Best Movies of 1985
The year 1985 stands as a landmark moment in cinema history, delivering an extraordinary range of films that pushed artistic boundaries and captivated audiences worldwide. From epic historical dramas and visionary science fiction adventures to darkly comedic masterpieces and harrowing war documentaries, the best movies of 1985 showcase the incredible diversity and creative ambition that defined mid-1980s filmmaking. This unforgettable year brought together legendary auteurs at the peak of their powers, emerging talents who would shape cinema's future, and breakthrough performances that remain iconic decades later. Whether you're seeking critically acclaimed international cinema, groundbreaking blockbusters that revolutionized special effects, or daring independent films that challenged conventions, 1985 offers an embarrassment of riches for movie lovers. These 21 essential films represent the year's most significant achievements in storytelling, visual innovation, and emotional resonance—from intimate character studies to sweeping historical epics. Discover the movies that earned major awards, influenced countless filmmakers, and continue to captivate new generations of viewers with their timeless artistry and bold creative vision.
Over nine hours and spanning multiple countries, Claude Lanzmann's monumental documentary examines the Holocaust through firsthand testimonies recorded in the 1970s and early 1980s. This is not just a film but an overwhelming historical document that refuses to use any archival footage, instead relying entirely on interviews with survivors, witnesses, and perpetrators, as well as footage of the locations as they appeared decades after the war. Lanzmann's approach is methodical and unflinching, allowing his subjects to speak at length, sometimes in excruciating detail, about the mechanics of genocide. The director returns again and again to the death camps, filming the eerily peaceful landscapes where unspeakable atrocities occurred. What emerges is a profound meditation on memory, testimony, and the inadequacy of language to capture such horror. The length is essential rather than excessive—Lanzmann understands that bearing witness to genocide cannot be rushed. This is one of the most important films ever made.
In feudal Japan, master filmmaker Akira Kurosawa transposes Shakespeare's "King Lear" into an epic examination of power, loyalty, and the wages of violence. The aging warlord Hidetora announces his intention to divide his kingdom among his three sons, setting in motion a tragedy of Shakespearean proportions as ambition and resentment tear the family apart. Kurosawa, working with the largest budget ever afforded a Japanese production at the time, creates images of breathtaking beauty and devastating power—the castle-burning sequence alone stands as one of cinema's most stunning achievements. Tatsuya Nakadai gives a towering performance as Hidetora, descending from imperious authority to mad recognition of his life's cruelty. The film meditates on how violence begets violence across generations, and Kurosawa's visual mastery ensures every frame carries thematic weight. This is filmmaking on the grandest scale, with emotional and philosophical depths to match.
This sci-fi adventure comedy is pure lightning in a bottle—endlessly rewatchable and bursting with imagination and heart. Robert Zemeckis directs Michael J. Fox as Marty McFly, a teenager accidentally sent back to 1955 in a time machine built by his eccentric scientist friend Doc Brown (Christopher Lloyd in a career-defining role). When Marty inadvertently disrupts his parents' first meeting, he must ensure they fall in love or risk erasing himself from existence. The screenplay is a masterclass in setup and payoff, with seemingly throwaway details becoming crucial plot points. Fox brings incredible charm and comic timing while grounding the fantastical premise in genuine emotion. The chemistry between the leads, Alan Silvestri's iconic score, and the film's perfect balance of humor, adventure, and surprising emotional depth make this an absolute triumph that has rightfully earned its place as one of the most beloved films ever made.
Tsutomu Yamazaki stars as a truck driver who becomes swept up in the mission to help Tampopo, a widow struggling to perfect her ramen shop, in Juzo Itami's wildly inventive food comedy. What begins as a simple story about improving a noodle recipe expands into a kaleidoscopic celebration of food, desire, and human connection, featuring dozens of vignettes that range from absurdist humor to genuine tenderness. Itami constructs the film like a "ramen western," complete with cowboy archetypes and showdown dynamics, while threading through hilarious set pieces about oysters, etiquette, and the sensual nature of eating. The result is utterly original—a film that makes you ravenously hungry while keeping you in stitches, blending slapstick comedy with genuine culinary passion and a deep affection for its eccentric characters.
In this stunning biographical portrait, director Paul Schrader explores the life and death of Japanese writer Yukio Mishima through an innovative structure that interweaves documentary footage, stylized recreations of his final day, and dramatizations of his novels. The result is absolutely mesmerizing—a film that captures both the man and his art while examining the dangerous intersection between aesthetics and extremism. Ken Ogata delivers an extraordinary performance as Mishima, embodying the writer's contradictions: nationalist and modernist, traditionalist and provocateur. Schrader and cinematographer John Bailey create visually distinct worlds for each timeline, with the novelistic segments unfolding in theatrical sets designed by Eiko Ishioka that are breathtaking in their artificial beauty. Philip Glass's hypnotic score perfectly complements the film's meditation on art, death, and the body. This is biographical filmmaking as high art, refusing simple psychological explanations while creating profound insight into creative obsession.
Griffin Dunne stars as Paul Hackett, a mild-mannered word processor who ventures downtown for a late-night date and finds himself trapped in an absurdist nightmare he can't escape. Martin Scorsese directs this pitch-black comedy with manic energy, transforming Manhattan's SoHo neighborhood into a labyrinth of escalating chaos where Murphy's Law reigns supreme. Every attempt Paul makes to return uptown spirals into increasingly bizarre encounters with sculptors, vigilantes, punk rockers, and ice cream truck drivers. The film crackles with paranoid energy and dark humor, moving at a breathless pace that never lets up. Dunne's everyman bewilderment anchors the surreal proceedings perfectly, while Scorsese's kinetic direction and Michael Ballhaus's expressive cinematography create a fever dream that's both hilarious and genuinely nightmarish. It's a wickedly entertaining deep dive into urban anxiety that showcases Scorsese's versatility beyond his crime epics.
Terry Gilliam's dystopian masterpiece imagines a nightmarish bureaucratic future where a low-level government worker's dreams of escape collide with soul-crushing institutional absurdity. Jonathan Pryce stars as Sam Lowry, whose clerical error and subsequent romantic fixation lead him into increasingly surreal conflicts with the totalitarian system he serves. Gilliam's visual imagination runs wild here, creating a world of retro-futuristic decay where technology barely functions and paperwork reigns supreme. The production design is extraordinary—simultaneously comic and horrifying in its depiction of banal evil. Robert De Niro appears memorably as a rogue heating engineer, while Kim Greist, Ian Holm, and Bob Hoskins round out the stellar cast. The film's satirical edge hasn't dulled with time; if anything, its commentary on surveillance, incompetence, and institutional cruelty feels more relevant than ever. This is Gilliam at his most ambitious and uncompromising, a singular vision that balances dark comedy with genuine tragedy to create something truly unforgettable.
Set during the Nazi occupation of Belarus in 1943, Elem Klimov's devastating war film follows a young peasant boy whose entire world is systematically destroyed before his eyes. This is arguably the most harrowing and unflinching depiction of war's impact on innocence ever committed to film. Aleksey Kravchenko's performance as Flyora is extraordinary—his face literally aging before the camera as he witnesses unspeakable atrocities. Klimov employs surreal cinematography and sound design that places viewers directly inside the protagonist's traumatized perspective. The film builds to a conclusion so powerful and morally complex it will stay with you for years. "Come and See" isn't entertainment in any conventional sense; it's an essential, almost unbearably intense work of art that forces us to confront humanity's darkest capabilities.
In 1950s Sweden, a young boy named Ingemar is sent to live with relatives in a small village after his mother becomes too ill to care for him. Director Lasse Hallström adapted Reidar Jönsson's autobiographical novel with remarkable sensitivity, creating a coming-of-age story that balances childhood resilience with genuine sadness. Anton Glanzelius is wonderful as Ingemar, a boy who copes with abandonment and loss by comparing his troubles to those of his hero, Soviet cosmonaut Laika the space dog. Hallström populates the village with memorable eccentrics who provide unexpected kindness, while never minimizing the pain of Ingemar's situation. The film's ability to find humor in difficult circumstances without trivializing them is its greatest strength—this is life as children actually experience it, where tragedy and play exist simultaneously. The Swedish countryside is beautifully captured, and the period details feel authentic rather than nostalgic. This earned an Oscar nomination for Best Foreign Language Film.
When a Secret Service agent's partner is killed by a ruthless counterfeiter, his obsessive quest for revenge leads him down increasingly dangerous and morally compromised paths that blur the line between law enforcement and criminality. William Friedkin directs this kinetic thriller with the same raw energy he brought to The French Connection, crafting visceral action sequences—including a spectacular car chase—that put viewers directly into the chaos. William Petersen brings coiled intensity to the lead role, making his character's descent feel both inevitable and alarming, while Willem Dafoe is chillingly matter-of-fact as the counterfeiter. Wang Chung's synth-heavy score perfectly captures the sun-bleached noir atmosphere of mid-80s Los Angeles. Friedkin's willingness to take the story to dark, unexpected places and refuse easy redemption makes this more than just another cop thriller—it's a genuinely unsettling examination of obsession.
In this landmark action film, Jackie Chan plays a Hong Kong police officer framed for murder who must clear his name while protecting a witness from ruthless criminals. Chan also directed this career-defining work that established the template for his unique blend of comedy, character, and breathtaking stunt work. The film's centerpiece—a climactic battle in a shopping mall that culminates with Chan sliding down a pole covered in exploding lights—remains one of the most audacious action sequences ever filmed. What distinguishes this from typical action fare is Chan's commitment to practical stunts and his willingness to show the painful consequences, with outtakes during the credits revealing the genuine injuries sustained. Maggie Cheung provides excellent support as Chan's long-suffering girlfriend, grounding the film's more outrageous moments. It's exhilarating entertainment that showcases why Chan became an international icon, combining genuine danger with perfect comic timing.
Set in rural Georgia during the early 20th century, Steven Spielberg's adaptation of Alice Walker's novel follows Celie, a young Black woman who endures decades of abuse and oppression before finally discovering her own voice and strength. Whoopi Goldberg's film debut as Celie is nothing short of remarkable, conveying profound emotion with both subtle gestures and powerful moments of transformation. The ensemble cast, including Danny Glover, Margaret Avery, and Oprah Winfrey in her first acting role, brings Walker's characters to vivid life. Spielberg handles the difficult subject matter with sensitivity while celebrating the bonds of sisterhood and the resilience of the human spirit. Quincy Jones' musical score enhances the film's emotional resonance, and the cinematography captures both the beauty and harshness of Celie's world. It remains a deeply affecting story about survival, identity, and ultimate triumph.
In this film, Woody Allen crafts one of his most purely delightful fantasies about the power of cinema to transform our lives. Mia Farrow stars as Cecilia, a Depression-era waitress in a dead-end marriage who escapes her troubles through obsessive moviegoing at the local theater. When a dashing character played by Jeff Daniels literally steps off the screen and into her life, reality and fiction blur in enchanting and increasingly complicated ways. Allen uses this whimsical premise to explore deeper questions about art, escapism, and the difference between romantic fantasy and messy reality. Farrow brings warmth and vulnerability to Cecilia, making her dreary life feel painfully real before the magic intervenes. The period recreation is meticulous, and Gordon Willis's cinematography beautifully differentiates between the real world's muted tones and the movie world's glamour. The film balances comedy with genuine poignancy, ultimately suggesting that while movies can't solve our problems, the joy and hope they provide have their own value.
Bob Geldof appears not as a character but as himself, the driving force behind the historic July 1985 benefit concert that united rock music's biggest names for African famine relief. Director Vincent Scarza captures the unprecedented event across dual venues in London and Philadelphia, as performances from Queen, U2, David Bowie, The Who, and dozens more created a singular moment in music history. The concert's scale remains staggering—nearly 75,000 in attendance at Wembley Stadium alone, with a global broadcast reaching an estimated 1.9 billion viewers across 110 nations. Freddie Mercury's show-stopping performance has become legendary, but the film captures dozens of remarkable moments as artists rose to the occasion. The production values reflect mid-80s broadcast television, but that rawness adds authenticity to the historical record. Beyond the performances, the concert represented a cultural watershed when popular music demonstrated its capacity for global mobilization. It's essential viewing both as musical document and cultural artifact, capturing idealism and star power in equal measure.
This enchanting adaptation of E.M. Forster's novel radiates warmth, wit, and romantic longing in equal measure. Director James Ivory and producer Ismail Merchant transport us to Edwardian England and Florence, where young Lucy Honeychurch (Helena Bonham Carter in a luminous early role) must choose between passionate George Emerson (Julian Sands) and proper, controlling Cecil Vyse (Daniel Day-Lewis). Maggie Smith steals scenes as Lucy's unconventional chaperone, while the entire ensemble navigates social propriety and suppressed desires with perfect pitch. The Tuscan photography is breathtaking, and the screenplay captures Forster's gentle satire of class constraints without losing the story's emotional core. It's a film that believes in the transformative power of genuine connection, making its period setting feel surprisingly relevant to contemporary questions about authenticity and convention.
At its heart, this is an examination of connection, imagination, and dignity in the face of oppression. William Hurt won an Academy Award for his extraordinary performance as Luis Molina, a gay window dresser imprisoned in an Argentine jail during the Dirty War, who shares a cell with political prisoner Valentín (Raúl Juliá). Director Héctor Babenco adapts Manuel Puig's novel as a chamber piece that finds transcendence in confinement, as Luis recounts elaborate movie plots to pass the time, weaving fantasy and escape into their grim reality. The relationship between these opposite personalities—Luis theatrical and romantic, Valentín ideologically rigid—develops with psychological complexity as they navigate mutual suspicion, unexpected friendship, and the surveillance state's machinations. Hurt's performance is a revelation, finding the humanity beneath mannerisms while Juliá matches him with fierce intelligence. Sônia Braga appears in Luis's fantasized film narratives, providing color and romance against the cell's gray walls. It's deeply moving cinema about the stories we tell to survive.
Harrison Ford delivers one of his finest performances as John Book, a Philadelphia detective who goes into hiding among Pennsylvania's Amish community after a young boy witnesses a murder. Director Peter Weir crafts a thoughtful thriller that contrasts the violence of the modern world with the peaceful simplicity of Amish life. The fish-out-of-water premise works beautifully as Ford's hardened cop must adapt to a culture without electricity, cars, or violence. Kelly McGillis is compelling as the widow who becomes his unlikely romantic interest, and their chemistry feels earned rather than forced. The film builds tension expertly while never losing sight of its characters, culminating in a satisfying finale that honors both worlds. It's a rare thriller that takes time to breathe and observe, making it a standout in Ford's impressive filmography.
Filmed during the height of Prince's creative and commercial dominance, this concert film captures the legendary performer and his band The Revolution during their 1985 tour supporting "Around the World in a Day." Directed by Daniel Kleinman, the film showcases Prince at his most flamboyant and musically virtuosic, delivering electrifying performances of hits like "Purple Rain" and "Let's Go Crazy" alongside deeper cuts. The staging is elaborate without overwhelming the performances, and the cinematography effectively captures both the spectacle and the intimate moments of musical connection between band members. What elevates this beyond typical concert documentation is how it preserves Prince's ability to command a stage completely, shifting from guitar heroics to vulnerable balladry to pure funk workouts with seemingly effortless charisma. The Revolution proves themselves far more than mere backing band, with particularly strong contributions from Wendy Melvoin and Lisa Coleman. For anyone wanting to understand Prince's live power during his imperial phase, this film serves as thrilling evidence.
An elderly Texas woman named Carrie Watts (Geraldine Page) becomes determined to visit her childhood hometown of Bountiful one final time, despite her son and daughter-in-law's wishes to keep her safely confined in their cramped Houston apartment. Director Peter Masterson brings Horton Foote's play to the screen with sensitivity and restraint, allowing the material's emotional power to emerge naturally. Page delivers an Oscar-winning performance that avoids sentimentality, creating a fully realized character whose desire for connection to her past feels urgent and genuine. John Heard and Carlin Glynn provide strong support as the well-meaning but overwhelmed family members caught between duty and compassion. The film's modest scale works in its favor—this is intimate storytelling focused on character and emotion rather than spectacle. Rebecca De Mornay appears briefly but memorably as a young woman Carrie befriends during her journey. The Texas locations are captured beautifully, giving Carrie's quest a tangible sense of place. This is the kind of quiet, character-driven drama that rewards patient viewers.
Albert Brooks writes, directs, and stars in this wickedly funny satire about a successful advertising executive who decides to drop out of the rat race and discover the "real America" in a Winnebago. Alongside his wife Linda (Julie Hagerty), Brooks's David Howard liquidates everything to pursue a life free from responsibility—only to watch their nest egg evaporate within days at a Las Vegas roulette table. What follows is a brilliantly uncomfortable comedy about the impossibility of escape and the American dream's darker implications. Brooks's neurotic perfectionism as a performer perfectly matches his character's desperate attempts to control an increasingly chaotic situation. Hagerty provides a wonderfully grounded counterpoint to Brooks's escalating panic. The film's humor is both laugh-out-loud funny and deeply observant about middle-class anxieties, materialism, and the fantasy that we can simply walk away from our lives and start fresh somewhere else.
When five high school stereotypes—a brain, an athlete, a basket case, a princess, and a criminal—land in Saturday detention together, they expect a day of boredom and mutual disdain. John Hughes writes and directs this defining '80s drama that traps its characters in the school library, forcing them to look past labels and discover the complex, vulnerable people underneath. The ensemble cast—Emilio Estevez, Molly Ringwald, Judd Nelson, Ally Sheedy, and Anthony Michael Hall—creates authentic chemistry as their characters gradually open up about parental pressure, identity struggles, and the social hierarchies that govern their lives. What could have been a simple message movie becomes something more honest and moving, capturing the specific pain of adolescence while recognizing that one day of understanding doesn't magically solve everything. Simple Minds' "Don't You (Forget About Me)" became inseparable from the film, which remains a touchstone for anyone who's ever felt misunderstood or trapped by others' expectations.