10 Great Performances from Sundance 2025

We asked our team in Park City to pick out some of the best performances they saw out of this year’s Sundance Film Festival. This is in no way comprehensive as we limited ourselves to one performance per film and saw at least a dozen more we would have liked to include. While it may not have been the best Sundance, it was a truly strong one for the art of acting, as evidenced by the ten turns below, in alphabetical order:

Alison Brie & Dave Franco in “Together”

Is it cheating to put these two in one entry? If one film allows such editorial chicanery, it’s this one in that what real-life partners Brie & Franco do in this film is a dual performance in which the success of one is inextricable from the other. The story of a couple who end up being physically unable to extract one from the other placed incredible demands on whoever would be cast in the leads. To say that Brie and Franco deliver on expectations would be an understatement. These are two performances sure to be underrated at the end of the year—horror often is, especially when it’s tinged with comedy as much as this flick—but they are also two of the most physical performances you’ll see this year. Brie and Franco were willing to go dark places emotionally and physically in this film, and their work paid off with the highest sale out of Sundance this year—Neon will release the film on August 1. Mark your calendar. – Brian Tallerico

Rose Byrne in “If I Had Legs I’d Kick You”

In writer/director Mary Bronstein’s overwhelming psychological drama “If I Had Legs I’d Kick You,” Rose Byrne as Linda—a working mother caring for her ailing daughter—offers a full-frontal assault on the senses. See, the camera almost never leaves Byrne’s eye-level. We never really see Linda’s daughter; we only hear her cries and pleas, whose high-pitch sound seems to only grow in intensity. We never really see Linda’s demanding husband (Christian Slater); we only hear his voice. While Linda’s work as a therapist brings her into contact with a cast of characters, each struggling in their daily lives, she also visits another therapist (Conan O’Brien) down the hall for guidance. Much like Linda is never away from the turbulence of motherhood, we are never away from her. And Byrne earns our attention. Watching her energy, the shape of her face and the wisps of her hair tangle and recede is like seeing a boxer take a 12-round beating. Except in her case, there is no bell to end it all. It’s the never-ending onslaught of parenthood whose emotional and psychological bruises are evident on every surface of a performance that isn’t so much brittle. It’s the physical manifestation of someone in need of care herself. – Robert Daniels

Joel Edgerton in “Train Dreams”

Clint Bentley’s adaptation of the novella of the same name by Denis Johnson is the kind of film that can sometimes disguise mediocre acting. It’s such a gorgeously shot movie, and the score is simply lovely, that one could just get lost in the sights and sounds without considering the performances, and probably walk away satisfied. Joel Edgerton doesn’t let that happen. Working with Bentley, he crafts a fully-realized character, a man we come to know, care about, and maybe even see some of ourselves in. Playing the same man over decades of his life allows Edgerton to do arguably the best film acting work of his notable career (at least the best since “Loving”), finding the extraordinary in an ordinary life. Edgerton’s role requires both subtle quietude as a man of few words, and deep emotional wells as a man who suffers unimaginable grief. There’s an image late in “Train Dreams” in which Edgerton’s logger sees his face in the mirror for the first time in a decade, startled at the life looking back at him. It’s a moment that works because of what Edgerton has put into the film to this point, crafting a character of such depth that it’s not just a reflection but an image of a full, believable life. This is one of the best films of my 13 years covering Sundance, and it requires every element to work, arguably none more than the performance that carries us through almost every scene. – BT

Tim Key in “The Ballad of Wallis Island”

In James Griffiths’ witty folk comedy “The Ballad of Wallis Island,” Tim Key is Charles, a two-time lottery winner living on a remote isle who invites the estranged folk duo Herb McGwyer (Tom Basden) and Nell Mortimer (Carey Mulligan) to his country manor to perform. Despite Charles’ wealth, he’s a normal, lovable guy bordering on being a nuisance. Underneath his annoying prodding and his offputting fandom for Herb and Nell, however, Charles possesses a deep well of hurt. For Key, a television character actor best known for the “Alan Partridge” series, his turn as Charles stands as a breakout role. As Charles, Key’s soft-heartedness often recalls John Candy in “Planes, Trains and Automobiles,” another performance built on a lonely man painfully searching for some human connection. Like Candy, Key is a light-footed physical comedian with a quick delivery, who knows how to deliver unassumingly crushing beats and nods that crack open the surface of his character. By the time “The Ballad of Wallis Island” ends, you wish you could spend several movies with Key as Charles. – RD

Dylan O’Brien in “Twinless”

Fifteen years after breaking out with roles on the MTV series “Teen Wolf” and the “Maze Runner” YA film trilogy, star Dylan O’Brien has eked out an intriguing career in smaller, idiosyncratic, character-driven films. He’s brought an intense energy and complexity to each role he’s chosen in projects as diverse in plot and genre as Taylor Swift’s short film “All Too Well,” the neon-soaked noir “Ponyboi,” the emotional time-bender “Caddo Lake,” and now this year’s Sundance breakout “Twinless.” In the latter, O’Brien is tasked with playing the dual roles of flamboyantly gay and fiercely intelligent Rocky and his more stoic, simple, but sweet brother Roman. Early in the film, Rocky is hit with a car and killed, sending Roman on a spiral that lands him in a support group for twinless twins. There he meets Dennis (the film’s writer-director James Sweeney), and soon the two form a special bond, that is until a dark secret is revealed. The trick O’Brien must pull off here is to make Rocky so dynamic that his absence is deeply felt throughout the film’s run time, while also leaving room to shed layers of vulnerability as Roman both becomes closer to Dennis and also learns more about his deceased brother. O’Brien lands this with aplomb, holding back one last emotional beat for the film’s stunning final scene that left me crying happy little tears. I can’t wait to see what project O’Brien chooses next. – Marya E. Gates

Josh O’Connor in “Rebuilding”

Josh O’Connor continues to make the case for smartest actor of his generation, refusing to go traditional routes to stardom as he focuses on character instead of the box office potential of his films. From his early days in another Sundance breakout, “God’s Own Country,” one could tell that O’Connor had something special. It’s in his range, able to play traditionally handsome and grounded everyman in back-to-back roles, sometimes even in the same film. In that sense, he recalls the great performers of the ‘70s in his unpredictability. He feels like a true heir to the leads who helped shape that era, echoing a young Robert De Niro or Harvey Keitel in his ability to hold the camera like an undeniable movie star while also digging so much into character that he disappears into roles. His latest finds him playing a Colorado rancher who struggles to find the next step after his family ranch burns to the ground in a wildfire. O’Connor understands the kind of guy who doesn’t say much, certainly not about his own feelings, portraying him almost as a ghost looking for his human form again. A tender, nuanced portrait of fatherhood and resilience, “Rebuiilding” is one of the most moving films of Sundance 2025, and none of it works at all if we don’t believe the performance at its center. He never strikes a false note in a drama that will feel even more personal to those impacted by the California wildfires. Really it will touch anyone whose life has been derailed in ways they could never have expected and give hope to those trying to figure out what to do next in their own lives. – BT

Tonatiuh in “Kiss of the Spider Woman”

When Sundance announced Bill Condon’s “Kiss of the Spider Woman,” they highlighted the film’s principal trio in Jennifer Lopez, Diego Luna, and Tonatiuh. Two of those three are household names and one is one of the most famous people on Earth. And yet Tonatiuh is the star of this film, in screen time, and, however improbable it may seem given his costars, in wattage as well. His voice reverberates out of the film, a glowing warm tone and subtle vibrato. It’s hard to dance next to Jennifer Lopez, but he holds his own in dapper suits and slicked-back hair. Throughout the film’s 128 minutes, he gives each of his various parts–narrator, revolutionary, stylist, assistant, prisoner, traitor, lover–a glint of magic. By the end, he’s alone, holding the final third of the film. His character’s story is both triumphant and tragic and Tonatiuh had the Sundance audience completely transfixed. This is a breakout performance of a generational talent. It’s hard to out-charisma Luna and Lopez, but Tonatiuh did it in a way that perfectly fit his film, his character, and our moment. – Cristina Escobar

Eva Victor in “Sorry, Baby”

Eva Victor asks a lot of themself in “Sorry, Baby.” For one, this is their first produced feature-length script. Secondly, it’s their feature directorial debut. It’s also their first starring role in a film. But you wouldn’t know that while watching “Sorry, Baby.” The satirist known for their viral Twitter/X presence offers a controlled effort in a film that is about anything but control. In this wry, aching picture, Victor is Agnes, a professor at a small northeastern liberal arts college processing the still-potent memories of her sexual assault. Victor’s script follows a nonlinear structure, separated by Didion-inspired title cards whose freewheeling narrative movement can somewhat obscure her slight yet impactful calibrations. Along with delivering sharpened zingers, critiquing the ambivalent responses people have to their rape, they offer a physically commanding performance. Agnes stands, sits and carries herself differently before and after the traumatic event, alternating between supreme confidence and quiet hesitation. Take the moment she happens upon a cat, stomping down the street closed off to the world until she is literally shaken, then rendered limber again by the sound of a feline. That balance by Victor, a person living through but not defined by her trauma, makes for one of the year’s most devastating performances. – RD

Ben Whishaw in “Peter Hujar’s Day”

The quiet pleasure of Ira Sachs’ new film “Peter Hujar’s Day” rests on the shoulders of its title character brought to life by Ben Whishaw. The film’s premise is simple: artist Linda Rosenkrantz (Rebecca Hall) interviews photographer Peter Hujar (Whishaw) about his previous day for a project. Their taped 1974 conversation provides dialogue, but it’s Whishaw who carries most of the conversation. His day is full of banal observations and lists of chores as well as name-dropping greats of the era like Allen Ginsberg and Susan Sontag alongside hearty doses of gossip from their scene. Whishaw lies about Hujar’s apartment in the company of his friend, breathlessly delivering the details with equal amounts of amusement and boredom. His delivery feels so lived in, so casual, like any conversation you might walk in on a lazy, sun-strewn Sunday afternoon. They eat, they move from the couch to the bedroom, back to the dining table, all the while Whishaw is reminiscing and ruminating on the day’s events. It’s an impressive performance for its understated mastery. At the Q&A after the film’s premiere at Sundance, Whishaw said his role was 55 pages, the majority of the movie’s brief runtime, making “Peter Hujar’s Day” a technical wonder not just because of Sachs’ gorgeous direction and 16mm cinematography, but also because of Whishaw’s refined performance. – Monica Castillo

Youn Yuh-jung in “The Wedding Banquet”

One of the great strengths of Andrew Ahn’s “The Wedding Banquet” is how it adds nuance to the anxieties and trepidations faced by those in AAPI communities. And it is in Oscar winner Youn Yuh-jung’s role that Ahn shades longstanding (and truthful) archetypes with warmth, depth and surprise. By embodying Ja-Young as someone sensitive and acute, able to read through the flimsily fabricated lies that often characterize social interaction, Youn’s performance unlocks a more emotional layer to this story; it becomes less about whether or not Ja-Young will find out her grandson Min’s secret, but how they’ll reconcile years of mistrust that calcified into their present dynamic. When Youn breathes or simply stares at all that’s unfolding, there’s a sense that she’s actively feeling the weight of all her past histories and traumas; she moves with an ache that can’t be traced back to any one thing. Her role of a laconic grandmother may be an all too familiar depiction for those who come from families where love manifested in actions, not words, but Youn plays Ja-Young’s silence with tender intentionality. Her curiosity is a way she loves, and though she has a hard time accepting Min’s choices, her initial disproval isn’t a barrier to the union but instead an opportunity to care for her grandson more deeply. Youn and Han’s dynamic is beautiful and an all-too-rare on-screen depiction of reconciliation and conversation between the older and younger generations. She reminds me that paying attention and entering into a space with curiosity for someone’s story is the greatest gift one can offer. – Zachary Lee