When we love, we come out of ourselves. Love is what makes every sacrifice worth it, every suffering seems like evolution and the slightest chance of enjoyment turns into fulfillment. However, in a world that follows the profane manual of capital, love often withers, strangled by the cruel hands of money or, worse, molding itself to its whims. The vile metal fertilizes millions of prejudices, offering bows to those who exercise power and ignoring those who cry out for opportunity. Wrong criteria define relationships and a monument to the denial of love is erected. Taking it down requires bravery and the lucidity to understand that life is more than accumulating assets.

In a society marked by indifference, asserting yourself is swimming against the lethal tide of conformity. Anyone has ever had the impression that in the entire universe there was no space for their ideas or, why not?, for their daydreams, because they saw everything occupied by those who can do more. Claiming your lot is giving life some meaning, striving to translate and interpret the most valuable message of all. Every man and every woman has the right and the duty to stand before existence as equals, proud of themselves, exercising the superhuman courage of not fighting their demons and not giving up.

Life is not a straight road. There are detours, curves, cliffs. We use the image of a safe haven to talk about success, but it is instability itself. Fortune is never perennial or eternal. Those who live only to achieve it experience an arid emptiness when they achieve it. Failure, in turn, is not an absolute rival: it has the gift of humanizing us. It shows that we are not gods, beasts or machines, but beings in constant progress. Failure is a tempting invitation to start over, even if this invitation comes in the form of inexplicable anguish. On this balance, life has a reason to exist. Failure and illness are both merciless but wise teachers. They bring us closer to a harsh truth, but as certain as it is liberating: no one controls anything.

Balancing strength and delicacy is how we reach the most vile and darkest meanders of our soul. To do so, we must refuse silence and transform chaos into possible order. This list includes five productions that reaffirm the philosophical essence of cinema by stirring up emotions, questioning the false truths that have established themselves as monoliths that do not admit discrepancies. These are films that arrived on the market during this already faltering 2025, and so, as if they didn't want anything, they demonstrate such creative power that no one remains indifferent to them. Stories that, without a doubt, leave their mark.

Materialistic Loves, by Celine Song

Celine Song's second feature film after the excellent “Vidas Passadas” (2023), “Amores Materialistas” is a romantic comedy that challenges conventions by exploring the intersections between love, money and identity in contemporary New York. Inspired by the director's personal experience as a wedding planner, the plot follows Lucy (Dakota Johnson), a successful professional who organizes relationships based on objective criteria, such as income and appearance. However, her own love life comes into conflict when she finds herself torn between Harry Castillo (Pedro Pascal), a generous millionaire, and John Pitts (Chris Evans), her ex-boyfriend, an actor in financial difficulties. The film subverts the clichés of the genre by treating love not as destiny or chance, but as a courageous choice that requires vulnerability. Song uses the love triangle to question the transactional logic of modern relationships, where affection is often mediated by status and material security. The refined aesthetics, with 35mm photography by Shabier Kirchner, in addition to the soundtrack by Japanese Breakfast, give the film a sophisticated and emotionally resonant tone. “Amores Materialistas” is a sensitive reflection on what it means to love in a world where feelings and figures intertwine. With charismatic performances and precise direction, the film reaffirms Celine Song as one of the most promising voices in contemporary cinema.

Man with H, by Esmir Filho

Ney Matogrosso is not male or female, but an entity, a spirit that guards the forests and waters materialized in his androgynous song. This could be a big problem in “Man with an H”, but director-writer Esmir Filho finds the right tone between the magic of a boy in his painful process of self-knowledge and the desire for freedom that finally materializes. Esmir proposes a deliberate confusion between the persona Matogrosso and Ney de Souza Pereira, a judicious, romantic, even naive boy, who liked to use the stage to instigate the public to review their concepts and digest their prejudices. “Homem com H” stands out for its originality by giving more emphasis to sensations than to dates, complementing the list of meticulous chronological retrospectives of the biography signed by journalist Julio Maria in 2021. “Homem com H” is a discovery as it reveals Ney as the boy admired by the curves and voice of Elvira Pagã (1920-2003), a diva whose footsteps she followed, but always in search of her own brand. Neither black, nor white, nor Indian, nor man, nor woman — or all of these together —, Ney Matogrosso is unclassifiable.

Mickey 17, de Bong Joon-ho

Bong Joon-ho is a bold man. Few filmmakers know how to tell uncomfortable truths and encourage increasingly urgent discussions like the South Korean filmmaker, who, deservedly, added awards to his resume such as the Oscar for Best Film for “Parasite” (2019), the first foreign language feature to win in this category, also awarded the Palme d'Or at Cannes — and it had been around seventy years since the same production had won both. most important cinema awards. If “Parasite” opened the world’s eyes to what the South Korean film industry has done, “Mickey 17” enters the equation as a catalyst for the public’s new desires and the director’s refined thinking, who has never shied away from touching on the exposed wounds of humanity since long before his fame. “Mickey 17” seems, in fact, like a fusion of “Parasite” with “Expresso do Ajante” (2013), a story about the ultra-rich who fund research into the colonization of another world, in which the poor are more than helpless: they are scum.

Mission: Impossible — The Last Deal, by Christopher McQuarrie

The almost three hours of “Mission: Impossible — The Final Score” glide with Ethan Hunt through the skies of the four corners of the planet where the narrative goes and when it ends there is that good feeling of… mission accomplished. In the eighth production of the franchise — and apparently the last — Christopher McQuarrie combines what can be most stimulating in chase scenes with the voluntary humor of his characters, undoubtedly one of the secrets of “Mission: Impossible” going so far and captivating the audience so much. The impression is that the series, created by Bruce Geller (1930-1978) and shown on CBS between 1966 and 1973, will not end just because there is no room for more crosses on the butt of its crooked guy. Tom Cruise may even be compulsorily removed from the cast, but it is already theorized that Glen Powell, brilliant in “Top Gun: Maverick”, will be willing to face the challenge if called upon. And this is no coincidence. “O Acerto Final” begins with a flashback of scenes from the other seven chapters. In them, it is noted that Hunt has already had a hard time, despite his new task being the one that upsets him the most. The acidic poetry of McQuarrie and co-writer Erik Jendresen comes in handy, especially for nostalgic fans, those who never forget the beginnings of the anti-hero through the lens of Brian De Palma. “Mission: Impossible – The Final Hit” is, mainly, the end of an era.

Sinners, by Ryan Coogler

There are films that are averse to labels, and that is precisely the case with “Pecadores”. Ryan Coogler's new work rejects most of the expectations one might have about it by fusing period drama, gothic and musical horror to tell a story of resistance, of struggle, all very well tempered by irony and featuring impeccable aesthetic refinement. The saga of two black brothers who are veterans of the First World War (1914-1918) who in 1932 return to the Mississippi Delta determined to open a space for socialization for black people seems like a formative novel similar to James Baldwin (1924-1987) or Toni Morrison (1931-2019), focusing on the relationship between the twins Smoke and Stack Moore throughout the first third of the film. After this vast and deceptive prologue, Coogler's text turns to formulaic horror, with cruel white vampires and hillbillies embodying the sordid threat of racism. The director-writer is skilled in sustaining these two narrative moments, even at the risk of offending sensibilities. And without prejudice to logic. Jack O'Connell steals the show, which could give rise to indelicate considerations, were it not for Mosaku's charisma and Delroy Lindo's talent. There's also a place for cursed love, but there's no need for it. The grandiloquent chaos created by Coogler suffocates any more insinuating clichés.