First Reformed

I’ve had First Reformed sitting on my watchlist for what feels like forever. One of those films that just lingers there, quietly building a kind of myth around itself. My dad mentioned years ago that it was something special, and then over the past few days my friend Cian kept bringing it up. So I finally gave in and cleared it off the list and honestly, I wish I hadn’t waited so long. This is absolutely a film you have to go into blind. No expectations, no summaries, just let it unfold. Because what it becomes is something far more intense and consuming than you’re prepared for. At its core, First Reformed feels like a slow, suffocating meditation on faith, despair, and the weight of existence in a collapsing world. It’s not just about religion in the traditional sense, it’s about what happens when belief, in any form, starts to erode. The film wrestles with environmental dread, personal guilt, and the terrifying question of if hope is even rational anymore. And it does all of this in such a restrained, quiet way that it somehow makes it even more overwhelming. There’s this constant tension between stillness and eruption. Long, static shots that force you to sit with the character’s thoughts, followed by moments that feel almost transcendental or completely unhinged. It blurs the line between spiritual awakening and psychological breakdown so well that by the end, you’re not even sure which one you’ve witnessed. What really stuck with me is how the film refuses to offer comfort. It doesn’t hand you answers or relief. Instead, it asks you to sit in the discomfort of uncertainty, of moral responsibility, of knowing too much and feeling powerless anyway. It’s heavy, but in a way that feels completely purposeful. That ending man, I’m still turning it over in my head. It’s one of those rare final moments that doesn’t just conclude the film, it redefines everything that came before it. Quite simply, this is one of the greatest motion pictures I’ve ever seen. Not in a loud or flashy way, but in that quiet, devastating, deeply human way that lingers long after the credits roll. I can already tell this is going to be one I come back to again, even if I’m not sure I’ll ever feel fully ready for it.  Will god forgive us?