The 20 Best Films I Watched For The First Time in 2025







Hello friends -

I hope you're all doing well, and that the leaden pall of January 2026 hasn’t descended upon you too severely, on a personal level at least.

Either way, it probably won’t help that, despite my intention to use this mailing list primarily for short bits & pieces, I'm afraid I've got another really long read to hit you with today.

Back in my webloggin' days, I used to end each year by compiling a list of the Best Films I Watched For the First Time in the preceding 12 months.

By necessity, this is distinct from a ‘best films of the year’ list, given that the number of newly released films which I both watch and like in any given year can usually be counted on the fingers of one hand. Which is not something I'm proud of, but whatcha gonna do? (I mean, other than actually making an effort to engage with contemporary cinema, etc etc.)

On that note though, it's odd to reflect that the two big contenders in this week's Oscar nominations are actually both films I've watched and liked - a circumstance perhaps unique within my adult life.

Anyway, without further ado, here is a Top Twenty First Watches of 2025, most of which I cobbled together in spare moments over the xmas holidays.

In some respects, it's a bit of an embarrassing list this time around, reinforcing all the worst stereotypes about the kind of stuff people probably assume I watch all the time - ie, lots of crazy genre movies with outrageous / ridiculous titles, and only two films made after 1990, top and tailing the list.

Normally, I'd want to use these lists to highlight a few more lost classics from the grindhouse/arthouse borderlands, a few unexpected 21st century gems pulled from the depths of streaming services, at least some representation from non-male directors, and so on... but apparently that's just not the way things panned out in 2025. Sorry.

On the plus side though, only five of my selections are from English language countries (and two of those were directed by European exiles) - so that makes me feel right cosmopolitan and globally-minded. (Albeit, minded of the globe as it was about fifty years ago, apparently).

Anyway, I said "without further ado" about five paragraphs ago, so let's get on with it.

1. One Battle After Another (Paul Thomas Anderson, USA, 2025)

As much as it pains me to concur with critical consensus... fucking hell, this is a bit good, isn't it? 

We only managed to see it on 30th December, so more detailed thoughts are still coalescing in my brain. Based on a single viewing though, it definitely feels like an all-timer... although at the same time, perversely, I kind of hope it does become dated, simply because it would be nice to imagine that future generations may not need to relate to its very on-the-nose political content quite as directly or intently as we do at present. (Not holding my breath, mind.)

As another general observation, I've previously always associated PT Anderson with making sprawling, loosely plotted, vaguely Altman-esque kind of films (which is an approach I love, btw) - you know, the kind of thing where you can dip in and out to enjoy various character and comedy bits here and there, etc - "hangout movies", to use the agreed upon catch-penny phrase. Amazingly though, 'One Battle..' manages to square an impossible circle by being exactly like that, whilst also being a relentlessly high energy, adrenaline-pounding thriller which makes three hours whiz by in what feels like about 90 seconds. How does he do it?! Some high grade cinematic wizardry going on here, no doubt.

Oh, and finally - forget Tarantino, Anderson is the reigning king of gratuitous classic rock needle-drops, and although there are only two of them in the duration of this very long film (at the end of the first act, and closing credits), both are monstrously right & proper. Worth the price of a cinema ticket alone, I would say.

2. Night of the Juggler (Robert Butler / Sidney J. Furie, USA, 1980)

Perhaps due to its unappealing title, this NYC-set thriller has been lost in VHS purgatory for decades, gradually accumulating a word of mouth rep until it finally got restored/re-released last year - and it doesn't disappoint.

When the daughter of most-underrated-'70s-leading-man-ever James Brolin is snatched by a psychotic malcontent in Central Park, a relentless, near-real time chase through the city ensues, as Brolin's progress is obstructed at every turn by crowds, chaos, corrupt cops, a disgruntled ex-wife, a Warriors-style street gang, plentiful Fear City-era sightseeing and a glorious abundance of local character acting talent. 

Think 'The Taking of Pelham 123' meets 'Run, Lola, Run' perhaps... and then watch it immediately, because I mean, why wouldn't you?

3. Peur Sur la Ville [‘Fear Over The City’] (Henri Verneuil, France, 1975)

Astoundingly hyperactive / entertaining policier which over-delivers on all levels. The plot-line disintegrates like wet tissue paper upon five seconds of analysis, but nonetheless functions to deliver a non-stop cavalcade of absurd set-pieces which find a seedy, middle-aged Jean-Paul Belmondo dangling from the gutters of Paris, jumping out of helicopters, dive-bombing plate glass windows, avoiding train tunnel-based decapitation by seconds, karate-chopping villians and generally carrying on like he thinks he's late-'80s Jackie Chan. 

If this is any indication of their quality, I need to watch some more of these '70s Belmondo action movies in 2026.

4. She Shoots Straight (Corey Yuen, Hong Kong, 1990)

Yet more over-achieving action nonsense, as Sammo Hung's partner Joyce Gadenzi heads up an entire family of ass-kicking female cops, maxing out everyone's expectations of the then-ubiquitous 'girls with guns' sub-genre with titanic quantities of death-defying mayhem, and throwing in a ton of familial soap opera hysteria for good measure (the latter proving more fun than it sounds).

5. The Music Lovers (Ken Russell, UK, 1971)

Look, if you think I'm going to sit here and try to summarise / defend a prime-era Ken Russell joint in the space of a single paragraph, well... no chance. (Synopsis: this is the Tchaikovsky one.)

As with most of Our Ken's mighty works, probably better to just let it plough straight over you like an express train made of pure cinema - then try to figure out why it's not actually an indefensible assault upon history, culture and good taste a bit later on, once you've recovered and had a nice cup of tea.

6. Corpse Mania (Kuei Chih-Hung, Hong Kong, 1981)

Again with the unappetising titles (a reoccuring theme on this list)... and I'd be lying if I tried to claim this Shaw Bros crime/horror effort isn't as unpleasant in places as the name suggests. But, as in his other noteworthy films (eg, 'Killer Constable', 'Boxer's Omen'), cult director Kuei Chih-Hung subverts and transcends genre expectations here, using beautiful, diffused/blue-tinted photography to conjure up a compelling Victorian-era China-noir atmosphere, and turning what begins as a tragic necrophile love story into a baroque, blood-drenched Hong Kong giallo. Absolutely unique in tone, and a solid entry in the "far better than it has any right to be" file.

7. The Reckless Moment (Max Ophüls, USA, 1949)

Ophüls' audacious, ahead-of-his-time long take / fluid camera technique finds itself applied here to an unusually domestic, female-centred example of film noir. Tension is immediately ratcheted to Highsmith / Hitchcock levels and never lets up, as harried housewife Joan Bennett finds herself dealing with issues of corpse disposal, blackmail and home invasion, whilst similtaneously trying to keep up appearences for her high maintenance brood of (extremely irritating) family members... as meanwhile, louche James Mason slouches into view, representing the more caring face of the urban underworld.

For my money, a crucial miscalculation in the film's scripting (no spoilers) prevents it from becoming an A+, top ten level noir classic... but it's pretty damn close.

8. Il Sesso Degli Angeli [‘The Sex of Angels’] (Ugo Liberatore, Italy, 1968)

Based on the daft title, primary-coloured photography, groovin' beat music and prevalence of photogenic young people frugging about in skimpy swim-wear, you could easily skim through a copy of this film and mistake it for a frivolous comedy/youth flick. Pay attention however, and something considerably more troubling is going on just below the surface.

Three idle rich girls are cruising the Med, their evasive dialogue and witchy glances implying a sinister, unstated purpose as they seek out a "perfect" boy to accompany them on a cruise on Daddy's motor launch. Having snared their prey, they promptly slip him a mickey, and set a course across the maritime border into Yugoslavian waters.

Ambiguity is very much the watch-word for Liberatore's film, with the characters' psychology and intentions remaining unguessable throughout. So in honour of this approach, I'll likewise avoid specifics, except to state that the latter half of the film hits hard, recalling the oppressive malice of Polanski's 'Knife in the Water' whilst also anticipating the soul-withering nihilism of Aldo Lado's 'Night Train Murders' by a good few years.

Quite why this was made, or who they expected to go and see it, I have no idea, but it's an excellent piece of work, and highly recommended; yet another unexpected gem hidden amid the weird detritus of Italian commerical cinema.

9. Wolves, Pigs & Men (Kinji Fukasaku, Japan, 1964)

Though perhaps a little more sedate in terms of editing, in all other respects this early materpiece from Fukasaku is just as intense, brutal and harrowing as the run of uncompromising jitsuroku yakuza epics with which he made his name during the 1970s. 

A tale of three brothers raised in a poverty-stricken post-war slum (shot with unflinching realism in an actual poverty-stricken post-war slum) who end up with blades at each other's throats as a result of the older siblings' involvement in the criminal underworld, the core themes Fukasaku would return to throughout his career, right up to 'Battle Royale' (2000) - the insanity of social hieracrchies, the tendency of fascistic systems to corrupt/destroy their youth - are already on full, enraged display here. 

(But, y'know, with plot and tension and action too, cos he's still making a commerical crime movie - just a really exceptional one in this case; the first of many more to come.)

10. The Magic Blade (Chor Yuen, Hong Kong, 1976)

11. The Miracle Fighters (Yuen Woo-Ping, Hong Kong, 1982)

12. Return of the One Armed Swordsman (Chang Cheh, Hong Kong, 1969)

Three wild n' wacky period martial arts classics, all landmarks of cinematic weirdness in their own way, which I'll tackle together to save time.

Chor Yuen's '70s run of labyrinthine, densely plotted wuxia films can prove pretty hard work for us western viewers to get our heads around (or indeed stay awake through, in some cases), but The Magic Blade provides a great introduction, mixing the director's trademark extraordinary/excessive production design and choreography with a relatively direct narrative and a wealth of crazed, horror-tinged characters, weapons and scenarios.

Just a few years down the line meanwhile, the Yuen clan (no relation) take the more fantastical wing of the early '80s kung-fu comedy about as far as it can possible go in The Miracle Fighters, mixing near super-human physical dexterity with a jaw-dropping array of practical special effects, to bewildering and overwhelming effect. Must watch this one again soon, because it was difficult to take it all in to be honest, but... quite an experience, to say the least.

And, back in the slightly more refined '60s golden age of Shaw Bros wuxia, The Return of the One-Armed Swordsman points the way forward toward all the crazy stuff I enjoy so much in those later movies, pitting Wang Yu's titular hero against a garishly-clad, bizarrely equipped troupe of outlandish ne'erdowells, including the self-styled likes of 'Spinning Wheels King', 'Poisonous Dragon King', 'Hell's Buddha King', and, my personal favourite, the slightly more low-key 'Furtive King'.

13. Subway (Luc Besson, France, 1985)

"Charm" is not really a quality I've ever previously associated with the work of Luc Besson, but surprisingly, this early landmark of the bande dessinée aesthetic mixes the expected hi-octane, style-over-content '80s glitz with a strain of whimical, absurdist humour and low-key melancholy which leaves it feeling peculiar, humane, and.. oddly touching? Certainly the best film I've seen from this guy by a country mile, anyways. 

14. Fury (Fritz Lang, USA, 1936)

Lang's first American film, and, seems like he was allowed to bring a surprising amount of stuff from his German career to the party. Beginning as a straight up condemnation of depression-era mob violence, the picture builds up to a truly harrowing climax about halfway through, as Eisensteinian montage is used to depict an innocent man (and his poor little doggie) being burned to death in a small-town jailhouse by an out-of-control lynch mob. 

Thereafter though, things get a lot weirder, and more distinctly Langian (yes, it's in the OED, I checked), as the victim returns from the dead as a haunted, monomaniacal shell of his former self, bent upon vengeance as he covertly undermines due legal process to try to ensure that his 23 killers all end up in the gas chamber.

Far more uncomfortable and morally equivocal fare than I daresay Hollywood viewers of the 1930s were used to, a studio-mandated "happy" ending does little to assuage the feeling - as per 'M' and 'The Testament of Dr Mabuse' before it - that some kind of grit has flaked off into your soul during the viewing process, and can't be scrubbed away.

15. El Vampiro (Fernando Méndez, Mexico, 1957)

Rather than making do with the oft-tedious "vampire as irrational / atavistic threat invading a boring, uptight world" trope common to many international vampire movies, this inaugural entry in Mexico's '50s/'60s gothic horror boom takes a more rewarding fork at the fog-shrouded cross-roads, staying true to the spirit of Dreyer and Whale (and anticipating the work of Mario Bava) by ushering us into a world entirely defined by perverse, night-haunted creepery from the outset - thus allowing  Senor El Vampiro (played with aristocratic grandeur by Spanish-born actor Germán Robles) to feel perfectly at home as he sets about his customary depredations.

Exalting in the world-beatingly excessive production design and chiaroscuro lighting characteristic of Abel Salazar's Cinematográfica ABSA horror productions, whilst also boasting a quietly nuanced script and solid, melodramatic performances, this is an undersung masterpiece of old school gothic horror which deserves to be... sung a bit more frequently, I suppose?

16. La Polizia ha le Mani Legate [‘Killer Cop’] (Luciano Ercoli, Italy, 1975)

The thoughtless English retitling of this superior poliziotteschi is particularly unfortunate, given that - perhaps uniquely within the genre - Ercoli's film does not actually feature any cops killing anybody at any point. 

In fact, the rozzers in this one are a surprisingly eccentric / loveable bunch, headed up by the always interesting Claudio Cassinelli, and the film fits neatly into a highly specific sub-genre of '70s Italian crime pictures (also including Steno's 'Execution Squad' ('72) and Sergio Martino's 'Silent Action' ('75)) concerned with cops who inadvertantly stumble upon evidence of a neo-Fascist conspiracy attempting to ferment a coup from within the corrupt Italian state, and doggedly pull at the threads until paranoia, chaos and misery ensues.

Pointedly eschewing the brutality and sleaze of much '70s euro-crime, whilst also declining to aspire to the arthouse-adjacent "political film" stylings of Damiani or Petri, 'La Polizia ha le Mani Legate' (= roughly, 'The Police Have Their Hands Tied') perhaps failed commercially as a result of being neither fish nor fowl, but, 50+ years down the line, it awaits rediscovery as a gripping, smart and hugely enjoyable conspiracy thriller.

17. Petualangan Cinta Nyi Blorong [‘The Hungry Snake Woman’] (Sisworo Gautama Putra, Indonesia, 1986)

Of the various rural-set folkloric horror tales which served as vehicles for Indonesia's premier horror star Suzzanna following her break-out role in 1982's 'Queen of Black Magic', this is one of the most enjoyable, offering a persistently woozy, psychdelic atmosphere, a wealth of extraordinarily imaginative lo-fi special effects (check out the Snake Queen's astral chariot!), and rare insight into all kinds of odd South Seas customs and mythological beliefs.

Also, relatively little comic relief, and relatively little sexual assault - both big pluses for me when exploring this particular corner of the cinematic landscape.

18. Shaitani Ilaaka (Keran Ramsay, India, 1990)

Word on the street (and yes, I frequently discuss the merits of Bollywood horror films on the street) has always been that the two films directed by Keran Ramsay during the early ‘90s are lesser efforts in comparison to the more celebrated work of his older siblings Shyam & Tulsi, but I’ve got to say, I thought this one absolutely ruled.

Admittedly, it sticks pretty rigidly to the established Ramsay Bros formula, mixing lashings of OTT, headache-inducing horror/monster bombast with romance, comedy, music, dancing, melodrama and "fights" (as the credits have it), offering precious few innovations. But then, I'd personally contend that this formula is one of best blueprints for entertaining human beings ever devised, so a few more hours of it is all good with me, and Keran does the family proud.

19. Curse of the Dog God (Shun'ya Itô, Japan, 1977)

One of very few films completed by Shun'ya Itô after he smashed the parameters of Japanese genre cinema wide open with the immortal 'Female Prisoner: Scorpion' trilogy (1971-73), this one was commissioned by Toei as an attempt to merge traditional, folkloric Japanese horror narratives with the shock tactics of 'The Exorcist' and 'The Omen'. Suffice to say, they got a lot more than they bargained for from Itô - and a lot less, financially speaking, after the public (understandably) greeted his efforts with a collective "WTF?".

An epic, rambling work of unhinged / uncomfortable weirdness, 'Curse of the Dog God' contains multitudes, not least vis-a-vis an over-stuffed narrative which sees Itô attempting to blend heady themes of environmentalism and social exclusion into the howling horror hysteria, and getting a bit muddled in the process. But, he still delivers at least a handful of crazy images and set pieces which you will never, ever forget (however much you may want to). One for... brave viewers, let's say.

20. Holy Spider (Ali Abbasi, Iran, 2022)

This begins somewhat like an Iranian answer to 'Manhunter', employing stylish, neon-drenched nocturnal digital photography to outline the tale of a fictional female journalist arriving in a regional city on the trail of a based-on-a-true-story serial killer. Abbasi soon pulls the rug out from under us genre fans though, shifting back into the social realist mode which defines his nation's post-revolutionary cinema, as the killer's identify is reveaed, and the focus turns more toward a no-holds-barred critique of the patriarchal ideology and toxic misogyny which have permeated Iranian society after half a century of theocratic/authoritarian rule.

The result makes for depressing, but perhaps necessary, viewing, as we're allowed a glimpse into a culture in which a pathological killer of women is not only allowed to operate with relative ease (at least up to a point), but, following his eventual arrest, finds himself defended by his family and praised by the wider populace as a kind of folk hero. Not a happy film, to state the bleedin' obvious.

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Humble thanks to anyone who bothered to read this thing to the end. All being well, I'll be back soon with the REALLY fun bit - namely, a round-up of the five WORST films I watched in 2025. And, by god I saw some stinkers last year, so... be prepared.