Don’t Miss This A24 Sleeper Before It Leaves Netflix This Week

In a world filled with Dunes and Barbies and whatever the latest Christopher Nolan is, many movies are overshadowed—movies that don’t scream to be noticed, that aren’t backed by gargantuan budgets, that don’t have the typical flash and pizzazz that begs us to notice. Heck, even A24, a respected and well-known studio, releases movies you’ve never heard of; movies that simply observe, quietly and patiently, how people talk to each other, how they misunderstand one another, how they bend the truth out of love or fear or habit. These movies can be hard to spot in the endless churn of the streaming carousel. And when you discover these secret movies, it’s exhilarating—at least it is for me.

And one of those secrets is leaving Netflix this week.

You Hurt My Feelings, a deceptively simple yet profound and perceptive dramedy from A24, was released in 2023 to glowing reviews (the film currently sports 94% on Rotten Tomatoes from 218 reviews, making it one of the best-reviewed movies on Netflix) and a quiet run in theaters. Directed by Nicole Holofcener and starring Julia Louis-Dreyfus in one of her most layered performances, the film never got the splashy attention it deserved (it only grossed $5.7 million worldwide). But in many ways that’s fitting, as Holofcener’s work has always operated beneath the surface. Her camera is so incisive, always peeling back the veneers of polite conversation to reveal the messy, often contradictory emotions that drive us, that bewilder us. If you’ve never seen one of her films, now is the perfect time to dive in. But hurry—You Hurt My Feelings is leaving Netflix and your last day to watch it is July 25.

The premise is almost comically minor—but, honestly, as someone who’s exhausted with modern movies that feel the need to shove complicated pot and overwhelming exposition down my throat, I don’t mind “minor” at all. The story centers on a successful memoirist named Beth (Louis-Dreyfus), who is struggling to write a new book, especially after her agent requests multiple revisions to the latest draft. Things go from bad to worse after Beth overhears her husband, Don (Tobias Menzies), secretly tell his brother-in-law Mark (Arian Moayed) that he doesn’t actually like her new book—despite the glowing review he’s already given his wife. This shakes the leaves from Beth’s trust and confidence in their marriage.

Once Beth confronts Don, what follows isn’t as explosive as you might expect it to be, but instead simmering and pulsating: arguments that begin in one room and trail into the next; awkward dinners that never get on the right track; therapy sessions laced with passive-aggression. It’s not just about a single comment made by a spouse, but about everything such secrecy calls into question: Do we need our loved ones to like what we make? Is honesty always the best policy? And what happens when the support we rely on turns out to be built on a white lie?

There are lots of reasons to watch You Hurt My Feelings, but the main attraction is the award-worthy acting on display. As Beth, Louis-Dreyfus is filled with surface confidence and performs her writerly role with ease—until the smallest crack appears and her sense of self begins to quietly unravel. This dynamic recalls her iconic roles in Seinfeld and Veep, as this small twist in her character brings with it a subtle physicality: she uses pauses, hesitations and half-finished sentences to capture a woman suddenly unsure of the ground beneath her. It’s a performance built on restraint, allowing vulnerability to creep in slowly rather than overwhelm.

As her husband Don, Menzies is equally (and refreshingly) as understated, matching Louis-Dreyfus note for note, never hogging the screen but building the tension of their temporarily in-limbo relationship. He plays Don with the worn-down warmth of a man who cares deeply about his wife and her feelings but is too emotionally exhausted to say the right thing at the right time. Menzies doesn’t make Don overtly antagonistic; instead, he’s thoughtful, distracted and often unaware of how much meaning his words carry. His portrayal suggests someone who’s spent years learning how to say the supportive thing…without ever being quite sure if he means it.

Together, Louis-Dreyfus and Menzies create a portrait of a couple that feels deeply lived-in, often (if not always) in a painfully familiar way. Their chemistry is quiet, based not on grand declarations but on familiarity: the way they interrupt each other, the way they sit in silence, the way one’s insecurities leak into the other’s reaction. You believe they’ve been together for decades, not because they’re still in love in some cinematic way, but because they know each other too well to ever fully disconnect. Again, that aspect of the movie feels so familiar, so real—a rarity in modern film. That familiarity becomes the film’s emotional engine, comforting and terrifying in equal measure.

You Hurt My Feelings is the perfect addition to the cinematic world Holofcener has built for decades, a filmography that rarely feature plot twists or heightened drama. Instead, Holofcener excels at mining tension from everyday interactions—an offhand comment from a friend, a parent’s misplaced advice, a partner’s lack of attention.

Holofcener’s career has taken an interesting evolution over the years: earlier films like Walking and Talking (released in 1996) and Lovely & Amazing (2001) established her as a prominent voice in character-driven independent cinema, particularly stories about women navigating personal disappointments and social expectations; Friends with Money (2006) and Please Give (2010) tackled class anxiety and midlife malaise with humor and insight, (often starring Catherine Keener, a frequent collaborator); and Enough Said (2013) showed a newfound softness and romantic optimism that hadn’t been as prominent in more acerbic work.

The director’s films often feel like novellas come to life—short, emotionally intricate and rooted in the rhythms of real conversation. What sets You Hurt My Feelings apart is that it turns those rhythms inward, focusing not on external dilemmas, but internal ruptures. It’s a movie about perception: how we perceive ourselves, and how fragile that perception can be when challenged by the people we trust most.

You Hurt My Feelings received strong critical acclaim upon its release, with a 94% score on Rotten Tomatoes and numerous write-ups praising its precision and charm. Christy Lemire of RogerEbert.com praises the ever-satisfying writing of Holofcener, a writer/director who “finds both humor and wisdom within the complexity of her cringe comedy, providing rich fodder for conversations afterward.” Meanwhile, Owen Gleiberman of Variety praises the film for remaining small, for allowing the story to hit home for anyone who relates to these incredibly lived-in characters (“it may just have a lesson for us all,” he writes). And finally, Stephanie Zacharek of Time calls the film “delightful,” writing that “as a story about how New Yorkers get by, making marriages and family relationships work in one of the toughest cities of the world, it’s both smart and entertaining.”

Sitting at a brisk 93 minutes, You Hurt My Feelings is a rare kind of film: emotionally rich, effortlessly paced and surprisingly funny. It’s perfect for a quiet night in, for anyone who’s ever second-guessed their creative work or wondered if their loved ones are just humoring them. In a streaming landscape dominated by spectacle, this is a rare gem that earns its power through conversation and pause.