Unlock 2026’s Cinematic Secrets: These 17 Must-See Movies Are Changing the Game—Don’t Miss Out!
So, here’s a thought to chew on: when was the last time you went to the movies and felt like you were witnessing a fresh, raw voice shaking up the scene? Well, buckle up, because right now the spotlight’s on two jaw-dropping first features from directors so young they make me wonder if they’re secretly time travelers. Take Obsession by 26-year-old Curry Barker, made for less than a million bucks yet climbing the box office charts like a rocket — fueled by the energy of Gen Z and millennials who clearly still know how to pack a theater when given something worth debating. Then there’s the buzz-worthy A24 sensation Backrooms, from just 20-year-old Kane Parsons, stirring its own storm and poised to outshine Obsession. These films aren’t just horror flicks; they’re mood boards for a generation grappling with life tangled deep in the web, showing us characters caught in endless loops of isolation and distorted realities. So, are young filmmakers the harbingers of a new cinematic dawn — or just holding up a mirror to a world that’s already a bit cracked? Whatever your take, it’s clear: in an era starved for originality, these fresh voices are making cinema feel alive again. LEARN MORE
The kids may not be alright, but they’ve got some filmmaking chops. The biggest story in cinema right now is a pair of first features from impossibly young new directors. Obsession, from 26-year-old Curry Barker, was made for under $1 million and is making history at the box office. It saw a 39.4 percent jump in its second-week gross on its way to briefly holding the top spot. The film’s popularity has been driven primarily by young moviegoers, who, as it turns out, will indeed show up to theaters if you give them something to talk about.
And now here comes the much-hyped A24 film Backrooms, from 20-year-old Kane Parsons. Backrooms is projected to outperform Obsession, and is similarly provoking impassioned discourse. Your mileage may vary on these two films—as mine did—but, regardless, it’s very exciting to see new blood making waves with original work.
Horror, of course, has been the most dependable non-IP box office draw for a while now, and the best bet for a young filmmaker seeking mainstream notoriety. Beyond offering a thrilling time at the movies, though, the genre is consistently an interesting prism to track the fears, anxieties, and mood of a rising generation. Barker and Parsons’ films are very different, but it’s easy to read both as reflections of a generation haunted by life online. The characters in these films have a hard time relating to other people, they become trapped in harmful loops, and their realities bend and then break.
Taken together—and all the more so if you throw in other recent surreal horror hits like Exit 8 and Undertone—they mark a remarkably bleak view of the world from the young. But with [gestures around] everything, can you blame them?
Backrooms
Kane Parsons’s Lynchian nightmare of infinite strip mall liminal space haunted me in a deep way, conjuring feelings of pandemic-era time warp, modern isolation, and the discomforting tedium of life online. It’s a remarkably impressive debut—all the more so from someone so young—with tremendous production design, imaginative worldbuilding, and several unbelievable set pieces.
In theaters
The Christophers
As budgets for original stories continue to shrink, it’s becoming increasingly common for the bulk of a movie to be two characters in a room talking to each other. And you know what? When the two actors are Michaela Coel and Ian McKellen and the dialogue is as snappy as Ed Solomon’s is in Stephen Soderbergh’s latest, that’s more than enough.
Blue Heron
It’s invigorating when a movie reminds you that the medium is full of possibility. And Sophy Romvari’s debut feature does just that. The film begins as a fairly quotidian story of a Hungarian immigrant family living in Vancouver Island in the late 1990s. The main source of tension for the family is what to do about a misbehaving teenage son. In the second half of the film, Romvari takes a bold swing that transforms the film and expands our understanding of everything that came before. It’s a beautiful, assured, and understated work that’s lingered in my mind long after seeing it.
$POSITIONS
The hardest I’ve laughed at a scene from a movie this year came in the criminally underseen first feature from Brandon Daley. The scene involves a beer bong, urine, and a protagonist who doesn’t know what alcohol tastes like. It’s reminiscent, in the best way, of the dumb guy comedies of the ‘90s and early 2000s. The rest of the movie, which revolves around a man with a crypto addiction that threatens to ruin his life, perfectly synthesizes that energy with the unrelenting anxiety of a Safdie thriller.
Mother Mary
The first time I saw David Lowery’s gothic chamber piece about a pop star (Anne Hathaway) reuniting with her original fashion designer (Micaela Coel) I fell deeply under the movie’s spell. The movie struck me as a perfect representation of the mysticism of creative collaboration — as well as a campy showcase for Hathaway’s most earnest instincts. On rewatch, some of the magic admittedly wore off, but there’s no denying the power of some of the film’s key scenes.
Exit 8
Video game adaptations have become Hollywood’s latest IP cash grab. But director Genki Kawamura is clearly after something else in bringing The Exit 8 to the big screen. The game he’s adapted was hardly a big hit with widely beloved characters. Instead, it’s an opportunity to send viewers on a journey so repetitive and puzzling it becomes fraught with existential terror. Amidst a never-ending, fluorescently lit subway tunnel, Kawamura stages a few dazzling set pieces and sprinkles in plenty of details to ponder—all of which produces concrete feelings and plenty of interpretations.
The Python Hunt
For the past dozen years, Floridians and some out-of-staters have flocked to the Everglades in the hopes of catching and killing the most Burmese pythons. The Python Hunt Challenge was started as a way of confronting an invasive species wreaking havoc on native wildlife. So you might expect Xander Robin’s documentary about the event to be a Tiger King-esque melodrama full of kooky characters and dangerous animals. There are some of both, for sure. But Robin’s film is more soulful and less exploitative. In tracking various participants, he captures the struggle and meaning that can be found in a futile pursuit. And he also suggests that there are probably other, more direct culprits in the destruction of the Everglades.
Our Land
Lucrecia Martel’s first documentary feature centers around the 2009 murder of Indigenous activist Javier Chocobar. It took nine years for the capitalist raiders who killed Chocobar to be tried in court. And the film shows how the incident was a product of the systematic dispossession of the Chuschagasta people Chocobar represented. Martel’s documentary, which zooms in on the people affected and zooms out to take a wider view of the case, is thorough, revealing, and heartbreaking.
In select theaters
Pillion
It’s hard to believe that Pillion is director Harry Lighton’s first feature. This opposites-attract, BDSM love story set in London’s suburbs was a highlight of last year’s New York Film Festival. (Pillion also won Best Screenplay at Cannes in May.) After Colin (Harry Melling), a parking attendant who sings in a barbershop quartet, meets Ray (Alexander Skarsgård), a mysterious, leather-clad biker, the two begin a relationship that’s always on Ray’s terms and frequently uncomfortable. Lighton handles this sometimes absurd romance earnestly and with great care. The film avoids any temptation to push for a laugh or judge these characters. It’s apparent what both men are getting out of this relationship, as well as why it can’t work in the long term—a lesson that’s rendered with a little sorrow but also a surprising degree of hope.
Natchez
This documentary absolutely haunted me. Natchez is directed by Suzannah Herbert, an expert chronicler of the American South, who turns her focus to a small town in Mississippi with a big antebellum-tourism industry. As the town’s sanitized version of southern history is disseminated by white homeowners, her film captures the tension between their antebellum-property tours and the efforts of the local Black residents to correct the record. As the film unfolds, Herbert slowly but powerfully shatters the fantasy of the nation’s past and exposes the malicious prejudices that remain.
Nirvanna the Band the Show the Movie
Nirvanna the Band the Show the Movie is perhaps the all-time high-wire act of indie filmmaking that makes you ask, How’d they do that? The movie is a technical triumph. But more importantly, the extraordinarily playful, idiosyncratic film is simply a really good time at the movies. In Nirvanna the Band the Show the Movie, comedians Matt Johnson and Jay McCarrol revive their fictional counterparts from their late-aughts web series, Nirvanna the Band the Show, and send the two characters on a friendship-testing time-travel adventure. The stakes? Comically small. Matt and Jay need to secure a gig at Rivoli, a bar in Toronto. Still, I cared much more about their finding success than I ever have for a superhero’s battle to save the world.
Dead Lover
I’ve never had such a smelly theatergoing experience as I did at Grace Glowicki’s imaginative, wacky, and deeply heartfelt new B movie, Dead Lover. The film’s distributor provides downright nasty scratch-and-sniff stink-o-vision cards at select screenings, containing odors labeled everything from “BBQ Stink” to “Ghost Puke.” But even without the card, the film is so tactile that you will practically smell it anyway. Glowicki plays a lonely gravedigger who finds love, loses that love, and then goes to great lengths to revive them from the dead. Dead Lover is also shot in black-and-white, featuring delightfully handmade sets and costumes. It’s not everyone’s speed, but I had a blast.
A Poet
There have been a lot—probably too many—movies about sad, failed artists. And yet, Simón Mesa Soto’s new film manages to feel new and original. It’s partially because of how specific and true his Colombian comedyfeels. In A Poet, Oscar Restrepo (a brilliant Ubeimar Rios) is a middling poet and divorced father who can’t move forward with his life. He’s captive to his dream of writing a book, but he’s a heavy drinker with a stunted sense of responsibility. Everything changes when he meets a talented teenager, and he sets out to help her reach her potential. The film is very funny and even more cringey, but there’s a lot to appreciate in A Poet’s empathy for its pathetic protagonist.
The Voice of Hind Rajab
This shattering docudrama from Kaouther Ben Hania utilizes real phone recordings to depict a traumatizing event during the war in Gaza: when the Israel Defense Forces killed a five-year-old Palestinian girl named Hind Rajab. The child was fleeing Gaza City with her family in January 2024 when their vehicle was shelled by an IDF tank. The drama primarily stations itself inside the emergency aid offices of the Palestine Red Crescent Society. As fictionalized workers at the organization receive calls from Rajab, who was trapped in her family’s car, they wade through maddening bureaucracy and regulations to try and rescue her. Ben Hania employs some controversial gimmickry to prove the film’s verisimilitude, but it’s hard to deny the film’s emotional power.
The Love That Remains
Few filmmakers are as attuned to the beauty of the natural world as Hlynur Pálmason. The director’s latest film observes an Icelandic family and the rural world they inhabit over many seasons following an event that changes the group’s dynamic. Anna (Saga Gardarsdottir), a sculptural artist, and Magnus (Sverrir Gudnason), a fisherman, have recently split up. What ensues is rarely eventful, but Pálmason imbues the small moments among the family—Anna and Magnus have three children—with so much specificity, truth, and sporadic surrealism that the film never lags. By the end, The Love That Remains winds up feeling momentous.
Miroirs No. 3
Miroirs No. 3 begins with a car crash in the German countryside. Although a piano player named Laura (Paula Beer) survives, what ensues feels like a dream. Laura is taken in by Betty (Barbara Auer), an older woman who lives near the site of the crash in an idyllic, sun-dappled cottage. Even after Laura has recovered from her accident, she stays, maintaining a mundane sort of fairy-tale existence. You may figure out what’s going on before Laura does as you watch Miroirs No. 3, but you’ll probably want to maintain the fantasy as Laura does. This slow, quiet little film from German director Christian Petzold is mesmerizing. Beyond its routine pleasures, Laura’s and Betty’s stories serve as an intriguing contemplation on the experience of grief.
The Plague
It’s the summer of 2003, and 12-year-old Ben (Everett Blunck) is the newbie at a water-polo camp full of adolescent boys who know each other from the previous summer. First-time feature director Charlie Polinger captures the cinematic beauty—and also the brutality—of the sport. But it’s the moments out of the water when the games really begin. Ben is caught between wanting to be accepted among the popular crowd and not wanting to put down an outcast, whom the other boys have labeled as “The Plague.” It’s a nuanced depiction of childhood bullying. Plus, the chief bully, played by Kayo Martin, delivers one of the greatest child performances I’ve ever seen in a movie.




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