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The ending of 'Lost in the Wood' isn't the problem. Your need for a happy ending is.
This is one of those series that usually generates consensus: a masterpiece, even though the two protagonists don't end up together: a boy who loves deeply, and is loved in return, and yet decides to leave in pursuit of his dreams. A choice shaped by his personal history, duty, desire... and by everything that comes with being a young man who, from a very early age, has been preparing to obtain a scholarship and go to Japan to train as a professional. I'd like to show the layers I find beneath that final decision. Because love doesn't always win. Nor does it need to.
It's clear that many viewers are upset that the series doesn't have a happy ending. And not just any ending, but the happy ending we all "want to see". That Fifa, the cheerful and outgoing 18-year-old, gives up his dreams of studying Art and Creative Design in Japan and decides to stay at Hem's cabin, hopping on his motorcycle to watch the sunsets together, and continue delivering food to the locals. But no. He doesn't. And that, for many, seems unforgivable.
I understand that the obsession with the "happy ending" goes way back. It's instilled in us from childhood with stories, movies, songs. And yes, it's comforting. But TV shows, when they get serious, sometimes remind us that life doesn't always end well, that there are choices that hurt, loves that can't be, and goodbyes that don't always bring us back together. And that, precisely, is what the ending of 'Lost in the Wood' does: it grabs you inside, squeezes your heart, and leaves you thinking. Not about what happens, but about what doesn't happen. Sad endings serve that purpose: to make us look at the world without sugarcoating.
Some people claim that "happy endings are unfinished stories", but it's true that there's a certain honesty in those outcomes that don't try to sugarcoat reality. We'd all prefer to remember the image of Sarawat and Tine in '2gether' or that of Doctor Bun and Tutor Tan in 'Manner of Death', but there's no denying that Wang and Intawut's final image in '180 Degree Longitude Passes Through Us' has a lot of truth, at least a plausible truth. In this latest series, as in 'Lost in the Wood', greatness lies in surrender, realism lies in not consummating. In letting love hang suspended, untouched, like a photograph left untouched lest it spoil.
In 'Lost in the Wood,' the story is over. Not as we would like, but perhaps as it should have been. Fifa —the character who has the power to bring back memories of a GelBoys with his black nail polish and muddy white sneakers— ends up saying goodbye to the family-owned elephant farm and sanctuary, where he agreed to go for three months, seeing it as a good opportunity to prove he's ready for college dorm life in a distant country. He says goodbye to the elephants and the people he's grown to love in such a short time, because he knows what that entails. Because he doesn't live in a fantasy. Because his world wouldn't be complete if he didn't make his dreams come true.
However, seeing Fifa's decision as pure resignation is, to say the least, reductionist. We're not dealing with a superhero driven by duty, but with a boy who chooses to leave. And that's the point.
One of the keys lies in the idea of preserving the memory. Fifa knows that the time he shared with Hem in the shade of the forest is unforgettable. That it was probably the most luminous thing that has ever happened to he. But he also knows that if he stays with him, that perfect love could be corrupted. Turn into another routine. Another disappointment. He'll constantly wonder about her shattered dreams, about what would have happened «if I...». So he decides to freeze it in time. Make it eternal. Keep it like a secret gem.
For his part, Hem is not indifferent to the harm he would cause if he declared his love, if he demanded that Fifa stay by his side. Therefore, although it pains us, his decision does not imply cowardice. It is not an absence of love. It is a consciousness.
Jeab Napassarin Prompila, the director, shows this with elegance: the shots focused on Fifa's face, he broken gaze, the tension in him hands as he grabs the guitar and throws it over the shoulder before closing the door behind he, the tears streaming down he face as he leaves Hem the mask as a souvenir, the psychological torture he suffers when, in an act of farewell and, why not, a declaration of love, he brings he lips close to Hem's to offer him a kiss, the only kiss they will both experience, while he lover pretends to sleep... everything points to a brutal internal struggle.
There is no one forcing him to leave. There is no blackmail from any of his family members. There are unspoken words, unspoken declarations... There is a silence full of meaning. And a decision that hurts.
I insist, we may disagree with Fifa, we may think he should stay in Hem's arms, we may yell at him for abandoning his idea of traveling to Japan to follow his dreams, we may even, why not, get angry at him; but the series never says that this is the right decision; it only says that it's the one our main character made.
And, of course, we can't ask Hem to run after him, to take the next flight to Tokyo, to renounce the respect and admiration he earned in his work. That would be disrespecting the decision of a young man torn between two loves: romantic and professional, and choosing, however he can. The series doesn't judge him or absolve him. It simply follows his steps. And that makes it more real. Because there's no clear lesson.
What 'Lost in the Wood' does stealthily, but effectively, is blowing up the rules of the romance game on television. Because yes, we're dealing with a story of obvious love, even if it's not declared... but there's no happy ending, no kiss in the rain, no two boys watching the rainbow every rainy sunset in the mountains, no promise of "we'll see each other again". What there is is a renunciation. And not for lack of love.
BL is a genre that usually prizes passion above all else. This story opts for the exact opposite: containment... containment and tension, maintaining it all until the end credits. And that, in itself, is transgressive. Because there's nothing rarer in Boys' Love stories than a young man in love who decides not to act in the name of desire, in the name of love.
And the best part is that the series doesn't do it with a trick. There's no surprising plot twist or tear-jerking final speech. The transgression lies in its simplicity: two people who meet, transform... and separate. Because life is like that. Because not everything is rosy. Because there isn't always a second chance.
Instead of offering an escapist fantasy, 'Lost in the Wood' settles into an uncomfortable reality. A relationship where one of the boys decides to reject his dreams and the other demands that he do so in the name of love isn't always possible, and where passion would have to confront every day the eternal doubt of what would have happened to their lives if FIFA had stayed, if he hadn't set out to make his dreams come true, if Hem had urged him to give up everything he'd achieved with effort and talent. Subversion doesn't come in the form of a dramatic breakup, but rather a painful acceptance.
'Lost in the Wood' doesn't need sermons or morals. What it offers is something more uncomfortable and, for that very reason, more valuable: a love story that never comes to fruition, a boy who loves deeply but decides to pursue his dream, while the other respects and accepts his decision.
I believe that, even with minimally serious analysis, we can't criticize series simply because they don't end the way we want them to. It's one thing to question the decisions of directors, producers, and screenwriters —that editing that ends up confusing the audience, that script that fails to develop the characters, that pacing that doesn't fit with the narrative, that music so loud it prevents us from hearing the dialogue— and quite another to reproach them for not following the path "you" wanted them to follow.
I'm one of those who oppose telegraphed series, chewed over and explained to the point of exhaustion. I wish that as viewers, we would make an effort to see all the nuances and layers that complex series have. It's easy to analyze the mechanism, but harder to explain why this series is so deeply moving: why Ton Tonhon Tantivejakul and Arm Varot Makaduangkeo have turned it into a wonderful television love story, playing Fifa and Hem, respectively.
The emotional high point of 'Lost in the Wood' is the relinquishment, when Fifa comes down the stairs of the treehouse where she's lived with Hem and, with tears in her eyes, acknowledges that saying goodbye to the people she cares about isn't among her virtues. This moment, and not the moment when the characters first look into each other's eyes and discover their inner selves, is the passionate climax of the series.
'Lost in the Wood' isn't about love, but about an idea. The series begins with the information that two boys met and fell in love, but decided not to spend the rest of their lives together. The implication is: had they acted on their desire, they wouldn't have deserved such love.
Almost everyone knows the story by now. The novel of the same name, written by theneoclassic, adapted by Kesiny Pontam, has been a huge bestseller both in Thailand and around the world. Its captivating story offers the fantasy of a "lost bunny" who believes his perfect life is ruined when he has to fulfill family obligations. While waiting for the 129,600 minutes of his life away from his routine in the big city to end, and waiting for confirmation of whether or not he has won a scholarship, he witnesses how a "ferocious lion", or rather a virile stranger with a mustache that gives him a certain air of class, wisdom, authority, maturity, and power, waits for him with open arms at the foot of a tree to prevent him from falling, while he tries to get an internet connection to send an urgent message.
SLOW-SMOTHERED LOVE
Fifa and Hem's relationship isn't one of perfect beginnings or lightning-fast love at first sight; it's not one of hasty declarations or one in which an exchange of glances marks the beginning of a romance as frenetic as the world we inhabit, where there's no time for stumbles, doubts, or reflection, and where "I love yous" are thrown around with absolute ease, like sentimental confetti.
The protagonists' love is one of those that simmer over a slow fire, where emotional intimacy is based on building a genuine emotional connection that begins in friendship, in which both come to feel seen, heard, and understood.
It's as if the two have agreed on the rhythm of the relationship, where shared moments (even some of them filled with animosity and arguments), deep conversations, and challenges that they overcome together prevail. And it couldn't be any other way.
First, both partners are aware of the age difference, that one has a certain emotional maturity and life experiences, while the other lacks.
Therefore, the success of the relationship will depend on the extent to which the two share similar values, beliefs, and goals; support each other in achieving personal goals; foster commitment, trust, and intimacy in the relationship; and resolve problems constructively.
Secondly, both are aware of the culture shock they face. One is so rural, the other so urban. One is accustomed to the rigors of work and life in a rural area, without electricity or internet access, and the other, with a supermarket five minutes from home, now needing to change their lifestyle and cultural context for extremely different ones.
Thirdly, both are aware that Fifa is only planning to be there for three months, so it would be difficult for them to accept the idea of establishing a lasting relationship.
And finally, both are aware that they have so little in common that they never feel lonelier than when they are together.
How then can a couple make it work, when they have different lifestyles, unequal hobbies, incompatible life plans, such disparate ideas about love and the type of relationship they want...
IN CONCLUSION
Four key points to summarize this very funny, beautiful, and hopeful series: counting time, as Fifa usually does, 322 minutes of love under the treetops in the middle of summer, and two leading stars who bring great chemistry to the series. And a fifth, Nammon's farewell as a supporting actor, before we can see him as the lead in the highly anticipated "Pass to Your Voice" and "Restart," expected to be released in 2025.
I conclude this review, convinced that, like FIFA, once you enter the forest, you'll never be the same when you return...
It's clear that many viewers are upset that the series doesn't have a happy ending. And not just any ending, but the happy ending we all "want to see". That Fifa, the cheerful and outgoing 18-year-old, gives up his dreams of studying Art and Creative Design in Japan and decides to stay at Hem's cabin, hopping on his motorcycle to watch the sunsets together, and continue delivering food to the locals. But no. He doesn't. And that, for many, seems unforgivable.
I understand that the obsession with the "happy ending" goes way back. It's instilled in us from childhood with stories, movies, songs. And yes, it's comforting. But TV shows, when they get serious, sometimes remind us that life doesn't always end well, that there are choices that hurt, loves that can't be, and goodbyes that don't always bring us back together. And that, precisely, is what the ending of 'Lost in the Wood' does: it grabs you inside, squeezes your heart, and leaves you thinking. Not about what happens, but about what doesn't happen. Sad endings serve that purpose: to make us look at the world without sugarcoating.
Some people claim that "happy endings are unfinished stories", but it's true that there's a certain honesty in those outcomes that don't try to sugarcoat reality. We'd all prefer to remember the image of Sarawat and Tine in '2gether' or that of Doctor Bun and Tutor Tan in 'Manner of Death', but there's no denying that Wang and Intawut's final image in '180 Degree Longitude Passes Through Us' has a lot of truth, at least a plausible truth. In this latest series, as in 'Lost in the Wood', greatness lies in surrender, realism lies in not consummating. In letting love hang suspended, untouched, like a photograph left untouched lest it spoil.
In 'Lost in the Wood,' the story is over. Not as we would like, but perhaps as it should have been. Fifa —the character who has the power to bring back memories of a GelBoys with his black nail polish and muddy white sneakers— ends up saying goodbye to the family-owned elephant farm and sanctuary, where he agreed to go for three months, seeing it as a good opportunity to prove he's ready for college dorm life in a distant country. He says goodbye to the elephants and the people he's grown to love in such a short time, because he knows what that entails. Because he doesn't live in a fantasy. Because his world wouldn't be complete if he didn't make his dreams come true.
However, seeing Fifa's decision as pure resignation is, to say the least, reductionist. We're not dealing with a superhero driven by duty, but with a boy who chooses to leave. And that's the point.
One of the keys lies in the idea of preserving the memory. Fifa knows that the time he shared with Hem in the shade of the forest is unforgettable. That it was probably the most luminous thing that has ever happened to he. But he also knows that if he stays with him, that perfect love could be corrupted. Turn into another routine. Another disappointment. He'll constantly wonder about her shattered dreams, about what would have happened «if I...». So he decides to freeze it in time. Make it eternal. Keep it like a secret gem.
For his part, Hem is not indifferent to the harm he would cause if he declared his love, if he demanded that Fifa stay by his side. Therefore, although it pains us, his decision does not imply cowardice. It is not an absence of love. It is a consciousness.
Jeab Napassarin Prompila, the director, shows this with elegance: the shots focused on Fifa's face, he broken gaze, the tension in him hands as he grabs the guitar and throws it over the shoulder before closing the door behind he, the tears streaming down he face as he leaves Hem the mask as a souvenir, the psychological torture he suffers when, in an act of farewell and, why not, a declaration of love, he brings he lips close to Hem's to offer him a kiss, the only kiss they will both experience, while he lover pretends to sleep... everything points to a brutal internal struggle.
There is no one forcing him to leave. There is no blackmail from any of his family members. There are unspoken words, unspoken declarations... There is a silence full of meaning. And a decision that hurts.
I insist, we may disagree with Fifa, we may think he should stay in Hem's arms, we may yell at him for abandoning his idea of traveling to Japan to follow his dreams, we may even, why not, get angry at him; but the series never says that this is the right decision; it only says that it's the one our main character made.
And, of course, we can't ask Hem to run after him, to take the next flight to Tokyo, to renounce the respect and admiration he earned in his work. That would be disrespecting the decision of a young man torn between two loves: romantic and professional, and choosing, however he can. The series doesn't judge him or absolve him. It simply follows his steps. And that makes it more real. Because there's no clear lesson.
What 'Lost in the Wood' does stealthily, but effectively, is blowing up the rules of the romance game on television. Because yes, we're dealing with a story of obvious love, even if it's not declared... but there's no happy ending, no kiss in the rain, no two boys watching the rainbow every rainy sunset in the mountains, no promise of "we'll see each other again". What there is is a renunciation. And not for lack of love.
BL is a genre that usually prizes passion above all else. This story opts for the exact opposite: containment... containment and tension, maintaining it all until the end credits. And that, in itself, is transgressive. Because there's nothing rarer in Boys' Love stories than a young man in love who decides not to act in the name of desire, in the name of love.
And the best part is that the series doesn't do it with a trick. There's no surprising plot twist or tear-jerking final speech. The transgression lies in its simplicity: two people who meet, transform... and separate. Because life is like that. Because not everything is rosy. Because there isn't always a second chance.
Instead of offering an escapist fantasy, 'Lost in the Wood' settles into an uncomfortable reality. A relationship where one of the boys decides to reject his dreams and the other demands that he do so in the name of love isn't always possible, and where passion would have to confront every day the eternal doubt of what would have happened to their lives if FIFA had stayed, if he hadn't set out to make his dreams come true, if Hem had urged him to give up everything he'd achieved with effort and talent. Subversion doesn't come in the form of a dramatic breakup, but rather a painful acceptance.
'Lost in the Wood' doesn't need sermons or morals. What it offers is something more uncomfortable and, for that very reason, more valuable: a love story that never comes to fruition, a boy who loves deeply but decides to pursue his dream, while the other respects and accepts his decision.
I believe that, even with minimally serious analysis, we can't criticize series simply because they don't end the way we want them to. It's one thing to question the decisions of directors, producers, and screenwriters —that editing that ends up confusing the audience, that script that fails to develop the characters, that pacing that doesn't fit with the narrative, that music so loud it prevents us from hearing the dialogue— and quite another to reproach them for not following the path "you" wanted them to follow.
I'm one of those who oppose telegraphed series, chewed over and explained to the point of exhaustion. I wish that as viewers, we would make an effort to see all the nuances and layers that complex series have. It's easy to analyze the mechanism, but harder to explain why this series is so deeply moving: why Ton Tonhon Tantivejakul and Arm Varot Makaduangkeo have turned it into a wonderful television love story, playing Fifa and Hem, respectively.
The emotional high point of 'Lost in the Wood' is the relinquishment, when Fifa comes down the stairs of the treehouse where she's lived with Hem and, with tears in her eyes, acknowledges that saying goodbye to the people she cares about isn't among her virtues. This moment, and not the moment when the characters first look into each other's eyes and discover their inner selves, is the passionate climax of the series.
'Lost in the Wood' isn't about love, but about an idea. The series begins with the information that two boys met and fell in love, but decided not to spend the rest of their lives together. The implication is: had they acted on their desire, they wouldn't have deserved such love.
Almost everyone knows the story by now. The novel of the same name, written by theneoclassic, adapted by Kesiny Pontam, has been a huge bestseller both in Thailand and around the world. Its captivating story offers the fantasy of a "lost bunny" who believes his perfect life is ruined when he has to fulfill family obligations. While waiting for the 129,600 minutes of his life away from his routine in the big city to end, and waiting for confirmation of whether or not he has won a scholarship, he witnesses how a "ferocious lion", or rather a virile stranger with a mustache that gives him a certain air of class, wisdom, authority, maturity, and power, waits for him with open arms at the foot of a tree to prevent him from falling, while he tries to get an internet connection to send an urgent message.
SLOW-SMOTHERED LOVE
Fifa and Hem's relationship isn't one of perfect beginnings or lightning-fast love at first sight; it's not one of hasty declarations or one in which an exchange of glances marks the beginning of a romance as frenetic as the world we inhabit, where there's no time for stumbles, doubts, or reflection, and where "I love yous" are thrown around with absolute ease, like sentimental confetti.
The protagonists' love is one of those that simmer over a slow fire, where emotional intimacy is based on building a genuine emotional connection that begins in friendship, in which both come to feel seen, heard, and understood.
It's as if the two have agreed on the rhythm of the relationship, where shared moments (even some of them filled with animosity and arguments), deep conversations, and challenges that they overcome together prevail. And it couldn't be any other way.
First, both partners are aware of the age difference, that one has a certain emotional maturity and life experiences, while the other lacks.
Therefore, the success of the relationship will depend on the extent to which the two share similar values, beliefs, and goals; support each other in achieving personal goals; foster commitment, trust, and intimacy in the relationship; and resolve problems constructively.
Secondly, both are aware of the culture shock they face. One is so rural, the other so urban. One is accustomed to the rigors of work and life in a rural area, without electricity or internet access, and the other, with a supermarket five minutes from home, now needing to change their lifestyle and cultural context for extremely different ones.
Thirdly, both are aware that Fifa is only planning to be there for three months, so it would be difficult for them to accept the idea of establishing a lasting relationship.
And finally, both are aware that they have so little in common that they never feel lonelier than when they are together.
How then can a couple make it work, when they have different lifestyles, unequal hobbies, incompatible life plans, such disparate ideas about love and the type of relationship they want...
IN CONCLUSION
Four key points to summarize this very funny, beautiful, and hopeful series: counting time, as Fifa usually does, 322 minutes of love under the treetops in the middle of summer, and two leading stars who bring great chemistry to the series. And a fifth, Nammon's farewell as a supporting actor, before we can see him as the lead in the highly anticipated "Pass to Your Voice" and "Restart," expected to be released in 2025.
I conclude this review, convinced that, like FIFA, once you enter the forest, you'll never be the same when you return...
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