(Credit: Netflix)

It is funny how Netflix keeps turning into a mini award ceremony once Oscar season is over. You open it thinking you will find a comfort watch, and instead, half the thumbnails have little golden statues attached to their past.

What’s nice, though, is how random it feels. These films don’t belong to one mood. Some of them are about survival, some about obsession, and a few are just plain strange in the best way. You never really know what you’re walking into, which makes the whole thing even more addictive.

But you know that they are not the kind of films you can hit play and scroll on Instagram at the same time. Most of them demand a bit of focus, sometimes even patience. But they reward you for it. You start one out of curiosity, and before you know it, you are thinking about it days later.

Together, they make Netflix feel sharper, like it’s not just feeding you content but daring you to sit through something that actually matters. Some of these movies miss, some completely land, but every single one at least tries, and that’s more than most things online right now.

The 8 Oscar-nominated films on Netflix

Emilia Pérez (Jacques Audiard, 2024)

Honestly, the film’s hard to describe without sounding dramatic. It starts off looking like a straight cartel story, and then, when you’re about twenty minutes in, you realise it is turning into something completely different. There is crime, sure, but it is really about someone trying to become a better version of themselves and failing and trying again. It’s also a musical, which sounds ridiculous for a crime drama, but all about that until you’re watching it, and it suddenly makes sense.

One thing you should know is that Audiard’s world doesn’t care about rules. The story keeps slipping between violence and tenderness, and you’re never sure if you’re supposed to laugh, cry, or just sit there trying to take it in. But that’s what makes it great: it doesn’t hold your hand or explain itself. It just moves, and you follow. By the end, you’re not even thinking about whether it works; you’re just caught up in it.

All Quiet on the Western Front (Edward Berger, 2022)

You can always tell when a war movie was made to win Oscars. They are usually loud, emotional, and full of speeches about bravery. This one isn’t that. It’s quite the opposite. It is quiet, slow, and completely drained of hope, which is exactly why it probably is. The 2022 German version makes you feel stuck in the mud with those boys who have no idea what they’re dying for.

And it is shot so beautifully that it almost feels wrong to call it beautiful, because what you’re watching is pure horror with an absolutely state-of-the-art sound design. All the more reason we think that’s why it got all that Oscar attention. It’s not trying to impress you; it’s trying to unsettle you. You finish it and just sit there, wondering why humans ever thought war was something worth glorifying.

1917 (Sam Mendes, 2019)

1917 is that one film that feels less like a movie and more like being dropped right into a nightmare that runs all night long. It follows two young British soldiers sent across enemy lines to deliver a message that could save hundreds of lives. Sounds interesting, right? But what makes it special isn’t the story itself; it’s how it’s told. The entire thing looks like one continuous shot, so you never get to breathe. You’re running, hiding, falling, and surviving with them.

But it’s not just about war. It’s about what duty looks like when you’re scared out of your mind, and what humanity looks like when the world is falling apart. It deserved the Oscar hype because it’s technically brilliant and emotionally brutal. The cinematography is ridiculously good, just like in All Quiet on the Western Front. There’s something about these war films, I tell you. Also, the lighting? The score? The silence? Ugh. I’m still recovering. It’s not just a film, it’s an experience. And no, we won’t recommend rewatching it unless you are emotionally stable.

Guillermo del Toro’s Pinocchio (dir. Guillermo del Toro, 2022)

This is not the shiny Disney Pinocchio where everything feels like a kindergarten moral story. This is del Toro’s version, which basically translates to it being dark and layered, and it will quietly ruin you in the best way. Set in fascist Italy (because apparently, wooden boys weren’t already sad enough), it’s a story about grief, control, unconditional love, and being “enough” even when you’re nothing like what people wanted.

The best thing about this film is that it doesn’t treat kids like idiots. Instead, it respects their sadness, their questions, and their weird little souls. You’ll cry, even if you don’t want to. Especially if you’ve ever tried really hard to be loved for who you are and still felt like a disappointment. And that alone makes it worthy of an Oscar nomination.

Maestro (Bradley Cooper, 2023)

Maestro is not just a movie about Leonard Bernstein, the composer. It’s about Leonard Bernstein, the hurricane, and the woman who somehow loved him through all of it. Bradley Cooper directed and starred, and honestly? He was so deep in the role that you’ll forget it was him. Like, man was conducting Mahler and ruining lives at the same time.

But here’s the thing: this film isn’t trying to “explain” Bernstein. It’s trying to show what it’s like to be near someone that intense. Carey Mulligan as Felicia is heartbreakingly good, so much so that you can literally see her trying to hold love and resentment in the same breath. And the black-and-white to colour transition? Yeah, cinema nerds went feral for that and hence the Oscar nom.

Mank (David Fincher, 2020)

So Mank is basically about the guy who actually wrote Citizen Kane, but it’s not a film just about writing. It’s about what it costs to be clever, broke, and completely disillusioned with the world. Gary Oldman plays Herman Mankiewicz like he is permanently hungover and so done with Hollywood’s nonsense, and honestly? Same.

David Fincher shot this Netflix film in black and white, because of course he did, but weirdly, it works. It’s snappy and full of scenes where people say brilliant things while chain-smoking and slowly falling apart. It’s less about plot and more about vibe, but if you’re into watching smart people self-destruct with flair, you’ll like it. Was it Oscar bait? Absolutely. But the good kind. Just don’t watch it expecting to feel things. It’s sharp, not warm. But sharp can be sexy too.

Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom (George C. Wolfe, 2020)

This one feels like watching a pressure cooker slowly hiss before it explodes. Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom is set in a single recording studio in 1920s Chicago. Ma Rainey, a famous blues singer, shows up late, makes specific demands, and refuses to be polite, and not because she’s difficult, but because she knows the white producers only value her voice, not her.

It’s not a music film; it’s a power struggle. Then there’s Levee, a young trumpet player who wants his own shot at fame. Chadwick Boseman’s performance as Levee is terrifying and heartbreaking at the same time. You can feel how trapped everyone is, in music, in race, in history. The story builds without ever leaving the studio, and by the end, it hits harder than you expect. It got Oscar nominations because it doesn’t play things safe. There’s this one monologue where he’s laughing and crying and yelling at God, and the walls feel like they’re closing in, and it’s one of the rawest things you’ll ever see.

May December (Todd Haynes, 2023)

May December is… weird. Like, really weird. It is about this woman who had a relationship with a 13-year-old boy back in the day, and now they are married, they have kids, and they live this oddly peaceful life. Then an actress shows up to play her in a movie and just slowly starts… watching them. It’s super quiet and polite on the surface, but everything underneath feels wrong.

Natalie Portman plays the actress, and the way she studies people is like she’s peeling their skin off with her eyes. And Julianne Moore’s character? I don’t even know what to feel. She’s so calm it’s unsettling. It’s not loud or dramatic, but it’s so uncomfortable. Everyone’s performing all the time, being who they think they should be.