#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-

 

#196. Singin' in the Rain (1952)

 

Prior Viewings: 3-4

 

I usually feel a slight sense of trepidation when it comes to tackling the more popular and acclaimed movies, but not so much here. And I think that's because Singin' in the Rain is so pleasant and likeable and beautiful and entertaining that the positives basically speak for themselves.

 

Like, where to start? The gorgeous Technicolor? The catchy songs? The athletic choreography? The breathtaking pastel sets? The funny dialogue? The sharp industry satire? It's all so marvelously composed and effortlessly executed (despite the fact that these numbers are clearly exhausting) that you can't help but smile through the entire thing.

 

And unlike a lot of musicals from the time (or any time), there's not a single dull moment throughout. The title sequence, "Make 'Em Laugh", and "Good Morning" are all rightfully immortalized, but then you've also got the lovely "You Were Meant for Me", the energetic "Moses Supposes", and the show-stopping "Broadway Melody", as well as a fun showbiz plot and a cute romance in between all the winning numbers. It's about as joyous and perfect as Old Hollywood gets.

 

Case in point: the movie has appeared on pretty much every significant film list there is (including a top ten placement from both the American Film Institute and Sight & Sound), and you almost never hear any objections.

 

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

#194. Bon Voyage! (1962)

 

 

Over the last few weeks, I'd been toying with the idea of watching every single live-action Disney movie (of which there are currently over 300), much in the same way that I'm planning on seeing their entire animated catalogue. But while the latter still seems like a reasonable challenge to me, wading my way through Bon Voyage! has almost single-handedly killed my interest in the former.

 

Like, did this seriously pass as children's entertainment back in the '60s? Was the landscape really so barren for kids at the time that they were willing to endure 130 minutes of empty hijinks and forced family values? 'Cause I truly can't imagine a single person, young or old, watching this movie for the first time today and not being at least somewhat bored. It's aimless, it's tedious, it's overlong, it's full of frustrating conflicts, and it's tepid at best on a comedy level.

 

Granted, the travelogue element is pretty pleasant, and I guess I should give Fred MacMurray credit for trying to liven the material up a bit (even if his performance isn't all that funny or dynamic), but I found nearly everything else to be a chore. And I can't say that it's left me especially eager to get to The Shaggy Dog or The Absent-Minded Professor any time soon.

 

Grade: C

 

#193. The Golem: How He Came Into the World (1920)

 

 

A.K.A. Der Golem, wie er in die Welt kam

 

Apparently, this was actually the third in a trilogy of Golem movies made by Paul Wegener, but the reason I'm covering it first (and last) is because the other two have unfortunately been lost to time.

 

On the bright side, How He Came Into the World is a prequel, so its story is pretty comprehensive. It's also, as you might expect, rather basic (though I give it credit for beating nearly every Frankenstein adaptation to the punch), but the structure is sturdy enough, the pace is steady enough, the emotions are compelling enough, and the horror elements are effective enough that I was mostly captivated by what was going on. Plus, the fact that this 1920 movie is both German and rooted in Jewish heritage/mysticism gives it a cultural significance that bumps the overall resonance up a few notches.

 

Helps, too, that the whole thing looks as good as it does. Like, even if the style isn't particularly original (it's basically just Dr. Caligari with a touch of Georges Méliès), that Expressionist combination of striking imagery, unusual angles, heavy makeup, and insane architecture is guaranteed to bewitch me no matter how many times I see it.

 

Grade: A-

#192. Let's Scare Jessica to Death (1971)

 

 

Bit of a misleading title here. You'd think it would imply either a tongue-in-cheek tone or some kind of narrative about an evil and elaborate plot against someone, but it really isn't either of those things. Instead, this is mostly one of those slow, grimy, downbeat psychological horror movies that were quite common in the '70s, albeit with a few noteworthy characteristics that help to set it apart.

 

The biggest is obviously Zohra Lampert. It can't be easy to convincingly pull off a character that's losing the ability to distinguish reality from fantasy, but she nails this complex and vulnerable role by staying as present and grounded as possible. It's a great performance, and it overshadows the other actors to such a degree that you quickly feel alone with her and her fragile mental state, which gives everything that much more legitimacy and gravity.

 

Beyond that, the atmosphere is adequately macabre (with visuals that give off a slight Italian horror vibe), the setting is beautiful and haunting, and the post-hippie seediness of it all really adds to the sense of dread. So even if the movie's ultimately a bit cheap, silly, and sedate, those murky moods and internal scares work well enough that I can understand why its cult legacy is continuing to grow.

 

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+