The Climate Reality Check

For the second year, we used the Climate Reality Check to analyze Oscar-nominated films, building a picture of how the year's most critically acclaimed movies reflect our climate reality.

From Hurricane Helene to the LA fires, we're all feeling and reeling from the impacts of climate change— heightened by the U.S. withdrawal from the Paris Climate Agreement. But let's not forget it has also been a year of wins, innovation, and compassion—like wind and solar reaching all-time highs and communities uniting and centering care in the face of disaster.

In this climate-critical year, including Hollywood's own frontline experience, there is an ironic downturn in Oscar-nominated climate acknowledgment compared to last year. This year, DreamWorks' The Wild Robot, written by Chris Sanders and Peter Brown, was the lone Oscar nominee that passed, with its stunning portrayal of our watery future.

But we aren't disheartened! In fact, several big films from the past year included the climate crisis, but happened not to win Oscar nominations: The End, The Room Next Door, Furiosa, and Twisters.

Of the 30 scripted, feature-length films that received Oscar nominations in 2025, 10 fit our inclusion criteria: stories set in the present or near future, on Earth, in this universe. Those films were: A Different Man, A Real Pain, Anora, Conclave, Emilia Pérez, Inside Out 2, Sing Sing, The Seed of the Sacred Fig, The Substance, and The Wild Robot.

1 of the 10 eligible films passed, reflecting a 10% passing rate.

Have you ever imagined whales swimming over the Golden Gate Bridge? That's the world we enter in The Wild Robot, where climate impacts and situations—from sea-level rise to hints that humans have isolated themselves in climate-safe, domed cities—are subtly woven into the fabric of the storyworld. When robot Roz tries to shoo away the gosling Brightbill, she sets down a pamphlet whose cover reads "Fly South — Florida — More Shoreline Than Ever," saying, "Perhaps tips for your next vacation?" The image on the pamphlet closely resembles a map of sea-level rise.

The story is propelled by themes of cooperation and bridging divides, with Roz learning to "speak animal," and the animals learning to accept this strange chrome creature. Beaver, bear, duck, and skunk alike all hunker down together to weather "the worst storm I've ever seen," as Fink says. Each overcomes their instinct (or "programming," if you will) to fear, hate, and "other" the other. Though climate change is not explicitly mentioned in dialogue, one message rings clear: collaboration and compassion are the way to survive our climate future.

In this mesmerizing world, where the only remaining sign of human life are the artifacts we left behind, animals of varied species—a black cat, a dog, a lemur, a capybara, and a secretary bird—must come together to survive a devastating flood. Whether the flood is an outcome of human-caused climate change or a tsunami is unclear. What is clear, as in The Wild Robot, is that our animal heroes must overcome their habits (like the lemur's hoarding, the cat's fearful hiding) in order to survive by working as a community. Along the way, they feed, protect, exasperate, and play with one another while navigating the flood's challenges together.

This post-apocalyptic world, where apes have established societies amid the ruins of human civilization, hearkens to global destruction at the hands of our species—from sea-level rise and floods to viruses that led to talking apes. Spoiler: We're nearly extinct because of it. Nature has rebounded, but the apes are acting more human than ever, with some engaging in militaristic violence, enslavement, and authoritarianism. The film poses a crucial question: Is this new civilization doomed to repeat humanity's self-destructive patterns, or will it resist authoritarianism to forge a future built on wisdom, peace, and reverence for nature?

Dune: Part Two allegorically uncovers the root cause of the climate crisis: the greed of the fossil fuel industry. The imperial forces exploit the planet Arrakis to mine spice, which powers the whole galactic economy. In doing so, they ruthlessly oppress the Indigenous Fremen, who live in harmony with the desert. This story illustrates not only the inhumanity of those in power but also the utter stupidity of their murder-suicide campaign: the more spice they unsustainably mine, the more they annihilate the ecosystem, destabilizing the climate. In doing so, they come perilously close to destroying the only planet in the universe where spice exists, threatening not only Arrakis but the entire galaxy—including themselves.

The themes running through the above films point to a zeitgeist—one that's about overcoming our differences to work together, care for each other, and celebrate the beauty of our Earth amid the chaos—and we are here for it. Two of these films highlight characters banding together across divisions to take on authoritarian or corporate villains that harm nature. Three films take place in worlds where humans are either unseen or nearly extinct—a cautionary common denominator. And, of course, there are all the cute animals.