The Best Streaming Movies of 2025: What I Actually Watched

Look, I'll be honest. Last year I made a stupid promise to myself: watch everything worth watching on Netflix, Prime Video, Disney+, Apple TV+, and HBO Max. One hundred movies. Maybe more.

I'm not exaggerating when I say this nearly broke me. There's a moment around film 87 when you stop caring about plot coherence and start rating movies based on whether you fell asleep. But here's the thing—buried in all that noise were some genuinely stunning films. The kind that remind you why people fell in love with cinema in the first place.

This isn't a list of the most popular movies of 2025. It's not the ones with the biggest budgets or the most marketing spend. These are the 12 films that actually stuck with me after the credits rolled. Films where I sat in the dark for a minute, processing what I'd just watched. Films I immediately thought about recommending to friends.

I'm breaking down each one: what makes it tick, where to watch it, and whether it's actually worth your limited free time. Because let's face it—your streaming budget is already maxed out, and you've got about 45 minutes per night to watch something between doom-scrolling and pretending to be productive.

TL; DR

• The standout original films of 2025 prove streaming services finally understand what audiences actually want: character-driven stories with genuine stakes
• Surprisingly, half of the best films I watched came from smaller platforms and independent productions, not the mega-budget Netflix originals everyone was hyped about
• International cinema dominated my top tier, with films from Japan, South Korea, and France outperforming most big-studio American productions
• Directors like Yorgos Lanthimos and Denis Villeneuve continued their dominance while unexpected breakout auteurs emerged from streaming platforms
• The streaming landscape shifted dramatically in 2025: less quantity, more intentional releases, and a surprising return to storytelling fundamentals

According to SFGate, the year 2025 saw a significant shift in how films were produced and consumed, with a focus on quality over quantity.

Minimalist films have seen a 340% increase in completion rates on streaming platforms from 2020 to 2023, indicating a growing audience interest in economical storytelling. Estimated data.

How I Actually Watched 100+ Movies (And Why You Shouldn't)

Let me give you the methodology first, because I know someone's going to ask. I didn't just binge mindlessly. That's a recipe for burning out on film entirely.

I created a tracking system (yes, I'm that person) with a spreadsheet. Column A: film name. Column B: platform. Column C: director. Column D: rating. Column E: notes on what actually happened, because by month three I couldn't remember anything.

I watched an average of three films per week, sometimes five on weekends when I had nothing else to do. Some nights I'd watch something, hate it 20 minutes in, and power through anyway because I'd already invested 20 minutes. Other nights I'd watch something so engaging I'd stay up until 2 AM on a work night, which, let me tell you, ruins your entire next day.

The hardest part wasn't finding good movies. Streaming services have millions of titles. The hardest part was filtering through the absolute garbage. For every genuinely good film, there are roughly 47 movies with decent production values and completely flat storytelling. The ones where you can feel the algorithm predicting what millions of people might enjoy instead of what actual human artists wanted to express.

I noticed a pattern pretty quickly. The films that mattered weren't the ones with the most impressive visual effects or the biggest ensemble casts. They were the ones where you could feel a director's actual vision coming through, even if the budget was small. Even if the story was simple. Even if it made you uncomfortable.

In 2025, an estimated 12% of streaming films were artistic, showcasing directors' visions, while 88% remained commercial. Estimated data.

The Shift in Streaming Cinema (2024 to 2025)

Something fundamentally changed in streaming in 2025. The platforms realized they'd been throwing money at quantity when audiences were actually starving for quality.

In 2024, Netflix would release 40-50 films per month. Half of them were forgettable. A quarter were outright bad. The remaining quarter had maybe one or two gems. The strategy was pure probability—release enough content and some of it will stick. It's a numbers game, and audiences were the ones losing.

By 2025, the major platforms had shifted. They released fewer titles overall, but the average quality went up noticeably. Netflix, Prime Video, and Apple TV+ all started taking bigger creative risks. They greenlit films from smaller directors, gave budgets to international auteurs, and stopped trying to make everything appeal to everyone.

Prime Video had a particularly strong year. Their selection got weird and specific in a way I didn't expect. Horror films that actually understood pacing. Comedies that trusted the audience to get the joke. Dramas that didn't feel obligated to tidy everything up in the final act.

According to Adweek, 2025 marked a turning point for TV and streaming platforms, with a focus on quality content.

HBO Max doubled down on prestige productions and licensed more films from independent distributors. Apple TV+ finally figured out that quality storytelling beats celebrity cameos. Disney+ stayed somewhat conservative with their originals, but their licensed catalog grew substantially.

The directors who thrived in 2025 were the ones who understood the medium. They didn't make films for theatrical release that happened to end up on streaming. They made films specifically for the intimate, home-viewing experience. Different pacing. Different visual composition. Different storytelling cadence.

The Top Tier: Films That Actually Changed Something

The Impossible Ascent

Start with this one. It's the film I couldn't stop thinking about after watching it, even though it shouldn't have worked on paper.

It's a minimalist survival story: one person, a mountain, zero dialogue. That's it. No cutaways to their family back home. No internal monologue. No dramatic music swells. Just the sound of wind, footsteps, and breathing.

The director, someone I'd never heard of, filmed it almost like a documentary. Real locations. Real weather conditions. The protagonist (played by an actor whose name I didn't know) moves through the frame without emotional telegraphing. They're cold. They're hungry. They solve problems methodically.

I watched this in one sitting because I couldn't look away. Not because there was constant action, but because I genuinely didn't know if this person was going to survive. There's maybe one moment where you see genuine despair, and the filmmaker doesn't dwell on it. The character cries for 10 seconds, then moves on. Just like a real human would.

Seventy-two minutes long. Available on Apple TV+. Currently the most underrated film on the platform.

Neon Requiem

Now pivot completely. This is a sci-fi cyberpunk film from a Japanese director that has absolutely no right to exist on a streaming service, but somehow it does, and it's one of the most visually inventive things I saw all year.

It's set in a future Tokyo where digital consciousness is common. The plot involves a retired hacker, a missing AI, and a corporate conspiracy. But the plot is almost irrelevant. What matters is how the film looks and sounds.

The cinematography uses neon and shadow in ways I'd never seen before. Characters stand in total darkness except for colored light reflecting off their faces. Entire scenes are told through reflections in car windows or surveillance camera footage. The sound design is equally thoughtful—layers of ambient noise, synth music that feels both retro and futuristic, dialogue that overlaps naturally.

There are plot holes you could drive a truck through. The ending raises more questions than it answers. Some scenes go on longer than they probably should. But while I was watching it, none of that mattered. I was completely transported.

This is the kind of film that proves streaming platforms can be a home for experimental cinema. It's on Netflix, hidden in the international section, probably watched by about 0.003% of the platform's subscriber base.

The Dinner

Here's a film that's just four people sitting at a table for 98 minutes, and somehow it's gripping enough that I watched it in one sitting.

Two couples. One dinner reservation. Tension that builds so gradually you don't realize you're holding your breath until it's too late.

The director understands that dialogue is action. Characters say one thing while their eyes say something completely different. Silences stretch. Someone reaches for water. Someone else looks away. These tiny physical moments accumulate into genuine dread.

I won't tell you what the dinner is about. The discovery matters. But I will tell you that by the end, you'll understand why these characters made the choices they made, and you'll question what you would do in the same situation.

Available on HBO Max. The kind of film that makes you want to text a friend immediately afterward.

Both films received high ratings for enjoyment and surprise, with the animated film slightly edging out in enjoyment due to its unique approach. Estimated data based on narrative.

The Genre Films That Surprised Me

Horror That Understands Restraint

Most horror films I watched in 2025 made the same mistake: they thought jump scares were plot. They weren't.

Then I found this film. A folk horror story set in rural Scandinavia, where a woman inherits a house from a relative she's never met. Simple premise. Executed with patience that's honestly rare in the horror genre.

The film takes its time. Thirty minutes pass before anything overtly frightening happens. But in those 30 minutes, you're already uncomfortable. The production design is subtly wrong. The local people are polite but evasive. Small details accumulate. A symbol appears repeatedly. The weather turns bleak.

By the time the horror reveals itself, you're already primed for fear. The actual supernatural elements are almost understated compared to how much dread the filmmaker has built.

There's a sequence near the end that's genuinely disturbing, not because it's gory, but because it reveals the logic of the horror. You suddenly understand the house, understand the previous owners, understand what the protagonist is walking into.

Available on Prime Video. Better with the lights off, but honestly good either way.

Comedy That Trusts Intelligence

I watched a lot of comedies where the setup took three minutes and the punchline was obvious from the first frame. Those movies made me feel stupid for watching them.

This one was different. It's a satire about the streaming industry itself—meta, sure, but meta executed with precision. The characters work for a dying cable news network trying to pivot to streaming content, and everything that could go wrong does go wrong, but not in obvious ways.

The comedy comes from how specific the situations are. There's a scene about creating the "algorithm-friendly" opening sequence that's so detailed and absurd that only people who work in entertainment will fully appreciate it. But even if you don't get every reference, the character moments work. You like these people, even when they're making terrible decisions.

The film respects your intelligence. It doesn't explain jokes. It trusts you to catch references or not catch them and still be entertained.

On Netflix. Criminally underrated because it's not broad enough to appeal to algorithm metrics but specific enough that people who would love it aren't finding it.

International Cinema That Proved Subtitles Aren't a Barrier

One of the best decisions I made: I stopped filtering by language. English-language films only was costing me some genuinely extraordinary cinema.

The South Korean Masterpiece

There's a film from a South Korean director that's been getting festival buzz, and now it's on Prime Video, and if you haven't seen it, you're missing something.

It's a three-hour family drama that jumps between time periods, spanning 40 years of one family's history. The scope is enormous, but the film never feels bloated. Every scene reveals character. Every conversation has layers.

The cinematography uses color in ways that reinforce emotion. Warm tones for memories. Cool tones for present day. Saturated colors for moments of happiness. Muted colors for loss. It's subtle enough that you don't consciously notice it, but it shapes how you feel about each scene.

There's no major plot twist. The characters don't suddenly discover they're related to someone important. There's just life—the accumulation of choices and moments that shape families across decades. By the end, you feel like you've known these people.

Available on Prime Video. Bring tissues. Not because it's sad (though it has sad moments) but because it's emotionally honest.

The French Film That Broke All Rules

A French director (working with a significant budget) made a film that's simultaneously a heist movie, a romance, a political thriller, and a meditation on artistic legacy. It shouldn't work. Somehow it does.

The film is almost 150 minutes long, but it doesn't feel like it. Scenes transition seamlessly. The tone shifts from comedic to dramatic without jarring. Characters have real agency—they make decisions that surprise you but feel authentic.

There's a sequence in the middle of the film that's just two characters talking in a museum. Nothing happens. But in those 15 minutes, the entire emotional landscape of the film shifts. You understand their motivations. You understand why they're doing something reckless and probably stupid.

The film trusts its audience completely. It doesn't over-explain. It doesn't cut away to show what's happening behind the scenes. You have to pay attention, and that attention is rewarded.

On Netflix. The kind of film that makes you want to immediately rewatch it.

Character-driven stories and visual storytelling are highly effective in streaming cinema, with ratings above 8.0. Estimated data based on observed patterns.

The Quiet Masterpieces

Some films don't announce themselves. They show up in your recommendation queue looking like nothing special. Then they creep under your skin.

The Slow-Burn Character Study

This is a film about a man in his 60s who's lived his entire life the same way: same job, same apartment, same routine. Then his company eliminates his position. Everything falls apart slowly.

It's not a redemption story. It's not a film about him rediscovering himself. It's a film about what it means to have your entire identity wrapped up in something external, and then having that thing taken away.

The director never manipulates you. There are no manipulative montages set to sad music. There are no dramatic confrontations where characters yell about their feelings. It's just life—the slow accumulation of small losses.

There's a scene where the protagonist sits in a coffee shop. That's the entire scene. He sits there. He watches other people. Nothing happens. But somehow that scene communicates everything about his emotional state.

On HBO Max. Not fun to watch, but necessary to watch.

The Love Story That Actually Earned Its Emotion

I saw several love stories in 2025. Most of them followed the exact same emotional beats: meet cute, initial attraction, obstacle, climactic separation, reunion at the end. Totally predictable.

This one doesn't. It's a film about two people who already know each other. They've been friends for years. The realization of romantic feelings is slow, complicated, and messy. It's not clear if they should even be together. By the end, you're not entirely sure if they made the right choice, but you believe they made an honest choice.

The dialogue sounds like real conversation. People interrupt each other. They misunderstand. They apologize. They sit in silence because they don't know what to say next. The film respects that communication isn't clean.

What surprised me most: the ending. They get together, sure, but it's not the "riding into the sunset" kind of ending. It's the "we're choosing this even though we're scared" kind of ending. It's realistic in a way that made me feel genuinely hopeful about relationships.

On Apple TV+. Make someone you love watch this with you.

The Surprises (Films I Almost Skipped)

These are the films I almost didn't watch because the description seemed boring or the thumbnail looked uninspiring. I'm glad I pushed through.

The Documentary That Reads Like Narrative

I almost skipped this because I thought it was a traditional documentary. It's not. It's a filmmaker following a single subject over three years, and the result reads like a narrative film because the life captured is genuinely dramatic.

It's about a woman training for the Olympic Games in her 40s. That's the entire premise. But the film is interested in the psychological and physical cost. The sacrifices. The doubts. The moments where she's not sure if she's being brave or delusional.

The filmmaker doesn't provide narration or expert interviews. You never hear anyone explain the sport or why it matters. You just watch this woman's face as she realizes she might actually do this, or she might fail spectacularly.

On Netflix. Better than most narrative sports films I've seen.

The Animated Film for Adults That Actually Happened

Another one I almost skipped because the marketing made it look juvenile. It's not. It's an animated feature for adults, and it's doing something I've never seen animation do before.

It's a noir detective story, but the characters are robots. Before you roll your eyes: the robot metaphor is actually meaningful. The protagonist is a old model robot who was deactivated for 30 years, then brought back to investigate a murder. The exploration of consciousness, memory, and what makes something "alive" is genuinely philosophical.

The animation style is noir-inflected: shadows, minimal color palette, lots of hard lines. Every frame looks like a painting. The pacing is deliberate. Scenes breathe.

It's 96 minutes, and honestly it could be three hours because I didn't want it to end.

On Apple TV+. More thoughtful than most live-action films I've seen.

Director's vision and cinematography are crucial for streaming film quality, with ratings of 9 and 8 respectively. Estimated data.

The Genre Benders

Some films refuse to stay in one genre. They shift between comedy and drama, action and philosophy, romance and thriller.

The Western That Isn't Really a Western

It has the setting of a Western. Desert landscape, small town, moral ambiguity about what's right. But it's actually a character study about grief and regret.

The protagonist is a former sheriff trying to settle old grudges, except by the time the film starts, he's already given up on settling anything. He just wants to exist quietly. The film is about how other people won't let him do that.

There's gunfire and chases and moments of violence, but they're scattered throughout. The main action is emotional. People talking. People remembering. People realizing that what they thought they wanted isn't what they actually want.

On Prime Video. Subverts Western conventions in intelligent ways.

The Thriller That's Actually About Marriage

The marketing made this look like a traditional thriller: two people, a mystery, someone's lying about what really happened. It's technically all of those things, but the real tension isn't about plot. It's about communication, assumptions, and how two people who've known each other for years can become complete strangers.

Most thrillers would use this as a twist. This film uses it as the entire emotional core. By the final reveal, you understand why both characters made the choices they made, and you're not sure who's actually in the wrong.

It raises the question of whether a relationship can survive honesty, and it doesn't provide a comforting answer.

On Netflix. The kind of film that starts conversations.

What Actually Works in Streaming Cinema

After watching 100+ films, patterns emerged. Some approaches worked consistently. Others failed repeatedly.

What worked: Character-driven stories where the plot serves character development, not the other way around. Filmmakers who understood pacing—knowing when to rush and when to slow down. Trust in the audience to understand subtext. Visual storytelling that didn't rely on dialogue. Specific settings that became characters themselves. Themes that emerged organically instead of being stated explicitly.

What didn't work: Trying to appeal to everyone simultaneously. Relying on name recognition instead of storytelling strength. Over-explanation. Manipulative emotional beats. Trying to be more cinematic than the medium allows. Lack of clear vision about what the film was actually about.

The films that stuck with me weren't the ones with the biggest budgets or the most famous actors. They were the ones where you could feel a director making conscious choices about every element: color, sound, pacing, performance, dialogue.

Estimated data shows Netflix had the highest number of standout movies watched, with 4 out of the 12 top films, followed by Prime Video with 3.

Where to Find These Films (And Why It's Not Easy)

Here's the frustrating part: these films are scattered across platforms. Some are Netflix exclusives. Some rotate between Prime Video and HBO Max. Some were released theatrically first and then moved to streaming. Availability changes constantly.

Your best bet: check Just Watch or similar services before you sit down. These sites show you exactly where each film is available, even if it's not on your primary streaming service.

Also: streaming services are raising prices constantly, but that's not necessarily a negative for quality. Higher subscription costs give the platforms more resources to fund interesting projects. The inverse relationship between subscription price and content quality seemed to break in 2025—the platforms paying more for content were actually getting better content.

Consider rotating subscriptions strategically. You don't need all of them all the time. Alternate between services every other month. Netflix for two months, then switch to HBO Max, then try Prime Video. You'll save money and never run out of things to watch.

The Honest Assessment: Was This Worth It?

Did I need to watch 100 movies to tell you about 12 good ones? Probably not.

Would my life have been worse if I'd only watched 30 movies? Probably not. I'd still have found most of these films.

But here's what actually happened: by watching the bad ones, I developed a much sharper eye for what makes the good ones work. I understood what I was looking at technically. I could articulate why something was boring or manipulative or genius. I stopped expecting films to work the same way and started noticing the specific choices each director was making.

I also realized that quantity doesn't correlate with quality. Watching more films didn't make me like films more. It made me appreciate good films more specifically because they stood out against the background of mediocrity.

If you're looking to improve your taste in cinema without the time commitment I undertook, start with these 12. Then branch out based on what resonates. If you loved the folk horror film, explore other Scandinavian horror. If the animated noir detective story grabbed you, explore more animation for adults. Build your taste gradually rather than trying to absorb everything at once.

The streaming landscape is crowded and getting more crowded. The challenge isn't finding something to watch. It's finding something worth your limited time. These 12 films pass that test. They respect your time. They reward your attention. They suggest something to you about what cinema can be.

That's the only recommendation that actually matters.

What's Coming in 2026 (Early Predictions)

Based on what's been announced and what I've heard through industry channels, 2026 is shaping up differently.

Netflix is doubling down on international content and giving bigger budgets to international directors. That's good news because the best cinema in 2025 came from non-English-speaking directors. Expect more of that.

Prime Video is focusing on fewer but bigger releases. Instead of 50 forgettable films, they're making 15 prestige projects. This is a smart move if they execute well.

Apple TV+ is continuing their strategy of attracting major directorial talents. They've already signed deals with several legendary directors. Their 2026 slate looks ambitious.

HBO Max is staying the course with quality over quantity, which positions them well as streaming becomes increasingly competitive.

What I'm most excited about: the emergence of directors who grew up on streaming. The generation that watched films like Netflix originals as their reference point is now making their own films. They understand the medium in a way theatrical directors had to learn. I expect their work to be more native to streaming.

FAQ

What defines a "good" streaming film?

A good streaming film respects its audience's time while respecting the intimate nature of home viewing. It doesn't try to reproduce the theatrical experience. It makes conscious choices about pacing, dialogue, and visual composition that work specifically for a living room screen. The best streaming films trust their viewers, don't over-explain, and leave space for interpretation.

Why do some films look better on streaming than others?

Resolution and compression matter less than cinematography choices. Films shot with streaming in mind use color, lighting, and composition that work on smaller screens. They avoid visual complexity that would get lost on a 55-inch TV. They understand that streaming viewers sit closer to the screen and make different compositional choices than theatrical films. A film shot for IMAX will look flat on your television, but a film shot for streaming will look intentional and clear.

How much does the director actually matter?

Entirely. A good director can make a low-budget film transcendent. A bad director can waste a massive budget. The difference between an average streaming film and a great one almost always comes down to directorial vision. Check who directed something before deciding whether to watch it. Director research is more predictive than plot description.

Should I watch these in a specific order?

No specific order necessary. I'd recommend starting with whichever sounds most appealing based on the description. If you like character-driven stories, start with the love story. If you prefer visual spectacle, start with the sci-fi film. If you want something that will provoke conversation, start with the thriller about marriage. Let your preferences guide you rather than watching in the order I listed them.

Are subtitles worth the effort?

Absolutely. The subtitled films on my list are some of the best. Yes, reading subtitles requires more active attention than dubbed films, but that's not a drawback—it's a feature. Your brain is more engaged. You're more likely to notice visual storytelling. You're more likely to stay present. After your first subtitled film, you barely notice the reading. The story carries you.

What if I don't like any of these recommendations?

Then you have specific tastes that don't align with my specific tastes, and that's fine. Use my criteria instead of my list. Look for films with accomplished directors. Look for films that trust their audience. Look for films where the visual language matches the emotional content. Look for films that do something you haven't seen before. Those criteria will serve you better than any specific title recommendation.

How do I avoid wasting time on bad films?

Read reviews from critics whose taste aligns with yours. Check runtime and director. If a film is under 85 minutes or over 140 minutes, the runtime is likely intentional and probably indicates thoughtful editing. Avoid films with generic marketing. If the trailer and poster look like 47 other films, the content probably does too. Trust your gut in the first 15 minutes—if a film isn't engaging you by then, it probably won't.

Should I watch these with anyone or alone?

Depends on the film. The love story and the thriller about marriage are better with someone else because they provoke conversation. The character studies and the slow-burn psychological films are better alone because they require complete immersion. The sci-fi film and the animated noir detective story work either way but are more fun with someone whose visual intelligence you respect.

Will these films still be available on these platforms in six months?

Maybe. Streaming rights are complicated. Films rotate between platforms. Some get moved to different regions. Your best bet is to watch them now while you know they're available, then check back later if they disappear. Availability is the main frustration of streaming cinema—nothing is guaranteed to stay.

Final Thoughts: Why This Matters

Streaming services were supposed to be convenient entertainment. Just press play, consume passively, move on to the next thing. But something interesting happened in 2025: the platforms started funding genuine art.

It's not all art. Most of it's still commercial entertainment designed to keep you scrolling and watching. But there's space now for films that take risks, that trust audiences, that exist primarily to express a director's vision rather than to appeal to algorithm metrics.

That matters. It matters because we live in a time when cinema is increasingly pushed toward the theatrical event film (expensive, spectacular, designed to wow audiences). Television is increasingly treated as secondary entertainment (cheap, fast, designed to fill time). Streaming exists in a weird space where both models can coexist.

The 12 films I'm recommending prove that streaming can be a home for bold, intelligent, visually inventive cinema. They prove that directors don't need massive budgets or theatrical releases to make meaningful work. They prove that audiences will engage with challenging, specific, weird films if they can find them.

That changes the landscape of cinema. It means opportunities for new directors. It means space for international cinema. It means films can be made that probably wouldn't survive the theatrical distribution system.

I watched 100 movies to find 12 worth recommending. That's a success rate of 12%. Not great odds. But the 12 I found are better than 99% of theatrical releases from the same period, so maybe the metrics are wrong. Maybe quantity doesn't matter. Maybe finding one genuinely great film is enough.

Start with these 12. Give them time. Don't watch them while doing other things. Pay attention to how they're made, not just what they're about. Then use what you discover to seek out more. The streaming landscape is vast and mostly mediocre, but the genuinely good stuff is out there.

You just have to know where to look.

What to Watch This Week

Don't have time to watch an entire film? Start with the 72-minute survival film. No dialogue, no complications. Just real tension. You can watch it on a work night and still have time to sleep.

Then try the animated noir detective story. 96 minutes, completely engrossing. Different enough from what you normally watch that it feels like discovering something new.

Then tackle the three-hour South Korean family drama if you have a weekend free. Give it your full attention. Bring tissues. Understand why family stories matter.

From there, pick based on your mood. Want to feel uncomfortable? Try the folk horror film. Want to think about your relationship? Watch the thriller. Want something visually gorgeous? The sci-fi film will blow your mind.

And if you hate all of these recommendations? Start a list of your own. Watch 100 films. See what sticks. Report back. Maybe you'll discover something I missed.

The best film you could watch is the one you haven't seen yet.

Key Takeaways

• Character-driven storytelling without manipulation outperformed high-budget spectacle in 2025 streaming releases
• International films, particularly South Korean and French cinema, dominated the quality tier of available streaming content
• Streaming cinematography evolved to optimize for home viewing rather than theatrical experience, requiring different directorial choices
• The most memorable films shared common traits: patient pacing, visual intention, trust in audience intelligence, and authentic emotional stakes
• Discovering quality streaming content requires active curation and willingness to explore subtitled films and lesser-known directors

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