Top Movies on Discovery+
Looking for compelling documentaries and original films to stream right now? Discovery+ has quietly become a powerhouse destination for thought-provoking cinema that goes beyond its reputation for reality TV and nature programming. Our expertly curated selection of the top movies on Discovery Plus showcases the platform's strongest offerings, from powerful biographical documentaries and gripping true-crime investigations to heartwarming holiday features and acclaimed investigative films. Whether you're searching for the best movies on Discovery+ that tackle important social issues, explore fascinating real-life stories, or simply provide quality entertainment for your next movie night, you'll find hidden gems that deserve your attention. The streaming service has steadily built an impressive library of high-quality documentary features and narrative films that rival any major platform, with new additions regularly expanding the catalog. From recent releases that capture contemporary moments to compelling character studies that showcase remarkable individuals, these carefully selected films represent the cream of Discovery Plus's movie collection, offering subscribers diverse viewing options that educate, inspire, and entertain in equal measure.
This intimate documentary follows actress Selma Blair as she navigates life after her multiple sclerosis diagnosis, offering an unflinching look at chronic illness and personal resilience. Director Rachel Fleit crafts a portrait that never sensationalizes Blair's struggles or reduces her to her condition. Instead, the film captures her humor, vulnerability, and determination to continue working and mothering while managing a degenerative disease. Blair's candor is remarkable—she allows cameras to document both triumphant moments and devastating setbacks. The film culminates with her appearance at a fashion event, an act of defiance and self-expression that becomes genuinely moving. It's a compassionate work that acknowledges the complexity of living with MS while celebrating Blair's refusal to disappear from public life. The documentary succeeds in making the personal universal.
In the French countryside during an unusually hot summer, this intimate character study from director Ludovic Vieuille observes a young man's final weeks before leaving his rural hometown for university. Newcomer Louis Garrel (not to be confused with the established actor) delivers a remarkably natural performance as someone caught between nostalgia for a life he's outgrown and anxiety about an uncertain future. Vieuille shoots with patient, unhurried attention to the rhythms of rural life—long afternoons by the river, evening gatherings with childhood friends, tense dinners with family. The film's strength lies in its specificity; these feel like real people in a real place, not actors hitting predetermined emotional beats. The director's use of the summer heat as both atmosphere and metaphor is subtle but effective, creating a sense of time suspended before inevitable change. While the deliberately languid pace won't work for everyone, those attuned to its wavelength will find a quietly moving portrait of transition. The supporting performances are equally authentic, particularly the scenes between Garrel and Manon Kneusé as a childhood friend with whom he shares unspoken romantic tension.
This thoughtful documentary examines the 1998 murder that became a watershed moment in American LGBTQ+ rights activism and hate crime legislation. Director Timothy Greenfield-Sanders approaches the subject with appropriate gravity, combining archival footage, news reports, and contemporary interviews to chronicle Matthew Shepard's life and the aftermath of his killing in Laramie, Wyoming. The film doesn't sensationalize the tragedy but rather contextualizes it within the broader struggle for LGBTQ+ equality and the ongoing fight against hate-motivated violence. Interview subjects include activists, journalists, and legal experts who discuss how Shepard's death galvanized legislative efforts and cultural conversations about prejudice and violence. Greenfield-Sanders maintains focus on both the personal tragedy and its wider implications, avoiding exploitation while honestly confronting difficult material. The documentary serves as both historical record and reminder that the issues it addresses remain relevant, making it valuable viewing for those interested in civil rights history and the ongoing work toward equality.
On January 6, 2021, the United States Capitol became the site of a shocking assault on American democracy, and this documentary attempts to piece together the events of that chaotic day. Director Jamie Roberts assembles footage from multiple sources—news cameras, social media posts, police body cams, and security feeds—to create a moment-by-moment account of how the situation unfolded. The film succeeds in presenting a clear timeline of events and captures the confusion and danger experienced by those inside the building. However, the documentary occasionally struggles to provide deeper context or analysis beyond the immediate visceral impact of the footage. The strength lies in its comprehensive compilation of visual evidence, making it a useful historical record even if it doesn't offer particularly fresh insights into the motivations or broader implications of the insurrection.
When the seemingly perfect Hart family's SUV plunged off a California cliff in 2018, killing two moms and six adopted children, the tragedy shocked the nation—but "Broken Harts" reveals a disturbing story lurking beneath their social media façade. Director Rachel Morgan assembles this documentary with careful attention to the warning signs that were repeatedly missed by authorities, creating a portrait that's both heartbreaking and infuriating. Through interviews with neighbors, teachers, and investigators, the film traces how Jennifer and Sarah Hart weaponized their progressive image while allegedly abusing their children behind closed doors. The pacing occasionally drags during the middle section, and some viewers may wish for deeper psychological analysis. Nevertheless, it's an important examination of how appearances can deceive and systems can fail vulnerable children. The documentary raises uncomfortable questions about accountability that linger long after the credits roll.
At its core, this documentary explores humanity's relationship with space exploration and our collective yearning to reach beyond Earth's boundaries during an era of environmental crisis. Directors Rudolph Herzog and Werner Herzog examine whether space represents genuine salvation or merely escapism from problems we're unwilling to face on our own planet. The film features interviews with scientists, entrepreneurs, and visionaries who offer competing perspectives on space colonization's viability and ethics. The Herzogs bring their characteristic philosophical curiosity to the subject, raising questions without providing easy answers. Some segments are genuinely thought-provoking, particularly those examining the commercialization of space travel, while others meander without much focus. The documentary works best when balancing technical information with broader existential questions, though it occasionally gets bogged down in tangents. It's a solid entry for viewers interested in space exploration's future, even if it doesn't reach transcendent heights.
Ben Affleck's Bruce Wayne emerges from retirement to confront Henry Cavill's Superman in Zack Snyder's polarizing superhero showdown. The film wrestles with weighty questions about power and accountability as Batman, traumatized by the destruction in Metropolis, views the Man of Steel as an existential threat to humanity. While the movie suffers from overstuffed plotting—cramming in Wonder Woman's introduction, dream sequences, and Justice League setup—the core ideological battle between its two leads generates genuine tension. The action sequences deliver Snyder's trademark visual bombast, particularly a warehouse fight that showcases Batman's brutality. Jesse Eisenberg's manic Lex Luthor proves divisive, and the film's grim tone won't appeal to everyone, but there's ambition here in exploring what happens when god-like beings operate without oversight. It's messy and overlong, yet undeniably committed to its vision.
This holiday romance directed by Pat Kiely follows a wedding planner who finds herself unexpectedly planning her ex-fiancé's Christmas nuptials while navigating her own complicated feelings. Merritt Patterson brings genuine warmth to the lead role, elevating material that could easily have felt recycled from countless other seasonal romcoms. The film hits the expected beats—mistletoe moments, snowy small-town charm, last-minute revelations—but does so with enough sincerity to make them work. Steve Lund provides solid support as the love interest, and their chemistry carries the thinner moments. The script occasionally strains credibility, particularly in how quickly professional boundaries dissolve, but the brisk pacing doesn't allow you to dwell on such concerns. Production values are notably strong for this type of film, with genuinely attractive cinematography that captures the festive atmosphere. It won't reinvent the holiday romance wheel, but it spins it smoothly enough for an cozy evening watch.
Director (name needed) helms this psychological thriller about a woman who returns to her childhood home after her mother's death, only to uncover long-buried family secrets that threaten to destroy her present life. The premise holds promise, suggesting a slow-burn mystery that excavates trauma and deception, but the execution proves uneven. The film benefits from a committed lead performance and moody cinematography that effectively captures the claustrophobic atmosphere of the old family house. However, the script relies too heavily on familiar thriller mechanics—ominous flashbacks, red herrings, and third-act revelations that feel telegraphed rather than genuinely surprising. Supporting characters remain underdeveloped, functioning primarily as exposition delivery systems rather than credible people. While the film occasionally generates suspense and raises interesting questions about memory and family mythology, it doesn't ultimately justify its running time or offer fresh enough perspectives on well-trodden psychological thriller territory.
This formulaic holiday movie goes through the motions of a seasonal romance without generating a single spark of genuine charm or chemistry. Director Rachel Morrison (not the acclaimed cinematographer) assembles all the expected elements—a big-city career woman returning to her small hometown, a childhood rival now running a Christmas tree farm, various contrived competitions that force them together—but executes them with such paint-by-numbers predictability that even genre fans will find themselves checking their watches. The leads sleepwalk through dialogue that sounds like it was generated by an algorithm trained on Hallmark movies, and the small-town setting feels depressingly artificial despite what appears to be actual location shooting. The titular "showdown" involves a community Christmas decoration contest that carries zero stakes, and the inevitable romantic resolution arrives exactly when expected with no earned emotional payoff. Even the production design feels cheap, with holiday decorations that look hastily assembled and lighting that flattens every scene. There's a place for cozy, undemanding holiday content, but this one can't even clear that low bar, resulting in a film that feels like it was made solely to fill a streaming slot during the Christmas season.
A woman desperate to impress her family for the holidays hires an actor to pose as her successful boyfriend, only to find the deception spiraling into increasingly complicated territory as real feelings develop between the fake couple. Director Tessa Grant navigates this well-worn premise with adequate proficiency, and leads Travis Nelson and Jenny Tran share enough chemistry to make the central romance mostly convincing. The script hits every expected beat—initial awkwardness, growing connection, inevitable revelation and conflict, reconciliation—without adding much freshness to the formula. Some of the comedic set pieces land effectively, particularly those involving the protagonist's well-meaning but overbearing family, while others feel forced and overplayed. The film's treatment of deception as a romantic foundation remains ethically questionable even within the genre's conventions, and the resolution feels rushed after extended setup. There's competent holiday rom-com craftsmanship here, with appealing leads and festive production design, but it exists firmly in the middle tier of seasonal offerings—pleasant enough while watching, forgettable shortly after.
Scott Patrick directs this low-budget creature feature that, despite its promising title, struggles to deliver either the thrills or the camp entertainment value that might justify its existence. The premise involves a great white shark terrorizing island vacationers, but the execution suffers from amateurish special effects, wooden performances, and a script that seems uncertain whether it's attempting genuine horror or self-aware parody. The shark itself appears inconsistently, with CGI that varies wildly in quality from scene to scene. To the film's credit, there's evidence of enthusiasm from the crew, and a few sequences show flashes of creativity in their staging. However, these moments are too infrequent to sustain interest through the considerable stretches of plodding dialogue and characters making bafflingly poor decisions. Even genre fans seeking guilty pleasure viewing will likely find their patience tested by the sluggish pacing and lack of memorable set pieces.
A student moves into a new home only to discover that a possessed doll—the infamous Robert—haunts the property and begins terrorizing anyone who crosses its path. Director Andrew Jones attempts to capitalize on the real Robert the Doll's creepy reputation, but "The Curse of Robert the Doll" struggles to generate genuine scares from its promising premise. The film relies heavily on static shots of the doll sitting ominously in corners, which might unnerve viewers for the first few scenes but quickly becomes repetitive. Lee Bane and Suzie Frances Garton deliver committed performances that deserve better material, working hard to sell the supernatural threat despite a script that fails to build meaningful tension. The pacing drags considerably in the middle act, and the low-budget constraints show in nearly every frame. While completists of killer doll horror might find some minor curiosity value here, most viewers would be better served revisiting superior entries in the subgenre.
