The line "the hole I dig is bottomless, but nothing else can set me free" from the Guided By Voices song "I Am a Scientist" is a pretty accurate description of my music and film obsessions. Once you make your way through the surface layer of your own personal taste, the established canons, and whatever is happening in the present, the party is just getting started. There is an inexhaustible supply of interesting shit in this world (all the more remarkable considering how the good stuff and the so-bad-it's-good stuff are massively outnumbered by mountains of garbage, how the vast majority of the population doesn't even make any art, and how the systems and institutions controlling society keep most of it away from you unless you actively seek it out), and the more you learn and watch and listen to (and make), the more you learn about how much more there is to learn. It never ends, and I love it. Relatedly, something else I love is the close proximity of my home to the Austin Film Society, where I get to see so many great movies from the entirety of film history on a big screen, like God and Satan intended. I also love how many people in their teens, twenties, and thirties are in the theater with me at most of these screenings. It gives me a little hope that the theatrical experience will survive in this rotten century. AFS is the only good thing happening in Texas right now (OK, this is not true, but it's emotionally true), a nightmare state that, if it weren't for so many cool, sexy people like me and my wife living there, should probably have a nuke dropped on it. Here are my favorite revival screenings I got to see on the big screen in 2025. Again, certain omissions may or may not be value judgments and most likely have something to do with my work schedule, personal life, and/or how many times I've already seen the movie. For example, I had to miss an entire series of '70s and early '80s Canadian exploitation movies because of my work schedule and a few personal obligations even though that's right in my damn wheelhouse. Infuriating.
Favorites
The Annihilation of Fish (Charles Burnett, 1999)
On paper, this film's plot sounds like a recipe for forced-quirk disaster. It's the story of a Jamaican immigrant in Los Angeles who literally has wrestling matches with a demon he hallucinates. He falls in love with an alcoholic, mentally ill woman who thinks she's in a romantic relationship with the ghost of Puccini. They live in a Hollywood boarding house run by a widowed Southern belle obsessed with the correct spelling of her name and watering a weed in her garden. No, don't run away. Come back. This ain't the nightmare you're envisioning. The three actors playing these characters, respectively, are James Earl Jones, Lynn Redgrave, and Margot Kidder, and they deliver intensely physical, vanity-free, committed performances that transform these ridiculously overwritten walking affectations into living, breathing human beings. Even better, the director is Charles Burnett (Killer of Sheep, My Brother's Wedding, To Sleep with Anger, The Glass Shield, and many amazing short films), one of the greatest filmmakers this country has ever produced, who presents this material so earnestly and empathetically and with the same physicality as his actors that most of it works beautifully. I'm also a fan of the texturally rich color palette he uses here. It can't entirely escape the movie-quirk of its screenplay (I wish Burnett had written it), but it comes pretty damn close. I especially love the matter-of-fact way James Earl Jones delivers my favorite line in the movie. Asked when he first started seeing the demon, he says it appeared at a particularly low point in his life when he was grieving, unemployed, and struggling to find work and a purpose: "My wife was dead. My friends were dead or had joined a bowling league."
A Better Tomorrow (John Woo, 1986)
Holy donuts is this ever beautiful on a big screen. I watched it 26 years ago on VHS, and this was quite an upgrade. It feels like the quintessential Hong Kong action movie in the same way Leone's For a Few Dollars More feels like the quintessential spaghetti western (I'm not the first or even the 200th person to compare Woo to Leone and Chow Yun-Fat to Clint Eastwood). Every image and performance and action sequence feels iconic in such an unforced, confident, relaxed way. Woo's Hong Kong movies have such a musical flow (with the exception of one I'll write about later in this post). I also love how this movie gives you some of the most brutal action sequences ever alongside scenes where two adult men tickle each other in a police station hallway.
A Chinese Ghost Story III (Tony Ching Siu-Tung, 1991)
The first Chinese Ghost Story is an intoxicating, furiously paced blend of horror, romance, slapstick comedy, fantasy, and martial arts action, and this third installment is almost as potent a dose of pure entertainment. Though it lacks the genre-flipping mixtape feel of the kid-friendly second film, it's a bit more focused and adult (though still plenty silly), with more perversity, sexiness, and splatter. Leslie Cheung is not in this one (boo!) but Tony Leung takes his place in the lead role (whoo!).
Claudine (John Berry, 1974)
Claudine is such a warm, funny love story while also being one of the best mainstream American movies about class, institutional racism, and poverty. This country grinds into dust so many wonderful people forced to spend all their energy keeping themselves and their families alive. This movie never softens or sentimentalizes that fact, but it also never turns into a voyeuristic display of black American misery. The joy, the humor, the life force is all here, too. I love the scene of Claudine's sons on their bikes winding through the city after leaving their claustrophobic apartment, and the scene where Claudine (Diahann Carroll) and Roop (James Earl Jones) sit in Roop's convertible after their first date as the night slowly turns into day. The chemistry between Carroll and Jones is off the charts. The way they look at each other is one of the great pleasures of the movies. (James Earl Jones is one of my repertory screening MVPs this year.)
Four Nights of a Dreamer (Robert Bresson, 1971)
This is going to sound snotty as hell and possibly a little silly, but I'm being earnest. Robert Bresson (Au Hasard Balthazar, Pickpocket, A Man Escaped, Mouchette, L'Argent, just to name a few) is my choice for the purest and most undiluted filmmaker who ever lived, in the sense that film is an expressive visual medium and is not an extension of literature or theater (though it can be influenced by both). Bresson is not a storyteller (I hate when directors refer to themselves this way); he's a filmmaker. For decades, this has been one of the most difficult of his movies to find in the United States for complicated distribution rights reasons, but a new restoration has finally changed that. Loosely adapted from Dostoevsky's short story "White Nights," Four Nights of a Dreamer sees Bresson applying his formal rigor to the melancholic, seductive magic of the city at night and the uneasy commingling of the dreamed life and the lived one. Even when Bresson shoots something so atypical for him (the musical interludes that function almost like a Greek chorus, the gun battle in a movie two of the characters watch in a theater), it still looks like Bresson. No other filmmaker pays so much rewarding attention to hands.
Hard Boiled (John Woo, 1992)
Somehow, I had never seen this before despite my brother regularly watching John Woo movies when we shared an apartment in the late '90s. I'm so glad my first time was on the big screen with a massively enthused packed crowd. This has everything I want from a John Woo movie and then some and may be his finest two hours. Some of the best exploding squibs and baby acting I've ever seen in the same damn movie.
Highway Hypnosis (Ken Camp, 1984)
I'm strongly drawn to films that capture an almost hallucinatory isolation, absence, or void, and, so often, the work that does this best is '70s and '80s underground and experimental films and exploitation horror movies with arty aspirations. Such disparate favorites of mine as Landscape Suicide, Hollywood 90028, The Velvet Vampire, Trances: Rider on a Dead Horse, Fata Morgana, Messiah of Evil, Lemora: A Child's Tale of the Supernatural, and Jean Rollin's '70s movies (his horror movies, not his porn films) all share this quality, and so does Highway Hypnosis, an understandably but unjustly obscure slice of video art from Ken Camp, an underground filmmaker associated with the early '80s gay punk scene in Los Angeles. It's a trance-inducing, meditative, rhythmic, and unsettling shot-on-video experimental road movie about a gay serial killer picking up men and then stabbing them to death, but, except for a few disturbing jolts of violence, the travel to and from the murders is where Camp places his emphasis. There are many hypnotic shots of highways from moving vehicles (too many if you're the easily bored type, just enough if you're not), and Camp is a master editor, always finding surprising juxtapositions and connections. (I love the way he films Las Vegas.) There's a haunting sense of loss and isolation throughout, and I can't stop thinking about the final scene with the main character and a child and its connection to what preceded it.
I Married a Witch (René Clair, 1942)
This is such a seamless blend of the classic Hollywood romantic comedy and Clair's French surrealism, with the most expressive use of smoke pre-David Lynch. It's one of those movies that feels classic and modern at the same time.
Ladies and Gentlemen, the Fabulous Stains (Lou Adler, 1982)
This is a pretty complex movie that wears its contradictions well, and even its flaws don't hurt it too much. It manages to pull off being a heightened satire of manufactured fame, media manipulation and consumption, fan culture, rock culture, the touring life, and the generation/culture gaps between '70s longhaired rock dinosaurs, '80s punks, and even younger '80s punks while also being a character study of one young woman, a finely detailed slice of life of an entire community, and a refreshingly serious and honest look at sexism, classism, big teenage feelings, and the melancholic and bitter kick of time passing and eras ending. It does some things better than others and probably tries to do too much, but so many movies now don't try to do anything. Diane Lane was a great choice for the lead character, and she holds all the threads together. All her performance choices here are so smart, correct, and natural. If you didn't believe her, the whole movie would fall apart. Bruce Surtees' cinematography is the movie's secret weapon, giving the Pennsylvania coal country, rock club, tour bus, arcade, TV studio, and backstage dressing room settings a similarly expansive yet claustrophobic simmering-emotions-ready-to-burst feel as the run of Elia Kazan films from East of Eden to Splendor in the Grass.
Ladies They Talk About (Howard Bretherton & William Keighley, 1933)
A pre-Code Barbara Stanwyck women-in-prison movie? Hell yeah, brother, I'll take a dozen. This bitter delight is a showcase for full-power Stanwyck. The opening closeup of her talking on the phone is proof enough by itself how much the big screen loves her. The supporting cast is phenomenal, too, except for that milquetoast dweeb Preston Foster.
Pee-wee's Big Adventure (Tim Burton, 1985)
I finally got to see Pee-wee's Big Adventure on the big screen in 2025, but I've seen it dozens of times on VHS and DVD and streaming since that first mid-'80s home video viewing blew my elementary school mind and made me a road movie fan for life. (I was already deep into my lifelong Pee-wee fandom from seeing his 1981 HBO special The Pee-wee Herman Show at my aunt and uncle's house. The more adult-themed jokes in that one sailed right over my young head until I rewatched it years later.) No matter where I'm at in my life, my enthusiasm for this movie remains undimmed. I remember feeling simultaneous confusion and elation on that first watch at the widening possibilities of what a movie could be ("Are Pee-wee and Francis adults or children?" "Did Large Marge really just do that?") and the incredible excitement of seeing something I'd been waiting for all my life (though there hadn't been that much of it yet) without knowing I'd been waiting for it. Paul Reubens was synthesizing so many different influences from both mainstream showbiz and underground culture, and I innately understood that synthesis as a kid without consciously understanding it. I was seeing my present and future internal world. Pee-wee's Big Adventure is endlessly rewatchable for me, and I don't think any other movie has given me as much pleasure, joy, and comfort. It's my Wizard of Oz.
Puzzle of a Downfall Child (Jerry Schatzberg, 1970)
Until pop culture fragmented into separate but formally identical like-and-subscribe shards in the last couple decades, years with zeroes on the end gave us fascinatingly self-conscious movies where the join between the recently exhausted decade and the fresh naive one was clearly visible. Puzzle of a Downfall Child is one of the most compelling of the '60s-becoming-'70s zero-year movies, and far less dated than you'd expect for a New Hollywood film heavily influenced by the European New Waves and set in the world of high fashion thanks to Faye Dunaway's complex, virtuosic, raw-as-hell performance (she was so good before she got too high on her own supply), photographer-turned-filmmaker Jerry Schatzberg's eye for images, and the tricky and empathetic screenplay by Carole Eastman under her favorite pen name Adrien Joyce (she also wrote Bob Rafelson's Five Easy Pieces and Monte Hellman's The Shooting). I don't know why I, a dude from a very small town in the Midwest who had a relatively well-adjusted but character-building childhood and a conventionally miserable but not too traumatic adolescence (all the disasters in my life happened in adulthood), connect so intensely with movies about women and teenage girls coming apart at the seams, but I just do. Mabel Longhetti, Cebe, Laura Palmer, Millie Lammoreaux, and Lou Andreas Sand, I feel you. My life could not be more different than a '60s/'70s New York model, but I felt like I innately understood this character's contradictorily desperate need for connection and attention in spite of/because of her penchant for being a society-avoiding loner-hermit.
Remember My Name (Alan Rudolph, 1978)
A haunted house movie where the haunted houses are people. Remember My Name is a truly original film that transforms its influences (classic '30s and '40s noir and melodrama and the work of Rudolph's mentor Robert Altman) into strange new shapes. It's a slippery, disturbing, funny, honest, and uncategorizable movie, with an all-timer performance from Geraldine Chaplin. When she gets the right part and has a director who understands what she can do, she's one of the most mesmerizing humans to appear on a movie screen.
The Wages of Fear (Henri-Georges Clouzot, 1953)
As a big fan of both Clouzot and Sorcerer, William Friedkin's 1977 remake of The Wages of Fear, I'm not sure what took me so long to get around to the original, but I'm glad I waited until I could see it on a big screen. I can't even fathom how a human being could make this movie. It looks like it sprang from the bowels of the earth fully formed. The white-knuckle hell-ride portion of the film is justly celebrated, but the purgatory of the first third is an equally incredible piece of filmmaking. The final scene is a bit silly compared to everything that preceded it, but it gave me a defeated little laugh.
Honorable mentions
A Better Tomorrow II (John Woo, 1987)
I mentioned earlier that John Woo's films have a musical flow. This one does not. The result of director Woo and producer Tsui Hark (a major director in his own right) seriously butting heads and fighting for control, the second film in the trilogy is choppy, inelegant, and not very graceful, but it's also way more deranged. It almost feels like an avant-garde experimental re-edit of an action film, though I'm also a fan of Letterboxd reviewer Timcop's take on it as a lost John Waters movie because of the characters' hysterics and gross-out eating habits. Sure, it's probably the weakest of Woo's Hong Kong films, but it's a truly nutty experience and contains one of the most hilarious line deliveries I've been fortunate enough to experience in a theater. In the New York City portion of the film, a dubbed English-speaking character says something about fried rice that had the entire theater howling for a solid minute. If you get a chance to experience that moment with a crowd, jump on it.
A Chinese Ghost Story II (Tony Ching Siu-Tung, 1990)
This doesn't have the punch or novelty of the first film and is tamer and less perverse than the third, but the near-constant genre-hopping is amplified, especially in the first twenty minutes, which jump from Leone-meets-Kurosawa western to prison drama to prison break thriller to slapstick comedy to horror to martial arts action to magic-based fantasy. Just when I was getting used to the abrupt shifts, Leslie Cheung broke into a musical number.
The Friends (Shinji Sōmai, 1994)
The aggressively sentimental final third (yes, butterflies are used as a metaphor) made me like this less than the other Sōmai films I've seen, but there are way too many stunningly composed images, narrative eccentricities, and wildly creative approaches to camera movement for me to write it off, and it really captures the feeling of being a kid in the summer.
Sheila Levine Is Dead and Living in New York (Sidney J. Furie, 1975)
I have a lot of affection for messy movies that don't quite work as a whole but have a handful of great scenes or performances, and I'm a Jeannie Berlin fan (also a huge fan of her mother Elaine May), so I found this one more endearing than irritating. Sidney J. Furie is an odd fit for this material, but his widescreen compositions look fabulous on a big screen. I wish the movie had included more of Berlin's Sheila Levine living her life and being her kooky self in New York and Pennsylvania (love the scenes at her New York workplace, a sort of disorganized Brill Building for children's music) instead of putting so much emphasis on her romantic pursuit of Roy Scheider's unworthy doctor character, though her initial one-night stand with him and his surprise appearance at her apartment for a blind date with her roommate are both great scenes. A mock-disco song composed by the usually brilliant Michel Legrand whose lyrics consist solely of "love me, oh love me, oh baby won't you love me" plays in half the damn scenes in the movie and will drive you insane, thought it also leads to the biggest laugh when Sheila turns on her car radio while back home in Pennsylvania only to get blasted with the song again. One of the strongest things about this movie is the tension between the characters' conservative striving for marriage and family as the ultimate goal and how miserable it makes all of them.
Shock Video (Ken Camp, 1985)
As a young weirdo indifferent to sports (okay, I intensely hated all sports except for the one true sport of professional wrestling) growing up in the small-town Midwest between the late '70s and the early '90s and cobbling together whatever scraps of counterculture and the American underbelly I could find (the seedier pro wrestling magazines with the ads for apartment wrestling in the back, cheap slasher and sexploitation movies rented on VHS at convenience stores, punk rock cassettes dubbed from a friend's older siblings' dubs, Tales from the Darkside, the cult '70s movies the Denver station showed most nights, USA Up All Night with Gilbert Gottfried and Rhonda Shear (sadly, she's MAGA now), whatever true crime I could find when it was considered a perverse hobby and not a multimillion dollar industry, Ministry videos, Geraldo interviewing Manson, the trashiest and weirdest daytime talk show episodes, porn mags found in the woods (the legends are true, people of the digital age)), I see this short piece of video art as a nostalgic throwback to simpler times rather than a deliberately offensive shock to the senses, but I love the way Ken Camp edits it all together.
Taste the Blood of Dracula (Peter Sasdy, 1970)
I loved seeing this Hammer horror film in 35mm. Ralph Bates is simultaneously a balls-to-every-wall delight (that man could chew some scenery like nobody's business) and a too-brief presence. I wanted more Bates, even though his absence makes Christopher Lee's appearance possible. Dracula was surprisingly easy to vanquish in this one, but I had a good time getting there.
Well, that wraps up 2025. I hope my enemies have a horrible 2026 and the rest of us get everything we desire. For all you completists out there, here is the master list of every single movie I watched in 2025 aka an exact measurement of my mental illness. See you next year, chummmmmmmps.
Movies watched/rewatched this year
4 Months, 3 Weeks and 2 Days (Cristian Mungiu, 2007)
The 4th Man (Paul Verhoeven, 1983)
12 Years a Slave (Steve McQueen, 2013)
65 (Scott Beck and Bryan Woods, 2023)
Abiding Nowhere (Tsai Ming-liang, 2024)
Abigail (Matt Bettinelli-Olpin and Tyler Gillett, 2024)
Across the Water (Bernard Shakey aka Neil Young, 1976/2024)
Adieu Philippine (Jacques Rozier, 1962) (rewatch)
Afternoons of Solitude (Albert Serra, 2024)
Alien: Covenant (Ridley Scott, 2017)
Alien: Romulus (Fede Alvarez, 2024)
Alison’s Birthday (Ian Coughlan, 1981)
All We Imagine As Light (Payal Kapadia, 2024)
The Angry Black Girl and Her Monster (Bomani J. Story, 2023)
The Annihilation of Fish (Charles Burnett, 1999)
Another Dawn (Julio Bracho, 1943)
Another Man, Another Chance (Claude Lelouch, 1977)
At Berkeley (Frederick Wiseman, 2013)
Aurora (Cristi Puiu, 2010)
The Autobiography of Nicolae Ceausescu (Andrei Ujica, 2010)
Baby Invasion (Harmony Korine, 2024)
Badlands (Terrence Malick, 1973) (rewatch)
Bad Moon (Eric Red, 1996) (rewatch)
Bad Things (Stewart Thorndike, 2023)
Barrier (Jerzy Skolimowski, 1966)
The Beaches of Agnes (Agnes Varda, 2008)
Before I Hang (Nick Grinde, 1940)
A Better Tomorrow (John Woo, 1986) (rewatch)
A Better Tomorrow II (John Woo, 1987)
Beyond the Hills (Cristian Mungiu, 2012)
The Bird with the Crystal Plumage (Dario Argento, 1970)
(rewatch)
Birth/Rebirth (Laura Moss, 2023)
The Black Cat (Albert S. Rogell, 1941)
The Blackening (Tim Story, 2022)
Black Friday (Arthur Lubin, 1940)
Blackout (Larry Fessenden, 2023)
The Bling Ring (Sofia Coppola, 2013)
Blood and Black Lace (Mario Bava, 1964) (rewatch)
Blood and Wine (Bob Rafelson, 1996)
Blue Moon (Richard Linklater, 2025)
Blue Thunder (John Badham, 1983)
The Bride Wore Black (Francois Truffaut, 1968) (rewatch)
Broadway Danny Rose (Woody Allen, 1984)
Brooklyn 45 (Ted Geoghegan, 2023)
Buffalo Bill and the Indians, or Sitting Bull’s History
Lesson (Robert Altman, 1976) (rewatch)
Bye Bye Braverman (Sidney Lumet, 1968)
By the Stream (Hong Sang-soo, 2024)
Can’t Buy Me Love (Steve Rash, 1987)
Caught by the Tides (Jia Zhangke, 2024)
Celia (Ann Turner, 1989) (rewatch)
A Chinese Ghost Story II (Tony Ching Siu-Tung, 1990)
A Chinese Ghost Story III (Tony Ching Siu-Tung, 1991)
A Chorus Line (Richard Attenborough, 1985)
The Church (Michele Soavi, 1989) (rewatch)
The City of the Dead (John Llewellyn Moxey, 1960) (rewatch)
Claudine (John Berry, 1974)
Cloud (Kiyoshi Kurosawa, 2024)
Clown in a Cornfield (Eli Craig, 2025)
Cobweb (Samuel Bodin, 2023)
The Congress (Ari Folman, 2013)
Coraline (Henry Selick, 2009)
Crepusculo (Julio Bracho, 1945)
Crocodile (Sompote Sands and Lee Won-se, 1979)
Curtains (Richard Ciupka, 1983) (rewatch)
Dark Match (Lowell Dean, 2024)
Deathstalker (James Sbardellati, 1983) (rewatch)
Deathstalker II: Duel of the Titans (Jim Wynorski, 1987)
Deathstalker and the Warriors from Hell (Alfonso Corona,
1988)
Deathtrap (Sidney Lumet, 1982)
Death Warmed Up (David Blyth, 1984)
Death Wish II (Michael Winner, 1982)
Death Wish 3 (Michael Winner, 1985) (rewatch)
Death Wish 4: The Crackdown (J. Lee Thompson, 1987)
Deep Red (Dario Argento, 1975) (rewatch)
Deep Space (Fred Olen Ray, 1988)
DeepStar Six (Sean S. Cunningham, 1989)
Demented (Arthur Jeffreys, 1980)
The Demon Lover (Donald G. Jackson & Jerry Younkins,
1977)
Demon Lover Diary (Joel DeMott, 1980)
Demon Queen (Donald Farmer, 1987)
Demons (Lamberto Bava, 1985) (rewatch)
Demons 2 (Lamberto Bava, 1986) (rewatch)
The Demons (Jess Franco, 1973)
Demonstone (Andrew Prowse, 1990)
The Departed (Martin Scorsese, 2006) (rewatch)
Desperate Living (John Waters, 1977) (rewatch)
The Devil Bat (Jean Yarbrough, 1940)
The Devil’s Eye (Ingmar Bergman, 1960)
DEVO (Chris Smith, 2024)
Diary of a Shinjuku Thief (Nagisa Oshima, 1969)
Die My Love (Lynne Ramsay, 2025)
Dog Soldiers (Neil Marshall, 2002)
Dracula (Radu Jude, 2025)
Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde (Victor Fleming, 1941)
The Dreaming (Mario Andreacchio, 1988)
Earth vs. the Spider (Bert I. Gordon, 1958)
Echoes from a Sombre Empire (Werner Herzog, 1990)
The Emperor (George Lucas, 1967)
L’enfance nue (Maurice Pialat, 1968)
Escape from L.A. (John Carpenter, 1996)
Fallen Champ: The Untold Story of Mike Tyson (Barbara
Kopple, 1993)
Final Destination (James Wong, 2000)
Final Destination 2 (David R. Ellis, 2003)
Final Destination 3 (James Wong, 2006)
The Final Destination aka Final Destination 4 (David R.
Ellis, 2009)
Final Destination 5 (Steven Quale, 2011)
The Final Terror (Andrew Davis, 1983)
Flesh + Blood (Paul Verhoeven, 1985)
Fool for Love (Robert Altman, 1985)
Footnote (Joseph Cedar, 2011)
Four Nights of a Dreamer (Robert Bresson, 1971)
Frankenstein (Guillermo del Toro, 2025)
Freddy vs. Jason (Ronny Yu, 2003)
The Friends (Shinji Somai, 1994)
Friendship (Andrew DeYoung, 2024)
Le Garcu (Maurice Pialat, 1995)
Gebo and the Shadow (Manoel de Oliveira, 2012)
The Ghost Breakers (George Marshall, 1940)
The Girlfriend Experience (Steven Soderbergh, 2009)
Godless: The Eastfield Exorcism (Nick Kozakis, 2023)
Grand Tour (Miguel Gomes, 2024)
Guy and Madeline on a Park Bench (Damien Chazelle, 2009)
Hannah Arendt (Margarethe von Trotta, 2012)
Happy New Year, Colin Burstead (Ben Wheatley, 2018)
Hard Boiled (John Woo, 1992)
Hard Truths (Mike Leigh, 2024)
Haywire (Steven Soderbergh, 2011)
Highway Hypnosis (Ken Camp, 1984)
Hollywood 90028 (Christina Hornisher, 1973)
Honey Don’t! (Ethan Coen, 2025)
A House of Dynamite (Kathryn Bigelow, 2025)
Iced (Jeff Kwitny, 1989)
Ida (Pawel Pawlikowski, 2013)
If I Had Legs I’d Kick You (Mary Bronstein, 2025)
I Married a Witch (Rene Clair, 1942)
I’m Gonna Explode (Gerardo Naranjo, 2008)
In a Violent Nature (Chris Nash, 2024)
In the City of Sylvia (Jose Luis Guerin, 2007)
In the Palm of Your Hand (Roberto Gavaldon, 1951)
Intruder (Scott Spiegel, 1989) (rewatch)
In Water (Hong Sang-soo, 2023)
It’s Not Me (Leos Carax, 2024)
It Was Just an Accident (Jafar Panahi, 2025)
Jack-O (Steve Latshaw, 1995)
J. Edgar (Clint Eastwood, 2011)
The Jerk (Carl Reiner, 1979) (rewatch)
Kadaicha (James Bogle, 1988)
Katie Tippel (Paul Verhoeven, 1975)
The Kneeling Goddess (Roberto Gavaldon, 1947)
Ladies and Gentlemen, the Fabulous Stains (Lou Adler, 1982)
Ladies They Talk About (Howard Bretherton and William
Keighley, 1933)
Lake of the Dead (Kare Bergstrom, 1958)
Lebanon (Samuel Maoz, 2009)
Leviathan (Lucien Castaing-Taylor and Verena Paravel, 2012)
Lolita (Stanley Kubrick, 1962) (rewatch)
Longlegs (Osgood Perkins, 2024)
Maine-Ocean Express (Jacques Rozier, 1986)
Malum (Anthony DiBlasi, 2023)
Manakamana (Stephanie Spray and Pacho Velez, 2013)
Marty Supreme (Josh Safdie, 2025)
Mary (Abel Ferrara, 2005)
The Mastermind (Kelly Reichardt, 2025)
The Meg (Jon Turteltaub, 2018)
Meg 2: The Trench (Ben Wheatley, 2023)
Mickey 17 (Bong Joon-ho, 2025)
Mike’s Murder (James Bridges, 1984)
Misericordia (Alain Guiraudie, 2024) (watched twice)
The Mummy’s Hand (Christy Cabanne, 1940)
Mute Witness (Anthony Waller, 1995) (rewatch)
Mysteries of Lisbon (Raul Ruiz, 2010)
The Nest of the Cuckoo Birds (Bert Williams, 1965)
No (Pablo Larrain, 2012)
No Other Choice (Park Chan-wook, 2025)
Norte, the End of History (Lav Diaz, 2013)
Nosferatu (Robert Eggers, 2024)
Nouvelle Vague (Richard Linklater, 2025)
The Nude Vampire (Jean Rollin, 1970)
Oh, Canada (Paul Schrader, 2024)
On Becoming a Guinea Fowl (Rungano Nyoni, 2024)
Once Upon a Time in Anatolia (Nuri Bilge Ceylan, 2011)
One Battle After Another (Paul Thomas Anderson, 2025)
Opera (Dario Argento, 1987) (rewatch)
The Other (Roberto Gavaldon, 1946)
The Outfit (John Flynn, 1973)
Pavements (Alex Ross Perry, 2024)
Pee-wee as Himself (Matt Wolf, 2025)
Pee-wee’s Big Adventure (Tim Burton, 1985) (rewatch)
People’s Park (Libbie Dina Cohn and J.P. Sniadecki, 2012)
Perpetrator (Jennifer Reeder, 2023)
The Phantom of the Opera (Rupert Julian, 1925) (rewatch)
The Phoenician Scheme (Wes Anderson, 2025)
Phoenix (Christian Petzold, 2014)
Piranha (Joe Dante, 1978) (rewatch)
Project Wolf Hunting (Kim Hong-sun, 2022)
Pumping Iron II: The Women (George Butler, 1985) (rewatch)
Puzzle of a Downfall Child (Jerry Schatzberg, 1970)
Le Quattro Volte (Michelangelo Frammartino, 2010)
Red Cliff (John Woo, 2008) (international version)
Remember My Name (Alan Rudolph, 1978)
Requiem for a Vampire (Jean Rollin, 1972)
Ring (Hideo Nakata, 1998) (rewatch)
RoboCop (Paul Verhoeven, 1987) (rewatch)
Satanic Hispanics (various directors, 2022)
Savage Harbor aka Death Feud (Carl Monson, 1987)
Save and Protect (Aleksandr Sokurov, 1989)
Scandal (Akira Kurosawa, 1950)
Second-Hand Hearts (Hal Ashby, 1980)
The Secret Agent (Kleber Mendonca Filho, 2025)
The Secret of My Success (Herbert Ross, 1987)
Serial Mom (John Waters, 1994) (rewatch)
Shaky Shivers (Sung Kang, 2022)
Sheila Levine Is Dead and Living in New York (Sidney J.
Furie, 1975)
The Shiver of the Vampires (Jean Rollin, 1971)
Shock Video (Ken Camp, 1985)
The Shrouds (David Cronenberg, 2024) (watched twice)
The Smashing Machine (Benny Safdie, 2025)
The Smugglers (Luc Moullet, 1968)
Soldier of Orange (Paul Verhoeven, 1977)
Something Evil (Steven Spielberg, 1972)
Soundtrack to a Coup d’Etat (Johan Grimonprez, 2024)
Spetters (Paul Verhoeven, 1980)
Stardust Memories (Woody Allen, 1980)
Starting Over (Alan J. Pakula, 1979)
Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan (Nicholas Meyer, 1982)
Student (Darezhan Omirbayev, 2012)
A Tale of the Wind (Joris Ivens and Marceline Loridan, 1988)
Taste the Blood of Dracula (Peter Sasdy, 1970)
Terrifier 3 (Damien Leone, 2024)
This Is Not a Film (Jafar Panahi, 2011)
This Night I’ll Possess Your Corpse (Jose Mojica Marins,
1967) (rewatch)
Tilbury (Vidar Vikingsson, 1987)
Triscuits (Amy Sillman, 2011)
True Confessions (Ulu Grosbard, 1981)
The Turin Horse (Bela Tarr, 2011) (rewatch)
Twilight (Robert Benton, 1998)
Under the Volcano (John Huston, 1984)
United Red Army (Koji Wakamatsu, 2007)
Viola (Matias Pineiro, 2012)
Viy (Georgi Kropachyov and Konstantin Ershov, 1967)
Vulcanizadora (Joel Potrykus, 2024)
The Wages of Fear (Henri-Georges Clouzot, 1953)
The Walk (Robert Zemeckis, 2015)
When Evening Falls on Bucharest or Metabolism (Corneliu
Porumboiu, 2013)
Willful Murder (Kei Kumai, 1981)
The Wings of the Dove (Benoit Jacquot, 1981)
You’ll Find Out (David Butler, 1940)
Zabriskie Point (Michelangelo Antonioni, 1970)
Zazie dans le Metro (Louis Malle, 1960)
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