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The initial six months of 2025 are behind us, so it is a perfect time to look back and name the best films of 2025 so far. Following a triad of profoundly lamentable years, 2025 has proved to be a year where festivals presented surprisingly good films. There were also several deplorable instances of films that gave me the opportunity to flex my disapproving muscles, but they might be a topic for another list. Let’s dive into the good one.
Sven Bresser’s debut feature Reedland (Rietland) was screened in the Semaine de la Critique section. That is the strand in the Cannes Film Festival that has consistently provided positive surprises over the last five years. During this edition, the stunningly shot film about a reed cutter who suddenly finds a corpse was the standout of the year. I explained why in my review, and I also had the opportunity to interview the director.
Two Times João Liberada (Duas vezes João Liberada) also marks Two Times Debut Features on this list. Paola Tomás Marques’ first feature was a major revelation at this year’s Berlinale. It was screened in the new Perspectives section, dedicated to debutants. It is an intelligent and playful work that depicts the filming of a film about the fictional, titular, gender non-conforming character. I described why I liked it so much in my review, and also in this case, I was fortunate enough to have a stimulating conversation with the director. The Perspectives section was a highlight of the Berlinale, which leads us to…
Since Growing Down (Minden rendben) was screened in Perspectives as well, it is obvious that we are dealing with Bálint Dániel Sós’s first feature. This stark story, shot in black and white, was another highlight of the new festival strand. Where can you read more about it, you ask? How about my review of the film?
Mascha Schilinski’s sophomore film, Sound of Falling (In die Sonne schauen), was surrounded by a lot of buzz long before it landed on the Croisette to start the Cannes competition. Reactions were split after the screening, but I stand by the statement that this is the most ambitious Cannes competition film since EO in 2022. I describe the debate and share my thoughts on the film in my in-depth review.
The Disappearance of Josef Mengele (Das Verschwinden des Josef Mengele) is the first film by Serebrennikov in some time that didn’t make it into the competition. Why is anybody’s guess since it’s a splendid work, not least cinematically. I reviewed this film as well and discussed some strange reactions to it.
The second-day screening in Cannes of Óliver Laxe’s fourth feature, Sirát, left no one indifferent. The feelings for and against were audible, not least during the second part of the film. Considering its content and how it is connected to the form, this is no shock, but the film might be for some viewers. My review of Sirát is the one from Cannes that divulges as little as possible about the film. That is no coincidence.
I would be lying if I said that I went into the screening of The Secret Agent with high expectations. Paired with the fact that I didn’t manage to get a ticket to the gala screening, but had to settle for the fairly awful Salle Bazin, it didn’t exactly make me more excited. However, the film did, and almost immediately. It turned out to be the best film of the festival and won two well-deserved awards. I explained why I liked it so much in my review.
Reflection in a Dead Diamond (Reflet dans un diamant mort) is the fourth feature film directed by Hélène Cattet and Bruno Forzani. I wasn’t entirely sure what to expect from this. When French directors land in the Berlinale competition, the outcome is not always great. Maybe the fact that this is a Belgian production (like all the couple’s features) made a difference. Probably not. In any case, this is the duo’s best film to date, and an obvious candidate for the best film of the year. Did I explain why in my review? I’m not sure, but I tried to describe this multifaceted work. It was also a pure joy to interview Cattet and Forzani.
If someone had told me at the beginning of 2025 that I would like eight films this much by the end of June, I would have laughed. It remains to be seen what the rest of the year will bring.
In 2013 Daisy-May Hudson was studying for a degree in English and Drama in Manchester. At the same time, her family back in Essex were being evicted from their home, outpriced on the rental market and forced to go through the social housing system. Hudson rushed home, picked up a camera and decided to film their experience which resulted in her acclaimed documentary Half Way. For her first fictional feature film, Lollipop, Hudson draws from her real-life experience and the women who have inspired her along the way.
LWLies: Your film has many thematic layers to it and one of those is a beautiful tribute to the complexities of motherhood. Can you talk me through the many mother characters we meet and how you decided to portray them in the film?
Hudson: Molly was inspired by these women I met outside the Houses of Parliament who were protesting to have their children back after they had been removed by social services. Also another mother who became an advisor to the film who also had her children removed. They were these Lioness women who were so determined by that unbreakable bond between a mother and child. I’m also really interested in generational trauma and the mirroring of mother and daughter relationships. Molly is so determined to be a cycle breaker but she ends up falling into some of the same cycles that her mum went through. She parents her mother just like her daughter parents her. And of course, Amina, they just have this magical connection that happens on screen but also off screen when Idil and Posy get together. They have this ability to see each other beyond their roles as mothers.
I loved Amina and Molly’s ride or die friendship. In your writing of female friendship what were the most important things for you to depict?
I think there’s a magical thing that happens when we allow ourselves to be seen and it takes courageous vulnerability. When we do it there’s this depth of connection where we can meet with someone that is transformational. That’s what happens with Molly and Amina. They start by hiding and fear of showing the darkest parts of ourselves. Ultimately, they show those parts, and they fall in deeper love, a deeper sisterhood. The thing I’ve always felt about Molly is that she had always been in survival mode and Amina provides a safe space where she can put down her guard. She can lean back into love. That softens her and enables her to start loving herself and making new choices and then showing up to life in a different way. Amina really feels this deep gratitude for Molly because she actually feels seen as a woman beyond all expectations. That was so healing for Amina, but also for Idil in real life.
You’ve been very careful not to paint any of the people we meet in your film as villains. The social housing system was something you and your family experienced first-hand so can you talk to me about the things you drew from real life?
The thing we came up against as a family was the limitations of the rules. You may be speaking to a human being but they are working within this framework. When I was researching for the script, I was meeting really genuine people who went into the job because they cared and wanted to make a difference. Then they get limited by this red tape… particularly this dehumanising language that they are trained to say. I remember when we were homeless, we kept being told, ‘in due course.’ It’s this purgatory basically. It was really important to me that there was no baddie or goodie because I don’t think people go into a job to become bad guys. Also I think we’re just one choice away from being on the other side of the table. When we were casting I wanted to find people that looked like Molly, or could be Molly’s friend or auntie… that’s the thing about working class communities you can be on any side of the table just trying to do your best and do right by your family.
What are the guiding factors for the type of cinema you want to make?
I want to make films that crack people’s hearts open in the most beautiful way. For me humanity is about experiencing this full spectrum of emotion. That can be the deepest grief but the highest heights of joy. I think that’s what you experience in Lollipop.
2025 will be my fifth consecutive visit to the Cannes Film Festival. What could be a better opportunity to review the previous four editions and list the 10 best Cannes films from the last four years? On second thought, there might be many such moments, but I will go ahead anyway.
Whenever I see Still Moving involved in a project, I get interested. Amanda Nell Eu’s first feature, Tiger Stripes, didn’t disappoint and was one of the highlights of the otherwise lacklustre 2023 edition. I explained why in my review, and the director told me which Japanese classic film inspired her during our talk. Let’s keep moving to…
Truth be told, we are not moving that much. Feathers by Omar el Zehairy was presented in Semaine de la Critique, just like Tiger Stripes, and once again, Still Moving was involved in the production. It was Charles Tesson’s last year as head of the section, and before the screening, he said that they had saved the best for the last screening and gave an introduction full of feather-related puns. Nom de plume was not one of them, though. The story of a family father turned into a chicken during a magical act at a children’s party is told with an assurance of style referencing several masters.
I would lie if I said I am a major Albert Serra fan. However, Pacifiction gripped me from the start and never left its hold on me. That might sound strange, considering the film’s aesthetic, which has an indolent tone perfectly in tune with its characters. Even a Serra sceptic should watch this one.
The success with On Body and Soul (Golden Bear and shortlisted for some American Award) made it easier for Ildikó Enyedi to finally realise her adaptation of her favourite novel, The Story of My Wife. However, the reception at Cannes in 2021 was far from enthusiastic, at least not by the Anglo-Saxon critics. The director made substantial changes to the novel’s form. Something we discussed when I interviewed her. I reviewed the film from Cannes 2021 as well.
Shujun Wei didn’t visit Cannes for the first time with Only the River Flows. Still, it was the strongest film that he ever presented there. Where will you find my justifications for that statement? Could it be in my review? Did we discuss the film when I interviewed the director? The answer will Flow you.
Kirill Serebrennikov has presented his films in the Cannes competition several times, even when he was under house arrest. His style has never been more arresting than in Petrov’s Flu, which often reaches dizzying heights, especially during the first two-thirds. Vladislav Opeylants’ staggering cinematography renders this fever dream unforgettable. He is also on board for this year’s Cannes offering from Serebrennikov, The Disappearance of Josef Mengele.
Mikko Myllylahti’s The Woodcutter Story was the most pleasant surprise of the 2022 festival. Once again, we are dealing with a work from Semaine de la Critique. Yeah, yeah, you say. Less talk and more linking to the review and the interview. Strangely enough, the film was presented on the same day as…
If Myllylahti’s film was a surprise, the same can not be said about Jerzy Skolimowski’s latest film. One of the greatest Polish directors ever may have surpassed himself with this film centred around a donkey. This film is also famous because it generated one of the weirdest Letterboxd reviews ever, where the person in question was quite positive about the film but still said that he couldn’t connect with the donkey. The review of EO is here.
The first post-COVID festival occurred in July 2021 instead of during the customary May slot. Even more unusual was that a competition film was the opening night’s entry. Since opening films at Cannes rank somewhere between mediocre and awful, my expectations on Annette were low. From the opening number, “So May We Start” (which was probably the reason why the move was chosen to start the fest), I was hooked. I reviewed the film twice, first from a Sparks-centric perspective and then from the viewpoint of director Leos Carax.
Mark Jenkin’s Enys Men was the best film of 2022. The interview I made with him in Cannes remains one of my favourites. It may not be a shock that I reviewed Enys Men, too.
I have been visiting the Berlinale since 2014. Since it has been ten years since my first visit, I decided to list my 10 favourite Berlinale films from these years. I decided to be strict and not include films that premiered at the Berlin Fest but I saw elsewhere. That explains the absence of Josephine Decker’s Butter On The Latch and Thou Wast Mild and Lovely, which were screened in the 2014 edition but I saw at another festival. There are other examples as well. After getting that out of the way, let’s first give some honourable mentions that didn’t make the final list.
Two of them are Hungarian; 1945 by Ferenc Török, which was screened in the Panorama section in 2017, and Natural Light (Természetes fény) reviewed here, which played in the 2021 competition. The aforementioned Decker’s Madeline’s Madeline appeared in the Forum section in 2018. Maren Hwang’s Xiao Mei was screened in the Panorama section the same year. With those out of the way, let’s proceed to the actual list.
Siberia is not the first collaboration between Abel Ferrara and Willem Defoe, but it might be the most fruitful one. The protagonist tries to leave his life behind and goes on a journey to a cold place where nobody seems to speak a language he understands, and it’s typically bodies that meet. It’s still as much a journey into the man’s mind as an outward one. Ferrara’s film manages to be epic and simultaneously mysterious and metaphorical. The film competed but was not close to winning any awards. Reviews were mixed, as they say.
All the Dead Ones by Marco Dutra and Caetano Gotardo has already been reviewed, but this film, with its references to Straub and Oliveria, is still stuck in my mind.
Shahram Mokri (interviewed here) is one of the most interesting directors working today. In 2018, he presented Invasion (Hojoom) in Panorama. This film manages to make something interesting out of shooting a film in one take. It’s a murder mystery of sorts, but in many ways, it feels like a Miklós Jancsó film, for instance, The Tyrant’s Heart (A zsarnok szíve 1981).
In 2018, I didn’t have accreditation, so I was spared the reportedly disastrous press screening of The Real Estate (Toppen av ingenting), where people were constantly heading for the exit. The gala screening in the evening was a more jolly affair since the directors, Måns Månsson and Alexander Petersén, had plenty of Swedish compatriots among the spectators. The story is about Nojet (Leonore Ekstrand, unforgettable), who thinks she has struck gold when she inherits an estate in Stockholm. Upon arrival, she discovers that the building is in a terrible state and inhabited by tenants without legal contracts.
That is only the start of her problems in this hilarious film that doesn’t pull any punches. Neither did Leonore Ekstrand in scenes that made a Swedish critic state that some sounds would follow him to his grave.
The 2020 was the first edition of the Berlinale under Carlo Chatrian’s direction. He managed to put his stamp on the festival immediately. It is no coincidence that several films from his year as the festival director are among my favourites. Malmkrog by Cristi Puiu was presented in the new Encounters section. This competitive section has proven to be the most interesting since then. The 200-minute film got its fair share of criticism, some going so far as to say it was not what cinema was intended for. I still plan to write a longer piece about this fascinating but demanding work.
2014 was the first time I attended the Berlinale. The overwhelming reason was to see Alain Resnais’ Aimer, boire et chanter, based on Alan Ayckbourne’s play Life of Riley. Resnais is one of my all-time favourite directors, but I never understood what he saw in Ayckbourne’s work. This was his third adaptation of the British playwright after Smoking/No Smoking (1993) and Coeurs (Private Fears in Public Places 2006. The latter was a commercial and critical success, but I think it’s one of his weakest films. A feeling that wasn’t changed by watching the film eight times.
Aimer, boire, chanter is fascinating and digs into the artificial more successfully than Coeurs. There are also clear connections to Resnais’ penultimate film Vous n’avez encore rien vu (2012). The film won the now-defunct Alfred Bauer prize, and the producer said at the press conference that he had talked to the director, who wasn’t present in Berlin, and they were working on his next project. A few weeks later, Resnais died.
Readers might remember that I think Mal viver was the best film of 2023. I explained why in my review.
For me, the 2019 Berlinale is synonymous with the discovery of Mark Jenkin. Bait was a refreshing find in the Forum section. It’s a film that is aware of film history but still feels new and different. Again, there is a review where you can read about it.
The very first film in the competition in 2017 was the return of Ildikó Eneydi. Eighteen years after her previous film, she returned with Teströl és lélekröl (On Body and Soul). It was difficult to know what to expect, but it turned out to be a triumphant return. To my utter shock, it won the Golden Bear, making it the only such winner on this list. I wrote about the film and her career.
My strongest Berlinale experience remains Tiere (Animals) by Greg Zglinski. How to describe this film? The festival described it like this. “Nick and Anna are off to Switzerland for six months. Nick wants to collect recipes for local cuisine, and Anna finally hopes to write a new book. The time away might be good for their relationship, too, for Anna knows about Nick’s affair with their neighbour Andrea, who threw herself out the window. Mischa will be taking care of the fish and the philodendron in their Viennese apartment while they’re gone. On the drive to Switzerland, they collide with a sheep.”
It all sounds crystal clear, right? My description has always been: Imagine David Lynch; now imagine if he was talented. Then you would have Tiere. The film is endlessly imaginative and also really funny. It is not so easy to watch for some reason, but if you manage to get hold of it, don’t hesitate. The female lead is the fabulous Birgit Minichmayr, who stars in two films in this year’s edition. At least one of them sounds quite promising.
That ends my list. Now, one can only look forward to the 2024 edition, which starts in one week.
The 2024 edition was Carlo Chatrian’s and Mark Peranson’s last, and the feeling is that they chose to go out with a bang. The decision to screen Pepe in the competition rather than Encounters was far from obvious and probably a sign that they didn’t care what the reception would be like. Watching the faces of most Anglo-Saxon critics after the first press screening was actually one of the festival’s highlights. Pepe is easily the best film I’ve ever seen at the Berlinale. I tried to explain why in my review. It was recently screened at the Gothenburg Film Festival.
Originally published 8/2 2024.
Berlin, a city with a cinematic history as rich and layered as its checkered past, has been a muse for filmmakers since the dawn of cinema. From the silent films of the Weimar Republic, through the city’s division into East and West, to the reunification, Berlin’s narrative has been captured on film in myriad ways. The city’s cinematic landscape has given rise to some of the most iconic films in history, reflecting its political, cultural, and emotional transitions. Some films are more known than others, and this list of the top 10 films in the Grey City doesn’t necessarily include the most famous ones.
The third film of Roberto Rossellini’s war trilogy following Rome, Open City and Paisan is the bleakest of the trilogy. The depiction of young Edmund trying to navigate war-torn Berlin is hardly a beacon of hope. This was young Edmund Moeschke’s only screen appearance, but it was enough to engrain him in spectators’ minds for years. The film was shot both on location and in the studio, marking it somewhat of a disruption with the neo-realist methods. Reactions to the film were mixed, with some deeming it melodramatic. In any case, it remains a powerful work and spawned a sequel of sorts. More about that later.
The amusing Menschen am Sonntag (People on Sunday) was directed by Robert Siodmak and Edgar G. Ulmer with a script by Billy Wilder. Eugen Schüfftan was the cinematographer, and Fred Zinneman was his assistant, so the film was made by several future Hollywood personalities. Since the film is from 1930, it has nothing to do with the contemporary draconian laws of what activities are not allowed on Sundays in Germany. The loose story is about a group of people trying to enjoy their weekend. The film is short and constantly entertaining.
This is the most unusual film on the list. It is a documentary of sorts about the wild rabbits that lived in the no man’s land between the Berlin walls for 28 years. It was a safe home lush with grass, free from predators, and even guarded from human interference. They were trapped but content. As their numbers grew into the thousands, guards tried to remove them, but the rabbits held on. Then, one day, everything changed: the Wall came down. Suddenly, their sheltered world was gone, and they had to leave their comfortable home behind. They migrated to West Berlin, forming small colonies that still exist today.
This description makes the metaphorical side of the film more than evident. This medium-length film not only shows the rabbits but also contains commentaries from several people, including soldiers, experts, and other witnesses. It manages to paint a portrait of the living situation in East Berlin playfully without shying away from the truth. The rabbits started spreading around when the wall came down, but they were less sheltered than before. Just like with Pepe, people decided to kill off some of them. The film shows how their lives changed and that most moved to the Western side like many people did. Rabbit à la Berlin is available in German on YouTube.
It is difficult not to include Cabaret on the list. Bob Fosse captures the city’s energy and tension during the final years of the Weimar Republic. Through the Kit Kat Club, the film contrasts the era’s nightlife with the rise of Nazism. Liza Minnelli’s performance as Sally Bowles and Joel Grey’s Emcee add to its impact. With striking musical numbers composed by John Kander and the sharp social commentary, Cabaret remains an essential Berlin classic. Maybe some people would even be able to spot differences compared to today’s society.
Rainer Werner Fassbinder’s Die Dritte Generation (The Third Generation 1979) is one of the director’s boldest films, taking a sharp take on terrorism in West Germany. Set in a chaotic, divided Berlin, it follows radicals driven more by boredom than ideology. Blending satire and thriller, Fassbinder critiques media influence and manipulation. The film’s fragmented storytelling and grainy, disorienting cinematography heighten its sense of paranoia. Die Dritte Generation captures the disillusionment of late-1970s Berlin, making it a thought-provoking portrayal of the city’s political tensions. Who is actually funding the terrorists? The cast includes Eddie Constantine, which also goes for…
The title of Jean-Luc Godard’s Allemagne année 90 neuf zéro obviously refers to the aforementioned Rossellini film. It also harks back to the director’s previous Alphaville: Une étrange aventure de Lemmy Caution, where Eddie Constantine played a variation of his signature role, Lemmy Caution. In 1990, he is just a fish out of water as Philip Marlowe in The Long Goodbye (1973), albeit for different reasons. It is one of the first and best films about the new reality after the Berlin Wall came down. The entire film is available on YouTube with English subtitles.
Christopher Petit’s first film, Radio On (1979), became an instant cult classic, while his sophomore effort, An Unsuitable Job for a Woman (1982), was sadly underrated. Flight to Berlin is his third film and also the third on this list that features Eddie Constantine. The storyline about Susannah (Tusse Silberg), who is whisked away from her hotel for interrogation, dives straight into mystery and essentially keeps it that way. The film captures the split city, but as I mentioned before, it’s also full of references to films by Godard and other directors. It is a film worth seeing by a director who seems to be forgotten nowadays.
Fritz Lang’s M – Eine Stadt sucht einen Mörder (1931) is a seminal German film set in Berlin’s bustling, shadowy underbelly during the Weimar Republic. The story centres on Hans Beckert, a child murderer whose crimes disrupt the city’s fragile order. Berlin’s criminals, facing police pressure, take justice into their own hands, forming a parallel justice system. This portrayal of Berlin is both a character and a backdrop, showcasing the city’s dark, labyrinthine streets where fear and paranoia reign. The criminals’ response to Beckert’s deeds is pragmatic; they organize to capture him, not out of morality but to restore their disrupted business.
Joseph Losey made an underrated remake in 1951. That was not the only time when that director presented a film that didn’t get the reception that it deserved.
Possession is the only film in English by Andrzej Żuławski and his most well-known internationally, even if it was distributed in a truncated version in the US. The story of a spy (Sam Neill) and his wife (Isabelle Adjani) is not a film easily forgotten. That goes for the thespians as well. Adjani stated that it took years for her to recover from the shooting, and Sam Neill recently said that he “escaped that film with my sanity barely intact”. The cold war setting of Berlin has rarely felt more distressing. A pivotal scene takes place in the famous Café Einstein, which is, sadly, permanently closed.
The number 1 was an obvious choice. The title Der Himmel über Berlin has nothing to do with the fact that Uber was the vehicle provider at last year’s Berlinale (now replaced by Cupra) but with two angels that descend on the city and try to grasp what it means to be human. The English title, Wings of Desire, works very well too. This romantic and philosophical film boasts splendid cinematography by veteran Henri Alekan and wonderful performances by Bruno Ganz and Otto Sander, among others. It is Wim Wenders’ most accomplished work.
The screening in a packed Draken in Gothenburg in 1988 is one of my most treasured cinematic memories. With its giant screen, this beautiful cinema was the perfect venue for the film, and the ambience was phenomenal. It didn’t get worse when Ganz and Sanders took the stage after the screening. The portrait of Berlin is interesting at a time when Potsdamer Platz was basically a hole in the ground.
This rounds up the list of the best films set in Berlin. It remains to be seen if the future will bring more memorable films from the city.