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This review may contain spoilers
All's Well That Ends Well.
A horrific, insane, dark, twisted, and utterly shocking story that leads to a "normal" ending. Except, every single one of those adjectives is meant in the most positive way possible.
I am truly grateful for whatever it was that led me to watch this film—a Japanese BL from last year that I had no prior intention of seeing. Had I not, I would have missed out on a part of myself, on something that has taken root and will not stop growing inside me. It sounds dramatic, but the viewing experience was as direct and sharp as a knife plunging deep into the viewer's gut. How can a story be so terrifying when, even though the painful events are mostly told from the past, the anguish seeps through and strikes a raw, emotional nerve? I truly don't know how to review this film without talking at length about my own feelings. And just like the constant surprises in the plot, my emotions rose and fell unexpectedly. Before I knew it, I was so completely absorbed in their story that I felt my head would split open if anything terrible were to happen to Chihiro and Hao Ran. My mood swung with the characters, with every scene that unfolded, with every piece of the past laid bare. I laughed with them, cried with them, felt their pain and indignation, yet at the same time, I felt empty and breathless, as if I had never felt anything before.
It's a love story that seems like a "poison," but is, in fact, the most profound and redemptive antidote I have ever witnessed. When someone's life is so dark that they can no longer distinguish between living and dying, they seek release. Chihiro's life was terrible; the betrayals and awful things that happened to him, through no fault of his own, had turned his existence into worthless trash. I know I shouldn't be the one to judge whose life is worse, but this time, I believe that at least Chihiro was still *living* trash, capable of fear and feeling, of desire and love. Hao Ran, on the other hand, had effectively died at the age of five when his mother left him, and he stepped into a life that felt completely hollowed out. The decades that Chihiro and Hao Ran lived were decades of a tragic, horrific, and dark story being written, until they found their "ending"—which was each other. They were the final page to all the disgusting things they had to endure. Watching the film, my own psyche became unstable; my words were sealed off, trapped and suffocated with my tears and breath, making it difficult to write even now. All I can say is that their love is just so incredibly beautiful—a beauty that doesn't need a tragic ending to be profound. It's a love that overcomes all obstacles, born from curiosity and culminating in becoming the antidote to the toxins of each other's pasts, becoming a shared dream, becoming the "final chapter" for one another.
The "happily ever after" for each character isn't a literal conclusion, but an end to their dark pasts and the start of a new chapter. Their happy ending is Hao Ran letting go of the man who was drowning in the mire that stole his breath, choosing to return to his lover, and facing his camera with a smile that comes from deep within his eyes. That ending is Chihiro finding his dream and dreaming it with the man he loves. And for the audience, their happy ending is simply the characters' own joy. All the bumps, the sharp turns, the fog, and the darkness that enveloped me, them, all of us—suffocating our minds and stealing our breath—was finally blown away by that love. A love that is, in the end, as simple as any other, bringing happiness, hope, and a new breath of life.
I honestly didn't have high expectations, so I never imagined I'd be pulled so deeply into the film's current. Watching it, I couldn't tell if they were the crazy ones, or if I was. That knife plunged straight into my heart, then slowly twisted, carving into every corner, leaving tears streaming down my face. My hands unconsciously clasped together, praying they would get the happy ending the title promised, because if not, I feared I would go mad myself. I didn't dare read about the ending beforehand; I didn't dare give myself hope only to be disappointed. I tried to calmly accept whatever the film threw at me—and luckily, right up to the final moments, while I was still clutching my chest in anxiety, the ending truly was "well" for them and for me, though I wish it had been a little longer. But that's okay. A short ending just means a new beginning can start sooner, right? A beginning that tells another story, one that continues after the credits roll, where the characters truly live on beyond the script, in the hearts of the audience. I truly, sincerely wish every character well, and I thank them for telling me such a powerfully moving story, for living inside of me.
Japanese films truly are something else. The texture, the feeling is so unique, so resonant. It feels like your mind is being warped; everything is insane, bizarre, and abnormal, yet it feels intensely intimate and has a powerful, visceral impact on your psyche. And in the end, let me call that feeling "healing and redemption."
It was a truly fascinating viewing experience. The chemistry between the characters resonated with me so deeply. I love how the actors' eyes tell the story—so clear, so transparent, so bright it's painful. It's been so long since I've felt this suffocated, yet so utterly satisfied.
I am truly grateful for whatever it was that led me to watch this film—a Japanese BL from last year that I had no prior intention of seeing. Had I not, I would have missed out on a part of myself, on something that has taken root and will not stop growing inside me. It sounds dramatic, but the viewing experience was as direct and sharp as a knife plunging deep into the viewer's gut. How can a story be so terrifying when, even though the painful events are mostly told from the past, the anguish seeps through and strikes a raw, emotional nerve? I truly don't know how to review this film without talking at length about my own feelings. And just like the constant surprises in the plot, my emotions rose and fell unexpectedly. Before I knew it, I was so completely absorbed in their story that I felt my head would split open if anything terrible were to happen to Chihiro and Hao Ran. My mood swung with the characters, with every scene that unfolded, with every piece of the past laid bare. I laughed with them, cried with them, felt their pain and indignation, yet at the same time, I felt empty and breathless, as if I had never felt anything before.
It's a love story that seems like a "poison," but is, in fact, the most profound and redemptive antidote I have ever witnessed. When someone's life is so dark that they can no longer distinguish between living and dying, they seek release. Chihiro's life was terrible; the betrayals and awful things that happened to him, through no fault of his own, had turned his existence into worthless trash. I know I shouldn't be the one to judge whose life is worse, but this time, I believe that at least Chihiro was still *living* trash, capable of fear and feeling, of desire and love. Hao Ran, on the other hand, had effectively died at the age of five when his mother left him, and he stepped into a life that felt completely hollowed out. The decades that Chihiro and Hao Ran lived were decades of a tragic, horrific, and dark story being written, until they found their "ending"—which was each other. They were the final page to all the disgusting things they had to endure. Watching the film, my own psyche became unstable; my words were sealed off, trapped and suffocated with my tears and breath, making it difficult to write even now. All I can say is that their love is just so incredibly beautiful—a beauty that doesn't need a tragic ending to be profound. It's a love that overcomes all obstacles, born from curiosity and culminating in becoming the antidote to the toxins of each other's pasts, becoming a shared dream, becoming the "final chapter" for one another.
The "happily ever after" for each character isn't a literal conclusion, but an end to their dark pasts and the start of a new chapter. Their happy ending is Hao Ran letting go of the man who was drowning in the mire that stole his breath, choosing to return to his lover, and facing his camera with a smile that comes from deep within his eyes. That ending is Chihiro finding his dream and dreaming it with the man he loves. And for the audience, their happy ending is simply the characters' own joy. All the bumps, the sharp turns, the fog, and the darkness that enveloped me, them, all of us—suffocating our minds and stealing our breath—was finally blown away by that love. A love that is, in the end, as simple as any other, bringing happiness, hope, and a new breath of life.
I honestly didn't have high expectations, so I never imagined I'd be pulled so deeply into the film's current. Watching it, I couldn't tell if they were the crazy ones, or if I was. That knife plunged straight into my heart, then slowly twisted, carving into every corner, leaving tears streaming down my face. My hands unconsciously clasped together, praying they would get the happy ending the title promised, because if not, I feared I would go mad myself. I didn't dare read about the ending beforehand; I didn't dare give myself hope only to be disappointed. I tried to calmly accept whatever the film threw at me—and luckily, right up to the final moments, while I was still clutching my chest in anxiety, the ending truly was "well" for them and for me, though I wish it had been a little longer. But that's okay. A short ending just means a new beginning can start sooner, right? A beginning that tells another story, one that continues after the credits roll, where the characters truly live on beyond the script, in the hearts of the audience. I truly, sincerely wish every character well, and I thank them for telling me such a powerfully moving story, for living inside of me.
Japanese films truly are something else. The texture, the feeling is so unique, so resonant. It feels like your mind is being warped; everything is insane, bizarre, and abnormal, yet it feels intensely intimate and has a powerful, visceral impact on your psyche. And in the end, let me call that feeling "healing and redemption."
It was a truly fascinating viewing experience. The chemistry between the characters resonated with me so deeply. I love how the actors' eyes tell the story—so clear, so transparent, so bright it's painful. It's been so long since I've felt this suffocated, yet so utterly satisfied.
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