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This review may contain spoilers
A star's end is a supernova, yet its death gives birth to the light of countless others.
I started watching Reset casually, with a relaxed mindset, only to finish it with a contented smile. It’s true what they say about journeys—you can only truly appreciate the path once you look back on it from beginning to end. The same holds true for a film, and indeed, for a human life.
Speaking of the film, Reset truly needs to be evaluated by its beginning, its middle, and its end. What lingers after the credits roll is a feeling of being slightly adrift, a warmth, and a sense of nostalgia, as if I’ve witnessed years, even lifetimes, pass by, all centered around a single, fated love. If I had to make a comparison, the feeling is akin to finishing a long novel series. The plot points may not be perfect, the twists sometimes clumsy, with issues in pacing and a few confusing details, but ultimately, the completeness of the story’s journey takes you somewhere. It leaves you with a poignant, bittersweet feeling. Reset is just that—imperfect, sometimes awkward and uneven, yet when the characters' journey concludes, what remains is a current of emotion, the sense that Tada and Armin's love story continues on in their world, in this life and the next. And honestly, I’m happy for them.
Speaking of life, a person's life is perhaps the most difficult journey to evaluate. The way we are born is different from the way we die, and the way we live our years doesn't directly lead to the circumstances of our departure. A person who lives a righteous life can still die an unjust death. So, how do we measure a successful life? Did we live happily? If we could go back to a single moment, would we make a different choice? No one knows, for each person lives only once. In that final moment of reflection, as everything flashes before our eyes, we will answer all these questions for ourselves. We will judge how we lived, loved, hated, what we endured, and how we died, from both a subjective and objective viewpoint, as if watching someone else's story. Life has a beginning and an end, and we often imagine our years on earth as a kind of journey—a "path of life," perhaps? Returning to Reset, it revisits the theme of returning to the past, of redoing one's life to change regrets. This time, both Armin and Tada are granted the power to reset their lives. This means that when they reached the end of their path and evaluated all they had been through, they were given a chance to return to the beginning, to write a different life, to walk a different journey. That parallel universe of time and space is destiny's gift to their love and their regrets. But I believe it is also a different life, one that doesn't overwrite the past. Armin and Tada don't relive the same life twice; they are simply living two different lives. Their reality is created by the choices they make in the present moment, and the past no longer dictates their path. From the moment they met their destiny in each other, all other fates began to shift. In the end, there was no other destiny for them but each other.
Honestly, I spent the early episodes trying to guess Reset's primary genre. Would it be a "rebirth and revenge" story, with a protagonist using their foreknowledge to triumph over betrayers and cherish those they once overlooked? Or would it be a crime investigation thriller, a hunt for a culprit? I generally assumed it would follow a "single protagonist" narrative, with love as a mere side element. But by the final episodes, looking back at the journey, I realized the ultimate theme the film was always steering towards was love. Love that creates meaning, love that saves, love that reverses fate and bends space-time. A love that heals, regenerates, and resurrects. Tada's love saved Armin more than once, and most importantly, it brought Armin back to life, both physically and spiritually. It was a love that stood quietly in the darkness but shone with the light of a guardian angel. Armin's love began with compassion, then blossomed into a response, a returned gaze, a deliberate kiss. It was a love that came from the light and remained in the light. Ultimately, the driving force of the entire film, the core element that stands at the center of every plot point and character, overshadowing everything else, has always been "love." I believe "love" was also the catalyst for the conflicts and challenges, the cause of death and rebirth, the force that controlled and propelled the darkness in the villains and the light in the heroes. Behind forgiveness lies love; behind hatred, in the end, there is still only love.
That is all I wish to say about the film's message. The ending can be considered perfect—complete and beautiful. It pulled down the red curtain to reveal the brilliant words "Happy Ending." It is no exaggeration to say this is one of the most satisfyingly happy endings I have ever seen. It masterfully comes full circle while also extending the story forward, allowing the viewer's emotions to linger in a state of fulfilled joy. The final act—or more broadly, the last two episodes—excellently fulfilled their mission of encapsulating the entire film, creating a powerful and lasting impression. It gave me answers (along with justifications I found acceptable) to questions I had from the beginning, questions I was ready to leave unanswered. This successfully elevated my final impression of the film. Indeed, what better explanation is there than the power of love, of the desire to be loved, and to live—to truly live one life to its absolute fullest?
I never thought this film would evoke so much emotion in me, nor did I think I would write so much about it. But alongside the feelings stirred by the final moments, I still have mixed feelings about the early episodes. Of course, most things were ultimately explained by the power of "love," but for some reason, I didn't deeply feel the connection between the main couple in the beginning. The fated love story felt a bit too rushed, lacking a certain smoothness in the emotional transition (mostly on Armin's part, as he truly had no romantic feelings for Tada in his previous life). Another small issue is that some events in the second life, which were caused by the new Armin's choices, also occurred identically in the first life. Some character actions also felt a bit stilted, as if they were just following a script rather than acting naturally. The fact that Armin spoke too much about his rebirth or behaved in a way that was too "over-the-top" for his true age was also a minor distraction (though to be fair, Armin wasn't the most mature character in his first life either). Furthermore, there were some plot holes in the time-setting (the 1999 setting wasn't really explored in depth). I was honestly hoping for a more developed revenge trope, wishing the conspiracies were more thrilling. The film often felt a bit too "safe" and stable; in some episodes, moments of danger failed to build peak emotional tension. I also found myself preferring the scenes where Tada and Armin were already in an established relationship over their ambiguous early stages, which is a rare preference for me.
Overall, Reset is still a good film. It has a classic feel, and its plot—a wealthy, powerful CEO who can move mountains falls for only one person, a reborn actor on his way to the top—is quite appealing, easy to watch, and satisfying. There is clear investment in the visuals and set design. While I wouldn't say Reset managed to "reconfigure" my worldview, it is ultimately an interesting, deep, and captivating film that took me by surprise.
***
(A personal musing: Watching this film brought to mind my thoughts on the "rebirth and revenge" trope. I always wonder: are the "bad guys" truly deserving of retribution for actions they haven't yet committed in the protagonist's second life? Does evil exist in one's nature—meaning that no matter the universe, those people will repeat their malicious acts? Like Sam in the film: if Armin had never loved Charlie, would Sam have betrayed Armin for Charlie anyway? And, with a perhaps naively humane thought, I always wonder why characters with a second chance don't try to change events in a way other than revenge. Because if revenge is necessary, shouldn't the target be the person who harmed them in the *previous* life, not the "past version" of their betrayer, the "child who will grow up to be a monster"? In every sense, they are two different people who have or have not yet experienced different things. On this point, I think Reset touches upon this slightly, as Armin's initial intention isn't pure revenge, but rather to live a less miserable life and fulfill his destiny of meeting Tada. The revenge I hoped for was simply to see him return the blow to those who wronged him in this new life—like Lily, Ren, or Thiwthit...)
Speaking of the film, Reset truly needs to be evaluated by its beginning, its middle, and its end. What lingers after the credits roll is a feeling of being slightly adrift, a warmth, and a sense of nostalgia, as if I’ve witnessed years, even lifetimes, pass by, all centered around a single, fated love. If I had to make a comparison, the feeling is akin to finishing a long novel series. The plot points may not be perfect, the twists sometimes clumsy, with issues in pacing and a few confusing details, but ultimately, the completeness of the story’s journey takes you somewhere. It leaves you with a poignant, bittersweet feeling. Reset is just that—imperfect, sometimes awkward and uneven, yet when the characters' journey concludes, what remains is a current of emotion, the sense that Tada and Armin's love story continues on in their world, in this life and the next. And honestly, I’m happy for them.
Speaking of life, a person's life is perhaps the most difficult journey to evaluate. The way we are born is different from the way we die, and the way we live our years doesn't directly lead to the circumstances of our departure. A person who lives a righteous life can still die an unjust death. So, how do we measure a successful life? Did we live happily? If we could go back to a single moment, would we make a different choice? No one knows, for each person lives only once. In that final moment of reflection, as everything flashes before our eyes, we will answer all these questions for ourselves. We will judge how we lived, loved, hated, what we endured, and how we died, from both a subjective and objective viewpoint, as if watching someone else's story. Life has a beginning and an end, and we often imagine our years on earth as a kind of journey—a "path of life," perhaps? Returning to Reset, it revisits the theme of returning to the past, of redoing one's life to change regrets. This time, both Armin and Tada are granted the power to reset their lives. This means that when they reached the end of their path and evaluated all they had been through, they were given a chance to return to the beginning, to write a different life, to walk a different journey. That parallel universe of time and space is destiny's gift to their love and their regrets. But I believe it is also a different life, one that doesn't overwrite the past. Armin and Tada don't relive the same life twice; they are simply living two different lives. Their reality is created by the choices they make in the present moment, and the past no longer dictates their path. From the moment they met their destiny in each other, all other fates began to shift. In the end, there was no other destiny for them but each other.
Honestly, I spent the early episodes trying to guess Reset's primary genre. Would it be a "rebirth and revenge" story, with a protagonist using their foreknowledge to triumph over betrayers and cherish those they once overlooked? Or would it be a crime investigation thriller, a hunt for a culprit? I generally assumed it would follow a "single protagonist" narrative, with love as a mere side element. But by the final episodes, looking back at the journey, I realized the ultimate theme the film was always steering towards was love. Love that creates meaning, love that saves, love that reverses fate and bends space-time. A love that heals, regenerates, and resurrects. Tada's love saved Armin more than once, and most importantly, it brought Armin back to life, both physically and spiritually. It was a love that stood quietly in the darkness but shone with the light of a guardian angel. Armin's love began with compassion, then blossomed into a response, a returned gaze, a deliberate kiss. It was a love that came from the light and remained in the light. Ultimately, the driving force of the entire film, the core element that stands at the center of every plot point and character, overshadowing everything else, has always been "love." I believe "love" was also the catalyst for the conflicts and challenges, the cause of death and rebirth, the force that controlled and propelled the darkness in the villains and the light in the heroes. Behind forgiveness lies love; behind hatred, in the end, there is still only love.
That is all I wish to say about the film's message. The ending can be considered perfect—complete and beautiful. It pulled down the red curtain to reveal the brilliant words "Happy Ending." It is no exaggeration to say this is one of the most satisfyingly happy endings I have ever seen. It masterfully comes full circle while also extending the story forward, allowing the viewer's emotions to linger in a state of fulfilled joy. The final act—or more broadly, the last two episodes—excellently fulfilled their mission of encapsulating the entire film, creating a powerful and lasting impression. It gave me answers (along with justifications I found acceptable) to questions I had from the beginning, questions I was ready to leave unanswered. This successfully elevated my final impression of the film. Indeed, what better explanation is there than the power of love, of the desire to be loved, and to live—to truly live one life to its absolute fullest?
I never thought this film would evoke so much emotion in me, nor did I think I would write so much about it. But alongside the feelings stirred by the final moments, I still have mixed feelings about the early episodes. Of course, most things were ultimately explained by the power of "love," but for some reason, I didn't deeply feel the connection between the main couple in the beginning. The fated love story felt a bit too rushed, lacking a certain smoothness in the emotional transition (mostly on Armin's part, as he truly had no romantic feelings for Tada in his previous life). Another small issue is that some events in the second life, which were caused by the new Armin's choices, also occurred identically in the first life. Some character actions also felt a bit stilted, as if they were just following a script rather than acting naturally. The fact that Armin spoke too much about his rebirth or behaved in a way that was too "over-the-top" for his true age was also a minor distraction (though to be fair, Armin wasn't the most mature character in his first life either). Furthermore, there were some plot holes in the time-setting (the 1999 setting wasn't really explored in depth). I was honestly hoping for a more developed revenge trope, wishing the conspiracies were more thrilling. The film often felt a bit too "safe" and stable; in some episodes, moments of danger failed to build peak emotional tension. I also found myself preferring the scenes where Tada and Armin were already in an established relationship over their ambiguous early stages, which is a rare preference for me.
Overall, Reset is still a good film. It has a classic feel, and its plot—a wealthy, powerful CEO who can move mountains falls for only one person, a reborn actor on his way to the top—is quite appealing, easy to watch, and satisfying. There is clear investment in the visuals and set design. While I wouldn't say Reset managed to "reconfigure" my worldview, it is ultimately an interesting, deep, and captivating film that took me by surprise.
***
(A personal musing: Watching this film brought to mind my thoughts on the "rebirth and revenge" trope. I always wonder: are the "bad guys" truly deserving of retribution for actions they haven't yet committed in the protagonist's second life? Does evil exist in one's nature—meaning that no matter the universe, those people will repeat their malicious acts? Like Sam in the film: if Armin had never loved Charlie, would Sam have betrayed Armin for Charlie anyway? And, with a perhaps naively humane thought, I always wonder why characters with a second chance don't try to change events in a way other than revenge. Because if revenge is necessary, shouldn't the target be the person who harmed them in the *previous* life, not the "past version" of their betrayer, the "child who will grow up to be a monster"? In every sense, they are two different people who have or have not yet experienced different things. On this point, I think Reset touches upon this slightly, as Armin's initial intention isn't pure revenge, but rather to live a less miserable life and fulfill his destiny of meeting Tada. The revenge I hoped for was simply to see him return the blow to those who wronged him in this new life—like Lily, Ren, or Thiwthit...)
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