2025 was the first full calendar year I had without my previous day job, and I must admit, it was the most challenging year I’ve ever had running NBP. From the workload to the increasing financial pressure, the industry continues to struggle post-COVID in ways that make it almost impossible for anyone to make a living covering the business as a journalist, not to mention the hardships that have befallen many of my colleagues in the freelance space. However, what always gets me by are the magnificent works of art put out each year by creatives I get to know better and better as I stay in the industry, and, of course, the overwhelming support I feel daily from the NBP Community. Without all of you, I’m not sure where I would be in this life, and it’s your enthusiasm and support that give me the strength to keep going and growing despite the obstacles that continually stand in our way. Having seen over 333 new releases in 2025, I could not narrow my favorites of the year down to a simple top ten with a few honorable mentions. So what I’m going to share with you all are 50 films that I absolutely loved this year that just barely missed my top 10 list. They’re all films I recommend everyone seek out if they have a chance, as any of them could’ve landed in my top ten in another year. Here they are, presented alphabetically…
28 Years Later dir. Danny Boyle
2000 Meters To Andriivka dir. Mstyslav Chernov
A Poet dir. Simón Mesa Soto
All That’s Left Of You dir. Cherien Dabis
Apocalypse In The Tropics dir. Petra Costa
Black Bag dir. Steven Soderbergh
BLKNWS: Terms & Conditions dir. Kahlil Joseph
Blue Moon dir. Richard Linklater
Bugonia dir. Yorgos Lanthimos
Come See Me In The Good Light dir. Ryan White
Cover-Up dir. Laura Poitras & Mark Obenhaus
Cutting Through Rocks dir. Mohammadreza Eyni & Sara Khaki
Deaf President Now! dir. Nyle DiMarco & Davis Guggenheim
Die My Love dir. Lynne Ramsay
Eddington dir. Ari Aster
East Of Wall dir. Kate Beecroft
Hallow Road dir. Babak Anvari
Homebound dir. Neeraj Ghaywan
Jay Kelly dir. Noah Baumbach
Kokuho dir. Lee Sang-il
Left-Handed Girl dir. Shih-Ching Tsou
Little Amélie Or The Character of Rain dir. Maïlys Vallade & Liane-Cho Han
Lurker dir. Alex Russell
Materialists dir. Celine Song
My Father’s Shadow dir. Akinola Davies Jr.
No Other Choice dir. Park Chan-wook
Orwell: 2+2=5 dir. Raoul Peck
Pillion dir. Harry Lighton
Predators dir. David Osit
Rebuilding dir. Max Walker-Silverman
Roofman dir. Derek Cianfrance
Seeds dir. Brittany Shyne
Silent Friend dir. Ildikó Enyedi
Sirāt dir. Óliver Laxe
Sorry, Baby dir. Eva Victor
Sound Of Falling dir. Mascha Schilinski
Splitsville dir. Michael Angelo Covino
Superman dir. James Gunn
The Alabama Solution dir. Andrew Jarecki & Charlotte Kaufman
The Librarians dir. Kim A. Snyder
The Love That Remains dir. Hlynur Pálmason
The Naked Gun dir. Akiva Schaffer
The President’s Cake dir. Hasan Hadi
The Secret Agent dir. Kleber Mendonça Filho
The Voice Of Hind Rajab dir. Kaouther Ben Hania
Train Dreams dir. Clint Bentley
Twinless dir. James Sweeny
Urchin dir. Harris Dickinson
Wake Up Dead Man dir. Rian Johnson
Zootopia 2 dir. Jared Bush & Byron Howard
And with so many films seen at various film festivals that did not receive an official 2025 release, I also wanted to put some on your radar, as they technically do not qualify for my list this year but could next year. That’s how much I love and endorse these upcoming 2026 releases…
28 Years Later: The Bone Temple dir. Nia DaCosta
Adam’s Sake dir. Laura Wandel
Blue Film dir. Elliot Tuttle
Blue Heron dir. Sophy Romvari
Carolina Caroline dir. Adam Carter Lehmeier
Divine Comedy dir. Ali Asgari
Enzo dir. Robin Camillo
The Furious dir. Kenji Tanigaki
Hamlet dir. Aneil Karia
It Ends dir. Alexander Ulm
The Kingdom dir. Julien Colonna
Late Fame dir. Kent Jones
LifeHack dir. Ronan Corrigan
Lucky Lu dir. Lloyd Lee Choi
Motor City dir. Potsy Ponciroli
Nirvanna the Band the Show the Movie dir. Matt Johnson
Obsession dir. Curry Barker
Omaha dir. Cole Webley
Our Hero, Balthazar dir. Oscar Boyson
Poetic License dir. Maude Apatow
The Rivals Of Amziah King dir. Andrew Patterson
Rose Of Nevada dir. Mark Jenkin
The Six Billion Dollar Man dir. Eugene Jarecki
Tuner dir. Daniel Roher
We Are Storror dir. Michael Bay
Yes! dir. Nadav Lapid
And now, without any further ado, here are my top ten favorite films of 2025…
10. Hamnet
Not many people know this, but nearly ten years ago, my family endured a personal tragedy the likes of which I’ve never entirely been able to comprehend or get over, as my cousin, with whom the rest of my family and I are very close, lost her daughter before the age of two. It was a horrific event that has forever shaped how I see children’s death portrayed in film. If your movie can handle it well, there’s no greater emotional manipulation that is sure to work on me (“Arrival” is an excellent example of this). If you botch it and don’t portray it in a manner I find satisfactory, there’s nothing that will make me come for you harder (I see you “Collateral Beauty“). Luckily, Chloé Zhao’s adaptation of Maggie O’Farrell’s (who co-wrote the film with Zhao) 2020 novel of the same name fell into the former, not the latter. “Hamnet” (then interchangeable with the name Hamlet) is one of the most quietly devastating films of the year. When I first saw it at the Telluride Film Festival, I had overheard how upsetting it would be and how I should prepare myself to be obliterated by what Zhao had created. To my own shock and amazement, I didn’t have the intense reaction others had hyped it up to be on the first viewing. However, subsequent viewings made me realize how lyrically directed this meditation on grief and love is. But most of all, it’s the way it spells out how art is born from life’s deepest wounds that affected me the most, especially as a former stage actor who has performed Shakespeare’s plays. Chloé Zhao feels fully back in her element here after following her Oscar-winning “Nomadland” with the divisive “Eternals,” crafting something intimate, free flowing yet precise, and deeply humane, despite its famous name and references to Shakespeare’s most famous works sprinkled throughout. Jessie Buckley delivers a soul-shaking performance that ranks among her very best, while Paul Mescal continues to prove himself as one of the great actors of his generation with a raw, understated turn that aches with unspoken pain. Max Richter’s ethereal score is impossible to resist (even as he recycles one of his most famous pieces for the film’s finale with “On The Nature Of Daylight” -another “Arrival” callback), amplifying the film’s dramatic weight with both heartache and grace. While “Hamnet” may not reach the same towering heights for me as some of the movies higher on the list, its emotional honesty, fine craftsmanship, and lingering resonance of its performances make it undeniably one of the best and most moving cinematic experiences of 2025.
9. Resurrection
Bi Gan’s “Resurrection” felt, to me, like the moment where an already extraordinary filmmaker crossed into genuine mastery. With only two features prior (“Kaili Blues” and “Long Day’s Journey Into Night“), the Chinese filmmaker had already established himself as one of cinema’s great modern stylists and all before the age of 40. But “Resurrection” is something larger, riskier, and more encompassing: a kaleidoscopic meditation on a century of Chinese cinema and the very act of dreaming through film. It plays less like a conventional narrative and more like a ritual, unfolding across six dreamlike stories set in different eras, each tied to one of the six senses recognized in Buddhist thought: sight, hearing, smell, taste, touch, and mind, until all that remains is cinema’s flickering consciousness at 24 frames per second. “Resurrection” is both a history lesson and a cinematic séance. Gan moves from silent-era expressionism to noir, spiritual fables, a breathtaking, neon-soaked long take set on the eve of the year 2000, and everything in between, each segment evoking not just a period of film history but a fragment of collective memory. What struck me most is how “Resurrection” reimagines cinema as something eternal, even as human bodies and histories decay. The recurring imagery of melting wax underscores that, while we fade, the images great artists project on the screen will forever endure. Gan’s approach is deliberately disorienting; characters are introduced without context, narratives drift in and out of focus, yet the film is never emotionally cold. Backed by M83’s enveloping score and Dong Jingsong’s astonishing cinematography, each chapter becomes a sensorial experience rather than a puzzle to be solved, but one that will undoubtedly lose some viewers which is why it isn’t higher on this list, as it even took me two viewings to fully grasp everything it was hurling at me without drifting off into a dreamlike state myself (probably the film’s intention, to be honest). Made in pandemic isolation, “Resurrection” mourns lost time while celebrating cinema’s power to create shared dreams. It demands patience and attention, but the rewards are immense. By the time the film reaches its extraordinary final transcendent moment (following an unbroken fever dream of love, violence, music, and longing through a 30-minute oner) of a deteriorating multiplex where the audience and the screen all melt into one, I felt both overwhelmed and invigorated by my love of the art form and its infinite possibilities. “Resurrection” is not just a film but an experience (a common reoccurrence on this list as someone who sees many movies a year that feel mostly the same), a love letter to cinema’s past and a challenge to its future. It’s the kind of work that reminds you why movies matter, and why Bi Gan now belongs among the most visionary filmmakers of his generation.
8. The Testament Of Ann Lee
Following “The Brutalist” last year, which landed at no. 1 on my best of 2024 list, filmmaking duo and partners in life Mona Fastvold and Brady Corbet returned a year later with another astonishing $10 million period film with “The Testament Of Ann Lee.” This time, Fastvold is in the director’s chair with her husband co-writing and producing the project with her (they shoot each other’s second unit on each of their films). Still, the results are just as epic, profound, and euphoric, making them one of the most fascinating beacons of light within the independent film scene as they continue to defy the odds and push boundaries of what is possible in today’s cinematic landscape. Despite being about an hour shorter than Corbet’s film last year, “The Testament Of Ann Lee” is one of the most spiritually overwhelming and artistically confident films I encountered all year. This work seized me completely and refused to let go from the moment it began. Fastvold’s musical film announces itself as something rare: a euphoric cinematic experience that reaches for the divine through sound, movement, image, and performance. Elevated by Daniel Blumberg’s strange yet hypnotic score (adapted mostly from traditional Shaker hymns), shot gorgeously on film (where it’s currently being projected in 35 and 70mm), and anchored by a career-best performance from Academy Award-nominee Amanda Seyfried, the film feels almost guided by forces beyond the screen, lifting its audience into a state of rapture while never shying away from the darker realities of religious devotion, all the while telling the story of a woman who endured tremendous hardship, which led to her becoming a spiritual leader and founding a community at a time when it was incredibly dangerous to do so. What struck me most is how unapologetically Fastvold approaches Ann Lee with neutrality, never passing judgment on her, and instead boldly highlighting what would make her the spiritual symbol she would become for the Quaker movement. The film follows a familiar biographical structure, but Fastvold’s approach is anything but conventional. There is a delicate balance struck between the epic scope and an intensely personal perspective, framing Lee’s story through the memories of her followers and making the audience feel like part of the congregation itself through its rhythmic sights and sounds. Seyfried’s performance is utterly spellbinding, delivering a wounded yet angelic turn that commands the screen through her body, voice, and soul. Seyfried conveys Lee’s visions with complete sincerity, allowing us to understand how her faith became a source of survival, empowerment, and renewed purpose. What ultimately makes “The Testament Of Ann Lee” so poignant and can be felt in every inch of Fastvold’s direction is its conviction, which matches its titular character. Fastvold doesn’t mock faith, nor does she unquestioningly glorify it; instead, she honors the intensity of belief and the human need to hold onto something larger than oneself. Regardless of one’s personal spirituality or my own gripes with the film’s third act, which rushes towards its conclusion just as it feels like the start of a whole new chapter of dramatic conflict, the film’s sensorial force is undeniable. It’s bold, original, and overwhelming in all the best ways; a film that lifts you out of yourself, leaves you floating in its power, and reminds you that, at its purest level, cinema can feel like a religious experience in its own right. I hunger and thirst for more movies like this, even if they’re not perfect.
7. If I Had Legs I’d Kick You
I knew as soon as I saw Mary Bronstein’s stressful, panic-attack-inducing, absolutely brilliantly crafted “If I Had Legs I’d Kick You” at Sundance, that it would remain one of my favorite films of 2025. But what put it in the top ten ultimately was the rewatch I had many months later at the New York Film Festival where, now knowing what I was entirely in for this time, was able to take in all of the physically and emotionally overwhelming choices Bronstein made in the craft of her screenplay, aesthetics and soundscape to make me feel like I was having a heart attack. Mary Bronstein doesn’t simply depict the suffocating pressures of motherhood; she weaponizes sound, editing, and Rose Byrne’s God-tier level performance (my favorite from anyone in 2025) to trap the audience inside the cracked mind of a woman on the brink of collapse. It’s the dark, twisted cousin to “Tully” and “Nightbitch, but far more aggressive, terrifying, and depressing in its execution, confronting the uglier truths of parenthood with an intensity that’s impossible to ignore and forget. At the center of this grim experience is Rose Byrne, delivering what is unquestionably the best performance of her career. She plays Linda (Funny enough, also my mother’s name), an exhausted mother whose life feels like a never-ending series of crises, cruelly stacked on top of one another. Byrne never lets up, embodying Linda’s spiraling concerns with a desperation that’s both horrifying and deeply empathetic thanks to Bronstein never taking the camera off of her and focusing solely on Linda’s experience so that no matter how uncomfortable we become as an audience, one way or another, we will understand her exhaustion, her flaws, her anger, her pain, and her self-blame. The sound design and editing are masterfully calibrated to escalate anxiety, turning everyday irritations into psychological assaults. Screams, ambient noise, and jarring cuts accumulate until they feel like a physical pressure on your skull, turning this into what many have called the female version of “Uncut Gems,” which is not such a on-the-nose comparison when you consider Mary is married to Safdie collaborator Ronald Bronstein, who also co-produced this film. Despite its unrelenting bleakness, the film is not without its share of dark humor, and the supporting turns from A$AP Rocky, as a bemused hotel employee, and Conan O’Brien, as a brutally unhelpful therapist, provide brief but jarring contrasts to Linda that only make her feel more defined despite feeling misunderstood by everyone else in her life. Even moments that should offer relief, like a new pet hamster or a drink at the end of the day, are twisted into fresh sources of dread for Linda to endure, pushing us further into a hole of despair that has us questioning the unthinkable by the end. This is not an easy film to watch, and it’s not meant to be. “If I Had Legs I’d Kick You” is punishing and deeply distressing, yet impeccably crafted, with an unforgettable performance from Byrne that signifies Bronstein’s re-entry into our lives since her last feature film, “Yeast,” back in 2008. Let’s hope it doesn’t take another 17 years for her to brutalize us once again.
6. The Perfect Neighbor
Watching “The Perfect Neighbor” at Sundance 2025, it was quite clear the film had made a tremendous impact on me, though I didn’t yet fully understand how deeply it would lodge itself under my skin. By the end of the festival, after more than 60 films across fiction and nonfiction, it stood above everything else I had seen. That distinction matters even more in a cinematic landscape oversaturated with true-crime documentaries, many of which blur together through sensationalism or hollow outrage. Geeta Gandbhir’s film cuts through that noise with terrifying clarity. It is one of the most harrowing and rigorously constructed documentaries I’ve ever encountered, gripping from its opening moments and never loosening its hold. What makes the film so overwhelming is Gandbhir’s decision to remove every possible buffer between the audience and the events unfolding onscreen. Told entirely through police body-camera footage, surveillance video, and news coverage, the film plays out in real time, forcing us to experience the escalating nightmare exactly as it happened. There are no talking-head interviews to contextualize the horror and no narration to guide our emotions. Instead, we hear panic in voices, see confusion etched onto faces, and feel dread accumulate as an emotionally disturbed woman repeatedly antagonizes her predominantly Black neighbors. Each police call, each confrontation, each ignored warning sign tightens the vise, building tension not through manipulation but through nonstop accumulation, masterfully assembled and constructed through Viridiana Lieberman’s editing. When the tragedy finally occurs, it’s less shocking and more devastating because it feels so inevitable. At the center of the film is the killing of Ajike Owens, a mother whose life was senselessly taken over a neighborhood dispute that never should have escalated this far. Gandbhir approaches this loss with extraordinary care, particularly in the film’s heartbreaking third act, which captures the immediate aftermath of the shooting through raw, unfiltered footage that is almost unbearable to watch. We are simply witnessing a family and a community collapsing in real time. In those moments, the film stops feeling like a documentary and becomes more like a moral reckoning, honoring Ajike’s life by refusing to soften the reality of what was taken. Beyond its grueling emotional toll, “The Perfect Neighbor” is a damning examination of Florida’s stand-your-ground law and the systemic failures that surround it. Gandbhir never argues her case outright. Instead, patterns emerge organically as the footage accumulates, revealing how fear, authority, and racial bias intersect with deadly consequences. The structure mirrors this reality, assembling fragments of evidence into a chilling portrait of injustice that speaks louder than any commentary ever could. What ultimately sets the film apart is its discipline. Gandbhir trusts her material completely. The result is a documentary that is as instructive as it is emotionally shattering, confronting its audience with the full weight of its implications without exploitation. Few films in 2025 left me as shaken, angry, or certain of the urgent need for change as this one, which is why it remains one of the year’s defining works.
5. It Was Just An Accident
I knew going in that Jafar Panahi’s “It Was Just An Accident” would continue his resistance towards the Iranian government, which has unjustly banned, imprisoned, and turned its back on him throughout his career, but what struck me most was how directly and ferociously he channels that anger into a tightly controlled, morally unsettling thriller that asks us where can we go from here once the damage has been inflicted. The film feels like an unrestricted outlet for Panahi’s rage, not loud or chaotic, but simmering and determined. Built around a vengeful kidnapping that unfolds over the course of a single day, it gradually tightens its grasp through mounting dread and ethical uncertainty, all while never losing sight of the rage and moral ambiguity that drives it. Shot primarily in wide frames with long, unbroken takes, Panahi allows tension to amass organically within the image. There’s nowhere for the characters to hide in the open desert as they confront their feelings and express them openly for others to hear, seeking a way forward from the injustice done to them. The film opens with an almost banal incident: a man driving with his pregnant wife and young daughter accidentally strikes a dog on a dark road. This moment, framed as random and inconsequential, sets off a chain reaction that feels anything but accidental. When the man’s recognizable squeak from his prosthetic leg draws the attention of Vahid, a survivor of state-sanctioned torture, his suspicion curdles into obsession. Believing this stranger to be the government inspector who once destroyed his life, Vahid kidnaps him and prepares to exact revenge. Yet certainty proves elusive, and what begins as a clear-cut act of vengeance fractures into something far more morally complicated. As Vahid seeks confirmation from others who were similarly victimized, Panahi expands the film into an ensemble piece, allowing each character’s trauma to surface in distinct and often conflicting ways. Some want immediate retribution, others hesitate under the consequence of doubt, and all wrestle with their own complicity in what they’re doing. Panahi never rushes these exchanges. The long takes give the actors room to explore their feelings without tipping into melodrama, and even moments of humor find their way into the narrative as a means to release the tension, an uncomfortable acknowledgment of how absurd and cruel the situation has become. What gives the film its power is how Panahi frames revenge not as catharsis, but as a trap. The question is never simply whether the kidnapped man deserves punishment, but what carrying out that punishment would ultimately turn these seemingly good people into. The film’s final stretch, anchored by a harrowing extended sequence in which the phenomenal Ebrahim Azizi pleads for his life, hopelessly tied up against a tree in the dead of night for an astonishing thirteen-minute take, where confidence and command turn into anguish and horror, places the audience inside an unbearable moral standoff and a reckoning for all left in its aftermath. Panahi doesn’t show us the past atrocities in detail; instead, he forces us to sit with the present-tense consequences of the physical and psychological violence, both inflicted and threatened. Panahi offers no easy answers, only unsettling questions: At what point does righteous anger become indistinguishable from the cruelty it seeks to punish? In confronting these questions, Panahi exposes the cyclical nature of violence imposed on Iran and its people, while also turning the act of filmmaking itself into an act of defiance. The result is a film that is tense, morally exhilarating, and unmistakably furious, featuring the very best ending to any movie of the year, one that will haunt you as much as it does its lead character, further proving Panahi’s voice remains as vital, dangerous, and necessary as ever.
4. Sinners
I knew Ryan Coogler was capable of making something truly remarkable. I had previously enjoyed his “Black Panther” films, his “Creed” film, and his feature directorial debut, “Fruitvale Station.” However, “Sinners” represents a new evolutionary step for the ambitious and thoughtful filmmaker, his first truly original piece of work not based on previous IP or a real person. Because of that, I wasn’t fully prepared for just how singular and electrifying the experience would be. What begins as a richly textured Southern gangster period piece gradually mutates into a ferocious fight for survival and spiritual liberation, and the transformation is nothing short of thrilling, continually rewarding me with each rewatch. Coogler fuses history, myth, music, and horror into a film that feels alive with thumping rhythm in its blood, creating one of the most unforgettable films of not just 2025, but what will surely be remembered fondly as one of the best of the decade. Set in 1930s Mississippi, the film follows twin World War I veterans Smoke and Stack, both played with effortless suave and commanding power by Michael B. Jordan, as they return home from Chicago to open a juke joint deep in the woods. Coogler takes his time immersing us in the world, the time period, and its people, letting the beats of daily life, coded tensions, and unspoken histories settle into place. This patience, something I admittedly struggled with on my first viewing, pays off enormously. By the time night falls and the party begins, the film has established a sense of community worth fighting for with rich characters we care about. Music becomes the lifeblood of this space, primarily through Sammie (a breakout Miles Caton), a preacher’s son whose blues guitar channels something ancient, otherworldly, and dangerous. Once Sammie plays, the film reveals its true nature. What should be a night of pleasurable release and joy summons a ruthless clan of vampires who arrive cloaked in charm and familiarity, waiting to be invited inside. From that moment on, “Sinners” explodes into a full-blown survival thriller, but one steeped in symbolism and spiritual urgency. Coogler stages the ensuing bloodshed with shadow-drenched IMAX imagery and kinetic blocking, giving the horror a mythic weight that few other films have achieved, as the film blends many genres to create something wholly unique and culturally significant. The film’s core essence is anchored by Jordan’s dual performance, which stands among his very best. He gives Smoke and Stack distinct physicalities and temperaments, balancing swagger with vulnerability and making both men feel fully realized through the latest in CGI wizardry that you forget it’s one person playing two different people. Wunmi Mosaku is terrific here, as is Hailee Steinfeld, yet the true revelation is newcomer Miles Caton, whose performance as Sammie gives the film its soul. The supporting cast adds much texture to the film’s shape, making it one of the best ensembles of the year, from the haunted wisdom of Delroy Lindo to the seductive menace of Jack O’Connell, each contributing to the film’s communal energy in their own unique ways. Equally essential is multi-Academy Award-winning composer Ludwig Göransson’s blues-infused score, which functions not just as accompaniment but as narrative force. One miraculous sequence tracing the lineage of the blues within a single bravura take from Coogler stands as one of the director’s most audacious achievements, collapsing past and present into a moment of pure expression that is the single best scene I saw in any movie this year. It’s here that “Sinners” fully unveils itself as a film about the inheritance of historical trauma and racial oppression, exploitation, and the liberating power of spiritual freedom and redemption. Best seen on IMAX 70mm with the best sound system you can find (the 4K UHD presentation at home will have to suffice for now, but one of the year’s best moments will forever be Coogler’s deep dive into all the different viewing formats for the film in theaters), “Sinners” is a renewed jolt of adrenaline in how original it feels, a poignant cry from the past that reverberates into the present and, hopefully, transforms into a reclamation from beyond into the future.
3. Sentimental Value
I was so nervous heading into “Sentimental Value” at Cannes that it would live up to what filmmaker Joachim Trier and star Renate Reinsve had previously given us with the wonderful “The Worst Person In The World.” Much to my relief, they didn’t let me down. In fact, they exceeded my expectations, delivering another deeply affecting, complex story about love, family, and the ways art can help us heal (a common theme that resonated strongly with me throughout 2025). Reinsve and Stellan Skarsgård are extraordinary as a daughter and father attempting to navigate the torn space between them, and the two supporting performances from Inga Ibsdotter Lilleaas and Elle Fanning are equally remarkable, with Lilleaas’s work standing out to me more and more with each rewatch. Trier and co-writer Eskil Vogt crafted a film that balances deeply personal themes with a universal rumination on the meaning of home and emotional inheritance, both tragic and redemptive. Trier’s meticulous direction allows the story to unfold with nuance and care. But one of the things I appreciate most about his storytelling is how, even with a simple, modern story of people resolving everyday disputes in rooms, he manages to make it feel so cinematic by injecting directorial flair at all the right moments, giving the film an identity. The film opens in Oslo, with the family home serving as a repository of memory, making the house, yes, a character in the film. Extended flashbacks and thoughtful montage sequences capture the house’s history and the emotional weight embedded within its walls, emphasizing that “sentimental value” is more about connection and memory than material worth. Outside of Trier’s thoughtful direction, the performances are central to the film’s success. Reinsve conveys Nora’s inner turmoil with understated tragic force, balancing a lifetime of abandonment, anger, and pain in a performance that rivals her work in “The Worst Person In The World.” Skarsgård brings a subtle, lived-in gravitas to the charismatic, revered filmmaker Gustav, portraying a man softened by age yet still grappling with the consequences of past decisions. Fanning, who may have had the best year of her career between this, “A Complete Unknown” last year and “Predator: Badlands,” delivers a quietly moving turn that highlights the paradoxes of celebrity and isolation, while Lilleaas emerges as the film’s stealth MVP capturing the quiet fortitude of a sister seeking to reconcile with her past while re-connecting with her sister in ways that she may not entirely expect. Together, the ensemble brings to life a vision from Trier that is as intimate and spacious as the house that once held all of their characters, fueled by a rich history of complex lives that have intersected, but it may be too late for them to put the pieces of their fractured relationships back together. At its heart, “Sentimental Value” is a film about what endures most of all: family, love, and the traces of ourselves left behind for others to carry forward. It is a masterful family drama, with the proper doses of comedy thrown in for good measure, brimming with sensitivity and emotional intelligence. We often see films about these struggles, but rarely are they this compelling, moving, and exquisitely realized.
2. Marty Supreme
Dream big, baby! “Marty Supreme” is a sprawling, electrifying sports story, but it’s also so much more than that. It pulses and radiates with life from start to finish from New York independent filmmaker Josh Safdie, who, after the success of “Uncut Gems,” delivers his most ambitious, kinetic, and mature film yet, propelling us through Marty Mauser’s relentless quest to prove he is the best ping-pong player in the world in 1952. The incredible Timothée Chalamet physically and mentally embodies Marty with total commitment, delivering a hyperactive, emotionally charged performance that builds to a climactic moment of catharsis, one of the best character arcs I saw in a film all year. The score from Daniel Lopatin is distinctive, beaming with almost mystical energy, while Safdie and Bronstein’s smooth editing makes the two-and-a-half-hour runtime fly by, perfectly capturing the manic intensity of Marty’s world as his life spirals out of control. Safdie, stepping out on his own to direct since his 2008 debut, crafts a film that is as much a love letter to a bygone New York (the production design by legendary Jack Fisk is understated yet endless in its details) as it is a character study of a stubborn dreamer, even if that pursuit pushes everyone close to him away and drops him further down a path of uncertainty and danger. Marty’s journey, filled with hustles, rivalries, daring competitions, and populated by the women in his life, becomes both thrilling, entertaining, and deeply relatable, even if the character may come off as obnoxious, brash, and self-centered. Cinematographer Darius Khondji, who had a hell of a year between this, “Eddington” and “Mickey 17,” ups the ante he and Safdie set with “Uncut Gems,” capturing every chaotic moment with immersive clarity. The ensemble cast that surrounds Chalamet is equally impressive. Fran Drescher, Kevin O’Leary (yes, that one), Gwyneth Paltrow (returning to the screen after a 6-year absence), Odessa A’Zion (one of 2025’s breakout stars), and Tyler “The Creator” Okonma all deliver vividly realized performances, inhabiting characters we want to spend more time, which is a credit to Safdie’s longtime casting director Jennifer Veneditti who expertly balances screen veterans with newcomers while making sure no face ever feels out of place. In post-World War II New York, “Marty Supreme” symbolizes the unchecked exuberance and defiance many Jewish Americans felt at the time. “I am the ultimate product of Hitler’s defeat,” claims Mauser as his journey to compete in the championship in Tokyo, Japan, feels destined, and he will not take no for an answer. And why should he? What’s his dream compared to the atrocities his people just recently faced? And much like how Mauser will use every opportunity he can take from others to get him closer to that dream, so too will others use Mauser for their own benefit, and on and on the capitalism wheel spins, for that is the American way. “Marty Supreme” examines ambition, vanity, and the fine line between confidence and delusion, while celebrating the sheer thrill of striving for greatness, and never forgetting we all have to grow up at some point. This is Josh Safdie at his most expansive (seriously, cannot believe the trajectory of this guy’s career and what a thrill it’s been to see him succeed), Timothée Chalamet at his most fearless (same to him too as he continues on his own path towards greatness), and cinema at its most exciting, leaving viewers breathless, laughing, gasping, and cheering in equal measure.
1. One Battle After Another
I know, how original of me. But “One Battle After Another” is truly the film of our time. Bracingly exhilarating, politically charged, heartfelt, and uproariously funny, it may be the most important work Paul Thomas Anderson has ever made, and certainly his most politically and socially urgent and relevant, whether the story takes place sixteen years ago or today. In a time as scary and politically fraught as this, where the country is further pushed into fascism, never before has rooting for the revolutionary French 75 freeing immigrants detained by ICE and U.S. Marshals been so fun, cathartic, and vital. Among the group are Perfidia Beverly Hills (Teyana Taylor) and Pat (Leonardo DiCaprio), lovers whose political activism comes at a personal cost when Perfidia’s choices lead to her departure and the separation of Pat and their daughter, Willa (Chase Infinit). Pat adopts the name Bob Ferguson and relocates with Willa to Baktan Cross, living a life of caution, paranoia, and secrecy. Sixteen years later, Bob’s fears are realized when Col. Lockjaw (Sean Penn) finds them, setting off the titular chase and confrontation that blends personal stakes with political absurdity and the evil greed of one man, fully backed by the federal government, against those who just now want to live a normal life. The entire ensemble cast delivers powerhouse performances, led by Leonardo DiCaprio, who operates at his best when he taps into his “The Wolf of Wall Street” and “Once Upon a Time in Hollywood” energy to toggle effortlessly between comedy and drama. Sean Penn gives one of his most iconic performances in years as Col. Steven J. Lockjaw, a menacing, some might say goofy (I say terrifyingly unpredictable) white supremacist antagonist, while Teyana Taylor makes a powerful impression in the film’s opening sequences that lingers throughout the rest of the film until her voice is heard again during the reading of an emotional letter that accentuates and underlines the film’s themes of passing the fight down to the next generation, one battle after another. I’ve talked about breakout stars on this list. Still, Chase Infiniti emerges as the year’s true breakout star, both on and off the screen, bringing confidence, vulnerability, and poise to her role as Willa, the daughter of DiCaprio’s Bob Ferguson at the heart of the story. And Benicio Del Toro enters the film as the calm and cool sensei Sergio St. Carlos, injecting it with an insanely likable character who is the leader of the undocumented community in Baktan Cross and has a bit of a “Latino Harriet Tubman situation going on” that he needs to settle while Bob franctically tries to remember the password to connect with his old comrades, to get to the rendevous point so he can be re-united with his kidnapped daughter. Over two and a half hours, the film races forward, driven by Andy Jurgensen’s propulsive editing and Jonny Greenwood’s dynamic piano-fused score, which shifts between idiosyncratic playfulness and operatic grandeur. The narrative, while packed with action and dark comedy, is fundamentally a father-daughter story, grounding the film’s wild exploits in deeply emotional territory. Every moment, from the introduction of the completely ridiculous yet terrifying Christmas Adventurer’s club, to Bob and Sensei’s bromance escape, to Lockjaw’s confrontation in a church with Willa, to the climactic car chase scene through the roller coaster hills of California, is one cinematic delight after another, all captured in VistaVision, 70mm, and IMAX formats. “One Battle After Another” is more than a film; it is a call to consciousness. It asks Bob and the audience what freedom truly means, exploring the courage required to fight oppressive systems even when the odds can feel overwhelming. Balancing political critique, emotional depth, a great sense of humor, and big screen spectacle, the great Paul Thomas Anderson, who has already delivered one masterpiece after another, has delivered yet another that is pressing, entertaining, and unforgettable, cementing it as not only the defining film of 2025 but arguably of the decade. If you have not seen it, what are you waiting for? Crack open a few small beers, take a selfie, and enjoy the ride.
What do you think of my list? Please let us know in the comments section below or on our X account. Be on the lookout for more of our Top 10’s for 2025 as we say goodbye to the year and say hello to a new one. Thank you, everyone, for a memorable year. Our annual NBP Film Awards and the NBP Film Community Awards will come in a few days to allow you all some time to see those final 2025 awards season contenders and vote on what you thought was the best 2025 had to offer. Till then, I wish you all a Happy New Year!
