a veteran paper‑industry specialist abruptly fired after an American buyout.

What begins as a humiliating setback curdles into obsession as Man‑su realizes every job he’s qualified for already has a favored candidate. Park charts Man-su's unraveling with a blend of bleak humor, surgical tension and moral unease, turning corporate anxiety into something sharp and disturbingly plausible.

Lee delivers a tightly coiled performance, shifting between wounded pride and chilling resolve. Son Ye‑jin brings emotional grounding as the spouse who senses the shift before she understands it, while Park Hee‑soon, Lee Sung‑min and Yeom Hye‑ran deepen the film’s portrait of a society fraying under pressure. Park directs with icy precision, sharpened by Jo Yeong‑wook’s sly, needling score and Kim Woo‑hyung’s steely cinematography.

Final word: Bleakly funny, tightly wound and hard to shake.

“One Battle After Another”

Leonardo DiCaprio, Sean Penn, Benicio del Toro; directed by Paul Thomas Anderson

Paul Thomas Anderson’s “One Battle After Another” is a volatile, politically charged thriller that digs into the emotional wreckage left behind when ideology collapses. Leonardo DiCaprio delivers one of his most surprising performances in years as Bob, a bathrobe‑clad former revolutionary whose unraveling blends slapstick, sorrow and a creeping sense of desperation. It’s a tightrope act — part tragicomic burnout, part haunted idealist — and DiCaprio plays every wobble with precision.

Inspired by Thomas Pynchon’s “Vineland,” the film follows Bob and his daughter Willa, played with striking poise by newcomer Chase Infiniti, as they navigate a landscape thick with surveillance, extremism and exhaustion. Anderson orchestrates the chaos with remarkable tonal control, weaving action, drama and absurdist humor into a single, propulsive current. The ensemble — Teyana Taylor, Sean Penn, Benicio del Toro — sharpens the film’s tension without overwhelming its emotional core.

Rather than offering clarity, Anderson leans into ambiguity, crafting a psychotropic thriller that favors emotional intensity over tidy answers. The result is hypnotic, disorienting and strangely moving.

Final word: Fractured, fearless and impossible to shake.

“Sentimental Value”

Renate Reinsve, Stellan Skarsgård, Inga Ibsdotter Lilleaas, Elle Fanning; directed by Joachim Trier

Joachim Trier’s “Sentimental Value” is a tender, multilayered family drama that examines the fragile ties between art, legacy and forgiveness. Renate Reinsve stars as Nora, a stage actress who reunites with her estranged father Gustav (Stellan Skarsgård), a once‑celebrated filmmaker staging an ambitious comeback. When Nora refuses his offer to star in his new project — and he casts a young Hollywood actress instead — old wounds resurface, forcing Nora and her sister Agnes to confront long‑buried resentments and shifting loyalties.

Co‑writing with Eskil Vogt, Trier shapes an introspective narrative built on emotional restraint and piercing honesty. Reinsve delivers a quietly devastating performance, while Skarsgård blends wounded charm with a manipulative edge. Elle Fanning adds a sharp, destabilizing presence as the outsider drawn into the family’s unresolved tensions.

The film’s power lies in its subtlety: glances, silences and withheld truths speak louder than confrontation. Though its pacing is deliberate, the emotional payoff lingers.

Final word: Delicate, incisive and steeped in unspoken ache.

“Sinners”

Michael B. Jordan, Hailee Steinfeld, Wunmi Mosaku, Jack O’Connell, Delroy Lindo; directed by Ryan Coogler

Ryan Coogler’s “Sinners” is a genre‑bending Southern Gothic, where blues rhythms collide with vampiric dread and history bleeds into myth. Michael B. Jordan delivers a commanding dual performance as twin brothers Smoke and Stack, World War I veterans who return to 1930s Mississippi to open a juke joint and reclaim a sense of ownership in a world built to deny it. Their fragile dream is threatened by the arrival of Remmick (Jack O’Connell), a red‑eyed vampire whose charm masks a hunger that could consume the community they’re fighting to build.

Jordan’s split performance is electric — jagged and volatile as Smoke, grounded and resilient as Stack — while Hailee Steinfeld, Wunmi Mosaku, Delroy Lindo and newcomer Miles Caton deepen the film’s emotional stakes. Coogler directs with audacious clarity, blending bayou grit, musical ritual and supernatural menace into a feverish whole. Autumn Durald Arkapaw’s sweat‑soaked cinematography and Ludwig Göransson’s blues‑infused score turn the Delta into a haunted, living organism.

Final word: Lush, ferocious and steeped in blood‑deep memory.

“The Mastermind”

Josh O’Connor, Alana Haim; directed by Kelly Reichardt

Kelly Reichardt’s “The Mastermind” is a sly, melancholy heist drama that trades genre thrills for something far more introspective. Set in a sleepy Massachusetts suburb in 1970, the film follows J.B. Mooney (Josh O’Connor), a failed architect who assembles a ragtag crew to pull off a brazen museum robbery in broad daylight. Stealing the paintings is the easy part; keeping them — and keeping himself together — proves far more difficult. As the walls close in, Mooney’s delusions of reinvention give way to a slow, painful unraveling.

Reichardt brings her signature contemplative lens to the crime genre, focusing less on suspense than on disillusionment and the quiet erosion of ambition. O’Connor delivers a beautifully frayed performance, while Alana Haim and Gaby Hoffmann add grounded, emotionally textured support. Shot with wide‑angle lenses and steeped in period detail, the film evokes a bygone era with wistful precision.

Final word: Subtle, somber and quietly devastating.

“Train Dreams”

Joel Edgerton, Felicity Jones; directed by Clint Bentley

Clint Bentley’s “Train Dreams” is a lyrical, quietly devastating portrait of an ordinary man swept along by extraordinary change. Adapted from Denis Johnson’s novella, the film follows Robert Grainier (Joel Edgerton), a logger and railroad worker carving out a life in the rugged Pacific Northwest as America hurtles into the 20th century. His days unfold in solitude, marked by fleeting love, sudden loss and the slow, haunting passage of time.

Edgerton delivers a deeply internal performance, capturing Grainier’s quiet resilience and emotional isolation with remarkable restraint. Felicity Jones brings warmth and fragility as his wife Gladys, whose brief presence leaves an enduring emotional echo.

Bentley favors mood over plot, shaping the film through atmosphere, silence and landscape. Adolpho Veloso’s muted, melancholic cinematography and Bryce Dessner’s haunting score deepen the film’s elegiac pull.

“Train Dreams” resonates as a meditation on memory, grief and the quiet dignity of survival.

Final word: Lyrical, haunting and steeped in hard‑won grace.

“Wicked: For Good”

Cynthia Erivo, Ariana Grande, Jonathan Bailey; directed by Jon M. Chu

“Wicked: For Good” casts a dazzling spell as Jon M. Chu’s sweeping conclusion to his two‑part adaptation of the Broadway phenomenon. Picking up where the 2024 film left off, the sequel deepens the emotional stakes and broadens the world of Oz with grandeur and genuine heart.

Ariana Grande returns as Glinda with a shimmering mix of charm and vulnerability, while Cynthia Erivo’s Elphaba remains the film’s fierce emotional core — wounded, defiant and achingly human.

Chu balances spectacle and intimacy with remarkable control. The musical set pieces are lush and kinetic, the production design rich with detail, and Stephen Schwartz’s reimagined arrangements soar with renewed vitality. Though the narrative occasionally leans into exposition, the evolving bond between Glinda and Elphaba remains potent, grounding the film’s spectacle in real feeling. Jeff Goldblum brings sly menace as the Wizard, and Michelle Yeoh’s Madame Morrible is chillingly precise.

Shot concurrently with its predecessor, the film benefits from seamless continuity and a cast fully locked into their arcs. It’s a triumphant, emotionally resonant finale.

Final word: Lush, heartfelt and enchantingly full‑circle.