Whether we pay attention to them because we consider them important or ignore and mock them as supposedly irrelevant, the Oscars still have the ability to tell us something about the world we live in – especially about America, but also about the state of cinema.

Everyone knows that for realistic explorations into the deeper layers of America, its people’s struggles, and the discovery of new talent, we should rather look at independent films celebrated at the American Independent Spirit Awards. But even with all their highly sought-after escapism, mainstream films – the ones primarily considered for the Oscars – carry, to varying degrees, traces of the times they were made in. They can serve as a good barometer for the concerns and issues of the moment, as the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences aims to demonstrate through its choices each year.

Of course, beyond the more or less known rules by which films make the final shortlist, beyond their supposed artistic merit and how they’ve been received in recent months, a series of other influential factors come into play – especially massive promotional and lobbying campaigns and the power of major studios. As a result, nominations become the product of this uncertain mix of ingredients, only partially controllable (the unpredictable always plays a role).

We shouldn’t look to the Oscars to determine the best American or international films (although some of them are occasionally included among the nominated and awarded titles). The healthiest approach is to regard them with an open mind and a curiosity driven by the idea that, beneath all the noise surrounding them, we might find some stimulating insights – including about how mediocre films sometimes get celebrated as masterpieces.

As is almost always the case, the ten contenders for Best Picture are designed to appeal to a wide range of cinephiles, genres, styles, and audiences – a little something for everyone. The blockbuster and fantasy/sci-fi spheres are represented by Dune: Part Two, directed by Denis Villeneuve, and Wicked, directed by Jon M. Chu – two technically remarkable, box-office-successful epic films, though inevitably outsiders at the Oscars.

Jacques Audiard’s Emilia Pérez also aspires to be a grand film but in the arthouse realm. While there’s no denying that its musical sequences are masterfully choreographed, the film is ultimately unremarkable and overrated. The French director, known for his versatility across different genres, opportunistically tackles current hot-button themes (feminism, gender transition). With the support of a star-studded cast and an aggressive promotional campaign (recently undermined by controversy surrounding past statements from lead actress Karla Sofía Gascón), he has established his film as one of the year’s most significant.

Biopics about famous figures are a staple of the Academy’s favourites (we’re fascinated by the lives of celebrities). However, the genre has become so overused that it rarely feels truly compelling (Oppenheimer by Christopher Nolan was an exception last year). This time, A Complete Unknown, by James Mangold, flattens the portrait of a fascinating artist like Bob Dylan – the script and direction tick off such familiar biopic beats that the film feels like it could have been about anyone (not even the music can save it from being a dull cliché). A much stronger biopic is The Apprentice, but Ali Abbasi’s film about Donald Trump didn’t make the top ten nominees, securing nominations only for Best Actor in a Leading Role (Sebastian Stan) and Best Supporting Actor (Jeremy Strong).

The classic, academic-style filmmaking is also present in Conclave, directed by Edward Berger – another filmmaker who is more of a skilled craftsman than an auteur (similar to James Mangold). It’s not without its strengths (Ralph Fiennes delivers an impressive, ambiguous performance), but it’s weighed down by its own sense of self-importance.

Surprisingly unremarkable turned out to be I’m Still Here, the political biographical drama marking Brazilian director Walter Salles’ return to his home country after many years. Despite its specific subject matter, the direction is entirely impersonal – the tragedy endured by the protagonist (Fernanda Torres), after her husband falls victim to Brazil’s military dictatorship, is depicted in the most conventional, uninspired manner possible.

By contrast, the most exciting films were those that truly offered a fresh, ambitious perspective. The unhealthy obsession with beauty and youth and the pressure of societal norms imposed on women today are ingeniously explored in The Substance, by French filmmaker Coralie Fargeat – the only female director nominated for an Oscar this year. Though built on a certain moral duality that makes it less daring than it could have been, The Substance still possesses, in its most extreme moments, a kind of wild brilliance. While it’s not truly disturbing, its presence at the Oscars is a welcome nod to the body horror tradition.

After years spent in the independent film scene as one of its most prominent voices, Sean Baker has finally received the widespread international recognition that his unique films deserve. Even though Anora, with its romance-driven structure, is less rooted in American realities than some of his previous works, it remains a playful and inventive journey through various social environments in the U.S. – from nightclubs to Russian oligarchs’ mansions. Featuring a standout lead performance by Mikey Madison and a handful of memorable supporting characters, it’s a clever film that doesn’t take itself too seriously, yet is ultimately infused with a deeply moving sense of melancholy. Notably, it is the only film on the entire nominee list that speaks about contemporary America and its marginalized communities – Sean Baker’s longtime specialty.

The painful and tragic history of African Americans is represented this year by an unexpectedly skilful independent film: Nickel Boys, directed by RaMell Ross. The POV approach – alternating between the subjective perspectives of two young Black men struggling against racism and abuse at a reform school in 1960s Florida – is, of course, not an original technique and comes with its own limitations (it risks drawing attention to itself as a narrative gimmick). However, in this case, it effectively immerses the viewer in the film’s reconstructed world and fosters an emotional connection with the protagonists, who watch in stunned disbelief as events unfold around them.

Perhaps the most peculiar contender is The Brutalist, directed by Brady Corbet. Fully aware that the Holocaust – arguably the most daunting historical subject – demands an approach of utmost gravity, the American filmmaker offers an equally daunting proposal: a three-and-a-half-hour film (complete with an intermission), shot and distributed in various formats, about a visionary architect (Adrien Brody) who fled Hungary and arrived in the U.S. after World War II, where he developed an architectural style subtly shaped by his experience as a Holocaust survivor. While the film can certainly be criticized for treading heavily (it loudly proclaims, at every step, its ambition to be groundbreaking and historically significant), there is something imposing and commendable about Corbet’s determination to offer a complex, demanding perspective on postwar American history.

Personally, I don’t see any point in these classic debates that every publication out there engages in, questioning who was nominated when they shouldn’t have been and who was snubbed despite deserving recognition. The Oscars are what they are – and they have always been this way. They become more thought-provoking when viewed as a reflection, through the lens of cinema (and the entertainment industry), of the cultural obsessions and collective mind of the moment. From this perspective, we notice a persistent return to the past – a tendency that can be interpreted either as a means of escapism or as an indirect way of commenting on the present through the supposed consequences of past events. More than half of the nominated films (excluding the two sci-fi and fantasy entries) fit this pattern. Meanwhile, films that confront contemporary reality head-on remain the exception. This feels especially strange in an era where our sense of stability is disrupted daily by alarming news. Or perhaps such cinematic escapism is our therapeutic way of coping with the chaos unfolding around us.

The 97th Academy Awards will take place on March 2, 2025.

Ionuț Mareș

Journalist and film critic. Curator for some film festivals in Romania. At "Films in Frame" publishes interviews with both young and established filmmakers.