Movies That Made Me Say WOW: 2025

This list is my personal celebration of the films (and TV series) that left me in awe this year. It features 2025 releases, hidden gems unearthed from recent years, and timeless classics that never lose their magic. If a movie made me pause, think, or just say “WOW,” it earned a spot here.

Here’s a list from last year.

One Battle After Another (2025) – Paul Thomas Anderson. I went in expecting a masterpiece – some reviewers even called it the best American film of the 21st century. After watching, I have to disagree. It succeeds on every level – action, drama, comedy, acting, social commentary – and it’s undeniably fun and compelling. But the “best of the century” crown? Not quite. Still, a very impressive film.

Adolescence (2025) – Jack Thorne, Stephen Graham. Wise and sharp, even if occasionally simplistic in blaming the internet, but maybe that’s the point. We really are living in a world fragmented into tiny screens, each of us in our own isolated bubble. Essential viewing.

The Brutalist (2024) – Brady Corbet. Visually stunning, with a story that weaves together multiple biographies in a surprisingly cohesive way. The music adds another layer of depth. I loved the first half; the second half dips a bit, but it’s still a good watch.

The Girl with the Needle (2024) – Magnus von Horn. Right after watching the movie, I said it was the best film I’d seen in a long time or maybe ever. A week later, the first part still feels true; the second, probably not. Some reviewers call it “misery porn,” focused on psychological, social, and physical suffering, and sure, outside a few moments and the ending, joy is scarce.

But it never felt like lingering on cruelty for cheap emotion. It feels, bluntly, realistic: sometimes life is good, sometimes it’s awful, and here, it’s awful most of the time. People make bad choices, and fate throws even more hardship in their path. Yet it’s not a tearjerker; it’s the heightened reality of many lives from that era. The protagonist isn’t a helpless victim – she’s a person in an unprivileged position, making decisions that are good or bad, driven by necessity, compulsion, or her own will.

Mr. McMahon (2024). I love WWE, so diving into the story of the horrifying man behind the global spectacle was a must-watch, even if I’d already heard most of the stories at least twice. If you want even more depth, th Behind the Bastard podcast series takes you further into the chaos of McMahon.

Killers of the Flower Moon (2023) – Martin Scorsese. You have to admire the sheer craft here. Making a three-hour film that actually keeps you locked in is already a huge achievement today. It’s not flawless, but it’s solid in every way that matters. What keeps it from sitting next to Scorsese’s absolute greats? It doesn’t pull you into its world with the same force as, say, Taxi Driver – it’s simply a very well-told story rather than a transformative one.

Do Not Expect Too Much from the End of the World (2023) – Radu Jude. Maybe it’s the residue of reading D.F. Wallace’s biography, but this film felt deeply Wallace-esque to me. The ending lays out the chaos of the modern world – capitalism chewing people up and spitting them out. You know from the start that the commercial will exploit Ovidiu, that he’ll “lose” despite being right. Everyone treats him instrumentally, even the main character, who seems too scattered to use her own potential. And of course, the company won’t change a thing – it’s too expensive, and Romania remains a place to be exploited.

The contrast between colorful communist-era footage and the black-and-white present doesn’t mean Jude is nostalgic for the old system. He’s brutally honest about its problems too. But he’s also clear about how those ghosts still shape today’s reality – people keep referring back to the past, even admitting that workers were blamed then just as they are now. Different era, same propaganda – just corporate this time.

The roadside cross scene says a lot about driving in Romania (and plenty of other countries), but it also ramps up the tension, especially because the protagonist is driving with Ms. Goethe.

Speaking of Goethe: “More light” becomes “more nothing,” a perfect summary of the film’s corporate Goethe – a hollow marketing nihilist pretending to be philosophical while practicing a kind of wu-wei of pure profit. No values, just revenue.

The protagonist herself is brilliant, well-read, and utterly drained – working for nothing because the company won’t pay her properly. She’s overworked, yet she still squeezes in personal errands and ends up selling her body to a guy for 200 lei. At the same time, she plays this online Andrew Tate persona, insisting it’s “like Charlie Hebdo,” but it’s exactly the irony-soaked world Wallace warned about – irony that offers no solutions. And she commits the very behaviors she’d accuse Tate of. Her street-level language clashes with her intelligence in a way that’s both funny and tragic.

What struck me most is how the businessmen – pseudo-philosophical and shallow – feel far emptier inside than the older, simpler characters, who carry real depth despite their own flaws (including obvious issues like racism).

A sharp, postmodern film that cuts into modern life with brutal precision.

The Holdovers (2023) – Alexander Payne. A warm, old-school Christmas hug of a movie. The acting, the characters, the music… everything clicks. It’s the kind of film that feels like an instant holiday classic, the one you’ll want to revisit every December.

Arrival (2016) – Denis Villeneuve. Stunning sound design (it won the Oscar for a reason), but it’s the story that really stayed with me. The alien encounter is just the backdrop for a far bigger question: if you knew the future – including all the pain – would you still choose to live it fully? It’s a film about embracing life with all its light and shadows. Sure, the political and social reactions fall into familiar stereotypes, but they’re there to serve the bigger idea. And that idea hits hard for me.

Paprika (2006) – Satoshi Kon. A visual explosion—anime’s answer to Inception, but deeper, stranger, and far more daring.

The Man Who Wasn’t There (2001) – Joel Coen. A quiet battle with mediocrity that spirals into disaster, wrapped in a shadow-soaked noir.

Being John Malkovich (1999) – Spike Jonze. The best surrealist joke ever put on screen. Delightfully unhinged.

Taxi Driver (1976) – Martin Scorsese. I wrote about it in more detail here, but let me say this: it’s firmly in my “masterpiece” category.

The Colour of Pomegranate (1968) – Sergei Parajanov. I won’t pretend it was an easy or pleasurable watch – this one felt more like work than entertainment. But it’s so radically different, so hypnotic and otherworldly, that you have to experience it at least once. Even when you don’t fully understand it, you can’t look away.