Five Movies Worth a Repeat Watch

The Atlantic

01-06-2025

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Not all movies are meant to be watched twice. Some leave a glancing effect; others emanate so much intensity that the idea of sitting through them again feels unbearable. But then there are those films that draw you back in, even after you've seen it all before. So we asked The Atlantic 's writers and editors: What's a movie you can watch over and over again?
Raising Arizona (available to rent on Prime Video)
I've probably seen Raising Arizona, the Coen brothers' 1987 classic with Holly Hunter and a 22-year-old Nicholas Cage, a half dozen times over the years. But I've watched the opening sequence many, many more times than that. It's a whole movie-within-the-movie, building up to the title shot with Cage's deadpan narration, rapid-cut scenes, and a jaunty musical bed that goes from whistling and humming to weird ululating. The screenwriting has some all-time great lines ('I tried to stand up and fly straight, but it wasn't easy with that sumbitch Reagan in the White House,' says Cage, with wild hair, aviators, and a 12-gauge shotgun, preparing to stick up a convenience store).
The other day, I made my 12-year-old watch it for the first time. When Cage says to his chatty prison bunkmate, incredulously, 'You ate sand?!' my son nearly fell on the floor. A true marker of timelessness.
— Nick Miroff, staff writer
White Christmas (streaming on Prime Video)
It makes me miserable to contemplate how many people have never once seen the 1954 film White Christmas, let alone given it 10 to 20 percent of their attention while focusing on other activities, which is the ideal way to view it. Then again, the film's surprising obscurity is its hidden ace: From the moment you press 'Play' on White Christmas, no one who glances at the screen will be able to predict or even comprehend any aspect of the Technicolor encephalitic fever dream exploding before them unless they have previously seen White Christmas. In any given frame, a viewer might be confronted with a horde of people cavorting inside a giant purple void, waggling tambourines adorned with women's faces; the bombed-out smoldering remains of 1944 Europe; or the virtuoso dancer Vera-Ellen, in head-to-heel chartreuse, executing pirouettes at faster-than-heartbeat speeds (for no defined reason). Muted, it makes for terrific social lubricant at a party—there's something dazzling to remark upon nearly every second if conversation lags. Don't concern yourself with the plot; the film's writers did not.
— Caity Weaver, staff writer
The Lord of the Rings franchise (streaming on Max)
I suppose my answer is less of a love letter to a movie than it is one to my family. My husband is the movie buff in our family—I'll rarely be caught rewatching movies. But his undying loyalty to the Lord of the Rings franchise means we've watched the trilogy together multiple times, more than once in an 11-plus-hour binge. (Yeah … it's the extended editions, every time.) The movies are a genuinely gorgeous feat of storytelling, bested only by the books; fantasy and action sequences aside, they spotlight friendship, loyalty, and the dueling motivations of pride, duty, and greed. And for our family, at least, they'll be a regular feature—I'm pretty sure it was implicit in our wedding vows that we'd indoctrinate our kids into the LOTR lore—which means that the films are about carving out time for one another as well.
— Katherine J. Wu, staff writer
All Your Faces (available to rent on Google Play and Apple TV)
I've watched the French film All Your Faces three times in the past eight months. The movie isn't a documentary, but it's based on real restorative-justice programs in France that were introduced about a decade ago.
Why did I repeatedly return to a film about an idiosyncratic feature of a foreign country's criminal-justice system? There's something about the encounter between victim and perpetrator, and the instability and unpredictability of these interactions, that surprised me each time I watched it. Equally intense was the tenderness between the instructors and the programs' participants, most evident between the characters played by Adèle Exarchopoulos and Élodie Bouchez. But it's Miou-Miou, playing an elderly victim of petty street crime, who delivers the most haunting line in the movie: 'I don't understand the violence.' A mantra for our time.
— Isaac Stanley-Becker, staff writer
Little Women (streaming on Hulu)
Little Women first came to me as a comfort movie. Based on Louisa May Alcott's 1868 novel, Greta Gerwig's 2019 film adaptation features not so much plot as simply vibes: a familiar tale of four sisters and their childhood friend, scenes of a snowy Christmas morning perfect for the holidays.
But with each subsequent encounter during my lonely postgraduate months in a new city, I began to appreciate the little rebellions that make Gerwig's Little Women so special. The story is full of moments of seeing: Professor Bhaer turns around to watch Jo watching a play, Laurie gazes into the Marches' windows, and we, as viewers, feel seen by Jo's boyish brashness. But Gerwig also chooses to focus on Jo's many anxieties. Early in the film, Jo uncharacteristically dismisses her own writing ('Those are just stories,' she says. Just!); later, her monologue reveals a vulnerable desire for companionship (But I'm so lonely!). Gerwig honors the story's essence, but her version is not a granular retelling; rather, it serves as a homage to the art of writing itself—and women's mundane, humble stories, which Jo and Alcott are desperate to tell.
The Week Ahead
Ballerina, an action movie in the John Wick franchise starring Ana de Armas as an assassin bent on avenging her father's death (in theaters Friday)
Season 3 of Ginny & Georgia, a comedy-drama series about a single mom and two kids trying to settle down in a new town (premieres Thursday on Netflix)
The Haves and the Have-Yachts, a book by the journalist Evan Osnos featuring dispatches on the ultrarich (out Tuesday)
Essay
Diddy's Defenders
Diddy—whose legal name is Sean Combs—has pleaded not guilty to the charges he faces of racketeering conspiracy and sex trafficking. Many Americans have taken to the comment sections to offer their full-throated belief in his innocence. Despite the video evidence of domestic violence, the photos of Combs's guns with serial numbers removed, and the multiple witnesses testifying that Combs threatened to kill them, this group insists that Diddy's biggest sin is nothing more than being a hypermasculine celebrity with 'libertine' sexual tastes.
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