Netflix has a knack for unearthing quirky gems from the indie film vault, and Strange But True (2019) is the latest to bubble up, landing in the Top 10 for drama and mystery with a 5.9 IMDb rating that’s as polarizing as the film’s own plot. Directed by Rowan Athale in his second feature, this psychological thriller—adapted from John Searles’ 2004 novel by Eric Garcia (Matchstick Men)—stars Margaret Qualley as Melissa Moody, a young woman who arrives on the doorstep of her late boyfriend’s family five years after his prom-night death, announcing she’s pregnant with his child. What sounds like a heartfelt reunion turns into a slow-simmering descent into suspicion, grief, and supernatural unease, blending family drama with eerie what-if questions that linger like a bad dream. Available since its quiet U.S. Netflix debut in June 2021 (now resurfacing amid holiday binges), the 96-minute film has sparked endless debates: Is it a clever exploration of loss and belief, or a convoluted mess that squanders its talent?
The story opens with Melissa (Qualley, fresh off Once Upon a Time in Hollywood and on the cusp of Maid stardom) knocking on the door of the Chase family home in upstate New York. Ronnie (Connor Jessup, American Crime) died in a car crash on prom night, leaving behind brother Philip (Nick Robinson, The Kings of Summer), parents Richard (Greg Kinnear, As Good as It Gets) and Gail (Amy Ryan, Gone Baby Gone), and a lingering cloud of what-ifs. Melissa’s claim—that she’s carrying Ronnie’s baby, conceived in a “moment of grace” after his death—shatters the fragile peace, forcing the family to confront unresolved grief, faith, and the possibility of miracles (or madness). As Melissa integrates with eerie normalcy, painting nurseries and sharing “visions,” cracks widen: Philip’s skepticism turns to obsession, Richard’s skepticism to doubt, and Gail’s maternal warmth to quiet horror.
Athale’s direction leans into atmospheric dread—rain-lashed windows, dimly lit hallways, a fortune teller’s reading that chills despite its kitsch—while Garcia’s script builds like a Jenga tower, stacking implausibilities until it teeters into absurdity. The film’s third act, a frenzy of revelations involving blackouts, hidden motives, and a twist that one reviewer called “Rosemary’s Baby if directed by M. Night Shyamalan,” has divided audiences: some hail it as “a loopy B-movie corkscrew ride” (Roger Ebert), others dismiss it as “Gone Girl aspirations hitting 13 Reasons Why melodrama” (Rotten Tomatoes consensus). Qualley shines as the enigmatic Melissa, her wide-eyed innocence masking something feral, while Kinnear and Ryan deliver grounded heartbreak. Robinson’s Philip is the emotional core, his unraveling a slow-motion tragedy.
Since resurfacing on Netflix, Strange But True has drawn fresh waves of viewers, with 2 million hours streamed in its first week back, per Nielsen data. TikTok is flooded with “ending explained” videos (500k views average), while Reddit’s r/movies debates rage: “Underrated gem about grief’s delusions” vs. “Wasted talent on plot holes.” At 96 minutes, it’s a quick, if divisive, watch—perfect for fans of The Gift or The Invitation.
Stream Strange But True now on Netflix. It’s strange, alright—but whether it’s true brilliance or true mess is up to you.
