Are Oscar Movies the New Therapy Sessions for a Troubled World?
Attending an awards season event recently, I overheard a sentiment that’s all too familiar to anyone who’s navigated the Oscar circuit: ‘I wish it was over already.’ It’s October, and while that might sound like complaining about a dentist’s drill before the cavity is even filled, I get it. The endless networking, standing ovations, small talk, and speeches—not to mention the actual movie-watching—can feel overwhelming when all you want is a quiet night at home, far from the phrase ‘qualifying run.’
But here’s where it gets controversial... This year, the glitz and glamour of awards season feels particularly jarring. Climate policies are being rolled back, diversity initiatives are under attack, innocent lives are at risk, AI is advancing unchecked, and nuclear tests are making headlines. Who has the energy for red carpets when doomscrolling feels like the only honest response?
This isn’t your typical ‘movies are the mirror of society’ piece. You’ve heard that before—maybe at a Cannes premiere or while envying someone who’s been to one. That’s old news. Instead, let’s talk about why, in a world on fire, movies—even Oscar contenders—can feel like a guilty escape or a pointless distraction. And this is the part most people miss... While it’s easy to dismiss them as out of touch, this year’s films are quietly—and sometimes boldly—tackling the very issues that keep us up at night.
Over the past few weeks, I’ve watched a lineup of contenders at fall film festivals, and here’s what struck me: these movies aren’t just entertainment. They’re reckoning tools. They’re helping us process the chaos in ways that feel both personal and profound. Take, for example:
- Nuremberg and Wicked: For Good, which warn of the dangers of unchecked leadership.
- Sinners, a stark reminder of what happens when we dehumanize ‘the other.’
- Frankenstein, a cautionary tale about science without ethical boundaries.
- One Battle After Another, which explores the complexities of revolution.
- The Lost Bus, a gripping portrayal of climate neglect’s human cost.
- A House of Dynamite, a chilling look at nuclear recklessness.
Here’s the bold part: These films aren’t just sparking conversations—they’re igniting debates. A House of Dynamite, for instance, has already drawn criticism from the Pentagon, a fiery op-ed from Senator Ed Markey, and a defiant response from director Kathryn Bigelow. But it’s not just about political controversy. It’s about how these movies force us to think differently. After watching The Lost Bus, I finally understood the human stakes of a scrapped wind farm project—not through statistics, but through the eyes of a father trapped with two dozen children as wildfires close in.
We’re lucky, in a way. Films like Apocalypse Now and Full Metal Jacket came years after the Vietnam War ended. Today, we have movies that address our crises in real time, offering understanding, comfort, and even righteous anger. A recent study in Nature found that ‘film therapy’ can alleviate anxiety and depression. While a Saturday screening at the DGA won’t replace your therapist, it’s a healthier alternative to rage-scrolling.
Last year’s Oscar season was overshadowed by a shocking election result, leaving many of us wondering if movies—or culture itself—could make sense of our reality. This year feels different. We’ve had time to process the blows, to figure out what we need and how to talk about our fears. These films won’t solve our problems, and they might not even make us feel better. But like a good therapist, they remind us we’re not alone.
Now, here’s the question for you: Can movies truly serve as therapy in a world this chaotic? Or are they just another distraction? Let’s debate in the comments—I’m all ears.
