Well, folks, the Library of Congress just announced their picks for 2025’s National Film Registry and, surprise, they’re preserving all the movies you’ve been rewatching on streaming for the last five years. Truly, history in the making.
The big winner? John Carpenter’s 1982 masterpiece The Thing, which, let’s be real, is just Squid Game but with more tentacles and Kurt Russell’s glorious beard. Coming in hot behind it: The Truman Show and The Incredibles, because nothing says “American culture” like Jim Carrey trapped in a fake world and a family of superheroes who can’t seem to keep their capes straight.
Other gems being enshrined include Clueless (the definitive guide to being rich, white, and confused in Beverly Hills), The Karate Kid (where we all learned that painting fences is secretly karate), and Philadelphia (Tom Hanks’ Oscar-winning performance that made everyone cry and Google “what is AIDS?”).
The selections are described as having “cultural, historic or aesthetic importance,” which is librarian-speak for “we finally gave in to your emails demanding we save The Big Chill from the trash heap of history.” Acting Librarian Robert R. Newlen called films “instrumental in capturing important parts of our nation’s story,” which is a polite way of saying, “Yes, we’re preserving Wes Anderson’s pastel fever dream, The Grand Budapest Hotel, because it’s iconic and also because we couldn’t bear to let it fade into obscurity.”
The 2025 class includes six silent films (for when you want to feel fancy), four documentaries (for when you want to feel smart), two musicals (for when you want to feel joyful), and one animated film (for when you want to feel like a kid again, even though you’re definitely not).
Films had to be at least 10 years old to qualify, which means The Grand Budapest Hotel barely made the cut at 11 years old. Meanwhile, The Tramp and the Dog from 1896 is in there, proving that even 130 years ago, people were obsessed with dogs and guys in funny hats.
Now, before you start complaining that your favorite movie didn’t make the cut, remember: the registry is limited to 925 films, and they’ve got to save room for future classics like Barbie and Everything Everywhere All at Once. Priorities, people.
So, grab your popcorn, dust off your VCR, and start binge-watching these cinematic treasures. Because if the Library of Congress says they’re important, who are we to argue? Except maybe for Sparrows from 1926—what even is that? A bird documentary? A silent drama about bird migration? The world may never know. 🦅🎬
Finn McFrame, celebrated satirical mastermind and self-proclaimed “Emperor of Irony,” started his illustrious career as a cinematographer, where his expertise in capturing every single frame of a squirrel stealing a baguette earned him accolades at obscure film festivals.
Born in the glamorous town of Boring, Oregon, Finn grew up with dreams of being a Hollywood director until he realized that satire, not cinema, was his true calling—or at least the one that let him sleep until noon.
Finn McFrame: changing the world, one satirical lens flare at a time.
