The quiet thread linking this year’s Oscar hopefuls: Parents, children and grief

Every awards season tends to reveal an unexpected thematic thread linking several of the year’s biggest films. This year’s Best Picture race appears unusually strong, with ten acclaimed titles competing for the top prize. Yet beyond their varied genres and styles, a striking emotional pattern runs through some of the most talked-about contenders. Many of them revolve around the complicated bond between parents and children, exploring grief, absence, protection and the lingering effects of abandonment. Whether through historical drama, political satire or gothic horror, these films place fractured family relationships at the heart of their narratives.

One of the clearest examples is One Battle After Another. At first glance, the film appears to be a sprawling political satire filled with action and dark humour. But beneath the chaos lies a deeply personal story about a father determined to protect his daughter from the violent world he once inhabited. Leonardo DiCaprio plays Bob Ferguson, formerly a radical activist known as Pat Calhoun, while Chase Infiniti plays his daughter Willa.

Bob’s past is tied to a militant revolutionary group, a life marked by danger, betrayal and ideological conflict. After the collapse of that world, he escapes with his infant daughter and builds a quiet existence under false identities in a hidden community called Baktan Cross. Fatherhood transforms him. The revolutionary who once believed in radical change now defines his life through a single responsibility: keeping Willa safe.

To protect her from the darkness of his past, Bob constructs a carefully controlled narrative about their history. He tells Willa stories about her mother, Perfidia, portraying her as a fearless revolutionary who stood for justice. In doing so, he gives his daughter a heroic sense of identity while shielding her from the painful truths behind their past. Willa grows up largely unaware of the violence and betrayal that shaped her parents’ lives. Yet when that past resurfaces, Bob is forced to confront it again, revealing just how far a parent will go to protect a child.

If One Battle After Another examines the fierce instinct of parental protection, Hamnet explores the opposite emotional territory: the devastating grief that follows the loss of a child. Directed by Chloé Zhao and adapted from the novel by Maggie O'Farrell, the film imagines the life of the family of William Shakespeare and the death of his son Hamnet in 1596. Jessie Buckley’s portrayal of Agnes, the boy’s mother, has already emerged as one of the most celebrated performances of the awards season.

In Hamnet, the bond between Agnes and her son forms the emotional core of the story. Agnes is portrayed as a woman deeply connected to nature and healing, someone who instinctively senses the emotional and physical rhythms of those around her. Her relationship with Hamnet is unusually intimate, built on constant attentiveness and care. She notices the smallest changes in his moods and movements, creating an atmosphere where motherhood feels both instinctive and deeply spiritual.

The film spends considerable time establishing this closeness, which makes the tragedy of Hamnet’s death from the plague all the more devastating. When he dies at the age of eleven, Agnes’ grief is portrayed in raw and physical terms. The loss reshapes her entire existence. What once defined her life, protecting and nurturing her child, suddenly becomes the source of unbearable absence. In this sense, the story becomes less about Shakespeare’s literary legacy and more about the emotional aftermath of losing a child.

A different kind of parental fracture lies at the centre of Sentimental Value, the latest film from Norwegian director Joachim Trier. Here the focus shifts to an estranged father and daughter trying to navigate years of unresolved resentment. Stellan Skarsgård plays an ageing filmmaker who has spent much of his life prioritising his artistic ambitions over his family. His daughter, played by Renate Reinsve, grew up in the shadow of that absence.

When the father returns with a screenplay inspired by their family’s past and asks his daughter to star in it, the request reopens wounds that were never properly addressed. For him, the project seems like an opportunity to revisit the past and perhaps repair their relationship through art. For her, it feels like another example of him using personal experiences as material for his work while ignoring the emotional consequences of his choices. Their relationship is defined by silence, resentment and a lingering need for recognition, reflecting the complicated ways children interpret their parents’ decisions once they become adults.

Even gothic horror enters this conversation about parenthood. Guillermo del Toro’s Frankenstein, based on the classic novel by Mary Shelley, is often read as a story about creation and responsibility. At its core lies one of literature’s most disturbing parental relationships. Victor Frankenstein brings a living being into existence but immediately recoils from it, abandoning the creature the moment it opens its eyes.

The tragedy of the story stems from that rejection. The creature, desperate for understanding and companionship, becomes monstrous largely because it has been denied care by the very figure who created it. In this sense, Frankenstein is less a tale about scientific ambition than about the consequences of parental abandonment. Del Toro’s adaptation reportedly leans heavily into this emotional dimension, presenting the creature not simply as a horror icon but as a being shaped by neglect.

Taken together, these films reveal how deeply the theme of parenthood continues to resonate in contemporary storytelling. Whether it is a father risking everything to save his daughter, a mother struggling to survive the loss of a child, an estranged parent seeking redemption or a creator abandoning his own creation, these narratives explore the fragile, powerful ties that bind parents and children.

For an awards season defined by cinematic spectacle and artistic ambition, it is telling that some of the most compelling stories are also the most intimate. Beneath the politics, history and horror, these films remind audiences that the emotional centre of many great stories remains the same: the complicated, enduring bond between a parent and a child.