(Credit: Netflix)

Most films about grief come with a disclaimer: here comes the healing arc, here comes the hopeful third act. But A Man Called Otto does not really care about playing therapist. It is not interested in big moments or cinematic closure. It is just about a man who wants the world to leave him alone, until it refuses to. And that is why this film on Netflix should be on your watchlist right now.

And that is what makes it so quietly devastating. This is not a story about transformation. It is a story about interruption. Otto, played with disarming restraint by Tom Hanks, does not want to be saved. He just wants to die in peace. The universe, of course, has other plans. And thankfully, they are not dramatic. They are slow. Subtle. Inconvenient in the most human way possible.

The film introduces Otto not as misunderstood, but as unlikeable. He is grumpy, nosy, rude to children, and allergic to joy. But underneath all that, there is a deep, exhausted sadness. The kind that comes from having loved someone so completely that living without them feels like betrayal. It is not shouted or spelt out. You just feel it in the silences.

What makes A Man Called Otto land so hard is that it never romanticises pain. Otto’s loneliness is not noble. It is messy. He is mean because he is hurting. He is rigid because it gives him the illusion of control. And the film does not offer him a magical fix. Instead, it gives him people. A spirited neighbour who barges into his world. A cat that refuses to leave. A neighbourhood that keeps showing up even when he tells them not to.

Tom Hanks, who could easily play this role with charm and predictability, does the opposite. His Otto is stiff, guarded, and difficult to love, which makes the rare moments of vulnerability all the more piercing. It is not a performance that demands tears. It just quietly earns them.

Visually, the film matches Otto’s emotional palette. Everything is muted, still, stripped of spectacle. The camera does not try to manipulate you. It just observes. A hand on a shoulder. A cracked smile. A silence that stretches too long. These are not placeholders. They are the emotional core.

But here is what really makes the film matter right now. We are living in a world that rushes recovery. That wants grief to be poetic and timely. A Man Called Otto says the opposite. It says healing is annoying. It is slow. It arrives when you are not looking. And it does not always fix you. Sometimes, it just reminds you that you are still here.

So no, this is not a loud movie. It will not trend. It will not spiral on TikTok. But it will reach a part of you that is tired, quiet, and still hurting. And it will sit with that part, without trying to fix it.

And that might be the kindest thing a film can do.