The Top Movies of 2025 (Up to This Point)

      As we near the midpoint of 2025, it's time to assess the best cinema released so far: we've compiled our favorites from the first half of this year, including some lesser-known gems. This list is focused exclusively on U.S. theatrical and digital releases from 2025.

      Below you'll find our selections, arranged alphabetically, followed by a list of honorable mentions.

      **Afternoons of Solitude (Albert Serra)**

      Albert Serra’s latest film, *Afternoons of Solitude*, feels more like a two-hour sports broadcast than what you'd expect from the creator of *Story of My Death*. Adhering to the structure, if not necessarily the essence, of observational and direct cinema favored at festivals, the film primarily consists of lengthy takes that capture Spanish bullfighting arenas, centering on Andrés Roca Rey, a Peruvian “exemplar” in the sport engaged in ritualistic brutality. In an age where we are acutely aware of the constructed nature of documentaries, Serra’s main triumph is achieving an objective perspective. Under the direction of DP Arthur Tort, the camera avoids leering, and the editing doesn’t revert to close-ups that compel us to disapprove, creating a connection that allows us to acknowledge the awfulness of the spectacle. It offers an anthropological view of a tradition that merits both our respect and critique, embodying both admiration and condemnation for something barbaric and ultimately absurd. Roca, portrayed in a power pose with eyes that mirror both strength and vulnerability—much like the bull—represents both a hero and a villain, but those labels feel inadequate here. Sculpturally framed within the cinematic space, he simply exists. – David K. (full review)

      **April (Dea Kulumbegashvili)**

      Similar to *Beginning*, *April* showcases a reality that has been filtered through a lens. The director draws inspiration from fictionalized accounts based on real experiences, particularly from her hometown at the base of the Caucasus mountains in Georgia. The sparse dialogue, extended takes, and encroaching violence that envelops the lead character—Ia Sukhitashvili playing the wife of a Jehovah’s Witness pastor—creates a suffocating atmosphere, while *April* allows for breath. The patient yet persistent camera of Arseni Khachaturan reveals a world that is both familiar and unsettling, split between tempestuous storms and tranquil sunsets, alongside a decaying patriarchal culture that stifles female autonomy. Nina (Sukhitashvili), an OBGYN, is compelled to report a newborn's death due to a previously unregistered pregnancy, as her local community demands an investigation, driven by lingering gossip that Nina performs illegal abortions—something the patriarchal system cannot tolerate. – Savina P. (full review)

      **Black Bag (Steven Soderbergh)**

      Imagine a James Bond or *Mission: Impossible* film stripped of its action sequences—save for a lone explosion or gunfire—yet infused with a script echoing John le Carré’s style, and you might get *Black Bag* by Steven Soderbergh. A meticulously crafted spy thriller, the film is primarily set around dinner tables and office spaces, serving as backdrops for rapid, sharp-witted exchanges penned by David Koepp, who returns to the genre after Ethan Hunt's initial escapades. The narrative centers on three couples entangled in British intelligence, raising the question: can one maintain a healthy relationship when professional and personal lives are irrevocably intertwined, especially when one's occupation revolves around deception? – Jordan R. (full review)

      **Broken Rage (Takeshi Kitano)**

      Divided into two acts, the film begins as a crime thriller before switching tones and re-evaluating the first segment scene-by-scene with a fresh perspective. Kitano stars as a contract killer. In the first act, he is infallible, while in the second, he is clumsy—known as “Mouse,” a hitman whose routine is disrupted when the police recruit him to infiltrate a drug cartel. Though the two parts markedly differ in tone, humor is woven throughout. Even in the ostensibly serious first act, Kitano’s script follows a childlike rationale: it only takes a few staged punches in a brawl with another mole for Mouse to earn the trust of the mobsters he’s tasked to surveil. His lonely assassin serves as a comedic iteration of the formidable killers he has portrayed in prior works (consider Otomo from his *Outrage* series). Yet his willingness to satirize his onscreen identities is a departure I haven’t witnessed since 2005’s *Takeshis’*, which, although comedic, spiraled into self-indulgent flights of fancy. No such indulgence exists in *Broken Rage*. This film is not merely a wildly entertaining experience––it’s one that evoked uncontrollable laughter among audiences at the press screening––but also