Slick. Sweaty. Deadly. William Friedkin’s To Live and Die in L.A. turns 40 years old this year—and it still hits like a bullet to the chest.

Coming off the heels of The French Connection and Sorcerer, Friedkin delivered this sun-scorched, Reagan-era crime thriller with the intensity of a punk rock opera. When a reckless Secret Service agent (William Petersen in his breakout role) sets out to take down a ruthless counterfeiter (a cold-blooded Willem Dafoe), the lines between justice and obsession dissolve in a haze of money, betrayal, and blood.

With its iconic Wang Chung synth score, daring car chases, and razor-sharp style, To Live and Die in L.A. is pure ’80s noir heat!

Join us as we present the new documentary from A24 titled Architecton, directed by Viktor Kossakovky.

An extraordinary journey through the material that makes up our habitat: concrete and its ancestor, stone. Filmmaker Victor Kossakovsky raises a fundamental question: how do we inhabit the world of tomorrow?

This simultaneously epic and intimate documentary is a meditation on architecture and how the design of buildings from the ancient past reveal our destructive tendencies.

Cloud,  the stylish and subversive new thriller from suspense-maverick Kiyoshi Kurosawa (Cure, Pulse) has finally arrived at The Frida Cinema!

The story follows Yoshii, an ambitious, yet directionless, young factory worker from Tokyo who side hustles in the murky realm of black market reselling, cheating buyers and sellers alike. After swindling his way into loads of cash, Yoshii gradually attempts to disconnect from humanity, moving out of the city, shunning his girlfriend, and entrusting duties to his new, devoted assistant.

Before long his life is plagued by a series of mysterious, sinister incidents that threaten to upend his success and bring about a most violent demise. A master of carefully simmering tension to a bloody crescendo, Kurosawa delivers a searing portrait of digital greed and vengeance.

Fifteen years after it first shocked audiences and redefined the boundaries of art house cinema, Dogtooth returns in a stunning new 4K restoration to The Frida Cinema just in time to ruin your Summer. The breakthrough feature from visionary filmmaker Yorgos Lanthimos (The Lobster, The Killing Of A Sacred Deer, The Favourite, Poor Things) is as provocative, surreal, and disturbingly funny as ever — now sharper and stranger than ever before.

Winner of the Un Certain Regard prize at Cannes and an Academy Award nominee for Best Foreign Language Film, Dogtooth is a razor-edged parable of control and conditioning. Isolated behind a fence and raised under a regime of invented truths, three adult siblings have never stepped beyond the boundaries of their family home. Language is manipulated, reality is manufactured, and any curiosity is punished with surgical precision.

With its stark visual style, bone-dry humor, and bursts of surreal violence, Dogtooth remains a landmark of weird Greek cinema — a film that startles, unsettles, and invites endless interpretation.

A twisted reimagining of a beloved fairytale that has emerged as one of the most buzzed-about horror films of 2025, The Ugly Stepsister comes to The Frida for two late night screenings!

Writer-director Emilie Blichfeldt’s visceral, aesthetically-sumptuous gothic body‑horror presents the Cinderella story as experienced through the eyes of her overlooked stepsister. Set in a decaying 18th‑century kingdom of “Swedlandia,” The Ugly Stepsister centers on awkward, bookish Elvira (a sensational Lea Myren, making her feature-film debut), whose ambitious mother Rebekka (Ane Dahl Torp) forces her into brutal cosmetic procedures and deadly beauty rituals, none of which will be spoiled here, all in a desperate bid to win Prince Julian’s affection over her radiant stepsister Agnes (Thea Sofie Loch Næss). It’s not all blood and gore, however; drawing from the darker undertones of the original Grimm tale, as well as her own struggles with body image, Blichfeldt masterfully employs symbolism, and Myren’s intense and fully-committed performance, to craft a film that stirs empathy just as powerfully as it unsettles.