10 Forgettable Performances That Somehow Won Oscars

Image via Warner Bros. France Published Aug 14, 2026, 7:57 AM EDT Diego Pineda has been a devout storyteller his whole life. He has self-published a fantasy novel and a book of short stories, and is actively working on publishing his second novel. A lifelong fan of watching movies and talking about them endlessly, he writes reviews and analyses on his Instagram page dedicated to cinema, and occasionally on his blog. His favorite filmmakers are Andrei Tarkovsky and Charlie Chaplin. He loves modern Mexican cinema and thinks it's tragically underappreciated. Other interests of Diego's include reading, gaming, roller coasters, writing reviews on his Letterboxd account (username: DPP_reviews), and going down rabbit holes of whatever topic he's interested in at any given point. Sign in to your Collider account The Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences has been handing out the Academy Awards since 1929, and in the years since then, these have become the most prestigious and highly-coveted awards in the entire film industry. The Academy, however, doesn't always get it right. In fact, throughout history, they've awarded several acting performances that have proven to be nothing but forgettable. It's one thing for an Oscar-winning performance to be downright awful, and a whole other deal altogether for it to be forgettable. These are performances that aren't necessarily bad at all—in fact, many of them are actually quite solid—, but for whatever reason, they simply don't offer enough material to be truly memorable. Whether it's a performance that's a bit too quiet and understated for an Oscar winner, like Jim Broadbent's in Iris; or one that's big and loud but not nuanced enough to make the annals of history, like Gary Oldman's in Darkest Hour, the most forgettable Oscar-winning performances are proof that Academy gold doesn't necessarily a legendary piece of acting make. 10 Jim Broadbent — 'Iris' (2001) Image via Miramax Films Directed by Richard Eyre, Iris is about novelist Iris Murdoch and her relationship with her husband, John Bayley. Murdoch was played by a Best Supporting Actress Oscar-nominated Kate Winslet in her young version and a Best Actress-nominated Judi Dench in her older version, while Bayley was played by Hugh Bonneville in his younger version and Jim Broadbent in his older version. Ultimately, Broadbent's Best Supporting Actor nod was the only one that turned into a win. There's no getting around it: Broadbent is exceptional in Iris, perfectly capturing the raw emotional depth of a man caring for his wife as she descends into Alzheimer's disease. It's not, however, a showy performance in the slightest—and, combined with the fact that there's nothing extraordinary about Iris beyond its cast, that results in a performance that's ultimately quite forgettable. With roles like Ethan Hawke in Training Day, Ben Kingsley in Sexy Beast, and Ian McKellen in The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring nominated alongside Broadbent that year, it's clear why this is a win that many people don't remember. 9 Peggy Ashcroft — 'A Passage to India' (1984) Image via Columbia Pictures David Lean was the undisputed master of cinematic epics, and a few of his films have gone down in history as some of the greatest of all time. That may not exactly be the case with A Passage to India, but this is nonetheless one of the best final movies by great directors. Based on the novel by E. M. Forster and the stage play adaptation by Santha Rama Rau, the film features a cast that includes Peggy Ashcroft as Mrs. Moore, an elderly Englishwoman who travels to India to visit her son. Though it's undoubtedly a potently subtle performance, some may accuse it of being a legacy Oscar win—and one of the most forgettable of the bunch, at that. It's not like any other performances nominated that year were much more memorable, but Ashcroft's performance is nevertheless the sort of Oscar-winning piece of acting so quiet that it ends up slipping under the radar as the years pass. 8 Gary Oldman — 'Darkest Hour' (2017) Image via Focus Features There's no denying that Gary Oldman is one of the most immensely talented thespians to have ever graced the silver screen, and if he still didn't have an Oscar in 2026, people would rightfully be out on the streets, rioting. Alas, Oldman's momentous Academy Award victory came for what's undoubtedly one of the weakest Best Actor Oscar winners of the 21st century: his take on Winston Churchill in Darkest Hour. Oldman is doing more of a caricature here than he is delivering a performance of true emotional or thematic depth—although, in fairness, that's largely because what the script gives him to work with is so dull and forgettable to begin with. All in all, this is an Oscar-winning performance whose memorability falls victim to weak writing. Oldman gives it his all, but Darkest Hour and the way it develops Churchill are so lacking in staying power that Oldman's performance ends up feeling like an afterthought, too. 7 Renée Zellweger — 'Judy' (2019) Image via 20th Century Studios Another instance of an actor being given a legacy Oscar for their undeniably illustrious career, Renée Zellweger's second Oscar victory came for Judy, where she played the legendary Judy Garland. Zellweger's portrayal of this silver-screen icon is often downright transformative, but this is yet another instance of a performance that's unfortunately trapped in an incredibly forgettable movie. Far from just being forgettable, Judy could be argued to even be one of the most unwatchably bad Oscar bat biopics ever. And even though Zellweger's performance is undeniably the best thing about it, the film overall is such a one-and-done kind of experience, the kind that you forget all about by the time the credits roll, that Zellweger's take on Garland ends up falling into oblivion along with the film itself. 6 Art Carney — 'Harry and Tonto' (1974) Image via 20th Century Studios History was unfair to Art Carney and Harry and Tonto. This is a really solid drama from the best decade in Hollywood history, where Carney's portrayal of a man evicted from his Manhattan apartment is as touching as it is nuanced. The unfortunate part? The film came out in the same year as The Godfather Part II and Chinatown, two of the biggest titans in the history of cinema. Because Carney's win (which could very reasonably be labeled a legacy Oscar) came at the expense of Al Pacino in The Godfather Part II and Jack Nicholson in Chinatown, two of the most unforgettable pieces of acting ever nominated for an Oscar, it has unfortunately aged as one of the most disliked Oscar wins ever. Carney is good—great, even—in Harry and Tonto, but he's so intensely overshadowed by those he beat out that his performance has mostly been forgotten by mainstream film history. 5 George Clooney — 'Syriana' (2005) Image via Warner Bros. Pictures George Clooney is one of the most prominent names in the modern history of Hollywood, and in 2004, he had a hell of a year. Aside from starring in the political thriller Syriana, he directed, co-wrote, and starred in the historical drama Good Night, and Good Luck. That latter film was nominated for six Oscars in 2005, including Best Picture, Best Director, and Best Screenplay. It lost in every category it was eligible for. Less a testament to the performance's merits, and more of a consolation prize to reward Clooney for having had such a great 2004. With the benefit of retrospect, cinephiles in the 2020s tend to agree that the Academy granting Clooney a Best Supporting Actor Oscar for Syriana was less a testament to the performance's merits, and more of a consolation prize to reward Clooney for having had such a great 2004. It's a solid subversion of Clooney's usual star persona, but it's that invisibilization of the charisma that tends to characterize him that essentially ended up invisibilizing the performance itself with the years' passage. 4 Don Ameche — 'Cocoon' (1985) Image via 20th Century Studios Ron Howard can often be a hit-or-miss filmmaker, and though the sci-fi dramedy Cocoon isn't usually praised as one of his best displays in the director's chair, it's still a charming '80s classic. The film stars Don Ameche as Art, an elderly retirement community resident who regains his youthful energy by swimming in a pool infused with a strange alien power. It's a simple enough premise, but this big-screen veteran made the absolute best of it. Indeed, Ameche seems to be having a blast in Cocoon, and it's impossible for the audience to not have a blast along with him. It is, however, not at all the sort of performance that screams "Oscar." Over four decades later, this still feels like one of the most obvious legacy Oscar wins of the '80s, because Ameche is often even outshined by his co-stars Wilford Brimley and Hume Cronyn. 3 Jean Dujardin — 'The Artist' (2011) Image via Warner Bros. Ask any cinephile who has been following the Academy Awards over the last couple of decades, and you'll be hard-pressed to find anyone who would disagree that the French-Belgian silent dramedy The Artist, the first non-Anglo-American-backed film ever to win Best Picture, is one of those Oscar darling movies that are actually kinda bad. The Artist's "badness" doesn't come from its being aggressively bad, but rather from its being a rather bland and forgettable film that most people usually agree shouldn't have won the Academy's top prize. Another party related to The Artist that arguably shouldn't have won an Oscar was Jean Dujardin, whose Best Actor victory represented only the second time in history that someone won in the category for a performance in a silent film. Dujardin is charming in The Artist, but not particularly memorable, as the movie barely ever gives him moments to stand out among more deserving competitors like Brad Pitt in Moneyball or George Clooney himself in The Descendants. Collider Exclusive · Oscar Best Picture Quiz Which Oscar Best PictureIs Your Perfect Movie? Parasite · Everything Everywhere · Oppenheimer · Birdman · No Country Five Oscar Best Picture winners. Five completely different visions of what cinema can be — and what it can do to you. One of them is the film that was made for the way your mind works. Ten questions will figure out which one. 🪜Parasite 🌀Everything Everywhere ☢️Oppenheimer 🐦Birdman 🪙No Country for Old Men FIND YOUR FILM → 01 What kind of film experience do you actually want? The best movies don't just entertain — they leave something behind. ASomething that pulls the rug out — that makes me think I'm watching one kind of film and then reveals I'm watching another entirely. BSomething overwhelming — funny, sad, absurd, and genuinely moving, all at once. CSomething grand and weighty — a film that makes me feel the full scale of what I'm watching. DSomething formally daring — a film that pushes what cinema can even do. ESomething lean and relentless — pure tension with no wasted frame. NEXT QUESTION → 02 Which idea grabs you most in a film? Great films are driven by a central obsession. What's yours? AClass, inequality, and what people are willing to do when desperation meets opportunity. BIdentity, family, and the chaos of trying to hold your life together when everything is falling apart. CGenius, moral responsibility, and the catastrophic weight of a decision you can never take back. DEgo, legacy, and the terror of becoming irrelevant while you're still alive to watch it happen. EEvil, chance, and whether moral order actually exists or if we just tell ourselves it does. NEXT QUESTION → 03 How do you like your story told? Form is content. The way a story is shaped changes what it means. AGenre-twisting — I want it to start in one lane and migrate into something completely different. BMaximalist and genre-blending — comedy, action, drama, sci-fi, all in one ride. CEpic and non-linear — cutting between timelines, building a mosaic of cause and consequence. DA single unbroken flow — I want to feel like I'm living it in real time, no cuts to safety. ESpare and precise — every scene doing exactly what it needs to do and nothing more. NEXT QUESTION → 04 What makes a truly great antagonist? The opposition defines the protagonist. What kind of opposition fascinates you? AA system — invisible, structural, and almost impossible to fight because it has no single face. BThe self — the ways we sabotage, abandon, and fail the people we love most. CHistory — the unstoppable momentum of events that no single person can stop or redirect. DThe industry — the machinery of culture that chews up talent and spits out irrelevance. EPure, implacable evil — a force so certain of itself it becomes almost philosophical. NEXT QUESTION → 05 What do you want from a film's ending? The final note is the one that lingers. What do you want it to sound like? AShock and inevitability — a conclusion that recontextualises everything that came before it. BEarned emotion — I want to cry, laugh, and feel genuinely hopeful, even if the world is a mess. CDevastation and grandeur — an ending that makes me sit in silence for a few minutes after. DAmbiguity — something that leaves enough open that I'm still thinking about it days later. EBleakness — an honest refusal to pretend the world is tidier than it actually is. NEXT QUESTION → 06 Which setting pulls you in most? Where a film takes place shapes everything — mood, stakes, what's even possible. AA gleaming modern city with a hidden underside — beauty masking rot, wealth masking desperation. BA collapsing suburban life that opens onto something infinite — the multiverse of a single ordinary person. CThe corridors of power and science at a world-historical turning point — where decisions echo for decades. DThe grimy, alive chaos of New York and Hollywood — fame as both destination and trap. EVast, indifferent landscape — desert and highway where violence arrives without warning or reason. NEXT QUESTION → 07 What cinematic craft impresses you most? Every great film has a signature — a technical or artistic element that makes it unmistakable. AProduction design and mise-en-scène — every frame composed to carry meaning beneath the surface. BEditing and tonal control — the ability to move between registers without losing the audience. CScore and sound design — music that becomes inseparable from the dread and awe of what you're watching. DCinematography as performance — the camera not recording events but participating in them. ESilence and restraint — what's left unsaid and unshown doing more work than any dialogue could. NEXT QUESTION → 08 What kind of main character do you root for? The protagonist is the lens. Who you choose to follow says something about you. ASomeone smart and resourceful who makes increasingly dangerous decisions under pressure. BSomeone overwhelmed and ordinary who turns out to be capable of something extraordinary. CA brilliant, tortured figure whose gifts and flaws are inseparable from each other. DA self-destructive artist whose ego is both their superpower and their undoing. EA quiet, principled person trying to make sense of a world that has stopped making sense. NEXT QUESTION → 09 How do you feel about a film that takes its time? Pace is a choice. Some films sprint; others let tension accumulate slowly, deliberately. AI love a slow build when I know the payoff is going to be seismic — patience for a devastating reveal. BGive me relentless momentum — I want to feel breathless and emotionally spent by the end. CEpic runtime doesn't scare me — if the material demands three hours, give me three hours. DI want it to feel propulsive even when nothing is technically happening — restless energy throughout. EDeliberate and unhurried — I want dread to accumulate in the spaces between the action. NEXT QUESTION → 10 What do you want to feel walking out of the cinema? The best films leave a mark. What kind of mark do you want? AUnsettled — like I've just seen something I can't fully explain but can't stop thinking about. BMoved and energised — like the film reminded me what actually matters and gave me something to hold onto. CHumbled — like I've been in the presence of something genuinely important and overwhelming. DExhilarated — like I've just seen cinema doing something it's never quite done before. EHaunted — like a cold, quiet dread that stays with me for days. REVEAL MY FILM → The Academy Has Decided Your Perfect Film Is…Your answers have pointed to one Oscar Best Picture winner above all others. This is the film that was made for the way your mind works. ParasiteYou are drawn to films that operate on multiple levels simultaneously — that begin in one genre and quietly, brilliantly migrate into another. Bong Joon-ho's Parasite is a film about class, desire, and the architecture of inequality that manages to be darkly funny, deeply suspenseful, and genuinely shocking across a single extraordinary running time. Your instinct is for cinema that hides its true intentions until the moment it's ready to reveal them. Parasite is exactly that — a film that rewards close attention and punishes assumptions, right up to its devastating final image. Everything Everywhere All at OnceYou want it all — and this film gives you all of it. The Daniels' Everything Everywhere All at Once is one of the most maximalist films ever made: action comedy, multiverse sci-fi, family drama, existential crisis, and a genuinely earned emotional core that sneaks up on you amid the chaos. You are someone who responds to ambition, who doesn't want cinema to choose between being entertaining and being meaningful. This film refuses that choice entirely. It is overwhelming by design, and its overwhelming nature is precisely the point — because the feeling of being crushed by infinite possibility is exactly what it's about. OppenheimerYou are drawn to cinema on a grand scale — films that understand history not as a backdrop but as a force, and that place their characters inside that force and watch what happens. Christopher Nolan's Oppenheimer is a film about the terrifying gap between what we can do and what we should do, told with the full weight of one of the most consequential moments in human history behind it. You want your films to feel important without feeling self-important — to earn their ambition through sheer craft and the gravity of their subject. Oppenheimer does exactly that. It is enormous, complicated, and refuses easy comfort. BirdmanYou are drawn to films that foreground their own construction — that make the how of the filmmaking part of the what it's about. Alejandro González Iñárritu's Birdman, shot to appear as a single continuous take, is cinema examining itself through the cracked mirror of a fading actor's ego. You respond to formal daring, to the feeling that a film is doing something that probably shouldn't be possible. Michael Keaton's performance and Emmanuel Lubezki's restless camera create something genuinely unlike anything else — a film that is simultaneously about creativity, relevance, self-destruction, and the impossibility of ever truly knowing if your work means anything at all. No Country for Old MenYou are drawn to cinema that trusts silence, that refuses to explain itself, and that treats dread as a form of meaning. The Coen Brothers' No Country for Old Men is a film about the arrival of a new kind of evil — implacable, arbitrary, and utterly indifferent to the moral frameworks we use to make sense of the world. It is one of the most formally controlled films ever made, and its controlled restraint is what makes it so terrifying. You want your films to haunt you, not comfort you. You are not interested in resolution if resolution would be dishonest. No Country for Old Men is honest in a way that most cinema never dares to be. ↻ RETAKE THE QUIZ 2 Michael Caine — 'The Cider House Rules' (1999) Image via Miramax Films There is no denying that Michael Caine is one of the biggest legends in the history of the big screen, but there's also no denying that your Average Joe who is mostly unfamiliar with Oscars history likely has no idea that he has a couple under his belt. Indeed, Caine's second and latest Academy Award victory came for The Cider House Rules, a decision by the Academy that's easily among those Oscar mistakes that have aged like milk. Caine's performance in The Cider House Rules is like cheap vanilla ice cream: safe, bland, unlikely to offend anyone, but also very unlikely to have anyone asking for seconds. It's a decent-enough, entirely unsurprising performance with a New England accent that's shaky at best; and with Tom Cruise from Magnolia and Michael Clarke Duncan from The Green Mile also having been in contention that year, it's no wonder why this Oscar-winning performance isn't really talked about these days. 1 David Niven — 'Separate Tables' (1958) Image via United Artists If Caine's performance in Cider House Rules is like cheap vanilla ice cream, then David Niven's turn in Separate Tables is like a quarter of a spoonful of that same ice cream: Perfectly serviceable at the moment of experiencing it, but is that really it? Niven, in one of the most baffling Best Actor-winning performances ever seen, is barely in Separate Tables at all. Appearing in just a little over 23 minutes of the film (under a quarter of its runtime), it's one of the shortest Best Actor-winning performances in Oscars history. That screentime alone would be more than enough to make Niven's performance the most forgettable in Oscars history, but as if that weren't enough, the performance doesn't really have much presence or much of an arc. Where actors like Anthony Hopkins in The Silence of the Lambs were still able to craft incredibly memorable performances despite not having much screentime, the script doesn't really give Niven any chances to allow his work in Separate Tables to stand out. Separate Tables Release Date December 18, 1958 Runtime 98 minutes Cast Deborah Kerr Sibyl Railton-Bell Rita Hayworth Ann Shankland David Niven David Angus Pollock