Frankenstein (2025)

This retelling of one of the most famous novels in history feels like Guillermo del Toro’s ultimate passion project, with a sweeping scale, and breathtaking cinematography. The production design is perhaps some of the greatest of all time here, with the attention to detail and color schemes serving as the source of much of the film’s beauty. Oscar Isaac is great as the titular scientist whose ambition becomes his own undoing, while Jacob Elordi is incredible, disappearing into the Creature but delivering much soul beneath the towering makeup work. The supporting cast stand out too, including Mia Goth, Christoph Waltz, and Charles Dance, and it feels like everyone is honored to have been given the chance to show up and work with the master of gothic fantasy.

Though its ambition is spellbinding, Frankenstein‘s first half suffers due to its pacing — some of the story feels drawn out to the point where it feels like del Toro showed us the extended version of his masterpiece before trimming some tedious details, with some events happening in the runtime much later than it feels they should have. But when a narrative turn comes in at the film’s midpoint, the themes all click into place and become very powerful — the script also forgoes big action where you’d expect it and allows these bigger themes to speak for themselves. Frankenstein feels like the culmination of Guillermo del Toro’s creative endeavors from a stylistic standpoint, though far from its best film; it could’ve been at least 10-15 minutes shorter and been an even better film, but its weight will also grow on you after the credits roll due to its beautifully expert storytelling.

Weapons

When seventeen children from the same class all disappear one night, a community is sent reeling and forced to deal with the terrifying consequences.

Weapons is a film that bids farewell to all the tropes we’re used to in even the best of modern horror movies, throwing us first into how a community is affected by such cruel and unexplainable loss. Julia Garner is at the film’s heart as a gentle teacher who suddenly loses all but one of her students — and is quickly blamed by her peers for it. Garner is immediately bondable with the audience due to her desire for answers and peace amidst her unfair situation. But on the other side of the public tensions is what comes off as rage but reveals itself to be fear and desperation in Josh Brolin’s performance as a father hellbent on finding his missing son. His hardness reveals itself as pain and vulnerability and stands out among many others of the actor’s roles.

Though writer-director Zach Cregger sets out to make Weapons feel far more patient than other horror films, he also goes for broke structurally, stylistically, and graphically. The editing, score, and cinematography are chilling, with moments that may end up in modern horror classic territory. Cregger retains some of his previous film Barbarian‘s DNA, such as jumps in time and perspective — some less interesting than others yet necessary for the film’s slow revelation of its mysteries. Within the film’s title lies many of the answers, including the weapon of the human soul itself: the harm that we can inflict or can be inflicted on us. But it’s because the film does hold back so much, and for so much of its runtime, that everything clicks so beautifully. We see and learn just as much as we need to in order to be asking the right questions, and hopelessly guessing what might really be going on here. Once you reach the end of Weapons, you may find yourself equal parts terrified and delighted, but its unraveling will make your heart sink and your legs shake. Weapons is bold and extraordinary even in today’s ever challenging horror landscape. Cregger’s cynical and at times darkly humorous lens fits perfectly into a modern folk tale of sorts that radiates the kind of singular originality felt in M. Night Shyamalan’s golden days of making thrillers. In this epic yet personal horror film, the scares aren’t nearly the whole point, but the whole point is seriously scary — just not in all the ways you’d expect.

28 Years Later

Out of all the zombie epidemics we’ve seen in cinema history, 28 Days Later and the franchise it’s spawned has depicted perhaps the bleakest, most horrifying, and cynical approach to the creatures. 28 Years Later carries that sheer terror and gore over in this generally rewarding continuation, as well as some of its predecessor’s more outdated stylistic choices that director Danny Boyle seems to cherish. Despite a few slightly self-aware soundtrack or action moments, the film portrays a hopeless future in which a nightmarish virus has caused a zombie apocalypse, and human nature is hardly a bright alternative. Now that it’s been decades since the world went to hell, we see the impact this has had on different sects of survivors, and small peeks at how the rest of the world may be interacting with this situation on the outside.

Boyle has a glaring pull to editing scenes like a music video, which frustrates when overdone, especially due to the prominent shaky cam, but when he trades this for calmer, more wide shot-driven scenes, the film looks beautiful, particularly the scenes set at night. The world isn’t given a wasteland-like look we’ve seen in films like Zombieland or I Am Legend — rather focusing on large fields and tidal islands filled with green and surrounded by blue sea.

Aaron Taylor-Johnson and Jodie Comer are great here, while Ralph Fiennes is a scene-stealer in a supporting role that’s incredibly powerful. The film does leave much to be resolved in a forthcoming sequel, which results in an underwhelming ending, but one that still very much leaves you excited for more after a stunning and unexpected final act.

Sinners

Twin brothers Smoke and Stack return to their hometown to open a blues club for a fresh start, only to discover that an even greater evil is waiting to welcome them back.

Ryan Coogler, one of the most impactful filmmakers to come out of the last decade, creates his most original, commanding, and dazzling film, a kind many have been waiting to see for a long time. Coogler gets free reign to blend genres with unique storytelling on a larger scale than we’ve seen before. The characters leap off the page and screen with their wonderful portrayals from Michael B. Jordan, Hailee Steinfeld, Wunmi Mosaku, and Delroy Lindo, as well as a more menacing turn from Jack O’Connell. As both Smoke and Stack, Jordan plays characters who aren’t free of moral question marks but still worth rooting for, and have excellent romances with Mosaku and Steinfeld, while Lindo has brilliant moments of reflection, strength, and humor.

The film portrays America in the 1930s as a place of difficulty and strive, with a system built to oppress black Americans, but in the main characters’ blues club, a dazzling, one-of-a-kind portrayal of black culture and music in a safe space of untouched, booming joy. The music is a language of its own in the film, not just another magnificent score by Ludwig Goransson, but the way music inspires and drives the characters across generations of their history. Music in the film is its own plane of sacred storytelling and unity, and it’s brought to life with roaring energy that the audience can enjoy yet by moved by. The cinematography by Autumn Durald Arkapaw, who also collaborated with Coogler on Black Panther: Wakanda Forever, also takes the film to another level, with distance between objects, characters, and backgrounds — or mere darkness — creating a weight in its shock. The film develops its characters in a world that’s breathing and moving around them in unexpected and exciting ways, even before the blues kicks in, and far before the horror action elevates the film to yet another level of mastery. The bloody violence is unpredictable and riveting to look at, and balances the line between horrific and irresistibly fun.

Though an ending scene stretches out and explains the themes too excessively, Sinners brings together genres and a remarkable cast full of life and heart that spreads to the audience. The visionary cinematography, music, and costume design compliment a story that’s filled with as much adoration for the immersive settings it creates as it is deeply hinting at themes of the system’s attempts to appropriate and erase black culture and history, and much more beneath the surface. Not only does it work for action, horror, or thriller fans, but it’s a beautiful piece of storytelling that only comes every few years. Not quite like any blockbuster we’ve seen, Sinners is a journey of pride, terror, and legend that needs to be experience on the big screen, solidifying Ryan Coogler as one of our great modern filmmakers who deserves all the more creative freedom and spotlight that’s coming his way.

Companion

Companion might fall apart if you think too much about plausibility, but that’s not the whole point. It starts out as a “getaway” thriller like any other, but soon things go, well, incredibly south. There isn’t much I can say beyond that because the story and its unfolding take so many unexpected directions that elevate the enjoyment of watching the film. Not to mention, it’s incredibly funny. Sophie Thatcher continues breaking into the thriller genre amazingly, giving her all to what the character needs. Jack Quaid is also fittingly cast as a seemingly “nice guy” with more insecurity under the surface. Rounding out the great supporting cast are Harvey Guillen and Lukas Cage, who nail the comedic timing and pitiful complexities of their characters.

The editing, comedic timing, music choices, and thrills elevate Companion above a few minor writing missteps towards the end. It’s entertaining while smart, with some outrageous dialogue and very well-filmed sequences and production value. It’s not the first modern film to try the satirical horror-thriller approach to issues of masculinity and toxic relationships, even in the last few months, but does it cleverly and with so much fun, including the humor and twisted violence, that it wins you over from start to finish.

Nosferatu

Out of all the reimaginings of the tale as old as time that is Dracula, none have been quite as chilling and outright transfixing as Robert Eggers’ Nosferatu. Eggers captures beautiful simplicity yet utter darkness in the film’s breathtaking imagery, as well as deeply terrifying sequences of gothic horror. From the jaw-dropping opening scene, the film captures its audience in a sense of heart-stopping fear that never ends until long after the credits roll. Jarin Blaschke’s cinematography wonderfully uses imbalanced lighting, gloomy color schemes, and silhouettes to create something that looks timeless. Every shot evokes a feeling of an ancient evil’s presence that’s about to be awoken and get ahold of what we’re looking at, which is exactly what happens with Count Orlok. Bill Skarsgard is unrecognizable under stunning makeup and changes his voice to create a towering and skin-crawling vampire, who’s face we wisely don’t see in close-ups until much later on. Lily-Rose Depp is a scene-stealer whose performance is so astounding that if you stop to realize it’s acting, it becomes hard to comprehend the sheer levels of physical and emotional commitment required — Depp never makes you question it once. Though the film cleverly shifts main characters between her and Nicholas Hoult, she’s the film’s beating heart and muscle.

Eggers expands on all his trademark oddities as a filmmaker, making us feel helplessly entranced. It’s nail-biting, gory, and does not hold back on scares and twisted, graphic content. The director feels in complete command of the style, whether the score, production design, or material, that digs into ideas of masculinity, obsession, and self-deception, without needing to overexplain what it’s truly about. Though I was dreading what was about to happen between the main characters and the titular vampire, I could never look away; I was deeply unsettled yet never wanted the experience to end, knowing I was in such good hands. No matter whether you know the story beats or not, there’s genuine shock and brilliance in every scene’s execution, breathing new life into a story that felt like it was always meant to fall into Eggers’ hands. It’s masterful and haunting, like watching a gorgeous fever dream that keeps building and building until an unforgettable final act. You may be going for the cast, the monstrous scares, or even just the cinematography — individually, they’re remarkable, yet together, the parts create a spellbinding whole.

Heretic

When two Mormon missionaries arrive at Mr. Reed’s house attempting to convert them, they find themselves stuck there in a game of wits, fighting for their lives.

When two Mormon missionaries arrive at Mr. Reed’s house attempting to convert them, they find themselves stuck there, fighting for their lives.

Heretic doesn’t play out with the typical levels of jump scares and macabre we’re used to from horror films these days — rather it’s a battle of wits in which the characters contemplate belief, religion, and faith… oh, and an adult man is terrorizing two young women as they’re held captive in his house, which becomes a maze of puzzles related to his disdain for their faith. Hugh Grant is rather terrifying as Mr. Reed here, but he’s clearly having such a delightful time in the character’s skin. He’s as threatening as you can imagine a mysterious man in his 60s alone in a large house but also has plenty of outlandish and hilarious dialogue. Some viewers simply looking for an intellectual dark comedy could most definitely find satisfaction in watching Heretic. You also genuinely care about our two protagonists. Sophie Thatcher and Chloe East both bring cleverness to the film, a willingness to challenge their captor, and not break down and quit. Thatcher brings a rebellious sense of mystery to Sister Barnes, while Chloe East is heartfelt and capable as Sister Paxton.

Though Heretic takes some time for the uniqueness and thrills to set in, it stands out from other recent horror films thanks to its restraint on its scares, as well as its smart screenplay and chilling villain. The three performances are integral and lift up the film’s shocking fun, and may even make you think about some big ideas all while you’re enjoying this dark ride.

Beetlejuice Beetlejuice

The Deetz family returns after a family tragedy to the old home they left behind in Winter River. But Betelgeuse returns into their lives — just as Lydia Deetz feared — when her daughter Astrid accidentally lets the dead loose.

The long-awaited sequel to one of Tim Burton’s films that’s best stood the test of time — and one of his most purely fun — comes over 35 years after its predecessor. It offers the same classic Halloween feeling audiences enjoyed about the first film, and more of pretty much everything else that movie had as well, for better or worse. The music, comedy, and practical effects all work just as well so many years later, and there’s even another phenomenal musical number. It’s delightful to see Michael Keaton, Winona Ryder, and Catherine O’Hara back in their roles, and just as great at them. The heart of the film comes from O’Hara and Jenna Ortega; O’Hara’s goofy yet conscious grandmother provides so many laughs and her energy as an actress stands out, while Ortega perfectly brings a deadpan charm that’s visibly intrigued but not too shocked at all the insanity she’s yanked into.

The humor often hits the mark, including the titular character’s outlandish remarks and plenty of physical and cynical comedy in typical Burton fashion, but the movie does make a few missteps as the runtime goes along. Its most glaring one is introducing an antagonist played by Monica Bellucci in an incredibly strong first scene for the character, and then hardly utilizing her until much, much later. Though the mother-daughter dynamic between Ryder and Ortega is sweet, the overall objective of the story becomes muddled in the later act. It won’t pack any surprises for fans of the first film, but is entertaining and good-hearted enough to offer some creepily comic fun.

Alien: Romulus

While scavenging the deep ends of a derelict space station, a group of young space colonists come face to face with the most terrifying life form in the universe.

Alien: Romulus distances itself from much of the story of the other films, to create a contained haunted house/spaceship thriller. The film manages to give us enough interesting characters to attach us to the action and root for certain ones to make it out, though a few others are simply irritating. Making the premise about a “heist gone wrong” makes it feel unique and gives the film a more fun hook than expected. Cailee Spaeny, who needs no introduction at this point, is not only a terrific lead but perhaps the best person who could’ve played this role, flawlessly balancing the terrified and badass sides to Rain without feeling like Ripley, Shaw, or Daniels 2.0, giving a protective and resourceful edge to her strength. David Jonsson gets a lot to work with as Rain’s surrogate brother Andy, and Isabela Merced absolutely owns her screen time with the terror her character goes through. I mean, who can blame anyone for reacting in such horror after looking at a Xenomorph for the first time?

The effects of the creatures are seamless and innovative, and the gore that unfolds throughout the runtime does not relent or let you feel safe. Though it takes a bit to get going, the thrills get more and more innovative as we explore deeper and deeper through the titular space station. Though it’s often visually stunning, including shots of asteroid belts, planets, and spaceships, the darker lighting makes the shots not quite as gorgeous to look at as Prometheus and Covenant. It embraces enough of the formula that’s made past films work while finding enough in this story to induce curiosity and excitement. It thankfully stands on its own but the action scenes may end up ranking high for fans of the franchise, and ultimately deliver the sophisticated mix of science fiction, action, and horror that have made these films, 45 years later, still feel gripping and cool.

A Quiet Place: Day One

Though A Quiet Place worked best due to its minimal cast and remote settings, this prequel works strongly by embracing the chaos of a Manhattan monster invasion, and the desolation left behind, with that large scale terror that made Cloverfield such a cultural stamp. Michael Sarnoski, who directed the excellent Nicolas Cage drama Pig, effortlessly manages to replicate the beautiful tension and almost melodic sound design that John Krasinski distinguished this franchise with in the first two films. Though this film isn’t as heart-racing and emotionally fine-tuned, it’s still got a fantastic protagonist and captivating thrills. Though it’s very well-filmed when focusing tightly on its lead characters, there are a few unnecessary cuts to wide shots that do harm that tension, even if just for a moment. If any actress can command an audience and emote in a way as brilliantly as Emily Blunt — well, that would clearly be Lupita Nyong’o. It’s impossible to look away when she’s on the screen, as her character expresses instability yet empathy that carries the viewer with her from the film’s very first shot to its last. Joseph Quinn also shines, delivering an inconsolable fear to his character that’s also aligned with his courage and generosity.

The film’s real experience comes from use of sound — the amplification and implications of certain sounds compared to others in the mix takes you on a ride of sorts and keeps you on the very edge of your seat. It cleverly paces itself and uses its wider settings, but never sacrifices the mystery that made this franchise great: that all of civilization and hope might just be lost to these deadly creatures beyond what we see. It’s different enough from its predecessors to justify its existence as a spin-off prequel, and conceptually similar enough to continue playing with the idea of sound-hunting monsters and near-silent human leads in exciting and satisfying ways.