So you’re stuck in scrolling purgatory again, huh? Endlessly thumbing through Peacock, hoping something jumps out. We’ve been there. That’s why we pulled together the Top 10 Movies you would actually want to watch this week—no fluff, no filler. Whether you’re into thrillers, rom-coms, or indie gems, there’s something worth hitting play on. Here’s your movie cheat sheet for June 1-7, 2025—because your time is too valuable for another “meh” movie night.
That Good Night (2017)
This one’s all about final acts—and not just in the theatrical sense. That Good Night follows an aging screenwriter (played by the late, great John Hurt) who’s trying to tie up the loose ends of his life before checking out on his own terms. He’s terminally ill, emotionally complicated, and desperate to make peace with his estranged son. So yeah, get ready for some heavy air.
It’s not flashy, and it’s not trying to be. Most of the movie takes place in a beautiful villa in Portugal, and it leans hard into conversation—regret, legacy, control, all the big existential hitters. But John Hurt is so quietly commanding that it works. You feel everything simmering underneath. And Charles Dance shows up too, just to make things a little sharper and more British.
This one hits in a quiet, thoughtful way. If you’re in the mood for something that wrestles with dying on your own terms—but doesn’t get all sentimental about it—this is a solid, mature watch.
Brimstone (2016)
Brimstone is brutal. And I mean that in the “some people will straight-up not make it through” kind of way. It’s a slow-burn Western revenge thriller with a heavy dose of religious trauma and a deeply unsettling performance by Guy Pearce as a fire-and-brimstone preacher from hell.
Dakota Fanning plays a mute woman trying to survive in a world that keeps crushing her. The story’s told out of order, peeling back layers of violence, fear, and resilience as you start to piece together what she’s been through—and what she’s running from. Spoiler: it’s bad. Like, maybe look up some trigger warnings first.
It’s bleak, it’s intense, and it absolutely doesn’t pull punches. But if you like your period pieces with a horror edge and a heroine who refuses to break, Brimstone might be worth the emotional hangover. Just don’t expect anything soft or easy.
No Pay, Nudity (2016)
This one’s for the theater kids, the aging actors, and anyone who’s ever felt a little invisible in their own story. No Pay, Nudity stars Gabriel Byrne as a washed-up stage actor going through a full-on identity crisis—broke, bitter, and spiraling into a funk that feels both funny and sad in that uniquely actor-y way.
It’s got a quiet charm to it. Not loud or overly clever, just kind of worn-in and human. Nathan Lane shows up and steals every scene he’s in (as he does), and Frances Conroy brings this wistful warmth that makes even the sad parts feel oddly comforting.
If you’ve ever wondered what happens to the guys who don’t make it big, or what it looks like to chase relevance after your prime, this one gets it. It’s a small film with a big heart, and it earns its moments without shouting for attention.
Always at The Carlyle (2018)
Alright, this is pure New York luxury-core. Always at The Carlyle is a documentary love letter to the iconic Upper East Side hotel that’s been home to movie stars, royals, and the kind of old-money mystery you just can’t fake. It’s where Jackie O lived. Where JFK probably snuck out the back. Where George Clooney and Sofia Coppola still book the same rooms.
The movie isn’t here to break scandals or spill dirt. It’s more about the vibe—elegance, discretion, and a staff that’s been there long enough to read your mind. You get talking-head moments from celebs who clearly adore the place, plus some dry commentary from the hotel crew who’ve seen everything and will never, ever tell you about it.
It’s light, stylish, and a little self-indulgent—but that’s kind of the point. If you want something pretty and low-stakes that feels like sipping champagne in a velvet robe, this is a nice 90-minute escape.
Five Nights in Maine (2015)
This one’s soft. Like, whisper-soft. Five Nights in Maine is about a grieving husband (David Oyelowo) visiting his terminally awkward mother-in-law (Dianne Wiest) after his wife dies in a car crash. That’s… pretty much it. No big emotional speeches. No dramatic reveals. Just two people trying—and mostly failing—to connect through the fog of loss.
The movie sits in the silences. It lets the tension breathe. Oyelowo carries a lot with his eyes, and Wiest is all closed doors and clipped sentences until little cracks start to show. It’s frustrating at times, but also kind of honest in the way grief often is.
Not for everyone, for sure. But if you’re in a place where you can sit with something slow, tender, and emotionally messy, this one will meet you there.
A Million Little Pieces (2018)
Remember that book everyone was obsessed with until Oprah publicly yeeted it into the sun? Yeah—A Million Little Pieces is the film version of that memoir. James Frey’s not-quite-true-but-kind-of-true tale of drug addiction, rehab, and existential spiraling got the Hollywood treatment, and while the scandal still lingers, the movie’s doing its own thing.
Aaron Taylor-Johnson stars (and co-wrote it with his wife, director Sam Taylor-Johnson), and he’s all in—bloody, broken, twitchy, and half-feral as a guy trying to claw his way back to life. It’s raw and artsy, sometimes to a fault, but it definitely doesn’t sugarcoat recovery. Billy Bob Thornton plays the crusty rehab vet with just enough wisdom to land some punches, and Giovanni Ribisi is quietly devastating in a supporting role.
It’s not subtle. It’s not soft. But if you’re into stylized chaos and messy redemption arcs, this one’s got plenty of both.
Disclosure (2020)
Disclosure should be required viewing. No hyperbole. It’s a documentary that digs into how trans people have been portrayed in film and TV—from silent-era villains to the tropes we still see today—and it’s told entirely through the voices of trans creators, actors, and thinkers. Laverne Cox. Jen Richards. MJ Rodriguez. The list goes on.
It’s smart, emotional, and unflinchingly clear. You’ll see clips from films you know (and probably love) in a whole new light, and it doesn’t feel like a lecture—it feels like a group of insanely articulate people finally getting a chance to tell the truth on their own terms.
The edit is sharp, the pacing is tight, and the takeaway is hard to ignore. If you care about storytelling, representation, or just not being a jerk, this one will expand your lens in the best way.
Colewell (2019)
Colewell is small—but it lingers. Karen Allen plays Nora, a rural postmaster whose entire world gets upended when she finds out her tiny post office is shutting down. That’s the plot. No big twist. No third-act reveal. Just a quiet woman facing the end of something she’s built her life around.
The movie’s all stillness and soft light. Long shots of trees. Slow cups of coffee. Conversations that barely scratch the surface but say a lot anyway. And Allen? She’s heartbreaking in that way only someone who’s seen some things can be—lonely, proud, and stuck in a place that’s stopped needing her.
It’s definitely not for the impatient, but if you’ve ever felt your relevance slipping or just needed a film to sit with you instead of entertain you, Colewell gets it.
Ms. White Light
This one’s weird—in the best way. Ms. White Light is about a woman named Lex who helps terminally ill people transition to death. She’s great at it. Calm. Professional. Totally unshakeable. Until she meets someone who absolutely refuses to play by the dying-person rules.
Roberta Colindrez (who’s phenomenal, by the way) plays Lex as a closed-off oddball who’s spent so long dealing with death that she’s forgotten how to deal with, well, life. What follows is a dark comedy full of awkward encounters, quiet epiphanies, and moments that hit way harder than they should.
Think Lars and the Real Girl meets The Big C—offbeat, sincere, and sneakily emotional. Not flashy, but full of strange charm.
Drunk Bus
This one’s a hidden gem if you like your coming-of-age stories a little more slouched and hungover. Drunk Bus is about a college grad (Charlie Tahan) who’s stuck driving the night shift shuttle on campus while all his friends move on with their lives. He’s spiraling. Slowly. Repetitively. Then this giant, tatted-up Samoan security guard named Pineapple shows up and flips the script.
The setup’s simple, but the heart is big. Their odd-couple friendship carries the whole thing—funny, chaotic, unexpectedly tender. And while it hits all the familiar beats (letting go, growing up, finding direction), it does it with real charm and a lo-fi, lived-in vibe.
If Adventureland and The Station Agent had a slightly stoned baby, it’d probably look something like this. Equal parts aimless and meaningful. Which, let’s be honest, is the most accurate way to portray your early twenties.
Wrap Up
There’s no one flavor to this week’s list—just real, grounded, off-the-beaten-path movies that actually say something. Whether it’s end-of-life reflections (That Good Night, Ms. White Light), grief that refuses to tidy itself up (Five Nights in Maine), or a broken dude clawing his way through rehab (A Million Little Pieces), these films aren’t here to comfort you. They’re here to get under your skin—in a good way.
You’ve got slow burns (Colewell), soul punches (Disclosure), and a literal Wild West nightmare (Brimstone) all hanging out together. And if you just want to vibe with some oddball energy and a lot of heart? Drunk Bus is waiting for you with a hoodie and a hangover.
None of these are trying too hard. They’re not loud or polished or made for viral clips. But they feel lived-in. Human. Which, honestly, is what most of us are looking for in the middle of a streaming spiral.
So queue one up, skip the algorithm’s “because you watched” nonsense, and actually feel something this week.
