#249. Mank (2020)

 

 

Something like Mank should've been a slam dunk for me. Even when you put aside my being a fan of David Fincher (and, to a lesser extent, Gary Oldman), I'm fond of Citizen Kane, I usually like movies about movies, and I'm always interested to learn more about Hollywood in the '30s and '40s. But while I wouldn't call this one a misfire, I can't say it left much of an impression, either. 

 

Well, certain elements kinda did. The script has its share of interesting exchanges (though the snippy dialogue quickly wears out its welcome), the actors largely elevate the material, and while Fincher's direction doesn't exactly evoke the era, the visuals still pop. But I guess my problem is that, beneath this technical stuff, the movie just seemed kind of empty to me. I didn't find any of the characters or conflicts super compelling, and I was never all that curious to see where the story was headed.

 

Worst of all is the structuring. I mean, I get why it's here: the nonlinear storytelling is obviously a nod to Kane. But Orson and/or Herman employed this technique to develop their characters and cloud the central mystery, whereas the usage of it here really only serves to create that much more of an emotional disconnect. The result may not be Fincher's worst movie, but it's almost certainly his least noteworthy one.

 

Grade: B-

 

#203. Sinners (2025)

 

Hey, I actually managed to crank out all ten nominees in time. Kinda came down to the wire there, but still.

 

Anyway, I intentionally saved Sinners for last because it appears to be right up there with One Battle After Another as one of the front-runners for taking home the prize. I personally preferred the latter by a fairly decent margin, but I can certainly still see the broad appeal here. This thing's dripping with sex, style, tension, and atmosphere, and it does a great job of laying a compelling and character-heavy foundation before pulling the rug out from under you.

 

That's not to say that I think the movie's flawless, though. I wasn't blown away by the action and horror elements, the structuring gets extremely messy at times (particularly in the last twenty minutes, which are rushed and disorganized in a way that I didn't care for), and the metaphors are so on-the-nose that they're practically similes. But I'm sure these complaints are largely a product of the hype; after all, they're relatively minor compared to the powerful imagery, charismatic characters, electrifying music, and amusing combination of genres.

 

Plus, that one-take scene where we see all the different musical eras of multiple cultures through one song is the kind of ambitious creativity that can turn a pretty good movie into an instant classic.

 

Grade: A-

 

P.S. And now, my ranking of the nominees:

 

10. Hamnet

9. Train Dreams

8. F1

7. Frankenstein

6. Sinners

5. The Secret Agent

4. Bugonia

3. Sentimental Value

2. Marty Supreme

1. One Battle After Another

 

Honestly, though, this is a really strong group from top to bottom. I don't think there's a single entrant that's not at least somewhat worthy of recognition.

#201. Bugonia (2025)

 

 

Ah yes, another totally normal movie from Yorgos Lanthimos.

 

Bugonia is a nasty little satire, one that scrutinizes some of latter-day humanity's darkest flaws - corporate greed, conspiracy poisoning, the class divide, confirmation bias, exploited vulnerability, etc. - and features two opposing yet similarly insufferable protagonists (played to disquieting perfection by Emma Stone and Jesse Plemons) to make a strong case for the extinction of our species. Fun stuff, right?

 

Actually, yeah, it is pretty fun, and that's because Lanthimos continues to be such a strange and creative storyteller. He has this way of combining black humour, unsettling tension, and mean-spirited horror in a way that's both refreshing and unpredictable, and the result here is one of those situations where you constantly find yourself laughing in spite of (or, in many cases, because of) all the heinous shit going on.

 

It's a wild ride, and while I'm not totally convinced that it sticks the landing (those last ten minutes are either gonna make or break the entire thing on a rewatch), this journey is so maddening, bonkers, and one-of-a-kind that I also wonder if it's possible for any conclusion to feel out of place.

 

Grade: A-

 

#199. Train Dreams (2025)

 

 

I think what I like most about Train Dreams is that it knows how to convey the beauty and tactility of its environment. You can practically feel the crunching of the leaves, the chirping of the birds, the breeze in the air, and the chopping of the trees, and it's all captured via breathtaking shots, pristine compositions, and poignant imagery.

 

Sure, a lot of these visuals look like something you'd see in a maudlin commercial for soap or deodorant, and, yeah, they're in service of a simple, meditative story that only occasionally comes to life, but they also help to quietly anchor the themes of loneliness and grief, which makes our protagonist's arc that much more impactful (even if a lot of the structural beats are pretty familiar), and ultimately gives the movie its depth and resonance.

 

Granted, it doesn't always make for especially dynamic viewing, and I'll admit that I found the middle chunk a bit dry and draggy at times (plus, despite Will Patton having the perfect voice for this material, I wasn't always especially crazy about the heavy use of voice-over narration), so it's likely gonna land closer to the bottom of my Best Picture ranking, but the tranquil locations, delicate emotions, and contemplative exchanges still make it a worthy and rewarding watch in my eyes.

Grade: B+

 

#197. Frankenstein (2025)

 

I'm starting to worry that Guillermo del Toro might be on something of a Tim Burton trajectory (though not nearly as severe) in that he's continuing to pick projects that feel a bit... obvious? Expected? Like, you hear "Guillermo del Toro's Frankenstein", and the images you picture in your mind aren't far off from the real thing.

 

Fortunately, unlike Burton, del Toro hasn't gotten noticeably lazy yet, so this movie's about as striking, gorgeous, and tangible as anything else he's made (even if the visuals are occasionally marred by dark lighting, unconvincing CGI, and excessively slick digital cinematography). And while he sometimes takes a few bizarre and frustratingly literal liberties with the source material, his perpetual enthusiasm ensures that the tones, textures, and emotions are appropriately operatic.

 

Plus, I love his sense of scale. We can discuss whether the world needed another Frankenstein movie in 2025, but the fact that this version has such a consistent vision, while also being more ambitious and over-the-top than any of the prior adaptations I've seen (even the Branagh one), not only justifies its existence in my eyes, but it gives the experience a certain maximalist conclusivity. Whoever tries to tackle Mary Shelley's story next will have a difficult bar to clear as far as ambition is concerned.

 

Grade: A-

 

#195. Hamnet (2025)

 

 

This is the first nominee of 2025 that I didn't quite take to, but it still has enough obvious positives that the nod makes sense to me. Like, even when you put aside the fact that the subject matter and tone fall right in line with what the Academy's always looking for, the meticulous staging is visually appealing, the atmosphere has an eeriness about it (especially in those quiet woodland scenes) that elevates the drama, and the vague approach gives the potentially tired premise some necessary rejuvenation. 

 

And yet, there's something slightly distant and detached about the movie that mostly left me cold. I don't know if that's due to the bland colour palette, the odd structuring, the underbaked character dynamics, the strained performances (Jessie Buckley and Paul Mescal are clearly giving this thing their all, but it gets a bit showy at times), or just the general lack of vitality, but I didn't find the majority of the plot developments all that moving.

 

Fortunately, the third act play started to bring things back around for me. Sure, it's a pretty forced and corny conclusion, but it's also the first time that I felt fully invested in both the story and the characters. Honestly, if the whole movie leaned into that kind of emotional shamelessness, I might've connected with it more, especially with the non-dramatic elements generally being as sturdy and potent as they are. 

 

Grade: B

#191. Marty Supreme (2025)

 

 

Very few filmmakers give me more hope for the future than Josh Safdie does (sorry, Benny). Between the casting, the camerawork, the music, the humour, and the manic, unyielding energy, I find everything about his style exhilarating. And while I'm sure there will eventually come a day when I set the bar too high for him to clear, that day isn't today.

 

Goddamn, what an spectacular ride. From the sperm opening to the moving ending (both of which are punctuated by sublime needle drops), I adored every second of this movie. It's heartfelt, it's explosive, it's extremely sweaty, and it somehow finds a way to function as both a sports story and a Safdie-esque comedy of errors. Plus, it blends its 1952 setting with an '80s aesthetic and a modern-day mindset in a manner that feels harmonious and fresh. It's all so dazzling that even the presence of Kevin O'Leary couldn't ruin it for me.

 

When I watched One Battle After Another a few months ago, I was pretty sure that nothing else from 2025 would top it. That may still be the case, but the throne's finally got some competition now (I'll rank the ten nominees when I get through all of them, so check back then). And if I do end up giving this one the edge, it'll probably be due to its passion and power, and because it's the year's only movie, at least as far as I'm aware, that contains a shootout between Abel Ferrara and Penn Jillette.

 

Grade: A+

 

#187. F1 (2025)

 

 

The surprise Best Picture nominee of the year, F1 probably isn't going to blow too many people away on a story level. It's basically your typical "Older guy plays by his own rules and shows the youngsters how it's done" narrative, with cookie cutter arcs and spelled-out dialogue. But the execution's ultimately strong enough that none of this really impaired my enjoyment all that much.

 

For example, the races are immaculate. They're exciting and suspenseful, and you always know what's going on (possibly to a fault; the announcer exposition felt a little condescending at times). And everything around them is mostly well-plotted and solidly structured, even if a few of the detours don't go anywhere or add a whole lot. Plus, with names like Pitt, Condon, and Bardem in the cast, adjectives like "cool" and "charismatic" are pretty much a given. 

 

So, yes, the movie's formulaic, to the point where Joseph Kosinski essentially just remade Top Gun: Maverick with cars instead of planes. But I'm certainly not immune to a superficial crowd-pleaser, and this one kept me invested and enthralled enough that I can't pretend to have any issue with the nomination.

 

Grade: A-

 

#183. The Secret Agent (2025)

 

 

The main talking point with this one seems to be its length/pacing/sluggishness. I'll admit that two hours and forty minutes is a trying amount of time to spend on a movie that only intermittently springs to life, especially when much of the meandering feels so shapeless (though the kinetic camerawork, snappy editing, and lively performances help to keep the energy up), but I think I otherwise liked the slow burn. It gave the setting some immersion, the thrills some tension, and the structure a chance to unfold in bizarre and unexpected ways, especially in the third act.

 

There's also a good balance of personal drama and paranoid thriller here (with some cartoonish surrealism thrown in for good measure), which usually kept me invested in the conflicts and characters, gripped by the plot developments, and on edge whenever we did get some action. So even if I don't think the overall movie's quite as consistent or memorable as the two other Best Picture contenders I've watched thus far, the positives regarding scale, rhythm, tone, and political commentary (the bulk of which probably went right over my head) still make it entirely deserving of the nomination in my opinion.

 

Grade: A-

 

#179. Sentimenal Value (2025)

 

 

A.K.A. Affeksjonsverdi. Cool word.

 

Every other year, I make an effort to watch all the Best Picture nominees before Oscar night. I wasn't initially planning on doing that this time, but then I thought that it might make for a fun little assignment within this larger project. So I've decided to go for it.

 

And I'm glad that I did. Sentimental Value is a melodrama that easily lives up to its wistful and evocative title; the kind where you see it and immediately understand why every actor involved got a nomination (Renate Reinsve and Stellan Skarsgård are both as powerful as advertised, but I think Inga Ibsdotter Lilleaas is the true scene-stealer here; every time she showed up on screen, I felt like I was looking directly into her soul), not just because their deliveries are so emotional and resonant, but also because of how much is expressed non-verbally. You can always see the pain and sadness in these character's eyes, and it's consistently heartbreaking.

 

But the movie's strengths don't just lie in its performances. Joachim Trier's direction is delicate and understated, the editing cleverly punctuates the drama by cutting to black after every segment, and I think the house is just a great symbol of this family's histories and traumas. It's all very affecting and personal stuff, with undercurrents of humour and catharsis that keep things from getting too grim or overbearing.

 

Grade: A

 

P.S. What do we think Gustav's gonna get Erik for his next birthday? My money's on Salò, or the 120 Days of Sodom.

#172. Sing Sing (2023)

 

 

The best prison dramas tend to be the most humanizing ones. The ones where we examine tragic figures and lost causes through trauma, systemic oppression, corruption, vulnerability, support, and, hopefully, rehabilitation, not only to make these characters endearing and relatable, but also to serve as a reminder that liberation can be found even in the ugliest of settings. "Bars cannot contain the soul" kinda stuff.

 

And that's why a movie like Sing Sing works: it uses a minimal plot and a grounded technical approach (tight framing, natural lighting, long takes) to allow this theme to take center stage. And it's such a tender and heartwarming theme, carried out in such a raw and original way, that I really can't ask for more. I just enjoy seeing these hardened convicts experience some catharsis via creative expression for a little while. That kind of emotional power is infectious.

 

Also, while we're on the topic of simplicity and naturalism, the casting is a stroke of genius. I knew next-to-nothing about the background of this movie, so I was genuinely taken aback when the credits started rolling, revealing that almost every supporting actor was actually playing themselves. Just a beautiful little full-circle moment.

 

Grade: A

 

#160. Weapons (2025)

 

 

The guy who once walked around with a gallon of PCP turned out to be a great horror filmmaker. Who knew?

 

Actually, if you're at all familiar with comedy and horror, it makes a lot of sense. The two have a much bigger Venn diagram overlap than you might initially think (heightened emotions, anticipatory expectations, an element of surprise, etc.), and Zach "Now You Fucked Up" Cregger cleverly intertwines them to tell an electric, creative, and often hilarious tale of grief and paranoia.

 

I obviously love the tone of this one, but I'm also big on the way it uses different perspectives to slowly reveal itself. It makes for a more effective mystery, it paints a clearer and fuller picture of this suburb, and it allows for some amusing and conflicting interactions (plus, I'm just a fan of this kind of kaleidoscopic storytelling in general; it's big and messy in a way that appeals to me). The whole thing builds pretty flawlessly, and eventually pays off with a dark, emotional, and worthwhile climax.

 

As much as I enjoyed Barbarian, I think this one's a step up in almost every way, to the point that, for the first time in my life, I'm actually a little curious about a Resident Evil movie. 

 

Grade: A

 

#148. LaRoy, Texas (2023)

 

 

Something I'm starting to learn about myself: I kinda like ripoffs, or at least the ones that understand their influences well enough to effectively replicate them.

 

LaRoy, Texas is, in pretty much every regard, a poor man's Coen Brothers movie. The similarities are simply unmistakable. I challenge you to watch it and not constantly be reminded of Fargo, The Big Lebowski, and No Country for Old Men. But here's the thing: the Coen Brothers are possibly my all-time favourite filmmakers, and they aren't making anything like this anymore (or anything at all, if we're discussing them as a duo), so I'll take this kind of movie any way I can get it. 

 

And, honestly, judging it on its own merits, I think it works really well. Sure, it's not exactly on the level of those three Coen comparables, but it still has a compelling and riveting story, a fun collection of characters and performances (Steve Zahn, as you may have guessed, is the runaway standout; oh, how I've missed that guy), a fitting sense of humour, and a strong understanding of pacing and mood. Plus, there's a palpable air of melancholy throughout, which lends enough weight and significance that the movie ultimately feels like far more than just a pale imitation to me.

 

Grade: A-

 

#136. Civil War (2024)

 

 

Any movie with "sensory overload" as its default setting is one that will probably appeal to me, and Civil War is no different. This whole experience is anxiety-inducing, from the vivid imagery to the intense sound design to the general sense of panic and uncertainty throughout. And I like that this feeling only intensifies as we travel deeper and deeper into this nightmarish hellscape.

 

As for the political stuff, I can see why it divided audiences, but I was mostly okay with it. Like, sure, there's not a ton of depth or even commentary here (with results that feel slightly hollow in hindsight), but I appreciate the fact that the movie doesn't make many definitive statements. It's less preachy that way, and I think it fits with the ethics (or lack thereof) of these photojournalist characters.

 

There were a few aspects that didn't really work for me (the murky visual style isn't to my taste, a few of the plot developments struck me as dumb and contrived, and I think the story loses something once we reach D.C.), but, on the whole, I found this to be a riveting, eerie, and mournful little dystopian thriller.

 

Grade: B+

#116. Smile (2022)

 

 

We're all aware that Smile is an extremely derivative movie (it's basically just the detective story from The Ring mixed with the tone and creature from It Follows), but I honestly don't mind that. Even putting aside my weakness for this brand of modern high-concept horror, the mood is pretty consistent, and Parker Finn's direction kept me on edge, so I'm willing to overlook some unoriginality.

 

Where I'm not quite as forgiving, though, is in the frustrating lack of energy and personality. The story often has a bit of a "going through the motions" vibe, to the point where you can tell that it's being adapted from a short, and the grey presentation makes the whole experience a lot blander and more forgettable than it needs to be. Like, I can understand that this is all supposed to be an allegory for trauma and regret (which is a trend that could really use some shaking up), but would it kill you to throw in a little flavour or style every once in a while? 

 

Ah well. I still found the movie pretty engrossing overall, enough so that I'm probably gonna check the sequel out at some point. I just hope that one leans a little harder on the inherent silliness of this subject matter. 

 

Grade: B

#108. Candyman (2021)

 

 

As horror remakes go, this one's got some pretty solid direction. Between the striking camerawork, the moody score, and the dark undertones, Nia DaCosta establishes some wonderful atmosphere, right down to one of the better opening credits sequences I've seen in a while. But the movie starts to lose me a little when it comes to the writing, which somehow manages to be both confusing and over-explained. 

 

On the one hand, the social commentary is heavy-handed and the dialogue is often far too on-the-nose (though I guess that's Jordan Peele for you). But then, on the other, I'm just not seeing much of a narrative throughline here, especially in the back half. It's a lot of hazy character motivations and random plot developments, making the whole thing feel a lot more muddled than it really ought to be. And the rushed third act certainly doesn't help.

 

Still, on an individual basis, most of these scenes are pretty gripping, and the use of angles and sound are incredible at times. I just wish they were in service of a script that relied less on theme and more on actual scares (you know, like the original).

 

Grade: B-

 

P.S. If this is how you're going to use Tony Todd, you're better off not using him at all.

 

#97. The Whale (2022)

 

 

People seem to have turned on this one a bit since its release, and I can definitely see why. The tone is bleak to the point of being overbearing, the central themes are messy and overwritten, the score frequently undercuts the mood, the dim visuals are ugly as hell, and the prosthetics aren't very believable. There's just not a lot of nuance here, and the overall presentation can be hard to take seriously at times.

 

But, despite all that, I'd be lying if I said that I wasn't roped in by the melodrama. It's possible that the material just hit home for me because I, too, struggle with an eating disorder, but I also really liked the performances (we all know how great Fraser is here, but Hong Chau and Sadie Sink are equally compelling), and, even though none of these supporting characters are particularly likeable, there was still something about their miserable dynamic that I found strangely endearing.

 

Even the murky lighting and smaller aspect ratio started working for me after a while. They're not especially cinematic choices, but they do represent Charlie's emotional state quite well, and really reflect how trapped he is, both physically and psychologically. And while the light pouring into the room at the end might've been an obvious move, I still thought it was a powerful visual moment to go out on. 

 

Grade: B

 

#83. I Care a Lot (2020)

 

I'm tempted to say that I hated this movie, but I think a more accurate statement would be that I didn't understand it, particularly from a rooting interest standpoint.

 

Like, was I actually supposed to care about any of these characters? Because it sure seems like that was the intention (there are too many sincere moments for any of this to work as satire), and, if it was, then I guess I'm just not seeing the appeal here. Marla and her partner are irredeemable in a way that I didn't find even remotely compelling or fun to watch, and the Russian mafia guys are so incompetent that their frequent failures genuinely started to irritate me after a while. I promise I'm not one of those people who needs to love and relate to every character in order to enjoy a story, but I'd sure like to feel something other than seething contempt every now and then, especially when the plot relies so heavily on conveniently botched hits.

 

And even when we put aside the character stuff, I found the comedic elements tired and unfunny, the crime elements dumb and unconvincing, and the attempts at female empowerment laughably misguided. This one might've stood an outside chance if Dianne Wiest was the lead (establishing some relatable stakes and giving the feminist message far more resonance), or if it leaned more heavily on the absurdity of it all. But, as it stands, I honestly think the whole thing's a confused, miserable, aggravating wash.

 

Grade: D+

#71. Trap (2024)

 

 

Ever since the mid-2000s, when his credibility somersaulted off a cliff, M. Night Shyamalan has settled into something of a B-movie career. Credit to him for knowing his lane, and for remaining an auteur in the meantime, but I feel like this course-correction has resulted in some people giving him way too much slack in the effort department.

 

Trap has the usual Shyamalan trappings (no pun intended) of alien performances and dialogue that makes you question whether the man has ever had a normal conversation in his entire life, but we like those qualities. They're what make him Shyamalan. What I don't like is how lazy his writing has gotten. This script feels like a first draft, switching from one protagonist to the next seemingly at random, and ultimately playing out as though he had no idea where any of it actually leads. Plus, all the police stuff is downright idiotic.

 

Unlike the worst that this director has to offer, though, the movie's not gratingly smug or self-serious. The first half is actually pretty funny, and funny in a way that feels a lot more intentional than, say, The Happening. I think a lot of that has to do with Hartnett's performance. The more this guy tries to be on-the-level, the more he comes off like a serial killer. 

 

Grade: B-

 

#69. The French Dispatch (2021)

 

A.K.A. The French Dispatch of the Liberty, Kansas Evening Sun 

 

You always know a Wes Anderson movie when you see one. And while you could certainly argue that his quirky and artificial visual palette has grown slightly stale over the years, and that he never really branches out or challenges himself, I at least appreciate that the man has a unique voice and a trademark style. It's what allows me to get sucked into his worlds, even when I'm not particularly interested in what they have to say. 

 

Such is the case with The French Dispatch (I'm not typing out that entire title again). After Isle of Dogs, it's perhaps the least invested I've ever been in any of his narratives, and the writing here is so verbose relative to what's actually being said that Anderson's verging even closer to self-important territory, yet I still found myself being taken by the framing, the casting, the amusing subtitles, and the sparing use of colour. Once again, that goddamn aesthetic won me over.

 

The anthology structuring is also pretty cute. It makes for a slightly uneven result (the first story tickled me, the second one very much didn't, and the third fell somewhere in between), and doesn't leave much room for emotional involvement, but I think it fits Anderson's dollhouse vibe remarkably well.

 

Grade: B+