What two things do the following Best DVDs of 2025 have in common? This list includes a Belgian existential puzzler starring Orson Welles and Greek gods, an 1980s Japanese romance with a man on a motorcycle, a 1970s romance amid racial and religious turmoil in Suriname, a silent film about the life of Christ, a Lithuanian rock opera on demons fallen from Heaven, a stop-motion fairy tale of the Pied Piper, a 1950s Egyptian tale of noirish obsession, and a wild British story of a vicious gangster who trades places with Mick Jagger?
Give up? These are offbeat films you likely haven’t seen, and they’ve all received Blu-ray restorations in 2025. One more thing: they all make our list of the year’s Best DVDs of 2025.
Naturally, you can come up with your own commonalities, such as observing that these are the works of serious auteurs who demonstrate personal styles and themes. Most of them represent byways and catacombs far from the road of mainstream commercial releases. Most are films that, rather than consenting to be forgotten as quickly as the digestion of popcorn, stick in the brain like a haunting melody, or perhaps a shard of glass.
Ah, we know. This is where some of you say, “Are you still blowing cash on physical media, as opposed to throwing your monthly fees into the electronic ether?” Now, it’s possible that you may be able to watch some of these films without getting your hands on the actual discs. Criterion and Kino Lorber, to name two boutique companies, have their own streaming channels. It’s nice if, on streaming, you can find all the bonus materials that enhance the physical disc experience, but I wouldn’t count on it.
Many companies license their material to streaming services. Kanopy, for example, streams a lot of Deaf Crocodile’s releases, several of which have made our list. Here’s the thing, though: unless companies like these take the trouble to restore and release physical copies of little-known gems in the first place, you won’t be able to stream them. That’s already one great reason to support such labels.
Another Kanopy example: they have the East German DEFA catalogue of classics, like the films of the brilliant Konrad Wolf. Hooray! And where does Kanopy get them? The DEFA Film Library was founded in 1993 at the University of Massachusetts in Amherst to make East German films available in the US, and I wrote about that project when it began, back in the VHS era. They still distribute those titles in the US, now on disc, and that’s why Kanopy has them. No physical media, no streaming.
Further, the mere fact that a physical label has issued something doesn’t guarantee it will be available to stream, or that its license won’t expire. Are you acquainted with the phenomenon of realizing that films on your “to be streamed” list are about to expire and vanish in a week? Or tomorrow? As long as they’re sitting safely on your shelf looking pretty, you needn’t scramble.
Tubi, which provides free streaming (with commercials) of an astonishing variety of things, devotes a whole channel to titles licensed by Shout! Factory, and that still doesn’t guarantee you get the official Shout! Factory print of a given title. One example is Stephanie Rothman’s The Velvet Vampire (1971). What’s streaming isn’t their spiffy Blu-ray edition but a lousy pan-and-scan transfer from an old VHS. Moral of the story: streaming is nice when it works, but you can’t trust it. Second moral: grab that disc before it’s out of print.
Enough propaganda for physical media. Let’s move on to the propaganda for Best DVDs themselves, presented here in alphabetical order by film title. – Michael Barrett
Alaraune + The Student of Prague – Director: Henrik Galeen (Deaf Crocodile)
Dabbling in the gothic, fantasy, and melodrama genres to fashion a narrative both forward-thinking and strikingly visual, Alraune (1928) is the story of a woman born of a hanged criminal, a mandrake plant, and a prostitute through scientific means. From there, it becomes a story of greed and promiscuity, staged by the arching, firm hand of filmmaker Henrik Galeen, who frames this silent-era opus like a penny gaff under the direction of Léon Carvalho.
Gorgeously photographed, Alraune’s operatic atmospheres reach empyrean heights that make the production seem so alien; it looks as though the film was shot on a distant planet. Starring Brigitte Helm (best-known for playing the android in Fritz Lang’s Metropolis) as the titular character, Alraune charts a woman’s succession of men in her attempt to escape her power-hungry scientist father. It might, at heart, be pulp, but it is glamorous, elegant pulp that is every bit as flamboyant and erotic as it is intelligent.
The Student of Prague, Galeen’s 1926 production, is a take, like countless other films, on the Faust legend. This rags-to-riches story forgoes much of the visual eloquence of Alraune. However, it traces a remarkable development of character and narrative that still feels very fresh a full century later. One of the most prominent figures of German Expressionism, Galeen offers viewers psychic traumas and fever dreams in even turns, relaying these mordant mythologies with wild and ambitious enterprise.
This double-feature by Deaf Crocodile delivers a richly resplendent remastering of both films, featuring lush, sweeping soundtracks. Audio commentaries and an extensive feature on the preservation of Galeen’s films round out the package. – Imran Khan
The Assassin of the Tsar – Director: Karen Shakhnazarov (Deaf Crocodile)
A cautious pick, as this film won’t please those craving much action, 1991’s The Assassin of the Tsar is a molasses-slow Russian drama that tells the story of an inmate at a mental hospital who believes he is the reincarnation of a revolutionary responsible for the murders of two tsars.
Director Karen Shakhnazarov’s meditation on Soviet life during the later part of the 20th century (exploring the ensuing guilt and grief brought on by the first part) may be lost on those not familiar with Russia’s tsarist history, but his very baroque framing of the story, lifted from the works of Caravaggio and Rubens, will ensnare viewers with its stunning beauty.
Shot in earthy, sensuous color-tones that render the drama onscreen nearly palpable to the touch, Shakhnazarov offers actor Malcolm McDowell a vehicle that occasions a suitably grave and restrained performance as an aging man tormented by his illness. The Assassin of the Tsar’s “foreignness”, its literary value, and its visual eloquence have the effect of a Dostoevsky novel coming to life before your very eyes.
Deaf Crocodile’s Blu-ray release features a spectacular remastering that pulls the images into razor-sharp focus and further energizes a rich color palette. An especially welcome bonus to this edition is the inclusion of both the Russian and English language versions of the film, the actors having been shot speaking their dialogue in both languages. Extensive interviews with both McDowell and Shakhnazarov also feature on the disc, and an essay booklet rounds out the package. – Imran Khan
See also “Russian Director Karen Shakhnazarov Keeps It Surreal in These Absurdist Films“, by Imran Khan.
Basquiat – Director: Julian Schnabel (Criterion)
Released in 1996, director Julian Schnabel fashioned the odds and ends and mementos of artist Jean-Michel Basquiat’s life into a moving picture that captures a young man rising from the seedy trenches of downtown New York to bring his art to the unsuspecting worldwide masses. While Schnable doesn’t opt for the more documentarian-style of biopics favored by most directors, he maintains a wistful look at an unusual life riddled by both sheer inspiration and addiction.
In the titular role is Jeffrey Wright, who delivers his Basquiat with an at turns cheeky and contemplative temperament. Wright is always sympathetic as the haunted artist whose world continues to expand as he delves deeper into his relationships and his art. Co-star David Bowie plays a jaggedly off-center and equally perturbed Andy Warhol, who quietly chews up any scenery set by his surrounding cast.
Criterion’s Blu-ray offers Basquiat in two versions. One is a 2024 black-and-white edition, in which the airs of nostalgia plume to the surface. The original color version of 1996, however, captures the dingy hues of a dingy 1980s-era New York, offset by the vibrant shocks of color in Basquiat’s work. In addition to the vivid 4K restoration of both versions, there is an audio commentary by Schnabel and author/curator Giulia D’Agnolo Vallan, as well as interviews with Wright, Schnabel, and Bowie. – Imran Khan
The Betrayal – Director: Tokuzo Tanaka (Radiance)
Director Tokuzô Tanaka was mostly known for his installments in the great film series Shinobi, Zatoichi, and Sleepy Eyes of Death. However, he arguably shone brighter when untethered from franchises, as evidenced by The Betrayal and another Radiance release, The Snow Woman. Like its filmmaker, The Betrayal has been largely sidelined by other jidaigeki (historical) and chanbara (samurai) films in Japan’s traditional cinematic canon, but this revelatory new release rewrites the record.
Ichikawa Raizô gives one of the best performances of his short life, a physically powerful one, as his character is forced into combat multiple times. As a result, The Betrayal features some excellent action set pieces in the improbable but exciting tradition of ikki tōsatsu (one man fighting many). Raizô’s visceral fight scenes find him rolling in the dirt, sweaty and unkempt, a supremely skilled samurai who is nonetheless vulnerable and human. Tanaka pauses on his lead actor from time to time, drawing attention to his physicality, be it Takuma’s heavy breathing or, in one unforgettable instance, the way he pulls his cramped fingers off the hilt of his sword.
However, it’s Raizô’s portrayal of the film’s philosophical themes that lingers longest after the haunting, ambiguous final shot. His character exists halfway between wisdom and self-destruction, pulsating with a fading anger as Takuma gradually gives up on this life that betrays us all. Unlike most samurai films, the conclusive question of The Betrayal isn’t whether Takuma dies; it’s whether he cares one way or the other. – Matt Mahler
See also “‘The Betrayal’ Returns in All Its Nihilistic Glory“, by Matt Mahler.
The Beyond – Director: Lucio Fulci (Grindhouse Releasing)
Perhaps the best film from Italy’s notorious master of gore, Lucio Fulci’s The Beyond (1981), is an apocalyptic freak-out that melds the modern with the ancient, creating some iconic horror imagery along the way. Following a woman as she refurbishes a hotel that hides a gateway to hell, The Beyond was reissued in a six-disc set from Grindhouse in 2025, featuring its first 4K UHD release. Two other versions of the film, hours of new and archival interviews, and a 100-page book by Fulci experts Martin Beine and Jesper Mørch round out the set.
Alongside the new 4K scan from the original negative, the collection also comes with the so-called “Composer’s Cut”, which has a new surround sound 5.1 mix and a reimagined score by the legendary horror composer and Fulci collaborator, Fabio Frizzi (a score which also comes as a CD in the set). There’s also Aquarius Pictures’ less violent edit of the film for North American release, retitled The 7 Doors of Death, and three separate commentary tracks. The price is reasonable, too, considering the contents, making this release a comprehensive essential for horror fans. – Matt Mahler
The Big Heat – Director: Fritz Lang (Criterion)
Fritz Lang’s career as a filmmaker is strewn with dark, fatalistic visions. He specialized in characters caught in what he called “nets of circumstance”. A 1953 masterpiece of brutality, The Big Heat may be his most hard-hitting work, delivering one jolt after another to the viewer.
The violence aroused some controversy in its day, and Britain gave the film an X rating. Today’s noir fans just call it a classic. Glenn Ford, Gloria Grahame, and Lee Marvin are the stars. – Michael Barrett
See also “The Big Heat’s Resting Gun“, by Michael Barrett.
Breaking Glass – Director: Brian Gibson (Fun City Editions)
A new wave film to end all new wave films, Breaking Glass features rocker Hazel O’Connor in the lead role of Kate, a new wave punker on the rise who wholly embraces the excitable facets of her newfound fame – the romance, the violence, the drama, and, finally, the crashing tragedies. Positioned at an odd interstice when punk was just dying out, and the dawn of post-punk was lighting the musical and cultural landscape in the UK, this 1980 effort capitalized on the burgeoning trends of the era that had its youth feared by the preceding generation: fright makeup, teased hair, and getups that took the 1960s biker look to futuristic summits.
Beneath the glare of its shock fashion and stuttering post-punk rhythms, there is a genuine story of disenfranchisement in Breaking Glass that cuts through all the flash and noise. The life of a young, ambitious woman, who takes her fledgling band to insurmountable, sometimes painful, heights, is told with empathy and care. O’Connor isn’t a seasoned actress, but she relies on an instinct that aligns perfectly with her punk counterpart Kate, who navigates the urban wastelands of England with breathless daring and hard resolve.
Fun City Editions presents a Blu-ray transfer that captures this post-punk world in all its drab-and-flashy glory, with diamond-cut exactitude. It features both the extended UK original cut and the edited US version, which removes the ending of the British release. Also included are an assortment of interviews and a new commentary track recorded for this edition. – Imran Khan
Cairo Station/Bāb al-Ḥadīd – Director: Youssef Chahine (Criterion)
A melodrama of sex, jealousy, and violence plays out amid the hustle and bustle of a major railroad station in one of the most highly regarded classics of Egyptian cinema. Never mind that Cairo Station was a major flop in 1958.
Filmmaker Youssef Chahine plays a very darkly Chaplinesque loser whose obsession with a sexy, gaudy guttersnipe is headed for trouble. This is what happens when nominal neorealism crosses with simmering film noir, and we hope this restoration signals more Western awareness of the shamefully under-available work of Chahine. – Michael Barrett
See also “‘Cairo Station’ Jumbles Sex, Politics, and Noir“, by Michael Barrett.
Champagne & Caviar: Four Weimar Comedies (Flicker Alley)
Among the year’s most eye-opening and entertaining rediscoveries in our Best DVDs search are four early talkies from Weimar Germany gathered in this two-disc set. The stories are marked by music, romance, stylistic innovation, and social satire. They’re also a festival of artists who’d quickly be leaving Germany, if they were lucky, including German actors Peter Lorre and Hedy Lamarr, and an African-American dancer named Rose Poindexter, who’d soon be married to novelist Ralph Ellison.
We wish to single out Ludwig Berger’s 1932 I By Day, You By Night (Ich bei Tag und du bei Nacht), a frivolity that incorporates an escapist musical film within the film and comes with outstanding critical commentary. – Michael Barrett
See also “Weimar Comedies Have Us Laughing on the Precipice“, by Michael Barrett.
Choose Me – Director: Alan Rudolph (Criterion)
A mature, romantic drama for grown-ups that never skimps on style, Alan Rudolph’s Choose Me was released in 1984 at the height of the ‘80s fashion and musical new wave, which explains the liberal use of neon here. Whereas such an aesthetic might have superseded any substance in another, perhaps inferior, film, Rudolph uses this design to wonderful effect. In this version of Los Angeles, all bodies in the night are beautifully backlit by a range of glowing fluorescent colors, and framed handsomely against sets recalling the works of Edward Hopper.
The look is very much of its time, but the drama is fresh. A love story dealing with a troubled group of hipster Angelenos, Choose Me follows a young, mysterious man named Mickey (Keith Carradine) who blows into town one night and meets barkeep Eve (Lesley Ann Warren). Eve, lonely, single, and bored, gets advice from the city’s most popular radio sex therapist, Dr. Nancy Love (Geneviève Bujold). Eve has taken a liking to Mickey, and the two have a tempestuous affair.
Things get a little complicated when Nancy moves into Eve’s home as her new roommate. Eve is unaware of Nancy’s identity as the radio sex therapist (Nancy has concealed it); meanwhile, she continues her romance with Mickey. Things take a sudden turn one day when Mickey shows up at Eve’s door, only to find Nancy, whom he takes an immediate liking to.
At times evocative of a 1940s noir (while soundtracked by shamelessly funky Teddy Pendergrass numbers), Choose Me bridges romance, folly, suspense, and humor successfully in a way that has become a trademark of dRudolph’s films. Bujold, in particular, delivers a beautifully textured and nuanced performance; tender, funny, and as natural as sunlight.
Criterion’s Blu-ray release features an excellent transfer that captures the colors of a neon-infused metropolis with pristine clarity, and gives good face to a good-looking cast in their prime. The disc also features several interviews with Rudolph, who delves into the film’s conception. – Imran Khan