Hollywood superstar, Reef Hawke, sets out on a redemption tour when an extortion plot threatens to derail his entire life.
As outsiders to Hollywood, we are often only privy to the aftermath of “cancellation”, watching its stars either fade from view or double down in a much louder fashion. Outcome, Jonah Hill’s second narrative feature, zeroes in on the idea of it as an impending doom, treating cancellation not as fallout, but as an ever-present threat, and watching how the industry’s inner circle twists itself to stay one step ahead of it.
At the centre is Reef Hawke, Hollywood’s poster child since his debut on The Tonight Show Starring Johnny Carson as a kid, who has recently returned to the spotlight after a five-year hiatus battling addiction. Casting Keanu Reeves is a smart move, he’s the internet’s favourite nice guy and his signature mellow demeanour is perfect for a film designed for satire and an underlying spiritual journey. But for a film that tries to be cutting-edge with its comedy and profound in its character study, it all feels a little tepid.
The story kicks in when Reef receives a visit from his crisis lawyer Ira, played by Hill, who warns him that someone has a video of Reef and will release it unless he pays a large sum of money. From there, the film spirals into Hollywood satire and a redemptive journey for its main character, as he visits people he may have wounded in his life.
This is where Outcome feels lost: its satirical edge feels like it’s asking us to laugh at an industry so devoid of morality, but also to empathise with its star, who has worked hard for his fame. Hill, who has been a staple of American cinema since Superbad, knows all too well the struggles of the limelight from a young age, but when it incorporates “cancel culture” and the dangers of social media into the fabric of the story, the film becomes lost in its own spiral.
The film is shot by Benoît Debie, a long-time collaborator with Gaspar Noé on films like Climax and Irreversible, who adds feverish, dreamlike backdrops to each scene and a sun-kissed hue to every interaction, as if the film is perpetually set at dawn. Presumably, Hill wanted to focus on paranoid delirium as Reef approaches his impending doom, but it acts more as an amplifier for the film’s jolted tone.
I guess, at its core, Outcome is really about the loneliness built from a life of hurting the people closest to you. Probably the film’s best scene comes at the end, when Reef watches the video he’s worked so hard to keep from the public eye – a tender moment of self-realisation that loses its punch because of everything that’s come before it.
For a director who felt so adept at capturing tone and setting so well in Mid90s, there is something scattered and underproofed about Outcome. Hill clearly has something to say, but even with a cushy runtime of 84 minutes, the story never captures anything poignant that merits a full-length feature, and it will likely drop to the back of Apple TV to die a forgettable streaming death.
As their wedding day approaches, Charlie and Emma’s fairytale romance begins to unravel when Emma reveals a long-buried secret.
The promotional campaign for Kristoffer Borgli’s latest film has worked overtime to protect its secrets, presenting itself as a romantic comedy while concealing a moral dilemma that quietly threatens to disrupt the bliss. Much like Borgli’s previous feature, Dream Scenario, a timely and sensitive subject sits at the centre of the chaos, delivered through a strain of bleak comedy as its characters attempt to navigate unfamiliar terrain.
Since the film has gone to great lengths to protect its secrets it seems a shame to ruin them for the sake of a review. But, it’s also where the film gets its most divisive plot point, triggering a dilemma for the central couple which in turn triggers our own moral debate. Whilst wine tasting with their respective Best Man and Maid of Honour, played by Mamadou Athie and Alana Haim, the group play a game of ‘What’s The Worst Thing You’ve Ever Done?’, one by one they reveal a secret, but it’s Emma’s that strikes a chord with the group.
It’s a slightly forced way to invoke the plot – although I can’t think of a natural way to bring up the issue – but the scene itself is performed well. Charlie’s mumbling disbelief and eventual spiral is perfectly captured by Pattinson, and Zendaya is flexing her talent with a tricky emotional balance. Even if Borgli doesn’t balance this delicacy as well in his screenplay, his two leads are capable of dealing with whatever comes their way.
Like Dream Scenario, there is a fierce and uncompromising satire at the bottom of The Drama. Delivered not as a well polished package, but in small inconsistent chunks. Of course it depends on your own sensibilities about the subject matter, with it being such a controversial topic to base jokes around – one particular cut from the bedroom to a photography shoot had the audience howling – but if you’re hungry for what The Drama is offering then you’ll enjoy its sharpness and comedic delivery.
Despite being uneven in parts, its cynicism, and lack of moral clarity, insight what every great film should. Creating a discourse that’s desirable to debate and leaving a lasting impact on audiences – even if said impact is divisive. Add to that two of the biggest stars working at their peak, and The Drama is destined for success.
Director: Phil Lord, Christopher Miller | 2h 36mins | Sci-Fi, Adventure, Comedy
High school teacher Ryland Grace awakens alone on a spaceship with no memory of how he got there or why. As fragments of his past slowly return, he realises he’s been sent on a critical mission to investigate a mysterious threat to the sun – and find a way to save humanity.
Your first instinct when watching Lord and Miller’s Project Hail Mary is how tonally similar it is to Andy Weir’s other novel adaptation, The Martian. Both harness an approachable and light tone when exploring their dense subjects. They are two films with otherworldly narratives, but they understand how to be deeply human and relatable. The levity that Project Hail Mary possesses is arguably the only reason it can’t be considered a masterpiece, but it’s also one of the biggest reasons it’s unmatched in its entertainment.
Despite the spectacle and undeniable entertainment value, this story is still a vehicle that demands the right star. Gosling channels his previous comedic roles – Grace feels like a Nickelodeon version of Holland March from The Nice Guys – and uses his signature dry humour and comedic timing to lead us through the film. It’s hard to picture anyone else in this role, particularly when Grace eventually has to interact with his new extraterrestrial friend, Rocky.
Rocky, a name given to him because of his molecular composition and Grace’s love of Balboa, is an alien sent to this part of the universe for the same reason as Grace. Their relationship is sweet, and although a cute sidekick is the cinematic equivalent of keys being jangled in your face, it’s the standout reason to connect with the film. Much like the directors, writer Drew Goddard is no stranger to creating pulpy entertainment, having directed Cabin in the Woods and written this film’s counterpart, The Martian. So it’s no surprise that he makes the interactions between Rocky and Grace so charming, which is reinforced by great voice work from James Ortiz.
The story is broken up nicely between space and flashbacks to Earth, where Grace was recruited by the phlegmatic Eva Stratt – played by Sandra Hüller in an expectedly strong performance – and taken away from his teaching job to join the “Hail Mary” project, aptly named after the American football pass as Earth’s last hope for survival. These scenes provide helpful context and also add an air of mystery as to why Grace is aboard the ship despite his reluctance. As fun as the space sequences are, they give a little reprieve when it all becomes somewhat claustrophobic.
The best way to describe Project Hail Mary is as the greatest science lesson you’ve ever had. It’s fun, endlessly engaging, and will stay with you for weeks to come – even if the lesson it’s trying to teach isn’t groundbreaking. It’s also a reminder of just how effective the cinematic experience can be, both as a blockbuster and as a spectacle, reminding you how important it is to experience creative and original filmmaking in the cinema.
After 2024 wrapped, our takeaway was that, despite some strong work from the independent scene, it felt like one of the more lacklustre years we’ve seen in recent memory. Not to say there weren’t some fantastic films – Anora, Flow and Nickel Boys come to mind – but it was in the depth of quality that 2024 fell short. Being the pessimists we are, we’ve been pleasantly surprised by the quality and diversity that emerged from 2025.
Major auteurs each took a turn giving their view on the state of the world – PTA, Ari Aster and Yorgos Lanthimos all had a crack at it in their own unique way. It was also a year where international markets proved how monumental they could be, with Ne Zha 2 topping the box office – highlighting just how powerful Chinese audiences are and that financial success doesn’t just live within US borders.
While major studios are still putting their faith in existing IPs, it’s been refreshing to see box office success for some original projects. Ryan Coogler’s Sinners and Zach Cregger’s Weapons were both successful purely because of their acclaim, and even Josh Safdie’s Marty Supreme cracked the $100m mark thanks to its star-driven marketing. While sequels, spinoffs and remakes still reign supreme, there have been a number of films that have captured the zeitgeist, giving us faith that originality is still a crucial part of contemporary cinema.
15. If I Had Legs I’d Kick You
Director: Mary Bronstein
We’ve seen a number of films from this year that are about parenthood and all its challenges – Lynne Ramsay’s Die My Love very nearly made this list – but none have quite captured the exhaustion like Mary Bronstein’s drama. A taut and uniquely shot tale of motherhood that explores the unforgiving nature of the role.
This will definitely hit different for a parent, whether they connect to this or not, but there are plenty of creative choices that can be appreciated by everybody. Even if we’ve seen films with similar themes, none of them approach it in the same way as Bronstein. With its invasive camera work and frantic screenplay, the film tries to physically exhaust you at times, and its balance of anxiety, humour and drama is perfectly performed by Rose Byrne.
There isn’t much left to be said about her performance that hasn’t already been mentioned, but her multiple award nominations and wins speak for themselves. As an actress who carved a path in television and comedies, she was overdue for a role that could really let her shine. Byrne is the anchor, but hopefully her recognition will give this film a bigger audience than it definitely deserves.
14. The Ice Tower
Director: Lucile Hadžihalilović
Lucile Hadžihalilović’s ethereal twist on a fairytale is one of the only films to truly surprise us from beginning to end. Its enchanting visual style will continually draw your eye – most of the film is set on a beautiful snowy soundstage – but at its centre is a story rich with character as it explores the volatile nature of idolisation.
Both Pacini and Cotillard are excellent in different ways – one a doe-eyed and naive teen and the other a powerhouse actress with guarded vulnerability – but the film’s ability to juxtapose their frailty is what makes their relationship so fascinating. It’s shown in anxiety-inducing reality and dreamy fantasy sequences which slowly blend together, creating a narrative that blurs the lines of what is tangible and what is just a twisted illusion.
13. Twinless
Director: James Sweeney
Despite being one of the most talked about films at Sundance, James Sweeney’s surprising and melancholic comedy didn’t quite get the same attention as films like Sorry, Baby or Train Dreams. But this lack of coverage might be its best asset. Going into this film under the impression that you’ll be watching a heartfelt, often funny indie film about connection through loss means you never expect the twist that is lingering at the centre.
But despite the surprise, the core of the film still remains. Making those connections with people, and processing your grief with the help of someone, is still prevalent. But with its twist, it also explores what it means to be isolated and alone in this world. Sweeney balances all of this with a razor-sharp sense of humour, creating characters that are loveable despite being so utterly floored and withdrawn.
Not only did Sweeney give himself a singular voice as a writer and director, Dylan O’Brien pulls double duty in a career-best performance. A dual performance is hard enough, but his role as grief-stricken twin Roman – wrestling with masculine insecurity and untamed feelings – is by far the strongest the actor has ever been.
12. Palestine 36
Director: Annemarie Jacir
In a year with immensely successful films about rebellion and resistance (see later down the list), Annemarie Jacir’s recounting of the revolt against British colonisation 90 years ago could easily be lost in the shuffle. Less flashy and star-studded than PTA’s contemporary fictional tale, it might be just as relevant as it was when it actually occurred almost a hundred years ago.
There are elements of the film that keep it from breaking the top ten: uneven editing in crucial sequences leads to less of an immediate impact, along with slightly stunted pacing, and some acting that leaves a bit to be desired. But once the credits are rolling, none of that matters nearly as much as the anger it swells up inside its audience. At its most successful, Palestine 36 doesn’t just make you want change, it demands it, using the pivotal events of the brutal occupation the British imposed and the efforts made by Palestinian people to repel control, turning them into all too familiar images.
Clearly, the film takes a singular viewpoint on the war, opening on the text “History did not begin on 7 October 2023,” and it does not lionise the people it’s portraying. It may be a complex situation, as many people say, but one side is committing genocide, the other is not, and that’s not so complicated.
11. The Secret Agent
Director: Kleber Mendonça Filho
It’s easy to see why audiences are comparing Kleber Mendonça Filho’s latest film to last year’s I’m Still Here – both explore the impact of Brazil’s military dictatorship during the 1970s – but The Secret Agent is unique because of its broader perspective and tonal singularity. This isn’t as focused, nor is it traditionally rhythmic as a narrative, but it captures a time and place perfectly, as well as the everyday challenge of existing in this time.
It’s less straightforward than being a simple tale of espionage; it jolts in tone and sways in structure to capture a culture begging to be freed. Long stretches of its runtime are dedicated to capturing the city of Recife, as well as the people closest to Armando (or Marcelo), and just how resilient and vibrant they can be in the face of tyranny. But when it’s time to buckle down and create moments of tension, Filho doesn’t hold back.
There isn’t a distinct genre or style to The Secret Agent, but its disinterest in finding one is exactly why the film is so brilliant. It’s bold, funny and tense whenever it chooses to be, and there is no apology given, or in fact needed.
10. Left-Handed Girl
Director: Shih-Ching Tsou
Shih-Ching Tsou’s observant drama is about three women, all of different generations, trying to survive in a culture built on archaic traditions and superstitions. Its heavy narrative swings are beautifully balanced with an innocence brought by the titular child character, I-Jing, who is trying to navigate life while her sister and mother are fighting for their collective existence.
Within that balance, writers Tsou and Baker, who often collaborate, capture both external and internal struggles in a personable way without ever compromising the thematic umbrella under which everything sits. Despite its big moments of melodrama, there are fantastic moments between the trio that speak volumes about their dynamic even when nothing is said.
There is an underappreciated complexity to everything that’s happening in Left-Handed Girl, but there is also a soft and approachable aspect that makes it so easily watchable.
9. Bugonia
Director: Yorgos Lanthimos
Along with a number of directors this year, Yorgos Lanthimos gives his two cents on the current state of the world in the only way he knows how – via a weird, satirical and unconventionally tense story. What has always set Lanthimos apart as a director, and why Bugonia succeeds, is that he’s able to find pockets of poignancy within the barbarity of his unique style.
Both Emma Stone and Jesse Plemons give excellent performances in the leading roles, particularly Plemons, who is perfect at capturing delusion. But as the film transitions into more heartfelt territory, he understands the gravity of what drove his character to do something so drastic.
Lanthimos has continued on his path of continual hits, proving that no matter how odd or unique his style is, he moulds it to fit any genre or tone – especially in a film like Bugonia that at its centre feels so unapologetically angry.
8. It Was Just An Accident
Director: Jafar Panahi
Very rarely do you see films with such conviction as Jafar Panahi’s Palme d’Or-winning film. It’s almost an insult to approach a review of this from a filmic standpoint, as its boldness and singularity make it one of the only films from 2025 to be described as brave.
One fateful incident on a highway sparks a chain of unpredictable and macabre sequences that force a group of people to face a past they’ve long tried to forget. Within these sequences, Panahi’s direction and writing are sublime – balancing dark comedy with a coldness towards the film’s intended target.
It’s a courageous statement about existing tyranny and how you face it. Even if we aren’t shown the violence that these characters are so eager to avenge, we understand thanks to Panahi’s honest direction. It’s genuinely shocking that he hasn’t received a nod for Best Director at this year’s Oscars, considering just how important his work here is.
7. Sorry, Baby
Director: Eva Victor
With her debut, Eva Victor achieved a tonal balance that feels nearly impossible to achieve. Drifting between devastation and humour with the flick of a switch, it’s earned because of such a genuine understanding of Agnes’ experience. It’s less about making light of a bad situation and more about how painful experiences slowly eat away at your fundamental persona, and how humour and resilience help to counter that.
It’s extremely delicate for a first-time director, and despite being so focused on the trauma itself – regularly diverting back to when it happens in its non-linear structure – Eva Victor brings an incredible amount of warmth to the film through her screenplay and central performance.
With an overwhelming amount of topics being challenged through film this year – a sad realisation in and of itself – Sorry, Baby’s quiet approach to dealing with sexual assault is one of the most stirring.
6. Marty Supreme
Director: Josh Safdie
Much like the Coens a few years ago, cinema saw the split of another great directing duo, with Benny and Josh Safdie both taking on solo projects in 2025. Benny’s The Smashing Machine was an interesting diversion from the high-octane anxiety their films usually have, but Josh’s pulsating search for greatness feels stripped straight from Safdie’s playbook.
Chalamet spearheads the chaos in a career-best performance as Marty Mauser, a young man with nauseating self-belief and a fixation on realising his dream – regardless of the cost. Much like Uncut Gems, we watch our main character leap from one bad decision to the next. Josh Safdie is no stranger to making protagonists inherently self-absorbed, but somehow he leaves just a shred of hope that one day Marty Mauser might redeem himself.
5. Sinners
Director: Ryan Coogler
Very few films have been spoken about as much as Ryan Coogler’s passionate, one-of-a-kind horror–music mashup. Distilling the very best aspects of its respective genres, Coogler laces his story with deep-rooted thematic importance while never losing his tremendous understanding of mainstream storytelling.
With the continual use of existing products to create success, Sinners reaffirms that originality isn’t dead. Coogler’s emphatic writing and directing, as well as the incredible score by Ludwig Göransson, prove that humanist storytelling and genre filmmaking don’t have to be two sides of the same coin – making its popularity one of the most important parts of 2025’s cinematic landscape.
Having spent a number of years working with major studios on franchise projects – relaunching Rocky Balboa with the Creed films and working with Disney on Black Panther – it is refreshing to see Coogler explore his own ideas and remind people just how important his voice is.
4. Hamnet
Director: Chloé Zhao
Adapting Maggie O’Farrell’s dense novel is no easy task, but director Chloé Zhao feels like the perfect filmmaker for it. Her delicate attention to characters as they journey through trauma seems fitting for a story so deeply linked to grief and how different people process it.
The visual weight Zhao and Łukasz Żal put behind their shots makes the English countryside a thing of beauty, adapting the novel’s descriptive qualities whilst also capturing the intrinsic connection Agnes has to it. Jessie Buckley also gives the best performance of the year as Agnes, acting every emotion and inflection as if it’s being pulled from the deepest parts of the human soul – a performance that will be remembered for years to come.
It’s easy to see Hamnet as a divisive film. It wears its emotional gravity on its sleeve – a quality that can often feel like awards bait – but Zhao approaches it with a sensibility that means its big moments are earned, particularly the heart-wrenching ending.
3. One Battle After Another
Director: Paul Thomas Anderson
Paul Thomas Anderson’s latest film is a reminder of just how singular the director is – a storyteller like no other, whose creativity as a writer and director is unmatched with every film he creates. One Battle After Another is his most energetic and aggressive film to date: a call to arms that is whimsical, high-octane and poignant all at once. Anderson isn’t the only director who wants to challenge the current world we live in, but his approach feels like one of the more unique to come from the year.
The pulpy elements that make this film so absurd are in the characters. Bob, played by Leonardo DiCaprio – an ageing revolutionary donning thick sunglasses and a dressing gown – is just one of many that feel almost comic-book-like in their bizarreness. But somehow, despite its satire teetering on farcical, One Battle After Another remains firmly planted in today’s world.
The question of whether this is the best work Anderson has ever done is up for debate, but its quality can’t be denied and it is easily another roaring success for a director who very rarely misses.
2. Sentimental Value
Director: Joachim Trier
In 2021 Trier and Reinsve delivered one of the best films of the year with The Worst Person in the World, and since then fans have held their breath waiting for their next collaboration. Sentimental Value is equally challenging and sharp as a humanist drama, but takes on generational trauma in piercing fashion.
Often when films include filmmaking it’s easy to lean into a certain glorification of art, but here it’s used as a cause for family disconnect while also being a crucial part of its characters’ communication. It’s a delicate balance that is captured beautifully on screen, and in Trier’s writing, topped off by each actor in the film working at their zenith.
Where the more stirring films from this year have approached their emotional fragility effusively, Trier is particular in how his characters show theirs. It’s restrained, often frustrating, but in doing so earns its emotional payoff and then some.
1. Train Dreams
Director: Clint Bentley
Like Hamnet and Sentimental Value, Clint Bentley’s understated drama challenges the darkness and hardest experiences humans go through during their lives. But what makes it a rarity is the life-affirming feeling you get despite its gut-wrenching story. We’ve already mentioned humanist storytelling as a driving force for 2025, but making you genuinely reflect on and celebrate the moments of your own life makes Train Dreams completely singular – despite its vastly different setting.
Set during a period of constant industrial and social change, Robert Grainier’s place in this evolving world is beautifully captured as he suffers the greatest loss anyone can feel, igniting thoughts of how stagnant grief can truly make you feel. Its beautiful backdrop is captured perfectly, and bringing it all together in such a celebratory way shows just how controlled and balanced Clint Bentley’s direction really is.
Spike reluctantly travels across the country with Jimmy Crystal and his demonic followers, while Dr. Kelson discovers a fascinating new friendship that could have world-changing ramifications.
Last year, with their re-entry into the world they created back in 2002, Boyle and Garland proved that the franchise had legs. Although it felt like a safe introduction to a new trilogy, the story planted thematic seeds to explore, allowing Bone Temple to flourish as a richer and more fascinating sequel.
Nia DaCosta takes the reins for the follow-up, along with Garland writing the screenplay. DaCosta, whose experience with big budgets and genre films that often require delicacy in their themes, is the perfect director for this. While the first film felt more about the balance of living vs. surviving in this new dystopia, Bone Temple’s reflection on faith and healing feels much more attuned to DaCosta’s steady hand.
The story is split in two parts: Spike, after venturing out on his own, unfortunately falls prey to a satanic cult of Jimmy Savile lookalikes led by Jack O’Connell’s Sir Lord Jimmy Crystal – forced to be a follower and cause chaos in what’s left of the U.K. Meanwhile, Ralph Fiennes reprises his role as Dr. Kelson, who strikes up a unique friendship with an ‘Alpha’ called Samson. For a lot of the film, you are waiting for these stories to collide, but the balance between the two – one focused on ultraviolence and the other on companionship – is why this sequel is elevated, and it’s exactly why the film needed a director able to balance conflicting tones and bring harmony to them.
The clear and distinct evolution in visual style has carried over from the film’s first entry into the trilogy – a franchise that once paved the way for low-res, high-intensity horror films now looks slicker while maintaining the core of its original style. Bone Temple takes a slightly different approach, capturing a beauty within its desolation while also adding an ethereal quality that’s perfectly realised in the film’s final scenes.
Once Jimmy Crystal and the other Jimmys finally reach Dr. Kelson at The Bone Temple – a set that is just as jaw-dropping as it was in the first film – what ensues is a gloriously chaotic set-piece, well shot in an otherworldly style and perfectly anchored by Ralph Fiennes. His performance across the two films has been one of the trilogy’s standout elements, but in this film he seems to be having a particularly good time.
Jack O’Connell is also clearly enjoying himself as the satanist cult leader, Jimmy Crystal. Early last year, he surprised audiences with a strong turn in Ryan Coogler’s Sinners, evoking the same sadistic charm, but here he is really relishing every moment on screen. Arguably the only gripe to have is that the inclusion of such bold characters and fun performances means that Spike – who channelled much of the character focus in the first film – doesn’t quite take centre stage in the story.
Entering the new year, you’d expect a slew of mediocre releases in the midst of awards season. But Bone Temple is a welcome change of pace. It feels broader, yet also more thematically focused than the first, and the balance of styles and tones is handled with poise by Nia DaCosta at the helm.
Director: Joe Carnahan | 1h 53mins | Action, Thriller
A team of Miami narcotics officers start to question everything and everyone when they find millions in cash.
For nearly 30 years, Matt Damon and Ben Affleck have been Hollywood’s favourite besties, both carving paths of immense success together and individually. With vast careers, though, and multiple different projects between them, it’s easy to forget that their on-screen chemistry is just as believable and valuable as it is off-screen. The Rip, directed by Joe Carnahan, takes their friendship and seemingly turns them from bros to foes.
Damon’s Lt. Dane Dumars and Affleck’s Sgt. JD Byrne are just two members of a narcotics squad working in Miami whose captain has recently been murdered. While being investigated by the feds (one of whom is JD’s brother), Dumars takes the team on a last-minute run to a potential cartel safe house. There, they discover millions of dollars in cash, which quickly escalates the situation, causing the team to question the loyalty of their colleagues, particularly Dumars, and brace for an impending attack from whoever wants the money.
It’s quite impressive to continually keep your audience on their toes nowadays, but for a January-released Netflix original – which history tells us will most likely be lacklustre – The Rip surprisingly succeeds at this until its final shootout. While the action is nothing special, the film is at its best when Damon and Affleck are at each other’s throats and the tension is bubbling between everyone. This is Carnahan’s speciality: creating pulpy thrillers that are solid in their humour and story beats, more so than giving us memorable action sequences.
Joining ‘Mattfleck’ is a number of strong supporting actors who have to do a lot with very little character work. The screenplay, also written by Carnahan, is so focused on twists and turns that side characters often take a back seat. Teyana Taylor feels particularly wasted here, but that might be because her role in One Battle After Another has shot her into the stratosphere – and at the time of filming this, she wasn’t nearly as big a name as she might be now.
The Rip may not achieve everything it’s going for – it’s also a little too long, which seems to be a problem plaguing contemporary cinema – but it certainly delivers on its thrilling promise, and seeing Damon and Affleck have fun as a duo once again should be reason enough to watch it.
Woody, a young boy heading to an appointment for his father, wanders from the waiting room and embarks on a quiet but transformative journey through the hospital.
Exploring a radical change in childhood has been a mainstay in cinema for sometime, whether it’s the fantastical tale of Pan’s Labyrinth or the harsh reality Stand by Me, stories on the cusp of adolescence always try to capture the last few moments before youth becomes adulthood.
Writer/Director Karl Deehan finds a way to blend all of the above in The Waiting Room. Something more akin to Sean Baker’s The Florida Project, Deehan’s newest film explores the loss of innocence in a lyrical, meditative story of a young boy literally leaving the safety of his parents comfort zone, and finds the truths that come with growing up.
We interviewed Deehan about his film, which is currently making it’s festival run and will be available on streaming shortly after.
What inspired you to tell the story of The Waiting Room – where did the idea begin for you? Karl Deehan: It started with a memory from when I was five or six. My dad would take me to visit my grandad in the hospital, but I wasn’t allowed in because I was “too young,” so I’d sit outside imagining what I wasn’t seeing. I felt protected, but also strangely excluded. I didn’t know what was happening behind those doors, but I could sense its weight, or at least imagine it. The film grew from wanting to explore that unseen emotional space, the version of me left in the corridor, trying to make sense of that world.
It explores childhood, vulnerability, and loss of innocence – how did that shape the film’s quiet, observational structure? KD: Childhood, for me, was quiet and observational, seeing things for the first time, noticing things that adults tend to overlook or have become overly used to seeing. As a child, everything feels bigger because it’s new. That led naturally to a more observational structure. I didn’t want to impose adult logic or pacing. The stillness felt true to how children process new information.
The film has a very measured, grounded tone. What drew you to that style, and how did you approach creating tension without relying on major plot mechanics? KD: I wanted the audience to experience the day as Woody does, through moments rather than exposition. Tension comes from the set up of the idea, naturally we fear for a child wandering off on their own. That innocence can bring them into situations beyond their control. I wanted the audience to feel the unease that Woody may experience something he’s not ready for.
To expand on that, the silence and sparse dialogue create a meditative atmosphere – did this start in the writing stage, and how did you carry that intention through on set? KD: It began in the script, with minimal dialogue. On set, I let shots run longer than necessary to give us room to experiment. But it was really in the edit that the film found its rhythm. Holding moments slightly longer gave the silence weight and made it intentional. Watching Yi Yi (2000) around that time definitely influenced my approach too. I liked how it gave the space for moments to breathe. As an audience member that space gives you time to think and meditate.
Rory Wilmot (Woody) gives a wonderfully naturalistic and nuanced performance. How did you navigate directing a young actor? KD: I never wanted to over direct him. I found while working with Rory that kids are at their best when they’re reacting honestly. We mostly avoided rehearsal and kept the number of takes low. His best work always came early, when nothing felt overthought. We built trust first, and he actually started bringing his own ideas, which only helped the character. He understood the emotions in a way that felt instinctive.
How did you help him balance innocence with awareness? KD: I would talk Rory through the scenes in a way a child might understand them, and he seemed to grasp the ideas through his own reading of the script. He responded naturally to what was happening in front of him. I drew a lot from Hirokazu Koreeda, especially Nobody Knows (2004). He trusts the inner world of children by showing them and then what they’re looking at. I tried to do the same, letting Rory experience moments rather than perform them, so the audience could interpret his thoughts without being told.
A striking moment in the film is the audience expecting danger from thecaretaker, only for the impact to come elsewhere. Why was that emotional misdirection important to the story you wanted to tell? KD: I wanted to create an atmosphere that felt off, that something could go wrong, that Woody was out of his depth and might experience something he shouldn’t. In the end it’s not from this interaction but later with the dying man. I think when the real emotional impact comes elsewhere, it lands harder.
This film relies heavily on blocking, framing, and slow-building tension. What were thebiggest challenges for you technically as a director? KD: I think the biggest challenge was balancing a quiet, observational style with keeping the audience engaged. I was trying to use the camera to follow the characters and their movements in a way that felt natural, without ever calling attention to itself. I wanted it to feel invisible, yet still carry the tension and emotion of each moment.
Alongside directing and writing, you co-edited the film. How did the edit shape your understanding of tone and pacing? KD: Editing definitely taught me restraint. There were quite a few moments that worked on paper which hurt the overall feeling of the film, so we cut them. Taking them out revealed the right tone for the film, and pacing became about letting moments breathe rather than filling space.
Is there a personal connection for you in The Waiting Room? KD: Yeah for sure. Woody isn’t literally me, but I suppose his perspective is. Noticing things you can’t name yet, that emotional lens is very personal. And the theme of lost innocence is something we all experience as children and continue to navigate as adults.
Were you thinking about broader ideas of fear, innocence, or how children internaliseadult problems? KD: Yeah I think so, kids notice things that adults sometimes don’t, without really understanding what they mean. I think that’s where their innocence starts to change, in those quiet, unnoticed moments rather than big, dramatic events.
The real, everyday environments seem to reflect the naturalistic and grounded tones we spoke about earlier. Why did you choose these over stylised sets? KD: I think real locations bring an authenticity that can’t be replicated. Hospitals have a liminal, slightly eerie energy you can’t really fake. I wanted those details so I could place Rory and the rest of the cast in reality. It was also very much a budgetary constraint, I wouldn’t have been able to recreate any of these locations. The pre-existing lighting also helped massively too.
How did making The Waiting Room influence the kinds of stories you want to tell next, and what are you bringing from this to your next project? KD: It made me realise I’m drawn to quiet turning points, internal shifts rather than big external events. I’m interested in character driven stories, letting the world unfold through a single perspective.
In Massachusetts during the 1970s, a carpenter plans a heist of four paintings by Arthur Dove. After the heist doesn’t go as planned, his life begins to unravel.
Reichardt’s take on the heist genre is full of irony. Its slow, meditative style goes against everything the genre has become synonymous with, and its title, The Mastermind, serves as a calculated jab at its main character’s abilities as an art thief. That irony – and the fact that the heist is complete within the first 40 minutes – will undoubtedly cause a rift in audience reactions.
Less about the heist itself, this is a film about the consequences James “JB” Mooney must face when his plans backfire and inevitably change the course of his family’s life. It’s also a character study: how can a man who seemingly has everything he needs to live comfortably feel the need to do something so drastic? Reichardt painstakingly shows us this process through long, methodical shots of JB’s post-heist downfall as he travels from city to city on the run, reaping what he’s sown – and leaving behind friends and family in the process.
In one scene, JB transports the stolen Arthur Dove paintings to a secluded barn where he hides them, carrying them up a ladder two at a time and eventually kicking the ladder from beneath him. It’s a painful few minutes that end in slapstick, highlighting the cruel but essential sense of humor Reichardt brings to the central character.
Josh O’Connor continues his string of great performances as JB. His ordinary yet slightly charming approach to the character is perfect for the focused character work Reichardt demands from her script. He is particularly good at inhabiting an unearned exhaustion in his everyday life, despite his wife taking the brunt of the childcare and work, subtly showing us that JB is in need of excitement or change, but still never really understanding why.
Much like in her previous work, Reichardt captures a deeply personal side to her characters and invites you to be as invasive as possible. In JB’s case, we spend long stretches with him in random lodgings across the U.S. as he contemplates his next moves. More importantly, Reichardt lifts each scene with the bustling noises of the surrounding world. In First Cow, there was a hypnotic focus on the natural world and the ever-growing nation — but here, that focus shifts to a turbulent 1970s America and the rising protests against the Vietnam War.
If there’s one downside to The Mastermind, it’s that it encourages you to make connections between the backdrop and the story being told, but those connections feel slightly redundant. Other than some ironic character work – in which JB turns his nose up at the idea of “draft dodgers” despite being on the run for theft – and a key part in the film’s climax, there’s no real reason for the setting. Still, it’s all shot wonderfully, capturing the political climate of the time with an unrelenting presence.
For all its wonderful subtlety, The Mastermind is definitely an acquired taste. Everything you love about Kelly Reichardt’s films is here, but the tonal differences and genre expectations may throw audiences off. If you settle into the cozy and skewed world the director presents, though, you’ll get much more out of it than most films of the same genre.
Director: Wes Anderson | 1h 42mins | Comedy, Adventure
With his life in danger from a series of assassination attempts, European businessman Zsa-Zsa Korda appoints his estranged daughter Liesl as the sole heir to his fortune.
Anderson’s signature visual style—with its vibrant pastels and eccentric symmetry—has gradually become more defined with each film. Fans of the auteur remain loyal, but in recent years there’s been a growing fear that Anderson may be drifting toward self-parody. The French Dispatch was a visual feast with very little substance, and Asteroid City, while rich in character exploration, didn’t quite resonate with audiences due to its multilayered storytelling. The Phoenician Scheme strikes a crucial balance between the two, blending cartoonish humour with a touching story about what truly matters in life.
After surviving his sixth assassination attempt, Korda reevaluates his legacy and decides that, despite having nine sons who live across the street, he wants his daughter to inherit his massive wealth. To do so, she must accompany him on a globe-trotting journey to secure funding for his next scheme, all while learning about his business practices. The contrast between Liesl’s compassion as a practicing nun and Korda’s sly, cutthroat ethics drives much of the film’s humour and emotional core. It’s the standout aspect of Anderson’s screenplay, which examines how we measure success—and how relationships and family should outweigh material comfort.
While the film’s emotional core is touching, the surface-level story is harder to crack. In episodic fashion, true to Anderson’s chapter-driven style, Korda meets with various investors to negotiate his plan. These meetings typically end in surreal contests or physical altercations, but it’s often unclear what exactly is being discussed. There’s an intentional absurdity here—suggesting the irrelevance of Korda’s latest venture—but the execution often feels unbalanced. He meets a prince, a sea captain, a sketchy nightclub owner named Monsieur Bob, and even his cousin Hilda, but the scenes are carried more by Anderson’s visual flair and the star-studded cast than by narrative cohesion.
Benicio Del Toro plays Korda with an unearned swagger that is pitch-perfect, and Mia Threapleton gives a similarly strong performance as Liesl. Along their journey, they cross paths with Tom Hanks, Bryan Cranston, Riz Ahmed, Mathieu Amalric, Scarlett Johansson, and Benedict Cumberbatch as the nefarious Uncle Nubar (possibly Liesl’s biological father). And that’s not to mention a slew of other major star cameos. Anderson’s distinct auteurism continues to attract top-tier talent, and it’s clear he values collaboration and loyalty among his cast.
Everyone seems to be enjoying themselves, and that fun translates to the audience—especially in the case of Michael Cera. He plays Bjorn, a Norwegian tutor assigned to Korda’s family, and there’s a strong argument that Cera is the actor best suited to Anderson’s world (perhaps only rivaled by Jason Schwartzman). He’s funny, awkward, and quietly charming—all qualities The Phoenician Scheme aims to embody.
However, the strong performances can feel like a distraction from the film’s convoluted plot. The most compelling moments are Korda’s surreal visions of bargaining his way into Heaven. These scenes—though brief and heavy with cameos—act as intriguing breaks in the story. They aren’t especially nuanced, but they feel more character-driven and emotionally grounded compared to the rest of the film’s more extravagant set pieces.
When Wes Anderson is at his best, his storytelling balance complements his animated visual style. The Phoenician Scheme contains many of the qualities Anderson is celebrated for—vibrant colour palettes, dry humour, precise framing—but what it lacks are characters who feel truly lived-in. From the Tenenbaums to M. Gustave, Anderson’s most memorable characters possess depth beneath their quirky surfaces. In this film, the characters feel more like accessories to a visual spectacle. Still, there are poignant moments, and despite the world attempting for replicate his style across social media, Anderson remains a filmmaker of singular vision.
Directors: Zach Lipovsky, Adam B. Stein | 1h 50mins | Horror
Suffering from a recurring nightmare, Stefani heads home from college to track down a distant relative in the hopes she can help. When she learns the truth, her family must prepare for the impending doom that awaits them.
The Final Destination films were a staple of 2000s horror, quenching audiences’ thirst for gratuitous violence with a never-ending cycle of death and absurdity. Although the films have never reached the heights of other horror franchises, they remain wildly popular due to their playful and darkly comedic approach to character deaths. The last installment, released in 2011, is arguably the most underrated of the series—but by that point, it looked like Death was circling the franchise itself. With Final Destination Bloodlines, directors Zach Lipovsky and Adam Stein use generational trauma to elevate the tired concept in a self-aware fashion.
The 1960s-set opening thrusts you straight back into familiar territory as Iris, newly pregnant and with her boyfriend, has a catastrophic premonition in which all the occupants of the recently opened “Skyview Tower” meet a grisly end. She stops it, of course, but as an older Iris proclaims, “If you screw with Death’s plans, things can get very messy.” It falls to her granddaughter Stefani—now in Death’s crosshairs—as well as her extended family. Somewhere in here is a story about parenthood, how our actions deeply affect our children, and how trauma can travel down the family tree until it begins to rot.
However, the film isn’t particularly interested in exploring this—and that’s probably for the best. The tongue-in-cheek style is more concerned with audience experience, and the themes rightly take a back seat. In Final Destination 2, there’s a scene where one of the victims illogically stumbles around his flat, setting up potential death traps until he’s unexpectedly killed by a fire escape ladder. The film spends nearly 20 minutes on this scene, teasing and taunting the viewer to make their own predictions. Bloodlines adheres to the same principles, making it one of the most interactive viewing experiences you’ll have all year.
In my recent review, I praised Death of a Unicorn for its return to goofy horror. Bloodlines deserves the same recognition—not for taking big thematic swings or leaning heavily on modern horror pastiche, but for embracing the best parts of the franchise and freeing itself from tonal boundaries. That said, this approach leads to some of the most ridiculous scenes you’ll ever watch. In one, Stefani and a few family members go to a hospital in search of answers, and her two cousins hatch a plan to trick Death, only to come face-to-face with an MRI machine. These scenes work because of the franchise’s nature, but the narrative suffers as a result.
Jumping from death to death, with only a weak storyline to connect them, gives the film an episodic feel—like progressing through levels in a video game where the objective is to die in the most elaborate way possible. It doesn’t necessarily detract from the fun, but when Stefani info-dumps about lineage and safety between accidents, it’s hard not to disengage until the next creative death sequence begins.
The episodic nature of the film is simply a consequence of giving fans exactly what they want from a Final Destination reboot. There’s an argument to be made that not enough reboots or remakes truly understand their audience. Yes, the fate of every character is obvious—but in this franchise, it’s always been about the journey, not the destination.
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