One good thing about lurking on Facebook, after getting tired of hopping between Instagram, Reddit, Twitter, and occasionally Pinterest, is the rare luck I find while scrolling through my feed. It’s been ages since I frequently used this platform whenever boredom struck me. It used to be my go-to app when I wanted to binge on contents and posts, regardless of their relevance to me. Since I migrated to Twitter and eventually Instagram years ago, my perception of Facebook shifted, and I found it no longer catered to my social media needs.

It was just recently when I felt the need to use it again. Basically, I only access it through my web browser (my pride won't let me install it again) when I want to check notifications and share my blog posts. While there, I also spend some time scrolling. Since updating my settings and only following pages I like, I enjoy seeing good content that I don't usually come across on Twitter or Instagram. Like a couple weeks ago, I came across movie suggestions where a particular film was mentioned and was showered with praise in the comment section.

"The best film yet this year".

"This film had me on the edge of my seat".

"The plot twist!"

These are among the many reviews I saw on Facebook. My urge to watch it intensified when I also saw a Reddit post discussing the film, and I didn’t find any strikingly negative comments. That’s why we decided last Monday, while having dinner, to finally give this film that everyone has been talking about— Maharaja —a shot.

Maharaja is a 2024 Indian film about a barber who seeks vengeance after his “Lakshmi” is stolen by three masked burglars. To everyone’s great surprise, this “Lakshmi” is neither a prized possession nor a family member. It is a used dustbin, lovingly stowed in one spot of their home like a deity figure.

The film opens ludicrously— with familiar Bollywood sounds, slapstick sequences that sometimes fall into dry amusement, and a rather hurried start. The next thirty minutes, or perhaps the entire hour-long runtime, seemed intended to contort our faces into the ugliest expressions possible as we tried to make sense of what was happening. I felt like another ten years had been added to my age due to the stress of trying to figure out where the film was leading me. It all started—or rather, the film made us believe it started—after his daughter left for a sports camp. I thought it would be a typical night for Maharaja, but there were rubble and debris all over his house, and amidst it all, he lay on his side, unconscious and obviously wounded.

After he regained consciousness, he went to file a complaint at the police station. It was revealed that his house had been burglarized, but what concerned him most was his “Lakshmi,” their cherished dustbin. This threw the entire police station into chaos, as they were convinced he was a madman. Who on earth would file a complaint over a dustbin? It would make sense if it had jewelries or was made of gold or some expensive material. However, it was just a goddamn dustbin!

The inspector didn’t believe him (who would, really?), but when he was willing to spend his money for its sake, they started to humor him. They began their investigation, and the inspector formed a team to help him replicate the dustbin and eventually get the money they wanted. However, as they made progress, and the story unfolded, the truth slowly emerged, and things began to fall into place.

It is especially true that we tend to project an emotional connection to items that hold sentimental value and specific memories by giving them names. I experienced this, particularly during my childhood, when I used to name my Barbie dolls in an effort to make them feel real and relatable. I would always choose fancy names like Tiffany, Chloe, and Margo, which suited their appearances perfectly. However, as I grew older, certain things sadly faded into the past. While some people might still have the tendency to name their personal belongings, I no longer do so, as life has changed.

That’s why, despite it raising a few eyebrows, I understand that Maharaja naming a not-so-special dustbin might stem from an emotional bond that has yet to be revealed from the outset of the story.

But why "Lakshmi?"

Lakshmi was introduced to us early in the movie. It was a used dustbin, with no signs of its once shiny iron skin. Despite its weary appearance, it was clear that Maharaja and his daughter Jothi no longer treated it as a mere dustbin, but with an almost sacred reverence-- akin to a deity figure. And to my surprise, upon researching it, Lakshmi is actually a Hindu goddess that symbolizes wealth, fortune, and prosperity. In the story, as we found out the truth in the end, we could say that the dustbin was indeed a fortune as it was the one who saved Jothi from death.

We could say that “Lakshmi,” the name of their dustbin, played a huge role in the story. It piqued our curiosity and drew us into the mystery. Why was Maharaja so desperate to recover this seemingly ordinary dustbin? What secrets did it hold that made him willing to spend a fortune just to have the police track it down and return it to him?

Initially, the inspector and his team thought Maharaja was a madman. However, through relentless investigations, they soon realized that the barber was hiding something about the dustbin. Maharaja wasn’t crazy; he was after something, using them more than they were using him. If it meant making his plan easier to execute, Maharaja was willing to spend his fortune for it.

The answers were yet to be revealed, but one thing was certain: Lakshmi was no ordinary dustbin, and Maharaja was definitely hiding something beneath it. Later in the story, we discovered that Lakshmi wasn’t actually stolen; he had hidden it under his daughter’s hospital bed. This scene also revealed what really happened to him and his daughter that night when we found him unconscious at home. It wasn’t a burglary, and he wasn’t beaten up. Everything was due to revenge, leading to a series of revelations and twists.

The film wasn’t linear. The story deviated from what we initially thought or what they led us to believe, strategically weaving the past and present to baffle us. Honestly, I was tricked, and the whole time I still had no idea what was going on until Selvam spotted a familiar gold necklace with a footprint pendant, just after Jothi confronted him. This was the monumental juncture in the film where the truth and the anticipated twist were finally revealed.

I would say the build-up of tension and the anticipation of the twist were all worth it in the end. It wasn’t lame and definitely deserved the buzz it generated across the internet.

Is it worth the hype? Yes, definitely. Maharaja is the kind of film people can enjoy when they have no idea what to watch during their spare time. The night we watched it, I was bored. Since I had nothing else to do, I decided to give it a shot, hoping it would meet my expectations set by the hype. This film can stir your curiosity and maybe even pique your interest—it’s a good choice when you want to spend 2 or 3 hours on something thrilling. If you’re not too strict with technicalities, you can overlook some of the action scenes. I wasn’t expecting the few gore scenes, as the film initially didn’t seem to head in that direction.

Is it the best film of the year? Surely not. Among all the films in this category so far, there could be one better than Maharaja. It is worth the hype but somewhat overrated. It has an interesting plot but could improve in terms of execution and production. With a bigger budget, the CGI could be more realistic, and the action scenes more thrilling. The intention to intensify the trajectory was there, but unfortunately, it fell flat due to poor CGI effects, making the scenes feel cheap and unexciting. The sound effects during punching, kicking, and stunts also sounded unrealistic and quite distracting.

Overall, Maharaja is a 3/5 film for me. The plot is very interesting. The inclusion of Lakshmi, a dustbin, as a decoy to keep viewers engaged and thinking is commendable. The fact that this is a revenge drama with a unique element like a dustbin is intriguing. The non-linear narrative helps build tension and keeps the story a big jigsaw puzzle for the viewers. Sadly, the execution was the biggest issue and could have made it a near-perfect film if the action scenes were more realistic. Despite these lapses, Maharaja still offers an enjoyable experience.

It is partially true when I said on my Letterboxd review that I watched Begin Again because I wanted to listen to "Lost Stars" by Maroon 5. It is partially false, however, to think that I watched it solely because I was still the same teenage girl who was still carrying a torch for Adam Levine.

Although, I no longer fancy the band's frontman as I once did, I still have with me that instinct for playing Sunday Morning on Sunday mornings, even without the excuse of "rain is falling". This song, or perhaps the band itself, reminded me to continue watching Begin Again after it had dawned on me that I hadn’t finished it. In my mind, I had to listen to “Lost Stars” no matter what.

From where I left off...Dan walked out of the restaurant after Gretta made a comment about his relationship with his daughter, Violet. She chased him outside, and they had a little set-to, which I thought would escalate into a heated exchange. However, Gretta realized she had crossed a line, ran after Dan, and hugged him from behind.

That scene, it was cheesy.

The last thing I wanted was for them to develop any romantic feelings for each other. So, although I expected her to stop him before he crossed the road, I still hoped she wouldn’t go as far as hugging him. And yet, she did.

Every time they were close to kissing, I found myself mumbling “nononono” frenetically, as if that would stop them from getting touchy-feely. After they made up, they talked about Dan’s life and how he ended up in a lonely apartment, away from his daughter. This sparked another lark for the two as they went for a late-night stroll, connected only by their playlist. As the night progressed, they grew even closer… so close that Gretta invited Dan over to her friend’s place. As they felt the growing awkwardness as they stood face to face, Steve popped out from his kitchen and spoiled the moment(which I was very much happy about).

From Strangers to More Than That but Less Than This

Since we’re already on this topic, I was pleased with how the film concluded Gretta’s relationship with Dan. When it was revealed that the parcel he received from her was his splitter, I knew that returning this sentimental item was the unspoken closure they needed to move forward, this time without each other’s company.

The same sense of closure was also evident when Gretta decided to attend Dave’s concert. The venue was packed with a smoky crowd, looking impatient, as they stood there waiting. They had no idea that Dave would surprise them with the ballad version of his song "Lost Stars," which was Gretta's original arrangement.

I would say, the final sequences from that were my most and only favorite part of the film. I even jested that I only watched "Begin Again" just so I could listen to "Lost Stars." Whenever I hear this song, a lingering despair slowly hushes within me, tapping into my deepest guilt, inexplicably making me reflect and feel bad at the same time. And when Dave erupted with a soothing "Please, don't see..." the air felt like it heaved a sigh of relief, and all worries momentarily suspended, expelled with newfound hope.

Gretta looked so happy.

Then, as he glanced in her direction and spotted her standing, his eyes sparkled, and he gestured for her to join him on stage. However, as soon as the crowd cheered when the song reached the bridge, Gretta realized that too much had already changed. She decided to leave the venue, emotions pouring out but with a hint of hope for new beginnings, while Dave continued to perform the song, understanding that this was the closure they needed.

As for Dan, I was extremely happy that he got back together with his wife. Unlike with Gretta, I liked how subtle their chemistry was throughout the film. There were little moments they shared that, if we looked more closely, we realized they still cared for each other. What Dan and his wife had was a familiar and comfortable bond that transcended beyond marriage.

I honestly didn’t like the thought of Dan and Gretta ending up together. After all, Gretta came from a five-year relationship that unfortunately wasn’t justified in the storyline, as they made Dave look like a shallow, flat, and one-sided character. If he was meant to be an asshole, and obviously that was their intention, they should have built that up to make him one. Instead, people attacked the actor, Adam, himself (which was understandable), since we were only presented with a side of him that was unlikable, so this hatred was unintentionally directed and projected onto the actor playing the character.

As I said, the meet-cute trope doesn’t always have to end like other romantic films. Two strangers in a third place can remain strangers, become acquaintances, or, like Gretta and Dan—a heartbroken singer-songwriter and a frustrated music label producer—turn into friends.

Gretta, a singer; Keira, an actress

All this time, I thought Begin Again was a film about two people who meet as strangers and, for some inexplicable reason, bond over the course of a night by revealing each other’s playlists.

I remember the scene where Dan asks Gretta about her playlist and says, “You can tell a lot about a person by what’s on their playlist.” This brought me back to how the film started.

When Steve pressured Gretta to come up to the stage—unprepared and heartbroken—she had no choice but to give in to the roar of the crowd. Awkwardly, she took the guitar and dedicated her song to anyone who’s ever been alone in the city, delivering it in a somewhat whispery manner. The moment she started singing, I realized that Keira Knightley, the actress, could sing, but she was obviously not a professional singer.

Pardon the roughness of my words as I am thinking over my head while writing this: Of all the actresses who could act and sing, why did they choose Keira for this role?

I was honestly distracted every time they were recording because her lips were acting more than they were singing. I could hardly connect with her songs as there was nothing to feel about them, which was the opposite of what Dan felt that night when he spotted Gretta regretting she took the stage to bore the people with her singing.

I tried to see the beauty of this film as everyone was saying. However, I felt like they were biased because of how lovable Keira was, failing to see that her charm was best suited for period dramas and not in the colorful city of New York—acting to sing.

I also didn’t appreciate that whenever they were recording a song, her voice sounded so unnatural. Don’t get me wrong, the songs were all promising and easy to listen to, but I was really distracted by the way she sang them. It felt honestly empty to me, so I could hardly connect with the story of her compositions.

My Verdict

Overall, Begin Again is a good film to watch in your spare time. If you’re not too critical of Keira Knightley’s singing, the film offers an enjoyable experience as it delves into the lives of two people whose dreams were tarnished by failures. Plus, the songs are great and relatable, especially “Lost Stars,” which I believe most people know.

The Best First Impression

I think I had more moments of muttering ‘she really looks like Dakota Johnson’ under my breath than taking in what the film was trying to tell me.

Again, it was bad of me to hop right off the bat on the Letterboxd discussion after I finished The Worst Person in the World. But I couldn’t help it. It was the only safe place where I could free my thoughts and find reviews from someone I do not know but who knows the film I watched. To my great surprise, The Worst Person in the World is yet another film where I didn’t enjoy it, but people on Letterboxd did. It was rated an elusive 4.1 stars, and the top reviews almost brainwashed me into liking it, only to end up feeling somewhat guilty for not being able to connect with the film as they did.

I remember that the first encounter I had with this film was when I was scrolling through Twitter. My thumb was on its usual pace—sliding up on my screen with practiced ease, indulging in quick tweets, retweeting, and quoting posts as I pleased. Suddenly, my thumb glitched for a moment as I saw an interesting tweet, and I had to scroll back.

In the post, there were four stills from one scene of a film, and it says:

I wasted so much time worrying about what could go wrong. But what did go wrong was never the things I worried about.

It wasn’t exactly comforting for me at that moment when I came across it, but weirdly, it stuck with me. After a while, I also stumbled upon a couple of reels about this film on Instagram, highlighting other relatable quotes. Although I wasn’t intrigued, I still decided to save it offline to my watchlist, just in case I felt like watching it.

Then, I watched it. And I finished it yesterday.

I believe it took me about three days to complete it. Still, it wasn’t bad, unlike ‘Dune: Part Two,’ which I think I couldn’t continue watching.

The film reminded me of turning pages after every chapter. It’s like a book—perhaps a book of life? A life of a woman in different phases as she makes choices—good or bad—then goes through different and ever-changing decisions. She discovers herself through people, and these discoveries make her realize what she needs and wants. Despite being a relatable topic, particularly for people going through existential crises, I wasn’t expecting it wouldn’t hit me as I hoped. Unlike others who proclaimed the film was about them, I was among those questioning where I fit in.

The Best Feeling

Yes, the film briefly touched on a relatable topic at the beginning, where Julie jumped from one career to another. Like her, I felt I could do anything if I put my mind to it. With my degree, which people boasted was broad and could offer me a wide range of possibilities, I found myself lost after I graduated. There, I realized that being a jack of all trades basically means being a jack of nothing. From dreaming of writing, I found myself formatting CVs months after graduation. I kept trying to convince myself that I shouldn’t pressure myself, as the first job should be a great reflection of my professional endeavors. I was far from okay when I started working. To put it simply, I was depressed, hopeless, and lifeless. If that’s how death feels, then maybe I was dead all those times. However, one thing pulled me back from the darkness: writing. I was already past my probationary period when our department enthusiastically announced a short film contest for our year-end celebration. In our team, I was unanimously assigned to direct and write the script. There, I started connecting with people and realized that my love for writing brought me back to life.

After two years and seven months, I decided to shift in another career direction. I blindly accepted an offer from a graphic design company as a Project Associate. The lump sum they offered me upon employment turned out to be a trap that led me into another deep hole of immense hopelessness. In my second job, I experienced an unreasonable extension of working hours, micromanagement, and a lack of training. Once again, I lost myself in the pursuit of growth. After nearly a year of hurried learning, I finally listened to my body and my desire for peace. Enough of the mistreatment, lack of sleep, and frequent illness due to work stress. So, in the first week of January 2023, I submitted my resignation. It felt incredibly liberating.

Now, I work as a Business Assistant for a small Australian company. Speaking this way, I found the film relatable. We are shaped by our decisions and determined by the outcomes we risked everything for. We are not constant or absolute; we are human—evolving, developing, still making mistakes, learning, unlearning, and relearning. Our fates are not linear; we are confusing little creatures pushed and pulled by our emotions, rationality, practicality, and idealism.

The Best Life

When Julie broke up with Aksel after being together for years to embrace uncertainty and thrill with Eivind, I mumbled, ‘That’s life.’ The same thought echoed when the film reached its closing chapter: Julie spotted her ex-lover Eivind waiting outside with his toddler. She discovered that the actress she had photographed was his wife and the mother of his child. I understood by how things went to in the last stretch of the film, Julie had a miscarriage, broke up with Eivind, and finally pursued her photography dream.

I recall that neither of them wanted children. Perhaps that shared principle brought them together. However, when Julie broke the news to him, both were devastated. Yet, seeing Eivind with his child and wife reminded me of Summer in the film ‘500 Days of Summer.’ Summer adamantly believed she couldn’t commit to something serious, but ironically, life unfolded exactly the opposite—she got married, and she found with the other man what she wasn't able to find with Tom.

Life. That’s life, and life happens.

Despite our mistakes and the lessons we’ve learned, we couldn’t help but still feel bad. We hurt others and ourselves in the process, which sometimes led us to believe we were the worst people in the world. Isn’t it easier to believe bad stuff about ourselves? Well, at least for me.

The Best Mother

After their breakup, Julie and Aksel reunited for the first time in a while. Unfortunately, Aksel was already in the hospital, battling cancer. He spoke kindly of Julie, but she seemed resistant to accepting his praise. She struggled to believe she was a good person, even when he tried to convince her otherwise. During one of their conversations, Julie asked Aksel the very question she had avoided when they were still together:

“Will I be a good mother?”

Throughout the film, Julie went through a lot. I empathized with her as she defensively guarded her vulnerabilities. However, there was a shared moment with Aksel—a moment that felt like a release. I sensed the weight of her emotions, as if her tears resonated deep within me. She was so scared of becoming a mother.

Aksel wanted to have a child with her but Julie explained that she couldn’t yet, as she had personal dreams to pursue as a woman. Ironically, after their breakup, Julie became pregnant—unexpectedly—with someone else who also didn’t want a child. In the end, that someone, Eivind, still became a parent even after they went their separate ways.

Life. Life is ironic, isn't it?

The Worst (Best for Her) First Meet-Up

I’ve heard stories from people—mostly some are passed down by mouth like folklore. Couples who spent a decade or less together, some already engaged, suddenly split apart. Shockingly, one of them announces their marriage to someone they met just months after the breakup. How is that even possible?

As for Julie, her situation with Eivind wasn’t exactly the same. Were they both tired of the monotony in their separate relationships? Did their chance encounter at an after-party—where Julie gatecrashed a wedding—ignite a different kind of thrill? Perhaps it offered a break from their usual routines with their partners.

Imagine meeting someone and convincing each other that certain things aren’t cheating—only to realize you’re doing exactly that. Flirting, spending the entire night together, sharing wine, and even watching each other pee—it sounds absurd, yet it surely stirs emotions. When they had to part ways and take opposite directions, I knew it wasn’t the end between them.

Then, they met again. In her bookstore.

The Best Decision

Days, perhaps weeks later, Julie woke up with a decision. Turning off the light while Aksel was pouring her a coffee, suddenly, and oddly, had the world around her paused— including Aksel. This scene was among the least that resonated with me. It deviated from the reality of how the story was going so far. If they meant it metaphorically, I felt like there was a better way to execute it?

Nevertheless, the world stopped, leaving only Julie and Eivind breathing in that moment. They seized the opportunity, kissing each other endlessly. It became the turning point of their lives—Julie broke up with Aksel, left their flat, Eivind did the same thing, and they got together with life anew.

But of course, the film didn’t end there. They were blissfully happy...at first. However, as they got to know each other, they discovered differences despite their similarities, and those went in their way. The situation worsened when Julie learned she was carrying their child.

Perhaps this realization drove Julie to visit Aksel in the hospital. They spent almost a day conversing just like the old days. And just when I thought the film wouldn’t offer any solace, their final moments together before Aksel’s passing became my favorite scene. Here are a couple of the lines from Aksel that pierced my heart:

You were the most important relationship in my life. You don't have to say anything. I know it's not the same for you. That's normal. You have many years left to live. But I know, I feel it. And I want you to know. You were the love of my life. You're a damn good person.

I think the greatest compliment I’ve received was when someone told me, ‘You look happier.’ It came from someone I wasn’t even acquainted with. Hearing Aksel say that Julie was the most important relationship in his life, I couldn’t imagine how that would make me feel. Aksel wasn’t being romantic, but the relationship they shared went beyond what most couples experience. For him, Julie was his soulmate. She made him feel loved, which is more than enough to tell someone they are a good person. We all make bad decisions, but that doesn’t inherently make us bad people. As humans, we learn from our mistakes and strive to unlearn them. As long as we keep trying to be good people, we already are.

The Best is Yet to Come

Yet, it’s still hard to convince ourselves of this. Even I am still learning how to forgive myself every single day. Whenever I make a bad decision, it overshadows the good ones I’ve made in the past, and I find myself stuck in a continuous pattern of self-blame. This leads me to dwell on the past and drown myself in what-ifs.

What could my life have been if only…

What if I had done things differently…

So, I found it relatable when Aksel said the following line:

Not for that long. In recent years. I reached a point in life when suddenly... It just happened. When... when... I began to worship what had been. And now I have nothing else. I have no future. I can only look back. And... It's not even nostalgia. It's... Fear of death. It's because I'm scared. It has nothing to do with art. I'm just trying to process.

I’m almost 26, and it feels as though life has passed me by. My early twenties were filled with missed opportunities that I didn’t fully seize. As we age, we reminisce about the past, wishing we could have made it our glorious history if only we had been a little braver and faced our fears. However, like Aksel, the only thing we could do is to look back now.

Seeing Aksel and Julie during their vulnerable moments together made me wonder how life would have unfolded if Aksel hadn’t been diagnosed with cancer.

Still, I don't think they would realize the things they said to each other that day. Julie might not have rediscovered her passion for photography if events hadn’t unfolded as they did. At the end, we only yearn to tap ourselves, in the essence of Julie's character, and hug her and say to her what Aksel said to her:

If I regret one thing, it's that I never managed to make you see how wonderful you are.

Let's try our best to make ourselves see how wonderful we are, even amidst moments of self-sabotage when we feel like the worst person in the world.

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…