20 Existential Movies for the Questioning Heart: Illuminating the Path

When cinema mirrors the searching soul: Check out a list of existential movies curated to serve as a compass toward a meaningful existence!

Have you ever found yourself gazing out a window, lost in thought, pondering the ‘big stuff’ – the winding paths of life, the choices that shape us, or that quiet hum of longing for something more, something meaningful?

In those moments, I’ve often found a unique kind of companionship in the world of cinema. Certain films, more than just fleeting entertainment, become quiet mirrors of my own inner landscapes, nudging me to look deeper, question further, and even glimpse the spiritual threads woven into our human experience.

The list below is a personal collection of such masterpieces – existential movies that (I believe) will make you think deeply about life. While any ‘best of’ list is inherently subjective, I chose these stories because of the lasting impressions they’ve left on my heart and mind. Hope that as we go over the following films, you too might find a few that speak to you, offering a new perspective or a comforting presence on your own path.

Let us begin, shall we?

Highlights

• This article takes you on a personal journey through 20 carefully selected existential movies, each chosen for its power to spark reflection on life’s big questions.
• The films are grouped into five core existential themes: grappling with choice and authenticity, confronting mortality to find meaning, making sense of an absurd world, the dance of faith and doubt, and finding humanity’s resilience in the face of extreme circumstances.
• These stories are more than mere entertainment; they serve as mirrors for your own experiences and questions, offering a chance to illuminate new perspectives, deepen one’s self-understanding, and live a meaningful life.

Best Existential Movies: Choice, Authenticity & the Nature of Reality

There’s a profound, often quiet, transformation that happens within us when we begin to truly grapple with our choices – not just the grand, life-altering ones, but the myriad of small decisions that sculpt our days and, ultimately, our selves. Are we being truly authentic in each and every moment of life? What does authenticity really mean? Is it about aligning our inner world with our outer actions – or rather, about shedding the layers of expectation to uncover something more essential?

Some films, in their own unique ways, even nudge us to peer behind the curtain of perceived reality – and ponder the very nature of the worlds we inhabit, both internal and external.

Groundhog Day (1993)

Well, what if there is no tomorrow? There wasn’t one today!

At first glance, “Groundhog Day” seems like a clever, humorous fantasy: cynical TV weatherman Phil Connors finds himself inexplicably reliving the same day in Punxsutawney, Pennsylvania. Yet, beneath its comedic surface lies a surprisingly thought-provoking exploration of what it means to be stuck, not just in a time loop, but in our own patterns of cynicism and self-absorption. Phil’s initial descent into hedonism and despair, born from the apparent meaninglessness of his consequence-free existence, felt like such a raw portrayal of how we might react if stripped of purpose.

One notable aspect of the movie (which I find truly resonating) is Phil’s gradual, arduous transformation. It wasn’t a single epiphany, but a slow dawning – the realization that even within the confines of an endlessly repeating day, he possessed the agency to change himself.

Even when trapped in certain ruts – and the world outside might seem monotonous, the potential for inner change remains within each of us. By shifting from self-centeredness to genuine connection and altruism, one may experience profound meaning and joy.

What truly elevates “Groundhog Day” to a spiritual level for me is its subtle nod to a kind of enlightenment. Phil essentially exhausts every selfish possibility before stumbling upon the satisfaction of service, learning, and authentic connection. He doesn’t just become a better man to break the spell; he becomes a better man because, ultimately, it’s the most fulfilling way to live, loop or no loop.

It leaves me wondering: in what areas of my own life am I merely enduring the repetition, instead of actively seeking the opportunity for growth and connection within it?

Existential movies

The Truman Show (1998)

We accept the reality of the world with which we are presented. It’s as simple as that.

Imagine discovering that your entire life – your relationships, your hometown, your very sky – was an elaborately constructed television set, and you, the unwitting star. That’s exactly what happens to Truman Burbank, whose idyllic life is meticulously managed by a god-like creator, Christof.

As I observe Truman’s dawning awareness, those little glitches in his perfectly curated world that spark suspicion, I cannot help but reflect on the “scripts” we inadvertently follow in our own lives. Are they societal expectations, familial narratives, or self-imposed limitations? Truman’s desperate, almost primal, need to discover what lies beyond his manufactured horizon felt like a potent metaphor for that universal human desire to break free and find something genuine, something real, even if it means facing uncertainty and potential pain.

And yet, isn’t it that in life, our tendency is to favor the comfort of the known rather than to heed the terrifying, exhilarating call of the unknown? To succumb to the seductive whispers of conformity and fear – instead of pursuing an authentic existence?

At the story’s climax is the scene in which Truman, at the edge of his painted sky, decides to choose the unseen door over the familiar prison. It is a moment that still gives me chills – a stark reminder of why one should prioritize authenticity over artifice, freedom over security. It prompts me to ask myself: what are the “walls” of my own constructed realities, and do I have the courage to seek what lies beyond them, even if it means sailing into a storm?

Existential dread films

Into the Wild (2007)

The core of man’s spirit comes from new experiences.

Based on Jon Krakauer’s book chronicling the true story of Christopher McCandless, “Into the Wild” follows a bright college graduate who forsakes a conventional future, donates his savings, and ventures into the American wilderness, ultimately to the Alaskan bush, seeking a life of absolute freedom and truth. McCandless, or “Alexander Supertramp” as he renames himself, is a figure who evokes both admiration for his idealism and a certain sorrow for his tragic end.

For me, the movie is a poignant exploration of the intense, often solitary, quest for an authentic self, far removed from societal expectations and material trappings. Chris’s rejection of what he saw as a hypocritical and superficial world is a powerful, albeit extreme, manifestation of a yearning many of us feel at some point – a desire to connect with something more elemental, more true. The encounters he has along the way, with fellow wanderers and kind strangers, highlight the human need for connection, even amidst a fierce pursuit of independence.

However, the film doesn’t shy away from the complexities and perhaps the naiveté of Chris’s journey. His underestimation of the Alaskan wilderness and his ultimate isolation serve as a stark reminder of the fine line between freedom and recklessness, between principled living and the unavoidable need for preparedness and, perhaps, human interdependence.

The famous line he scrawls before his death, “Happiness only real when shared,” adds a layer of heartbreaking irony to his solitary quest. It makes me reflect on the necessary balance between the journey inward, towards self-discovery, and the equally important one outward, towards meaningful connection with others.

Existential movies

Read more: 21 Self-discovery Movies to Spark Your Inner World

Mr. Nobody (2009)

Every path is the right path. Everything could’ve been anything else. And it would have just as much meaning.

“Mr. Nobody” doesn’t just tell a single story – but many of them, all centered around Nemo Nobody, the last mortal man in a future where humanity has achieved quasi-immortality. As he lies dying, Nemo recounts his life – or rather, the many potential lives he could have lived, each branching from crucial childhood decisons, particularly those concerning his parents’ divorce and the girls he might have loved.

What captivates me about the film is its breathtaking embrace of the “what if.” It’s a deeply philosophical and visually stunning meditation on the nature of choice, chance, and the unlived possibilities that haunt the periphery of our own. Nemo’s journeys through different timelines – with Anna, Elise, or Jean – aren’t presented as mere fantasies but as equally valid, equally poignant realities, each with its own joys and sorrows. As Nemo concludes, there’s no single “right” path; instead, meaning can be found in the richness of experience itself, regardless of the outcome.

There’s a beautiful, almost spiritual acceptance that permeates “Mr. Nobody“. The narrative doesn’t seem to mourn the paths not taken as much as it celebrates the sheer, overwhelming potential inherent in every decision point. It makes me think about the way we construct our identities around the choices we have made, and how different versions of “us” might exist in some conceptual space, born from different turns.

It’s a liberating thought, in a way, easing the burden of “the perfect choice” and inviting a wholehearted appreciation for the intricate, unpredictable dance of life.

It leaves me with a sense of wonder about the infinite threads of consequence and connection that radiate from every moment.

Modern existential movies

Read more: Choosing Your Life – From ‘Drifting’ to ‘Defining’

Arrival (2016)

If you could see your whole life from start to finish, would you change things?

“Arrival” is so much more than a first-contact sci-fi story; it’s a moving exploration of time, communication, and the courage to embrace life fully, despite its inevitable sorrows. The story follows the linguist Dr. Louise Banks, who – after the appearance of twelve mysterious alien spacecraft across the globe – is recruited to decipher their language and understand their purpose.

One thing I find really striking is the film’s portrayal of the nature of the heptapods’ language – plus how learning it fundamentally alters Louise’s perception of time. To me, it is a a stunning metaphor for how true knowledge may reshape one’s entire reality. As Louise begins to perceive time not as a linear progression but as a simultaneous whole, the film delves into incredibly rich existential territory. The “weapon” the aliens offer is their language, their way of seeing, which opens up a new consciousness.

Another thing that resonates to me on a personal and spiritual level is the choice Louise makes once she understands the future, particularly the life and loss of her daughter. Her decision to proceed, to embrace the joy – even knowing the pain that will follow, is an act of profound love and acceptance. A powerful counter-narrative to our instinctive desire to avoid suffering.

All in all, the message of “Arrival” is simple: a life fully lived, with all its inherent fragility and heartbreak, is infinitely precious. It encourages a kind of radical presence, a “Right View”, a brave “yes” to the entirety of our human experience – knowing that all moments, joyous and sorrowful, are interwoven.

Existential sci fi films

Best Existential Movies: Confronting Mortality & Finding Meaning in the Face of Death

It’s a topic that often hovers in the peripheries of our awareness, a quiet hum beneath the bustle of daily life: our own mortality. While the thought of death may seem unsettling, I’ve come to see that a gentle, honest engagement with our finitude is one of the most potent catalysts for self-discovery.

It’s in acknowledging that our time is not limitless that we may find the clarity and courage to ask ourselves what truly matters, what kind of life we want to live, and what meaning we hope to find or create in the face of it all.

Ikiru (1952)

I can’t afford to hate people. I haven’t got that kind of time.

There’s a particular kind of quiet desperation in Akira Kurosawa’s “Ikiru” (生きる, “To Live”) that has always stayed with me. The story follows Kanji Watanabe, a lifelong, stoic bureaucrat who, for decades, has essentially been sleepwalking through his existence, buried under piles of paperwork. Then, a terminal cancer diagnosis shatters his monotonous reality, thrusting him into a frantic search for meaning in the time he has left.

Watanabe’s initial attempts to find solace – in fleeting pleasures, in the company of a young woman (who is his subordinate) – are so painfully human that I cannot help but relate back to myself, thinking about the many times when I merely “passed time”. When I lived like a “mummy” – working like a robot, neglecting work-life balance, indulging in meaningless recreational activities, isolating myself from others, talking without truly listening, etc.

It’s funny, right? We all do the same things from time to time. Only when confronted with the starkness of death or similar incidents may we be jolted out of inertia – and realize how foolish we have been. Only then may we truly understand what it means to feel “alive”.

Eventually, Watanabe manages to discover his purpose: championing the creation of a small children’s park. It’s not a grand, heroic gesture in the typical sense, but a simple act of service that transforms his final months and leaves a tangible legacy of joy. As revealed through flashbacks after Watanabe’s death, one dedicated life – even if it has been unremarkable for so long – can still ripple outwards.

Even without any grand ambitions or achievements, one may still find meaning through the persistent, heartfelt effort to make a small corner of the world a little better – no matter how short his time on Earth is.

Sad existential movies

Wild Strawberries (1957)

In our relations with other people, we mainly discuss and evaluate their character and behavior. That is why I have withdrawn from nearly all so-called relations. This has made my old age rather lonely.

Ingmar Bergman’s “Wild Strawberries” is like a dreamlike road trip into the landscape of memory and regret, undertaken by the aging, emotionally detached Professor Isak Borg as he travels to receive an honorary degree. His journey, punctuated by vivid recollections, encounters with his past, and unsettling dreams, becomes an internal pilgrimage towards self-understanding and perhaps, a late-life chance at connection.

What I find so compelling and human about Isak’s story is its gentle portrayal of how our past selves, our unresolved hurts, and our unacknowledged feelings travel with us, shaping who we become. The film doesn’t shy away from the chilliness of Isak’s isolation, born from a lifetime of intellectual pride and emotional reticence. As he revisits scenes from his youth, particularly those involving lost love and familial disappointments, I myself felt a sense of shared vulnerability – a quiet invitation to reflect on my own past, the relationships that have defined me, and the moments where, perhaps, I could have chosen warmth over distance.

There’s a bittersweet beauty to “Wild Strawberries“, a sense of hope interwoven with melancholy. The encounters Isak has on his actual road trip – with a lively group of young people and his estranged daughter-in-law – begin to thaw his frozen exterior. Eventually, he finds peace and contentment – even though it only happens at the twilight of his life.

As I reflect on Isak’s story, I realize that self-discovery isn’t just for the young. The capacity for growth and self-realization remains with all of us, as long as we are willing enough to open our hearts – and revisit the landscapes of our past.

Existential movies

Read more: Healing Your Inner Child – 15 Steps to Unearthing the Happy, Healthy You Within

Synecdoche, New York (2008)

I will be dying and so will you, and so will everyone here. That’s what I want to explore. We’re all hurtling towards death, yet here we are for the moment, alive. Each of us knowing we’re going to die, each of us secretly believing we won’t.

“Synecdoche, New York” is a movie that I find both ambitious and unsettling – in the most thought-provoking way possible. It follows theater director Caden Cotard who, grappling with his own failing health and a deep sense of existential dread, receives a genius grant and embarks on creating an artistic piece of ultimate realism: a play that mirrors his own life and eventually consumes it, blurring the lines between reality, art, and the labyrinth of his own mind.

The film is a dense, surreal dive into the human obsession with legacy, the fear of death, and the elusive search for meaning. Caden’s desperate attempt to capture every facet of his existence, to understand himself and the world through his ever-expanding theatrical replica, resonates with that part of me that yearns for control and comprehension in a life that often feels chaotic and incomprehensible.

What makes Synecdoche, New York such a powerful, albeit challenging, existential exploration for me is its portrayal of human longing and the inevitable decay of all things – relationships, health, memory, even the art created to transcend them. It doesn’t offer easy answers; in fact, it seems to revel in the questions and the inherent messiness of being.

Yet, amidst the melancholy, there’s a strange, poignant beauty in Caden’s relentless, impossible quest. It’s as if the film suggests that the search for meaning itself, however futile or all-consuming it might seem, is a fundamental aspect of our human condition.

And in that suggestion, I find a strange, almost unsettling comfort – an acknowledgment of a struggle I recognize deeply.

Weird existential movies

Read more: Meaning of Life Films – 20 Movies That Will Make You Think

Best Existential Movies: When the World Feels Absurd

Have you ever looked at the world, at the circumstances of your own life, and felt a profound sense of… bewilderment? A feeling that things just don’t quite add up, that there’s a disconnect between our deep-seated human need for meaning and order, and a universe that seems to operate on principles of randomness or indifference?

This, for me, is the gateway to understanding the “absurd.” Strangely enough, acknowledging this absurdity may – for many of us – become a liberating step in self-discovery, clearing the ground for us to create our own meaning, or find peace even amidst the unanswerable questions.

The Seventh Seal (1957)

How can we believe in the faithful when we lack faith? What will happen to us who want to believe, but can not? What about those who neither want to nor can believe?

The stark, iconic image of a medieval knight playing chess with Death himself is probably what comes to many minds when thinking of Ingmar Bergman’s “The Seventh Seal“. Set against the backdrop of the plague-ravaged 14th century, Antonius Block, the disillusioned knight, returns from the Crusades to find his homeland decimated and his faith shaken to its core. His game with Death is a desperate bid for time – time to find answers, to witness one meaningful act, to understand the purpose of suffering in a world seemingly abandoned by God.

What I find so compelling about Block’s quest is its raw honesty. His anguished cries for God to reveal Himself, to break the silence, echo the doubts that surface in any of us during times of profound crisis or when confronted with overwhelming suffering.

The film doesn’t offer easy consolations. Instead, it immerses us in the knight’s existential dread, his yearning for certainty in a world that offers none. It made me think about the different ways we all cope with the great silences of the universe – some through faith, some through denial, some through a relentless search for knowledge, much like Block.

Yet, amidst the pervasive gloom and philosophical wrestling, there are these small, luminous moments of human connection – the simple joy of a family of strolling players, a shared meal of wild strawberries and milk. These scenes, for me, offer a quiet counterpoint to Block’s despair. The more I reflect on them, the more compelled I feel to believe in this simple truth: perhaps meaning isn’t found in grand divine revelations, but in the fragile, precious bonds we forge with one another.

Old existential movies

2001: A Space Odyssey (1968)

I am putting myself to the fullest possible use, which is all I think that any conscious entity can ever hope to do.

Stanley Kubrick’s “2001: A Space Odyssey” isn’t so much a film you watch as an experience you surrender to. It’s a vast, enigmatic, and visually breathtaking journey that spans from the dawn of humankind to a speculative future, all linked by the appearance of mysterious black monoliths that seem to guide or provoke evolutionary leaps. Its deliberate pacing, minimal dialogue, and reliance on stunning imagery and classical music create a sense of cosmic awe that few films can match.

For me, the “absurdity” in 2001 isn’t one of chaos, but of an order and intelligence so vast and alien that it defies human comprehension. We witness humanity’s evolution, its technological prowess in conquering space, yet the ultimate purpose, the nature of the monoliths, and the meaning of astronaut Dave Bowman’s final, psychedelic transformation remain a mystery.

This resistance to easy interpretation is, I think, central to its power. It mirrors that feeling of standing before the immensity of the universe, acutely aware of our own limited understanding, our place as perhaps a very small part of a much grander, unfathomable design.

The story often evokes a sense of profound solitude, especially during the HAL 9000 sequence, where the sentient computer’s malfunction raises unsettling questions about consciousness, control, and what it means to be “human.” But beyond the technological anxieties, there’s a deep, almost spiritual current running through it. Bowman’s journey “beyond the infinite” is less a scientific expedition and more a metaphysical passage. It doesn’t offer answers about why we are here, but it DOES convey the majesty and mystery that we are here, evolving, reaching, questioning.

It reminds me that sometimes, the most profound self-discovery comes not from finding answers, but from learning to sit with the vastness of the questions themselves.

Existential movies

A Serious Man (2009)

The Uncertainty Principle. It proves we can’t ever really know… what’s going on. So it shouldn’t bother you. Not being able to figure anything out. Although you will be responsible for this on the mid-term.

The Coen Brothers have a unique talent for blending dark humor with deep philosophical quandaries, and “A Serious Man” is a prime example. Set in 1967, the narrative follows Larry Gopnik, a Midwestern physics professor whose life suddenly and inexplicably begins to unravel. His wife wants a divorce for a preposterously sanctimonious man, his troubled kids barely acknowledge him, a student tries to bribe him, and he’s plagued by bizarre health scares and increasingly surreal encounters.

All Larry wants is to be a “serious man,” to know why these things are happening to him. And yet, his wish is seemingly not returned. The rabbis offer cryptic stories or unhelpful platitudes; the universe remains stubbornly silent about its intentions.

Watching Larry’s increasingly desperate attempts to find answers – from his rabbis, from his own understanding of physics, from some sense of divine justice – is both painfully funny and deeply unsettling. It reminds me of that feeling when life just seems to pile on. When one tries to do everything “right” and yet the world responds with chaos.

When one’s suffering seems entirely arbitrary, and every attempt to find a rational explanation or a guiding principle is met with more ambiguity or outright absurdity. Just like what happened to the prophet Job.

And yet, is that the end?

Maybe not – if we take into account the possibility that there might be no discernible reason for our misfortunes, no grand plan we can decipher.

And with that realization comes a strange kind of philosophical challenge: can we find a way to live, to be “good,” even without clear assurances or explanations?

The movie’s ambiguous ending leaves that question hanging, a potent reminder of the inherent uncertainty we navigate.

Existential comedy films

Joker (2019)

I used to think that my life was a tragedy, but now I realize, it’s a comedy.

Todd Phillips’ “Joker” paints a grim picture of Arthur Fleck, a party clown and aspiring comedian grappling with severe mental illness, crushing loneliness, and a society that seems to treat him with either indifference or outright cruelty. His slow, agonizing descent into nihilism and violence is portrayed as a desperate response to a world he perceives as fundamentally absurd and hostile.

“Joker” does not condone Arthur’s actions; instead, its focus is on the portrayal of the societal conditions that fester such despair and alienation (and that’s what I like about the movie). The story is a dark mirror reflecting the consequences of a system that fails its most vulnerable, where the laughter is forced and the pain is ignored. Arthur’s repeated line, “I just don’t want to feel so bad anymore“, I find, is a heartbreakingly simple plea from a man for whom the world offers no solace, no meaning, only a relentless barrage of indignity.

It’s worth acknowledging a nuance here though: “Joker” is not a celebration of violence, but an exploration of its roots in extreme suffering and perceived meaninglessness. It’s a challenging watch – because it forces us to confront uncomfortable questions about empathy, mental health support, and the collective responsibility we have towards one another.

When all systems of meaning and connection break down for an individual, when life itself feels like a cruel joke, what kind of horrors might be born?

Think about it, and we should realize that a world devoid of compassion and genuine human connection will, indeed, become the most terrifyingly absurd place of all!

Dark existential movies

Best Existential Movies: Faith, Doubt & The Spiritual Quest

Beyond the tangible world and the grasp of pure reason, there lies a landscape of human experience characterized by yearning, questioning, and a search for something more – be it connection to a higher power, a more holistic understanding of one’s own spirit, or simply a sense of meaning that transcends the everyday.

This is the realm of faith, not always as a rigid set of doctrines, but as a deeply personal inclination towards belief, wonder, or trust in something unseen. And intricately woven with faith is its shadow companion, doubt – that unsettling process of questioning that, ironically enough, may give rise to a more resilient and authentic spiritual understanding.

The Tree of Life (2011)

There are two ways through life: the way of nature and the way of grace. You have to choose which one you’ll follow.

Terrence Malick’s “The Tree of Life” is less a conventional narrative and more a flowing, symphonic poem – a cascade of images and whispered voiceovers that attempt to capture nothing less than the sweep of existence, from the birth of the cosmos to the intimate inner life of a 1950s Texas family. It centers on Jack O’Brien, who, as an adult, reflects on his childhood, his relationship with his stern father (representing “Nature”) and his ethereal mother (representing “Grace”), and the grief of losing his younger brother.

Watching “The Tree of Life“, as I find, is an experience that bypasses the purely intellectual and speaks directly to the soul. It evokes that childlike sense of wonder at the world – the play of light through leaves, the vastness of the stars – alongside the raw, often confusing emotions of family life, loss, and the dawning awareness of a spiritual dimension. The dichotomy presented between the “way of Nature” (self-preservation, struggle, dominance) and the “way of Grace” (love, forgiveness, selflessness) provides a framework for understanding not just the characters’ journeys, but the conflicting impulses within my own heart.

The audacious inclusion of sequences depicting the creation of the universe, the age of dinosaurs, and then seamlessly transitioning to the minutiae of a family saying grace before dinner, conveys a profound sense of interconnectedness. A vivid reminder that our small, individual lives are part of a much grander, mysterious, and ultimately sacred unfolding – as such, what’s important is to find grace and wonder amidst the beauty and pain of daily being. Even if the problem of suffering or the nature of God remains a mystery.

Spiritual existential movies

Life of Pi (2012)

Iʼve told you two stories about what happened out on the ocean. Neither explains what caused the sinking of the ship, and no one can prove which story is true and which is not. In both stories, the ship sinks, my family dies, and I suffer. So which story do you prefer?

Inspired by the book of the same name by author Yann Martel, “Life of Pi” is framed by an adult Pi Patel recounting his incredible survival story to a writer, a story he promises will “make you believe in God.” It happened a long time ago, when the young Pi, after a shipwreck, found himself adrift on a lifeboat in the Pacific Ocean, his only companion a formidable Bengal tiger named Richard Parker. In the face of unimaginable hardship and uncertainty, he gradually figured out a way to co-exist with the tiger – and ultimately, to confront and make peace with his own Shadows.

Central to the movie’s narrative is the theme of faith. As a boy, Pi decided to embrace multiple religions – just out of a pure desire “to love God”. As the story unfolds, his faith is constantly tested, but ultimately proves resilient. His ordeal at sea becomes a crucible for his spiritual beliefs, a raw confrontation with despair, beauty, and the sheer will to live.

The film doesn’t preach a particular doctrine; rather, it celebrates the human capacity for belief itself. The capacity to CHOOSE to believe – even if it goes against common sense. Because, after all, it is faith alone, a completely unconditional faith, that may lend one the sense of meaning and courage to persevere through the darkest of times.

At the end of the movie, Pi offers the writer (and viewers too) a choice between two versions of his story – one brutal and fact-based, the other fantastical and imbued with a sense of the miraculous. Which one is the truth? Or should we ask, which one is “better”?

This question is left ambiguous, and yet, as implied in the film, the “better story” – the one that infuses life with wonder, purpose, and perhaps a touch of the divine – might be the one that sustains us, regardless of its factual accuracy.

While some may find such an idea utterly absurd, I myself think not.

Best existential movies of all time

Silence (2016)

Show God you love Him! Save the lives of the people He loves. There is something more important than the judgment of the Church. You are now going to fulfill the most painful act of love that has ever been performed.

Set in 17th-century Japan, “Silence” follows two young Portuguese Jesuit priests, Rodrigues and Garrpe, who travel to the country to find their missing mentor, Father Ferreira, and minister to the persecuted Japanese Christian converts. What unfolds is a grueling test of their convictions in a land where their faith is systematically and brutally suppressed.

This movie, for me, is one of the most raw and challenging explorations of spiritual crisis ever put to screen. Father Rodrigues’ journey is particularly wrenching. His initial fervent faith is eroded by the horrific persecution he witnesses, the suffering of the Japanese Christians who refuse to apostatize, and most importantly, by God’s deafening “silence” in the face of their pleas.

Then there are characters like Kichijiro, who repeatedly apostatizes to save himself yet continually seeks forgiveness. And Father Ferreira, who has – seemingly – renounced his faith and adopted a Japanese way of life

All of these come together to present a very dark picture of faith. A stark contrast to the countless religious films that typically depict faith in a glorious, “heroic”, completely untainted manner. While definitely inspiring, such depictions, I believe, fail to capture the nuances and complexities of real life.

People, after all, are not like “David statues” – completely free from flaws. As demonstrated through the struggles of Father Rodrigues, Father Ferreira, and Kichijiro, embracing one’s own doubt, brokenness, and the need for grace is a different, yet profoundly human, spiritual path.

It’s a contrast to the conventional adherence to one’s convictions – which, many times, may turn into a form of spiritual ego, a failure to truly commune with and understand the suffering and different cultural context of others. This, inadvertently, might only lead to more pain rather than easing miseries.

Under extraordinary circumstances, true spiritual service may need to focus less on ideologies, but more on compassion.

It’s not easy to come up with such a realization though. But maybe – as suggested in the film – it is when one stops crying out for external validation and starts looking deeply within, into that profound “silence,” that the most personal and resilient truths, the answers we seek about our own spirit, are found.

In fact, they might have been there all along.

Top existential movies to watch

Read more: 18 Best Spiritual Films – Awaken, Inspire, and Enlighten

Best Existential Movies: Survival, Resilience & Finding Humanity in Extremis

There are moments, both in cinema and in life, when the veneer of normalcy is stripped away, and all that remains is the raw struggle for survival. These are stories from the precipice, tales of individuals and groups confronting circumstances so extreme they test the very limits of human endurance.

Yet, it’s often in these crucibles of suffering and seemingly impossible odds that we witness the most extraordinary resilience, the fiercest assertions of the will to live, and, perhaps most movingly, the glimmers of humanity – compassion, sacrifice, loyalty – shining through in the darkest of times.

For me, the following existential movies are not just about the fight to stay alive – but about what truly defines us when everything else is taken away. They prompt us to reflect on our own inner strengths and the unbreakable spirit that can endure even when faced with the unimaginable.

Grave of the Fireflies (1988)

Why do fireflies have to die so soon?

I feel I must start by saying that Isao Takahata’s “Grave of the Fireflies” is one of the most devastatingly sad films I have ever encountered – and yet, its charm is undeniable. This animated masterpiece tells the story of two young siblings, Seita and his little sister Setsuko, struggling to survive in Japan during the final, desperate months of World War II, after their mother is killed in an air raid.

What makes the film so affecting, and indeed existential, is its relentless focus on the children’s perspective. We see their world crumble through their eyes – their initial attempts to maintain a semblance of normalcy, Seita’s fierce protectiveness over Setsuko, and her heartbreakingly innocent incomprehension of the full scope of their tragedy. While there are moments of fleeting, poignant beauty – the light of the fireflies that give the movie its name, a shared piece of fruit – these only serve to deepen the ultimate tragedy.

The story serves as a stark reminder of the human cost of war, the fragility of childhood, and the immense responsibility societies have to protect their most vulnerable. It brought up within me a deep sense of sorrow, as well as a quiet frustration at the senselessness of conflict and the societal indifference that can allow such suffering.

These days, we are, unfortunately, seeing more conflicts than ever – driven by greed, hatred, contempt, and many more. As sobering as realities may seem, I cannot help but try to comfort myself with an idea – that maybe there is still hope, if only people just, for a moment, stop to reflect on stories like this. To remember and contemplate the devastating impact of our collective choices on individual lives.

Maybe… just maybe…

Sad existential movies

The Pianist (2002)

Wladyslaw Szpilman: I don’t know how to thank you.
Captain Wilm Hosenfeld: Thank God, not me. He wants us to survive. Well, that’s what we have to believe.

Roman Polanski’s “The Pianist” is an unforgettable account of survival, based on the memoirs of Władysław Szpilman, a Polish-Jewish classical pianist, during the Nazi occupation of Warsaw. The film charts Szpilman’s harrowing journey from respected artist to a hunted man, witnessing the escalating horrors of the Warsaw Ghetto and enduring unimaginable loss, deprivation, and solitude.

What stays with me most vividly from Szpilman’s story is the quiet, almost solitary nature of his resilience. Unlike narratives focused on active resistance or grand escapes, much of his survival hinges on chance, on hiding, on enduring long stretches of isolation where his only companions are his memories and music.

For me, the film underscores the idea that survival isn’t always about grand heroic acts, but sometimes about the sheer, stubborn will to exist, to bear witness, to hold onto a core of one’s identity when everything else is being systematically destroyed.

Szpilman’s connection to his music, even when he can only play it silently in his mind, feels like a vital lifeline to his humanity.

Additionally, the movie is also a study in contrasts – the depths of human cruelty set against unexpected moments of compassion, like the German officer who ultimately helps Szpilman. As I figure, these instances don’t negate the horror, but they DO offer a flicker of something more, a recognition of shared humanity even in the most inhuman of circumstances.

Best French existential movies

Read more: Hiroshima Rages, Nagasaki Prays – A Personal Reflection on Peace & Meaning

Winter’s Bone (2010)

I’d be lost without the weight of you two on my back. I ain’t goin’ anywhere.

“Winter’s Bone” transports us to a very different kind of unforgiving landscape: the impoverished, meth-ravaged Ozark Mountains. It doesn’t tell a story of war or grand catastrophe – but one of a grinding, everyday struggle for survival in a forgotten corner of America. Here, 17-year-old Ree Dolly (performed by Jennifer Lawrence) embarks on a perilous quest to find her missing father, whose disappearance threatens to leave her and her younger siblings homeless.

Ree’s journey is marked by her unwavering, almost grim, determination. She’s not a conventional hero; she’s a young woman forced by circumstance to shoulder an immense burden, navigating a world of suspicion, threat, and deep-seated traditions with a quiet, steely resolve. Her resilience is born not from grand ideals, but from fierce love and a sense of responsibility for her family. As simple as that – and that’s what I find truly fascinating.

Another interesting detail from the movie is its portrayal of the web of community ties in the rural Ozarks – where survival hinges on a complex, unspoken code of loyalty, secrecy, and blood kinship. These ties are not always supportive or loving; they can be brutal, isolating, and deeply ingrained, often operating outside the norms of societal law.

On one hand, they provide a sense of belonging and a framework for survival in a harsh environment; on the other hand, they also trap individuals in a cycle of poverty and violence, demanding unwavering loyalty and silence that may come at a devastating personal cost.

Isn’t that something we can observe in real life too, both overtly and subtly?

Indeed it is. And what lingers with me from Ree’s story is not just the harshness of her world, but the unyielding strength she draws from her love for her siblings.

It’s a stark reminder that even when external structures fail or communities are fraught with danger, the fiercest determination can be forged in the crucible of personal responsibility and love.

True grit often isn’t loud or celebrated; it’s the quiet, persistent will to keep going, simply for the sake of others.

Dark existential movies

Interstellar (2014)

Love is the one thing we’re capable of perceiving that transcends dimensions of time and space.

Christopher Nolan’s “Interstellar” takes the theme of survival to a cosmic, awe-inspiring scale. Earth is dying, ravaged by blight and dust storms, and humanity’s last hope lies in a daring interstellar mission through a wormhole to find a new habitable planet. And the main character, Cooper (a former NASA pilot) is part of this mission.

For me, what elevates “Interstellar” beyond a simple space exploration narrative is its profound contemplation of humanity’s drive to endure, not just as individuals, but as a species. The sheer audacity of the mission, the immense risks taken, speak to that fundamental human impulse to reach for the stars, to push beyond our limits, even when facing apparent annihilation.

The film beautifully intertwines these grand themes with the deeply personal sacrifices made by Cooper, particularly the pain of leaving his children and the warping effects of time dilation that mean he might never see them grow up. A truly conflicting decision – to prioritize one’s personal connections or the future of humanity? What do we value most?

It’s not easy to come up with a satisfactory answer – and virtually impossible to arrive at a universal one applicable to every situation, right?

And yet, even when separated, the love between Cooper and his children is not lost. In fact, as suggested in the movie, love is a force capable of transcending dimensions and time.

Even when facing the end of the world, one can still hold on to hope, love, and the human spirit of discovery as a means for survival. 

Existential sci fi films

Society of the Snow (2023)

There is no greater love than that which gives one’s life for one’s friends.

Although not an easy watch, J.A. Bayona’s “Society of the Snow” is, I believe, an incredibly moving and inspiring one. It recounts the harrowing true story of Uruguayan Air Force Flight 571, which crashed in the Andes mountains in 1972, and the unimaginable ordeal faced by the young rugby players and their companions who survived. The movie is a visceral, deeply respectful, and emotionally shattering immersion into the raw realities of human endurance when pushed far beyond any conceivable limit.

One thing I find truly impactful about the film is its unflinching yet compassionate focus on the humanity of the survivors. It doesn’t shy away from the agonizing moral choices they were forced to make to stay alive – choices that challenge our most fundamental societal taboos – but it frames them within the desperate context of their will to live and their responsibility to one another.

For me, the film raises profound existential questions about the value of life itself, the nature of sacrifice, and what it means to be human when stripped bare of all societal constructs and comforts. It prompted a deep reflection on what I might be capable of in such circumstances, and the sheer, primal force of the survival instinct.

On the other hand, “Society of the Snow” is also a testament to the bonds forged in shared trauma and the resilience found in collective hope and mutual support. The “society” they form on the mountain, with its own rules, roles, and shared grief and determination, is a microcosm of human striving.

And in that microcosm, I find a profound, if harrowing, testament to our innate need for connection and shared purpose, even at the very edge of existence.

It wasn’t just about individual survival, but about creating meaning and order together in the face of utter chaos.

Even in the most desolate of circumstances, humanity can still be found and forged.

Existential movies on Netflix

Read more: 20 Best Movies With Ethical Dilemmas – Beyond Entertainment

FAQs

What is an existential movie?

For me, an “existential movie” isn’t strictly defined by a particular genre, like sci-fi or drama, though these themes can certainly weave their way through any kind of story. Instead, I see it as one that gently (or sometimes quite forcefully!) nudges you to contemplate the big, beautiful, and often bewildering questions of human existence, namely:

• Why are we here?
• What does it mean to live a meaningful life?
• How do our choices shape us, and how much freedom do we truly have?
• etc.

Generally speaking, they explore themes like the search for purpose, the weight of responsibility, the feeling of alienation versus our deep need for connection, the courage it takes to live authentically, our relationship with mortality, and that peculiar sense of the absurd when life doesn’t quite make sense.

Ultimately, I might say that an existential movie is one that acts as a mirror or a sounding board for my own inner world. It’s a film that sparks introspection, encourages me to look at my life and the world with fresh eyes, and perhaps even touches on a spiritual sense of wonder or questioning.

They are less about providing answers and more about enriching the questions themselves.

Why should I watch existential movies?

That’s a wonderful question! From my own experience, engaging with existential movies offers so much more than just entertainment. For me, they’ve been invaluable companions on my path of self-discovery for a few key reasons:

• They spark self-reflection: More than anything, these films invite me inward. They prompt me to examine my own life, my values, my choices, and the path I’m on. It’s like having a deep conversation with a wise friend who knows just the right questions to ask!
• They offer new perspectives: By stepping into the lives and struggles of characters grappling with profound questions, I often find my own perspectives widening. They illuminate different ways of navigating challenges or understanding complex emotions, which I find incredibly insightful.
• They make me feel less alone: Sometimes, tackling the big questions of life may feel isolating. Watching a film that beautifully articulates those same inner stirrings, those doubts or yearnings, is an incredibly validating experience. It’s a reminder that these ponderings are a shared part of the human experience!
• They foster empathy: These stories tend to delve into the deep humanity of their characters, allowing me to connect with their struggles and triumphs on an emotional level. As such, they contribute to cultivating a deeper sense of empathy for others and for different ways of being in the world.
• They inspire meaning and hope: While some existential films explore darker themes or the absurd, many also illuminate incredible resilience, the power of human connection, or moments of beauty and grace. Watching them inspires me to actively seek or create meaning in my own life, even amidst uncertainty.
• They encourage deeper conversations: These are the kinds of films that you want to talk about afterwards – with friends, family, or even just by journaling your thoughts. They are, indeed, wonderful catalysts for meaningful dialogue!

All in all, I enjoy them because they enrich my inner life. They challenge me, comfort me, make me think, and help me feel more connected to the vast, complex, and wondrous journey of being human.

If you’re on a path of self-discovery, I truly believe they will offer rich food for thought and heart!

Existential movies

Read more: The World is Not Black and White – Finding Grace in the Grey

Final Thoughts

And so, our cinematic journey comes to a pause for now!

The above existential movies, each a unique constellation of questions and reflections, have been dear companions on my own path, and I hope that sharing them has perhaps illuminated a new perspective for you, or sparked a quiet curiosity within.

For me, the true magic of such cinema lies not in providing definitive answers, but in its ability to stir our souls – and to remind us that our own inner ponderings are part of a vast, shared human narrative of seeking and becoming.

This list is, of course, just a handful of stars in an infinite sky. May you continue to find stories – on screen and in life – that resonate with your spirit, challenge your perspectives, and accompany you with grace on your own journey!

Other resources you might be interested in:

• 14 Self-improvement Animes: From Zero to Hero
• 12 Must-watch Self-improvement Documentaries to Level Up Your Life