Best Sci‑Fi Movies of 2025 So Far: Marshmallow stands out as Mickey 17 and Tron: Ares near

Robots aren’t running Hollywood, but they’re everywhere in its stories. Between generative AI, biometric scans, and a daily diet of screens, audiences now show up primed for futures that look uncomfortably close to the present. That’s why 2025, a year that didn’t arrive with massive hype, is landing with a string of sci‑fi films that feel unusually pointed—and surprisingly entertaining.

The 2025 sci‑fi slate at a glance

This year’s lineup blends scrappy indies with studio muscle. On the indie side, Marshmallow is already making noise with a tight, spooky premise and a throwback style. On the studio side, anticipation is building for Mickey 17, Companion, and The Gorge—projects that promise scale without ditching character. Even superhero franchises are leaning harder into science fiction than they have in years: DC’s new Superman is being pitched as a clean start with classic sci‑fi DNA, and Marvel’s The Fantastic Four: First Steps (as it’s been referred to in early chatter) points to retro‑futurist world‑building instead of just capes and quips.

And yes, the neon is coming back. Later in the year, Tron: Ares aims to pull audiences back onto the Grid with glossy, high‑concept visuals, while the next chapter on Pandora—Avatar: Fire and Ash, as it’s being called for now—targets the kind of technical leap that turns movie theaters into demo rooms for the future. Release calendars still shift, but the trend line is clear: the genre isn’t just alive; it’s adapting.

What’s driving it? The stories match the moment. We’re living through real‑world experiments in automation, algorithmic decision‑making, and surveillance. Filmmakers are seizing on those anxieties and filtering them through accessible setups—lost astronauts, haunted camps, unfamiliar cities—so the ideas land as thrills, not lectures. The best sci-fi movies 2025 are using familiar thrills to smuggle in uncomfortable questions: Who’s in control? What makes us human? When do tools become masters?

• Mickey 17: A high‑concept survival story with identity at its core, adapted from a cult sci‑fi novel and known for its moral puzzles as much as its spectacle.
• Companion: A tight, contained thriller that looks ready to scratch the same itch as recent smart, low‑budget sci‑fi—think pressure‑cooker tension over fireworks.
• The Gorge: A high‑stakes, high‑concept entry that blends action and emotion, the kind of movie built around a hook you can pitch in one sentence.
• Superman: A reboot with classic sci‑fi foundations—alien immigrant, future tech, and the question of how power fits inside ordinary life.
• The Fantastic Four: First Steps: Early positioning suggests cosmic science and retro design cues, a shift back toward curiosity and discovery.
• Tron: Ares: A return to the Grid with upgraded world‑building and the promise of new rules for a classic digital frontier.
• Avatar: Fire and Ash: Another Pandora chapter that aims to push performance capture and world‑scale storytelling forward.

One more change worth flagging: studios are spreading risk across different budgets again. Not every sci‑fi release is a tentpole. The result is a healthier mix—big canvases for the multiplex and leaner, sharper indies that travel by word of mouth. It’s good for audiences and even better for the genre’s long‑term creativity.

Spotlight: Marshmallow

Marshmallow is the kind of movie that sneaks up on you. Directed by Daniel DelPurgatorio, it slips into a classic summer‑camp setup and then tilts it just enough to feel fresh. The hook is simple: an adolescent boy, already rattled by nightmares, is sent to camp, where he—and only he—can sense the threat of a resident boogeyman known as “the Doctor.” The mystery isn’t just who the Doctor is; it’s why no one else sees what he sees.

If you grew up on Friday the 13th and The Thing, the DNA is obvious. Marshmallow treats those references like a toolbox, not a crutch. The pacing favors dread over jump scares. The camera lingers on wood cabins and misty treelines like they’re holding their breath. The production leans into practical textures—wet earth, flickering flashlights, the scratch of night sounds—so when the horror element turns, it hits with that old campfire chill.

The film also understands how kids process fear. Instead of making the adults clueless and the kids invincible, it sits with the awkward stuff—peer pressure, isolation, the panic of not being believed. The nightmares feel like an extension of daytime anxiety, not a separate showy set piece. That’s where the 1980s influence really pays off: it’s less about homage and more about building a mood where stories spread by whispers, not Wi‑Fi.

Marshmallow’s biggest win is tone. The folklore angle gives it a slow, creeping quality, and the “only one can see it” rule plays like a psychological riddle. If you’re into contained thrillers that do a lot with a little, this is for you. It’s not trying to be a franchise or explain a mythology by the end credits. It just wants to get under your skin—and it does.

So where does it sit in 2025’s sci‑fi picture? Right at the heart of it. The film mirrors our current unease—am I safe, or am I just being told I’m safe?—without dragging in overt tech or a sprawling conspiracy. That restraint makes it a smart counterweight to the bigger, flashier titles landing later in the year.

If you’re planning your watchlist, start with what’s out now and build toward the tentpoles. Catch Marshmallow for the grounded chills. Keep an eye on Mickey 17 for the identity puzzles and stark visuals. Slot in Companion if you want a claustrophobic, idea‑first thriller. Save room for The Gorge if you like emotion with your high concept. Then, when the lights go neon, plug into Tron: Ares and circle a return trip to Pandora for Fire and Ash.

One caveat: release dates move. Studios still juggle calendars, especially when effects‑heavy projects are in the final stretch. But whether you prefer scrappy indies or premium spectacle, 2025 has a spread that actually feels curated. It’s a rare year where the genre’s past and future sit comfortably together—camp stories by the fire on one side, digital dreams of the Grid on the other—and both feel like they have something real to say.