For those eager to explore some of the finest and most visually captivating films globally, we have curated a list of 10 essential Hindi-language movies available on Netflix. Notably, half of these films feature Shah Rukh Khan, a Bollywood icon whose impact rivals any contemporary actor. His potential inclusion in the MCU is even a topic of interest among “Ms. Marvel” showrunners.

This list is by no means comprehensive. In addition to the selected films, noteworthy mentions include recent blockbusters like “Jawan,” which topped global box office charts in 2023, and “Dangal,” alongside classics from the turn of the century such as “Dil Se…” and “Kabhi Khushi Kabhie Gham.” Timeless Yash Chopra gems like “Chandni” and “Kaala Patthar” are also part of the extensive catalog of over 400 Hindi films spanning seven decades on Netflix. While this list features 10 standout titles, it merely scratches the surface of what’s available.

Among the most celebrated entries in the 2025 festival circuit is a Hindi-language drama now streaming on US Netflix. Directed by Neeraj Ghaywan and overseen by executive producer Martin Scorsese, “Homebound” is a poignant and powerful narrative about ordinary individuals navigating life amidst societal inequities and contradictions. With a runtime of 122 minutes and devoid of musical interludes, the film diverges from typical Bollywood conventions, echoing the Bengali-language social realism of Satyajit Ray, a known influence on co-screenwriter Sumit Roy.

One of the most acclaimed films of the 2025 festival circuit is a Hindi-language drama that recently made its way to the U.S. Netflix catalog. Directed by Neeraj Ghaywan and executive produced by Martin Scorsese, “Homebound” is a searing, incisive, profoundly moving story about regular people trying to make the best of life in a society marred by injustice and contradiction. Clocking in at a relatively brisk 122 minutes and devoid of musical numbers, the film differs significantly from more commercially traditional Bollywood fare, harkening back to the Bengali-language social realism of Satyajit Ray (a professed influence on co-screenwriter Sumit Roy).

Ghaywan and Roy adapt a 2020 New York Times essay by Kashmiri journalist Basharat Peer, at the time titled “Taking Amrit Home” (and since renamed “A Friendship, a Pandemic and a Death Beside the Highway”). Like the essay, the film tells the story of a lifelong friendship coming up against hardship. Shoaib (Ishaan Khatter) and Chandan (Vishal Jethwa) are childhood friends from poor North Indian families who dream of becoming police officers in order to improve their lives.

Yet their marginalized social status — Shoaib is a Muslim, and Chandan is a Dalit — imposes myriad complications and frustrations on what should be a straightforward journey driven by ambition and mutual support. Numerous dramatic turns ensue, largely drawn from real life, including the onslaught of the COVID-19 pandemic. Aided by brilliant lead actors and gobsmacking cinematography, Ghaywan tells this story of tragic irresolution with such sensitivity that it becomes a paean to humanity — and an urgent plea for societal change.

“Om Shanti Om” (literally translated to “Peace Be With You”) is one of the biggest box office phenomenons in Indian movie history, and, when you watch it, it’s exceedingly easy to understand why. Directed and co-written by Farah Khan as a heartfelt love letter to Bollywood history, this 2007 triumph boasts supernova crowd-pleasing power in the departments of storytelling and music; not for nothing, it has long been held up by film buffs as a great “starter movie” for Westerners unacquainted with India’s lavish musical blockbusters. The true beauty of “Om Shanti Om,” though, is that it works equally well if you’re a Bollywood newcomer or a connoisseur.

The film tells the story of Om Prakash “Omi” Makhija (Shah Rukh Khan), a struggling 1970s actor who dies in a set fire and reincarnates as Om Kapoor — who, in turn, goes on to become a popular movie star in the 2000s. Farah Khan takes the various opportunities afforded by that premise to pay homage to several decades of Hindi cinema, especially of the 1970s, while mixing comedy, drama, romance, and action with a deftness that puts her up there with the most skilled cinematic entertainers ever. There’s nary a shot in the film that doesn’t brim with affection and additional significance if you have a certain level of familiarity with Bollywood movies, but, even if you go in with no prior context at all, “Om Shanti Om” is so riotously fun — and so forcefully, improbably moving in its grief-stricken storytelling — that it’s impossible not to get swept into it.

A veritable modern classic, 2004’s “Veer-Zaara” is a must-watch for anyone with an interest in Hindi cinema of the 21st century. The late, great Yash Chopra infuses this epic romantic melodrama with the kind of flair that goes down in movie history, maximally amping up every gesture of affection in its star-crossed love story, such that even a small glance can become a veritable emotional thunderstorm. And, in typical Chopra fashion, “Veer-Zaara” achieves this while offering up extraordinarily thoughtful, progressive, and politically savvy storytelling populated by three-dimensional female characters.

The film, which broaches the subject of India-Pakistan tensions head-on, opens with Pakistani attorney Saamiya Siddiqui (Rani Mukerji) taking on the case of Indian prisoner Rajesh Rathore, whose real name is Veer Pratap Singh (Shah Rukh Khan). Veer begins to tell Saamiya his story, and the film flashes back to 22 years before, when he was an Indian Air Force pilot whose fate crossed with Zaara Hayaat Khan (Preity Zinta), the daughter of a powerful Pakistani political dynasty. Veer and Zaara fall in love — transcendent, Earth-shattering love, ripped from the most rarefied of romantic reveries, and capable of enduring through countless hardships and cruel twists of fate.

With powerfully melancholy music, impressive yet strain-free visual refinement befitting Chopra’s 45-year career as director (by that point), and both Khan and Zinta doing some of the best, most emotionally open work of their careers, this is a movie that exemplifies Hindi drama at its very best. And, if the 192-minute runtime seems daunting, rest assured: You’ll barely feel it pass.

Rarefied quality and Shah Rukh Khan’s presence don’t guarantee that a movie will be financially successful. As a case in point, “Swades” is one of the best Hindi movies of the past three decades, and Khan beautifully disappears into the character of homeward-bound NASA project manager Mohan Bhargav, delivering one of his most nuanced and skillfully understated performances. Yet the movie was a commercial disappointment upon its original 2004 release, grossing only ₹34 crore against a ₹22 crore budget.

Even so, it didn’t take long for “Swades” to get rightfully hailed as a cult favorite, and it now enjoys the status of one of the most renowned films in the careers of both Khan and director Ashutosh Gowariker. Featuring an incredible soundtrack by A. R. Rahman with lyrics by Javed Akhtar, the film tells the poignant story of an Uttar Pradesh expat who went to college in the U.S. and grew up there following the death of his parents; years later, he returns to India in search of Kaveri Amma (Kishori Ballal), the nanny who raised him, hoping to bring her back to the U.S. with him.

As he ventures back into his home country, Mohan is faced with complicated questions about the sociopolitical state of India, and reconnects with parts of his heritage that had long been laying dormant. Unapologetically forthright in its messaging, Gowariker’s film never risks becoming a lecture thanks to its gorgeous sense of imagery and texture; it’s no surprise that it continues to inspire and move new generations decades later.

Avinash Arun’s “Three of Us” contains one of the most sensitive and empathetic portrayals of dementia of the past few years in cinema. What’s extraordinary about the movie’s writing is that dementia is just one part of the picture: Shailaja Desai (Shefali Shah) is weathering the devastating effects of memory loss, but she’s also contemplating the sum of her past and pondering her trajectory and the paths she has taken. It’s a deeply thoughtful movie about what it means to look back on one’s life, calling to mind the achingly bittersweet romance of “Past Lives” (though with very different thematic preoccupations).

Without overtly commercial elements or grand theatrics, Arun’s film concocts a dramatic dynamic so specific that it’s all but impossible not to be moved. Eager to revisit her memories before she loses them, Shailaja convinces her husband Dipankar (Swanand Kirkire) to accompany her on a trip to her beachside Maharashtra hometown of Vengurla, where she winds up reconnecting with her childhood sweetheart Pradeep (Jaideep Ahlawat) and initiates a complex dynamic with him and his wife Sarika (Kadambari Kadam).

Tension and conflict abound as everyone struggles to be compassionate and generous to Shailaja, yet “Three of Us” handles it all with such a gentle touch that nothing in it ever feels draining. Arun, who cut his teeth as a prolific cinematographer (and also pulls that same duty in the film), finds the beauty and splendor in Shailaja’s quest for remembrance while continually suffusing it with quiet sadness and ambivalence — and the four leads all rise marvelously to his level of richness.

Scripted by Sneha Desai and directed by Kiran Rao, the 2023 film “Lost Ladies,” also known as “Laapataa Ladies,” became embroiled in controversy in 2024 when it was selected as India’s submission for the Academy Award for Best International Feature Film over the Cannes sensation “All We Imagine As Light,” which was considered a frontrunner to win the Oscar prior to its non-selection. Take a few steps back from that uproar, however, and “Lost Ladies” snaps into focus as first and foremost a wonderful film in its own right, irresistibly dashing in its blend of comedy, character drama, and social commentary — as you can attest by cueing it up on Netflix right now.

A delectable “recent period” piece set in the year 2001, “Lost Ladies” tells the sinuous and surprising story of what happens when Jaya (Pratibha Ranta) and Phool (Nitanshi Goel), two brides wearing head-covering ghoonghat, accidentally swap places in a busy passenger train. Jaya arrives to the village of Phool’s husband Deepak (Sparsh Shrivastava), assumes the fake name Pushpa, and gets unexpectedly cozy with his family while he searches for Phool; Phool stays in the station waiting for Deepak, and experiences her first brush with an independent life. The movie smartly modulates the winding, ultimately converging frequencies of its bisected tale, drawing high levels of entertainment — and food for thought — from the process by which its two protagonists find themselves while stationed outside their own lives. It’s the rare movie that manages to be gentle, sweet, and convivial while also keeping a firm grip on the drama.

Before taking Bollywood by storm with “Om Shanti Om,” Farah Khan began her career as a film director with the similarly beloved and deftly-balanced “Main Hoon Na.” A masala film of the highest order, outdoing even “Om Shanti Om” in its blend of genres and moods, Khan’s debut manages to will a serious political thriller, a heartrending family drama, a slick “Mission: Impossible”-inspired actioner, and a goofy “22 Jump Street”-esque undercover college comedy into coherence by some miraculous spark of determination. And wrapping it all together, per usual for Khan, is an incredible set of songs — here courtesy of Anu Malik and Javed Akhtar.

Another film that boldly tackles the complexities of India-Pakistan relations, “Main Hoon Na” begins with the establishment of a realpolitik context: The two countries have launched a prisoner swap program in the name of de-escalating tension. Because of this, an attempt on the life of Indian General Amarjeet Bakshi (Kabir Bedi) is made during a press conference, but a brigadier (Naseeruddin Shah) takes the bullet for him. In his final words, the brigadier asks his son, Major Ram Prasad (Shah Rukh Khan), to locate his estranged half-brother Lakshman (Zayed Khan). Worried about the possible danger posed to his (also estranged) daughter Sanjana (Amrita Rao), General Bakshi enlists Major Ram to go undercover as a student at Sanjana’s college — which also happens to be Lakshman’s college. 182 minutes of high-octane cinema unfold from that complex setup, offering up untold quantities of emotion and excitement while also somehow getting at cogent political questions. There’s just no other movie like it.

Also featured in the U.S. Netflix catalog is one of the finest examples of contemporary Hindi queer cinema: “Badhaai Do.” Billed as a spiritual sequel to the 2018 middle-aged-pregnancy comedy “Badhaai Ho” but bearing no direct connection to it in terms of plot, this 2022 Harshavardhan Kulkarni film smartly, hilariously, and incisively takes on the topic of lavender marriages, while still allowing space for its queer protagonists to be fully themselves.

The protagonists in question are Shardul (Rajkummar Rao), a gay police officer, and Sumi (Bhumi Pednekar), a lesbian P.E. teacher. Both are closeted and in their 30s, but they’re total strangers until Sumi walks into Shardul’s precinct, in need of help dealing with a male stalker who’s trying to blackmail her into sex. Upon confronting the stalker and discovering Sumi’s secret, Shardul proposes to her that they marry to get their families off their backs about still being single.

Sumi accepts, they tie the knot and move in together, and their love lives continue unabated: Sumi meets lab technician Rimjhim (Chum Darang), who eventually moves in with them too; Shardul starts dating out lawyer Guru (Gulshan Devaiah). All of this necessitates an increasingly convoluted jumble of lies and appearances for their families — and yet, despite the mounting pressure, Sumi and Shardul remain steadfastly committed to making their arrangement work while pursuing happiness. It’s a farcical, emotional, proudly crowd-pleasing dramedy that breezes by so delightfully — and with such sturdy dramatic and musical construction — that you almost don’t take notice of the enormous, replenishing boldness on display.

After years of gorgeous, highly original work in animated short films, multi-hyphenate filmmaker and actress Gitanjali Rao (not to be confused with the American science prodigy) finally got to make her long-awaited feature debut with the swoon-worthy 2019 film “Bombay Rose.” Painstakingly hand-animated by a 60-person team over 18 months of digital painting, the movie synthesizes the culture, mood, and urban bustle of Bombay (known since 1995 as Mumbai) into a vibrant, liberated visual style, finding pungency both in maximalist texture and laconic precision.

As if that aesthetic richness weren’t enough to make “Bombay Rose” appointment viewing, Rao — who also wrote the script — makes a point of using the film’s multifaceted story to comment on the history and the current standing of Bollywood cinema. Although ostensibly the tale of the connection between neighboring flower sellers Kamala (Cyli Khare) and Salim (Amit Deondi), the film is chiefly interested in the way Bombay’s streets bring together complex interlocking narratives of modern Indian life, with the movie theater always close by as a gateway to ambivalent escape. Through her ambitious, self-reflexive dramatism, Rao unravels narrative expectations as fast and dexterously as she weaves together visual marvels.

Some critics have taken issue with the film’s plotting and pacing, deeming them rushed and unwieldy — but even this is, if anything, a consequence of its writer-director’s eagerness to make the most of the window of possibility afforded by feature length. “Bombay Rose” is an unflaggingly beautiful, frequently gripping, and never less than deeply interesting and thought-provoking film that heralds a major filmmaking talent.

If Shah Rukh Khan is all over this list, you can thank 1995’s “Dilwale Dulhania Le Jayenge” for that. Produced by Yash Chopra, and directed by his son Aditya Chopra in his feature directorial debut prior to a prolific producing career, “Dilwale Dulhania Le Jayenge” became a historic hit in the ’90s with its continent-sized diasporic romance tale, and remains one of the most widely known and revered Hindi films of that era. For Khan, it marked a risky transition from the villainous roles with which he’d begun his career — and, given how thoroughly audiences associate him with lovable romantic protagonists nowadays, it goes without saying what a massively successful transition it was.

Khan plays Raj Malhotra, a London-based non-resident Indian who meets fellow British NRI Simran Singh (Kajol) while both are about to embark on backpacking Europe tours with their respective friends. After bumping into each other multiple times during their travels, they wind up falling in love. But there’s a complication: Back home in Punjab, Simran has been betrothed since childhood to Kuljeet (Parmeet Sethi), the son of a friend of her father Baldev (Amrish Puri).

After patiently developing Simran and Raj’s romance, the film jumps over to India for a second half focused on the dynamics of Simran’s family, and on Raj’s efforts to win them over. Chopra directs this soapy whirl of conflicts and relationships with stunning confidence, buoyed by some of the catchiest, most evocative work ever from the songwriting duo of Jatin and Lalit Pandit. It’s one of the best romantic movies of all time.