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OSN+’s February slate is built for people who still care about how a movie looks and sounds. Across sci-fi, horror, action and prestige drama, these are the titles worth making space for on your watch list this month.
Mickey 17
Bong Joon Ho’s latest takes his trademark absurdism into deep space. Here, a “disposable” employee on a mission to colonise an ice planet keeps dying — and keeps being reborn with all his memories intact. The film turns a speculative premise into a meditation on labour, identity, and what it means to be endlessly replaceable. It’s less immediately satisfying than Parasite, but compelling in its own right — a high-concept puzzle that rewards curiosity more than comfort.
Sinners
Ryan Coogler writes, directs, and produces this Southern Gothic horror, and it plays its hand slowly — in the best way. For the first stretch, you’re never quite sure what kind of film you’re watching, or what, exactly, is circling the characters. When the reveal lands, it reframes everything.
Beneath the genre mechanics, Sinners is really about proximity: the monsters you fear, and the ones you live alongside. The pacing can wobble in places, but visually it’s a flex — a masterclass in shadow, contrast, and darkness-as-texture. If you’ve got an OLED screen, this is the one to put it to work.
Black Bag
Steven Soderbergh returns with a sleek espionage thriller that turns signal intelligence into its main weapon — and treats surveillance less like a plot device than a way of life. Black Bag is high-stakes, tightly wound, and quietly unnerving, blurring the line between national security and everyday intrusion. Visually, it’s classic Soderbergh: stripped-back, almost “guerrilla” in feel, with wide-angle lenses and natural light that make the film’s high-tech world feel uncomfortably real. It’s a modern spy story with a cold pulse — and a sharp reminder that being watched is now the default.
The Wild Robot
Shipwrecked on a deserted island, a robot is forced to do the one thing she wasn’t built for: adapt. As she learns to survive in the wild — and to “feel” her way through it — she’s shaped by the animals around her, whose instincts offer a kind of quiet clarity the machine world can’t. On paper, it’s family-friendly. In practice, it’s one of those rare animated films that works just as well for adults — emotionally sharp, visually inventive, and surprisingly thoughtful about what it means to belong. It’s also a technical flex: a major leap in stylised animation that blends artistry and technology with real confidence.
Furiosa: A Mad Max Saga
George Miller’s Mad Max prequel digs into Furiosa’s origin story with the same precision the franchise is known for: brutal momentum, meticulous world-building, and action that feels engineered rather than improvised. Even if you already know where the character ends up, the journey is relentless. It’s also a visual benchmark. The desert palette is aggressively vibrant — sun-bleached, oversaturated, almost radioactive — making it the kind of film that doubles as an HDR stress test. If your screen has peak brightness to spare, this is where it gets to show off.
A Minecraft Movie
Turning a pixelated sandbox into a live-action blockbuster shouldn’t work — which is exactly why A Minecraft Movie is such a weirdly satisfying watch. A group of misfits is dropped into the Overworld and forced to learn its rules fast, where physics is cubic, logic is literal, and survival depends on building before fighting. What’s most impressive is how the film treats the game’s blocky visuals with real physical weight. The lighting and texture work makes a world of cubes feel oddly grounded — less gimmick, more fully realised universe.
Wicked
Wicked has already become a meme factory — but the reason it sticks is craft, not noise. The film leans hard into its Broadway DNA, with big performances and production design that feels theatrical in the best way. Crucially, it doesn’t look like it was built in a computer. Instead of relying on green screen, the film uses substantial practical sets, giving its fantasy world real texture and weight.
Companion
A weekend getaway at a remote cabin turns into a psychological nightmare when a friend’s “companion” is revealed to be something else entirely. What starts as an awkward group dynamic quickly spirals into paranoia, control, and survival — with the film using sci-fi as a wrapper for a sharper story about autonomy and power.
The Woman In The Yard
This taut thriller keeps things stripped back, using minimalist staging to generate maximum tension. The camera work does a lot of the heavy lifting: wide, cold frames and long static shots create a sense of distance and dread, as if the characters are being observed rather than followed. It’s a film that understands modern fear — not just the threat itself, but the feeling of being watched.
Speak No Evil
An American family’s idyllic British countryside stay curdles into a psychological ordeal once their hosts’ hospitality starts to feel like a performance — and politeness becomes a trap. Speak No Evil is less about jump scares than social dread, weaponising awkwardness until it turns vicious. The sound design does most of the damage: small cues, long silences, and everyday noises that slowly become unbearable.
The Ballad of Wallis Island
A comedy-drama starring Carey Mulligan, this is a small, character-driven story about isolation, nostalgia, and the strange intimacy of being forced back into someone’s orbit. Former bandmates — and former lovers — reunite for a private show on a remote island, hosted by an eccentric millionaire who treats the whole thing like a personal fantasy.
The film is also a quiet showcase for location cinematography. The island isn’t just a backdrop; it’s a pressure chamber, shot in natural, often harsh light that leans into the story’s “analogue” disconnection. The plot is simple and the cast is small, but the tone is unmistakably British — dry, awkward, and quietly sharp.
Shamareekh
Amr Salama’s Shamareekh is an action-romance built on contrast: a man from the shadows and a woman from the light forced onto the same escape route as chaos closes in. True to its name — “Fireworks” — the film uses real bursts of fireworks as a key light source, creating a volatile, high-contrast look that mirrors the story’s pressure. Stylised, fast, and unusually bold for the genre.
