John Nugent

Just a solidly made cat-and-mouse thriller, with muscularly committed performances from its two leads. It’ll make you want to explore the Great Outdoors and simultaneously never leave your house again.

A defiantly avant-garde take on commercial chart-toppers. It’s not for everyone, but it deserves to be: a gorgeous fusion of film, fashion, faith, and certified bangers.

A cautionary tale against the dangers of excessive podcasting, this is a supremely spooky sonic ordeal. As an allegory for Catholic guilt, it’s haunting; as an auditory experience, it’ll fuck you up.

A special sort of film, one which can be enjoyed as a dark climate-change allegory and a bright, colourful, emotional yarn on friendship and family. Fantastique!

A very watchable old-school blockbuster crowd-pleaser. Ryan Gosling and an alien made of rocks are the best space-based double-act since R2-D2 and C3-PO.

Don’t call it a comeback — but this is really strong stuff from Pixar: funny, thoughtful, sweet, making for a heartfelt paean to nature, and beavers in particular. Dam good.

An energetic, urgent and damning assessment of our prison crisis, Wasteman marks Cal McMau as an exciting new homegrown director.

A hugely impressive debut. Personal and political, this is a tender and spellbinding depiction of family in fraught times.

Essentially “Men will literally do stand-up rather than go to therapy”, in cinematic form. An appealing tragicomedy-drama, told with veracity and heart by Cooper, Arnett and Dern.

About as powerful as cinema gets. Its hybrid blend of documentary audio and devastating dramatisation is heart-wrenchingly, shatteringly effective.

A gripping, zig-zaggy potboiler, this is a crime thriller in the old-school tradition, with some enjoyable turns from Boston’s finest, Matt Damon and Ben Affleck.

Just lovely. Tourette syndrome has not been afforded its cinematic dues, but what an affable, funny character to explore it with in John Davidson — and what a performance from Robert Aramayo.

A true original: an impressionistic portrait of a lost life, recreated in multiple forms with a gorgeous soundtrack. Odd, but unique.

With strong performances in service to a clear, confident vision from Chloé Zhao, this is a wrenching contemplation of the “undiscovered country” of death and grief.

Haunting, serenely composed and beautiful, this is an elegy for a life and a country that America used to be. 

Gothic, iconoclastic, engrossing, slyly excoriating of modern-day America and very funny to boot, it’s another solidly satisfying whodunnit from Benny B. Keep them coming, please.

Edgar Wright’s biggest film yet feels like something out of both the future and the 1980s: a scathing satire that’s also a lot of fizzy blockbuster fun.

Riveting, unhinged, and sardonic to its honey-soaked core, this is another Lanthimos-Stone winner. (With a great opening-title typeface, to boot.)

As a newly solo director, Safdie summons a thoughtful and moving mood for this unconventional sports film; as a newly serious dramatic actor, Johnson is about to win some awards.

A heck of a debut from first-timer Shawn Simmons, and another powerful argument for A-list status for Samara Weaving. Bring on the sequel, which is obliged to be titled Miny Moe. 

An audacious, farcically funny digest of where we are now, and how we got here: the cinematic equivalent of pandemic primal therapy, a mad scream into the void.

A hugely accomplished horror achievement, and a significant step up from Barbarian: tense, sad, hilarious, unsettling, ridiculously entertaining, and ultimately oddly uplifting.

The result is a film that has a better chance of producing a belly laugh than any in recent memory: one that deserves, as Drebin would say, “20 years for man’s laughter”.

M3GAN 2.0 is more absurd, self-aware silliness: a riot of timely tech paranoia, with almost no horror but a ton of successful comedy. Slay, queen!

A different beast to Past Lives, this is a razor-sharp look at the competitive marketplace of dating: both rigorously honest and idealistically romantic.

A tense, knotty opening act yields to some of Tom Cruise’s most impressive stunts yet, ending the film — and perhaps the series — on a high.

With a committed, crazed, brilliantly calibrated performance from late-Renaissance Cage, this is a feverishly good thriller: surreal and strange and sticky.

Its pleasures lie in the dialogue, the twists, the reveals. It all leads to a delightful Agatha Christie-style drawing room denouement, in which the rat is exposed, their best-laid plans laid to waste. Like the film as a whole, it’s deliciously, lip-smackingly satisfying.

A mesmerising, wondrous example of animation’s potential; a thoughtful allegory about ecocide and death; and an adorable ode to four-legged (and two-legged) friends. No ebbs here: Flow is the real deal.

La Diva Eterna lives in Jolie, with a performance as towering as it is understated: sad and soulful and heartbreaking. She has never been better. Brava!

A touch less fresh than the original, but this is still bursting with energy, emotion, warmth and imagination. It knows the way.  

If this is to be a swansong, it’s a fitting one: a thrillingly watchable legal thriller about truth, justice and (for better and for worse) the American way, as told by an all-American icon. 

It’s a very straightforward story, but there is no doubting the heartfelt nature of the telling — and the subject matter is unimpeachable. John Williams was the best to ever do it, and this film is a good reminder of how, and why.

An ingenious, wildly stylish new take on the body-swap movie, this deserves to be a Gen-Z cult classic. 

An affectionate road-trip buddy-movie, featuring an unseen depth to Will Ferrell, this documentary is illuminating, timely, and gently funny.

As sweet and beguiling a musical romance as it’s possible to have between two murderous psychopaths. Its kooky approach won’t suit all stripes of comic-book fan, but it finds a strange, tragic hopefulness all of its own.

Alien: Romulus plays the hits, but crucially remembers the ingredients for what makes a good Alien film, and executes them with stunning craft and care. It is, officially, the third-best film in the series.

This is probably not the film you would expect it to be. But its unexpectedness is its biggest asset, a moving and very eccentric feathered fantasy about life, death and everything in-between.

The 4.5 hour-plus runtime might put some off, but that massive canvas only allows for the deepest of deep dives into a monumental achievement in cinematic science-fiction. Another glorious day in the corps!

Kill lives up to its name, and then some: this is a breathless, ferociously gory action film, on a level rarely seen before in Indian cinema.

A devastating, urgent reminder that art can be dangerous and important and political and powerful — especially in ten-inch heels.

Sasquatch Sunset is a gloriously vulgar film about made-up monsters from children’s stories — but it is also a terribly melancholy adult story about the violence of progress. What a remarkable, unique, sad little cult oddity it is.

The chassis may look familiar but there is a very different engine driving Furiosa from that of Fury Road: it’s a rich, sprawling epic that only strengthens and deepens the Max-mythology. It shall ride eternal!

As a political statement, Civil War is provocative and occasionally exasperating; as a purely cinematic experience, it is urgent, heart-in-mouth, extraordinary stuff.

As furiously funny as it is helplessly horny, this lesbian road movie simultaneously feels exactly like a Coen brothers film — and entirely its own thing, too.

It might look at first glance like another goofy CG distraction-fest, but this is that rare family-friendly film bursting with ideas and challenging concepts. It’s Charlie Kaufman’s introspective existential dread — for kids!

Absolutely batshit, utterly filthy and a true original: Poor Things is as good as Yorgos Lanthimos and Emma Stone have ever been.

Silly, witty, extremely British — this is a family film made with a very Aardman-y kind of craft and care. A good egg.

Moving and musical, this is a striking portrait of courage and creativity in the face of some horrific odds chucked at you by life’s lottery.

Silly, strange, and very funny, Dream Scenario is a psycho-comic-drama with a peak Cage Renaissance performance powering it. Don’t sleep on it.

A riveting revenge riot, with gobsmacking levels of film craft, and a performance from Michael Fassbender to make your blood run cold. It’s not quite top-tier Fincher, but it comes damn close.

Monumental stuff: a story about the deadly legacy of America’s colonial sins, both vast and intimate in scope. Exceptional filmmaking, by an exceptional filmmaker.

A close encounter of the wordless kind, this is a smart and splendidly scary horror sci-fi, with a brilliantly brittle turn from Kaitlyn Dever.

With a brisk, biting comic tone and a nice line in righteous anger, Dumb Money skilfully picks up The Big Short’s baton for cinematic-economic takedowns.

Inventively animated, giddily funny, and a surprisingly authentic take on the outsider experience: it is virtually impossible not to be charmed by these reptilian bros.

Tense, stressful and savagely staged, this is a scarily good debut from YouTubers Danny and Michael Philippou. Be sure to hold someone’s hand while watching.

Thick with sharpened scissors, and barbers with barbed tongues, Medusa Deluxe is a unique take on the whodunnit mould, and a hell of a debut from British filmmaker Thomas Hardiman.

Truly delightful. Wes Anderson leans into his trademark eccentricities for a trip to the desert that won’t win any converts but will keep the Anderson faithful content.

No Martinis in sight, but this is still an extremely watchable look at a unique naming phenomenon — with surprisingly profound results.

Indy’s final date with destiny has a barmy finale that might divide audiences — but if you join him for the ride, it feels like a fitting goodbye to cinema’s favourite grave-robber.

A film that recognises there is no single answer to questions like ‘who are you?’ or ‘where do you come from’. Stirring, constantly surprising stuff — with an arresting debut turn from Ji-Min Park.

By turns heartwarming and heartbreaking, this is a fascinating and funny twin portrait of a Hollywood rise-and-fall, and the realities of living with Parkinson’s. It only confirms what we already knew: Michael J. Fox is one of the greats.

A gripping, well-told, incredibly watchable thriller for a new generation of TikTok sleuths — and a compelling argument to up your average screen-time.

The reach of this avant-garde comic meltdown sometimes exceeds its grasp, but this is still a consistently jaw-dropping joyride through one man’s terrible, very bad, no good week.

Ridiculously charming, immensely funny, and shot with an unusual zestiness, Rye Lane is purely joyful company — and a shot in the arm for future romantic comedies.

Christopher Landon dials down the blood and dials up the feels for a fun, heartfelt horror-comedy enlivened by David Harbour’s accomplished apparition-acting.

A storming debut from writer-director Saim Sadiq: emotional, tender, and quietly radical. With any luck, it will herald a new era for Pakistani cinema.

Funny, profound, weird, sad, and gorgeously constructed — Marcel is a true original, liable to melt even the most cynical heart. A very special shell indeed.

It isn’t always subtle, but Blue Jean is a gorgeously presented, stirringly performed slice of British queer history that announces director Georgia Oakley and actor Rosy McEwen as major talents to watch.

Mesmerising and mystifying, in equal measure. Enys Men confirms Mark Jenkin as one of the most exciting, original cinematic voices in the UK right now.

It’s a simple but artfully effective debut feature from Irish filmmaker Colm Bairéad, with a remarkable, heartbreaking debut performance from Clinch, whose face betrays anxieties she doesn’t yet fully understand.

An emotional, incredibly intimate portrait of one man’s final days. Ondi Timoner’s documentary avoids the political aspects of the process, focusing squarely on the personal impact. The result is moving, humane, and cathartic.

A sweetly pitched — and appropriately unorthodox — tribute from a movie megastar son to his filmmaking legend father.

A fizzy, gaudy, joyfully entertaining couple of hours. If there’s any right in the world, Rian Johnson and Daniel Craig will continue making films in the Benoit Blanc Cinematic Universe forever.

Part arthouse-Twilight, part John Hughes-ian coming-of-age romance, part Bonnie And Clyde cannibal remix, part dreamy Wim Wenders-esque road trip. This is gorgeous, gruesome work from Luca Guadagnino.

Another smash from Cartoon Saloon, at once heartily funny and heartfelt. With this and The Breadwinner, director Nora Twomey is now two-for-two.

Really quite something: a rare remake that only augments and enriches the original. For Bill Nighy, meanwhile, it feels in every sense like the role of a lifetime.

Like any good “Weird Al” song parody, Weird takes the music-biopic template and transforms it into something utterly absurd. The result is a polka-popping, piss-taking joy.

An absurd, iconoclastic riot. Ruben Östlund’s point may be blunt — yep, rich people are bad — but his telling of it is hilariously, breathlessly entertaining.

A thoughtful, meditative thesis on humanity’s relationship with nature, filmed with the kind of cinematographic beauty most fiction filmmakers can only aspire towards.

Another stunning adaptation of the classic anti-war novel: epic and horrific, in equal doses. War has rarely felt this wretchedly, desperately pointless.

A brilliant, bizarre, occasionally grotesque, horror-inflected cinematic delicacy. Sounds like a Peter Strickland film, then.

An apt tribute to a major figure in film history. The talking heads and archive clips do the job — but hearing it told by Sidney Poitier himself is the real treat.

Remember the name Nana Mensah — as an actor, writer and director, Queen Of Glory is a hugely impressive calling card.

Tinkering with the spy-action wheel rather than reinventing it, this is a pacy, ruggedly entertaining romp, with a punchy pair of lead turns from Gosling and Evans.

Made with genuine affection and innately British whimsy, this is really just an odd-couple comedy about two lonely blokes — one of whom has a “washing machine for a tummy”.

A remarkable film about a remarkable life, from a remarkable director.

An effective and unsettling allegory for growing up, this is the kind of low-key horror that will make you look twice at cherub-faced youngsters.

A remarkable, first-hand insight into how a modern-day police state operates, and how any kind of meaningful opposition can exist — as terrifying as it is hopeful.

A funny, filthy, iconoclastic riot. Paul Verhoeven’s latest erotic satire won’t be for all creeds, but it is bursting with enough ideas that even doubters can find something to believe in here.

This unconventional love story — which plays like a Richard Linklater film set in the Arctic circle — is a total charmer, and will have you reaching for an Interrail ticket immediately afterwards.

A smart, compelling, pared-down thriller for grown-ups, anchored by a pair of stunningly charming performances from Chris Pine and Thandiwe Newton.

A dreamlike time capsule of a historic event, told from a kid’s perspective and rendered in beautiful animation — only Richard Linklater could have made this film.

Bruising and beautiful in equal measures, La Mif is an impressive slice of social realist drama that feels rooted in something real — because it is.

Matt Reeves’ arrival in the Bat-verse is a gripping, beautifully shot, neo-noir take on an age-old character. Though not a totally radical refit of the Nolan/Snyder era, it establishes a Gotham City we would keenly want a return visit to.

The kind of heist movie that will steal your affections from under your nose. An Ealing-esque comedy with its heart exactly in the right place, it proves a fitting farewell for the multitalented director, Roger Michell.

Looser and funnier than his recent efforts, sharper and more formally assured than his earliest films, this is Paul Thomas Anderson operating at full capacity. A master at work.

As a sensitive portrait of what college is like for the awkward lonely types — and an ode to just staying up late and shooting the sh*t — Freshman Year is a funny, tender treat.