Waves

After finishing the film, I was weirdly preoccupied by this thought: Why was it called 'Waves'?

In that moment, as I lay flat on my back, with only a flattened cardboard box shielding me from the cemented floor, I found myself overthinking. I knew that the harder I tried to make sense of it, the more crumpled my face became. Gripping my phone, my mind wandered elsewhere, yet I tried to snap myself back to my consciousness. Despite the trance, I was still attuned with Colors and Sounds lulling during the film's credit scene. When the screen flickered to pitch blackness and all sounds faded away, I returned to my initial wonderment:

So, why was called 'Waves'?

“Waves,” among other A24 films I know, is by far the most emotional and heartrending movie I have watched. With a runtime of over two hours, I initially thought it would only outline the redemption arc of high school senior, Tyler Williams, as he and his family dealt with loss, forgiveness, and love. However, as soon as his story concluded behind bars, another story began. I distinctly remember tapping my screen to check the time when the perspective shifted to his sister, Emily Williams. It was around 1:02:00, almost exactly halfway through the film.

While the first half felt like an adrenaline rush, with nail-biting jitters conveyed through camera works and suspenseful music, the second half left me feeling quenched—as if I had just taken a refreshing gulp of ice-cold water after being out in the scorching afternoon.

Emily Williams, after the imprisonment of her brother, carried on with her life without a choice. The aftermath of what happened to their family drained the remaining hope she had and consequently left her feeling castaway. In the sea of people, where it felt suffocating for her, a boy from the same university swam toward her and randomly offered her a blueberry lollipop. Their story soon deepened as they navigated their way together toward healing and acceptance.

From Wind-Blown Ripples...

Now that I reflect on it, this film didn’t rely on familiar associations to emphasize the symbolic significance of the title. We were reintroduced to different elements and their literal and interpretative uses in both cinematic and literary experiences. The beauty of changing seasons, the birth of a new dawn, the ominous darkness, the hopeful connection of sunrise, the constellations and their grip on our future, and the dramatic rain—all of these have been widely used to define universal life. They also deviate from their common usage to offer a fresh perspective.

In the film, I appreciate how its metaphorical sense hasn’t been explicitly laid out for viewers’ easy understanding. Like an ever-unpredictable wave, the story mimicked its movement and aligned it with the course of human life. The film began with a burst of energy—pumping and gripping. The music strategically wove through the rush of scenes, especially during Tyler’s pursuit of his domineering father’s high expectations.

Personally, as I watched the early parts of the first half, I felt like I was listening to Lorde’s Ribs. The tension kept rolling in and building, spontaneous and continuous, leaving me breathless, as if I were running in circles with my eyes closed. I wasn’t exactly on edge, but I leaned so close in my chair, weirdly focused and perplexed about where this tension would lead. And then it happened. After his father learned about Tyler’s shoulder injury, everything seemed to unravel. Tyler lost himself in the effort to save face. As hopelessness set in, he surrendered to his impulses, seeking solace that night with his pregnant girlfriend. No one, not even Tyler himself, expected that the same night would temporarily ease his pain, only to become a lifelong torment—this time behind bars.

As Tyler’s story closed, another one opened: Emily’s.

Just like the waves, unpredictable and ever-changing, all the built-up tension, vertigo-inducing camera work, agitated music, and frame ratios were compensated by shifting the focus of the story to his sister, Emily. As cheesy as it might sound, she came across like a breath of fresh air.

To Serene Stillness...

The toning down of the story, as the perspective shifted to Emily, put me at a greater ease. Clearly, the aftermath of her brother’s tragic downfall had shattered her hope for herself and her family. Although introverted, her solitude seemed deliberate—a self-imposed isolation from others, and likewise, people avoided her. Then, a chance encounter with a guy altered the trajectory of her university life. While waiting her turn in an audition, the same guy approached her with a sheepish demeanor. Despite the embarrassment and awkward gestures, he invited her out for an afternoon snack. Before bidding her goodbye, he handed her a blueberry lollipop, keeping one for himself.

The breaking of a wave cannot explain the whole sea...

In the latter part of the film, there is this shared moment between Emily and her father. Personally, I felt a mix of emotions toward her father—disgust, empathy, and frustration. Obviously, he was the driving force behind Tyler’s self-destructive path, pushing him relentlessly to earn his approval.

It’s sad to say that some parents display their sacrifices to their children’s faces, making them feel worthless. I understand that parents endure trials and hurdles, sacrificing their dreams and well-being to provide for their children. Yet, I don't comprehend why do they insist on imposing the same struggles on their children? Is it necessary for children to experience firsthand the hardships they endured? After all, it was them who ended that turmoil, so why impose the same burden on their children?

Under immense pressure, Tyler kept his shoulder injury a secret from anyone. Fearing disappointment from his father, he persisted despite the doctor’s advice to stop competing. This led to a tragic outcome and a series of misfortune events.

That fateful night, Emily saw Tyler sneaking into their prom. Despite a sense of foreboding, she couldn't bring herself to move and see his brother's unwelcomed presence. Their parents also had a hint of Tyler’s whereabouts, but like with everyone else, they were too late—they found Alexis bloodied and lifeless.

That moment, while fishing together, Emily and her father grappled with regret. Emily harbored resentment toward her brother, blaming herself for not stopping him. Her father, equally regretful, questioned his role as a father. Both longed for their past lives and wished they could still be a family once again.

I agree with Emily’s father when he told her:

You have so much love to share with the world and so much life yet to live.

My heart crumbled when I heard those words. Parents, like their children, aren’t perfect. They, too, grapple with the weight of their roles. I recall an emotional scene from the hit K-Drama “Reply 1988.” Deok-Sun’s father explained that becoming a parent doesn’t automatically make someone a seasoned dad or mom. Each child is a unique journey, and it’s still their first time navigating parenthood.

As I reflect on Emily’s father’s sentiment, I wonder how it would feel to hear those words directed at me.

Is there someone out there who believes I have love to give to the world and a life left to live?

Approaching my 26th year next month, I’ve been wrestling with loads of emotion. Perhaps my frustrations and anger stem from unexpressed love? Love I’ve kept hidden, bottled...waiting for that moment to share.

Am I a lovable person?

I wonder…

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Pretty Woman

Julia Roberts as Vivian was the pretty woman. No, stop right there. Let’s revisit my first sentence and emphasize the word “the.” Imagine stamping our feet and gritting our teeth just to ensure we emphasize it. After all, we don’t merely acknowledge her beauty; we worship it with utmost admiration.

I’m well aware that Julia Roberts may now be in her golden years. The first and last time I saw her on screen, she wore a blue, flattering blouse, fighting back tears as she stood in Hugh Grant’s bookstore in their romantic-comedy film, “Notting Hill.”

I could almost hear the not-so-distant serenade of their song, “When You Say Nothing At All,” as if it hadn’t been ages since I finished watching the film. Her demeanor—classy and poised—perfectly embodied the calculated allure of a celebrity star. The unlikely encounter she had with Hugh Grant, a charming bookstore owner, created a delightful meet-cute moment. I became obsessed with the film for a week, playing their song nonstop and replaying their scenes in my mind. Watching this classic in today’s age doesn’t feel cringy or remotely “cheesy.” Perhaps that’s the magic of nostalgia—the film remains unforced and fresh against the passage of time. Yes, it’s timeless and classic.

That's why seeing Julia Roberts again, rocking a new character– a groovy one, mind you –was really something else. Those curls, that height – she's the ideal Vivian for the classic film, "Pretty Woman." Left with no choice but to be a hooker, Vivian took her chance when she and Kit spotted a handsome car. She leaned against the window, flaunting her skin, and Edward? Well, he didn’t just let her go; he agreed to pay up.

The head-turns and mouth-opening as she graced the Beverly Wilshire with such casual confidence were enough proof that this woman was the living embodiment of pretty. But let’s talk about Edward—how he hung out with Vivian, amused and at ease. He took her in without any bold, aggressive hints to just get her into bed. Instead, he made her comfortable and uncomfortable with his treatment.

After that night, he convinced her to stay with him for a week. Of course, he still paid her for her attention and companionship. He brought her to formal meetings, allowing Vivian to blend into his prestigious life. He even let her use his card to buy herself “conservative” clothes, dolling her up to put his “friends” at ease. Yet, all the while, he ensured she experienced not just the life of a pretty woman but that of a privileged one.

Throughout the film, I was honestly captivated by Julia Roberts’ beauty. Every time she graced the screen, there was something that lit up. Maybe it’s her radiant smile—yeah, I’d bet on that. It was enough to convince me that I could watch the entire movie without a hint of boredom. Her curls perfectly accentuated her gaunt face, paired with those sparkly eyes, white teeth, and that big, infectious smile. Her fidgeting and subtle mannerisms breathed life into her character, creating a stark contrast from her role in “Notting Hill.” At times, I even felt a twinge of guilt because I momentarily forgot about her romantic counterpart, Edward Lewis. Julia Roberts convincingly stole the show, making me forget there was anyone else on screen. Apologies, Richard Gere.

I’ll tell you, she was so beautiful that I forgot to assess their chemistry—whether it was affecting me or not. She was more than enough.

That’s why I was slightly skeptical about writing a review for this film. I feared I’d end up blubbering about Julia Roberts and worshiping her beauty. And guess what? I’m doing exactly that.

Sure, the film isn’t exactly groundbreaking anymore. But there’s something magical about classic rom-coms. When I watch them, I feel a warm glow inside. There are plenty of movies with similar storylines, chemistry, and tropes, yet they don’t leave the same lasting impression. They’re good, but they don’t linger.

Now, the classics—like “Pretty Woman,” “Notting Hill,” and “10 Things I Hate About You”—they’ve stood the test of time. They’re like vintage wine, aging gracefully. Even after all these years, their beauty and impact remain untarnished. And that’s exactly how I felt while watching this film. Nothing beats the classics.

Julia Roberts, you’ll forever be THE pretty woman.

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A Not-So Review: A Good Girl's Guide to Murder

I speak on behalf of those who impulsively jumped into “The Good Girl’s Guide to Murder” without reading the novel first. I AM GUILTY AS CHARGED and sheepishly admit that I let the trailer I stumbled upon in my reels take advantage of my boredom, convincing me to watch it because the leads looked cute together.

Now, I’ve just finished the six-episode series.

It wasn’t what I was expecting. I felt dissatisfied, and I doubt that any potential sequel could compensate for the anticipation it falsely built up due to the hype from the trailers I got from the reelers. Still, I recognize that it was my own impulsiveness that led me to start watching without hesitation. I managed to complete the UK series in less than a week. Although it’s a recent release and not yet available on other platforms, my resourcefulness allowed me to find high-quality copies of the series and download them for offline viewing. After work, I continued watching, not particularly invested, but curious about how the plot would unfold based on what I’d seen on Instagram.

The first episode was acceptable for someone like me who had no background or emotional attachment to the book. The lead character, Pip, whose face seemed familiar, turned out to be the blonde girl from the hit Netflix series “Wednesday.” However, as the series progressed, I found myself becoming less attached to her and the overall storyline. Her acting, along with that of her ‘partner’ Ravi, was mediocre. 

I wonder how my reaction might have differed if I had read the book. Despite occasional facial twitches, Pip remained emotionally distant. Even her British accent, which struck me as off from the beginning, failed to resonate with someone like me who isn’t well-versed in that accent. 

Then there’s Ravi. If the story didn’t require him to act and he could simply grace the whole series with his presence, he’d be just fine. However, that’s not the case. He appears awkward and unconvinced, and the chemistry I thought he had with Pip is actually absent. I couldn’t feel anything from his acting.

Right now, you might think this is just me ranting, and perhaps you’re right, but I can’t hide my disappointment. I’m not saying this is a bad series, but it certainly isn’t a good one either.

Let me highlight a few points:

First, how could Pip find it so easy to engage in conversations with the suspects? After all, it has been five years since the murder. Why did it take her only a few months to connect the dots that the police couldn’t piece together initially?

Moreover, why did the suspects readily confide in Pip, someone they barely knew personally? It’s surprising that they shared information without being overly cautious or suspicious during the interviews.

Then, Pip’s ability to gather evidence seems almost effortless. Whether it was sneaking into houses or attending the Calamity Party, she faced no significant obstacles. Her courage to challenge the police is commendable, but it’s hard to believe that solving a case from five years ago could be this straightforward.

Regarding Ravi, the younger brother of the suspected killer, Sal, I initially thought he would be a revelation when he first appeared on the show and interacted with Pip. His height and looks were eye-catching, reminiscent of characters from the YA books we read. However, despite having less screentime than other characters, he consistently fell short. His facial expressions lacked depth, and his overall demeanor felt lackluster. This wouldn’t have been an issue if he had less interaction with Pip, but it was puzzling to see him appear so laid-back, especially when Pip was already at the peak of her investigation.

“We’re a team,” they convinced each other, but for me, they were too far away from that. The series only showed Pip doing all the work, while the younger brother of the suspect was just there, being a muffin genius. I couldn’t even feel the drive, anger, and frustration from him after losing his brother. He only showed up when it wasn’t even needed. During the calamity party, he should have joined Pip there. I was furious that he made no contributions to Pip, especially considering he wasn’t fired up after losing Barney.

Barney, the sweet angel! How could someone kill a dog? I was truly fuming mad that anyone had the capacity to end the life of such an innocent dog.

In the series, the most surprising revelation came when we discovered, alongside the characters, that their English teacher (who happens to be Pip’s best friend’s father) was the one who murdered Sal. This unexpected twist kept me engaged. Despite having only six episodes, I wasn’t sure I’d make it through if the story unfolded predictably.

Another highlight for me was the choice of songs. They fit perfectly and deserve a spot on my playlist. Each opening of a new episode is set against a bleak atmosphere, and whoever curated the music deserves kudos!

There, I felt a twinge of sadness knowing that I wouldn’t be able to write an extensive post about this series. The show has immense potential, fueled by the high expectations set by the acclaimed book. Nevertheless, it was a refreshing experience to watch something outside my usual preference, unlike the typical Asian dramas I usually gravitate toward.

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