Since I had nothing else to do after my Wink appointment, I had already decided a few days earlier that I would go to the cinema. I read that the Metro Manila Film Festival had extended the showing of some selected films until the 14th of January, and I didn’t want to miss this last chance to catch at least one entry from the lineup.

Out of all the entries, I chose to watch Green Bones.

A few days ago, I came across some Instagram reels showing both lead actors taking home major acting awards. On top of that, the film itself won the most-coveted award: Best Picture. Honestly, I hadn’t even heard of Green Bones until I saw those reels—and if it weren’t for the awards they received, I probably wouldn’t have been interested in watching it in the cinema. I’m not really familiar with GMA Films. I’ve kind of been brainwashed by the media into thinking their movies aren’t that great. So if you asked me to name one, I couldn’t. I grew up watching films under Star Cinema. I do know all the actors, especially the leads, from their drama roles, but I’ve never really seen them as the kind of performers who could completely pull you in with their acting.

I was initially planning to watch The Uninvited because of the hype I saw on Twitter. The trailer boasted a star-studded cast: Vilma Santos, Aga Muhlach, and Nadine Lustre. And knowing these actors, they usually pick quality films. But I lost interest when I found out that it didn’t even make it to the Top 4 Best Picture awardees—it only won Best Float, which has nothing to do with the actual film.

My next choice was The Kingdom, mainly because I was intrigued by the unexpected pairing of Piolo Pascual and Vic Sotto. I was impressed that Vic Sotto was making a comeback to the MMFF, this time stepping away from his usual fantasy-comedy niche. 

But when I made the conscious effort to check out some Reddit reviews about Green Bones, I was convinced. The majority said it deserved all the awards it won—the actors were a revelation, the film was absolutely worth watching, and GMA Films is finally starting to make a name for itself. People said it was the kind of film that could finally rival Star Cinema and that it bravely tackled the deeply messed-up social justice system in the country. That was it for me—I knew this would be my pick.

Green Bones is the first film I watched in the cinema this year—and it was worth it.

Coming into it, I let go of all my expectations. I pushed aside all the reviews I had read on Reddit. I wanted to come in with a clean slate so I could experience it as it was, without anyone else’s influence. I let my feelings lead the way, to put it simply.

All throughout the film, one line stuck with me—even from the onset of the story:

"I’ll come back to you."

A line I believe became the central theme of the film. It anchored the lives of the characters, as we slowly realized that life isn’t just black and white.

"I’ll come back to you."

Words that many thought were a threat—but as the story unraveled, we saw it was actually a pledge. And in the end, they became someone’s final words.

I'll Come Back to You: The Threat

The movie opened bleakly, with heavy rain pouring down, dimming the sleeping narrows of Manila’s pavements. In the distance, the blaring siren of a police car echoed through the deep night, as the screen was soon graced by the escaping feet of a man they called Crazy Dom. He stood on a bridge, facing the void ahead, earnestly communicating through hand signs. When translated into words, they revealed a brief yet haunting phrase: Babalikan ko kayo!—I’ll come back to you. A phrase the police immediately interpreted as a threat—for catching him and putting him behind bars.

No one knew exactly when he would come back. That’s why the police remained wary of him, always on guard, thinking Crazy Dom was just waiting for the right moment to strike back.

Then the film shifted to the present, told through the voice of a young and passionate prison officer, Xavier Gonzaga, as he set foot in the penal colony of San Fabian—an open-air facility housing inmates charged with unimaginable crimes. It was there that Crazy Dom had been exiled, and where the two would finally meet.

The flashback prologue, at least for me, was a strong hook. From the very start, I was drawn in. Like Xavier, I found myself asking: What happened to Crazy Dom that he turned mute? Was he really threatening the police? Did he really murder his sister?

Did he really murder his sister?—this question probably struck Xavier the hardest. He, too, had a sister who was murdered. That loss became his driving force to become a prison officer, and it led him to San Fabian, especially upon learning of the impending release of Crazy Dom—the man who, according to records, had murdered his own sister.

The first part of the film was told through Xavier’s narration, so the story was framed through his perspective. And that perspective was heavily shaped by the crime reports, by rumors he'd grown up hearing, and by his own grief and trauma. Having lost a sister he loved deeply, he couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that Dom had the supposed audacity to take the life of his own.

I understood why Xavier became so emotional whenever Dom was around—but at times, it felt like he was too intense, to the point that he lost sight of his duty as a prison officer. Throughout this part of the film, his eyes were locked on Dom, watching his every move, always on edge, just waiting for a slip-up. He was desperate to find any evidence—anything powerful enough to revoke the release Dom had long been awaiting. A release that Xavier was determined to block, convinced Dom didn’t deserve it.

But everything soon began to change when he met Betty.

Nothing beats the feeling of starting a movie randomly on a day you least expected to watch, and yet to finish it with a bursting and uncontrollable happy buzz.

Although it wasn’t exactly random, I had been anticipating this movie after coincidentally finding it on the app while browsing for a new set of movies to add to my watchlist. From the trailer, I immediately downloaded an offline copy of it, only to find out upon watching that it hadn’t been released yet—it was only the trailer that I had saved to my library.

I didn’t know exactly how long I had waited for it to be available, but when I checked again last Sunday, the full movie was already out.

Then came Monday. The whole day seemed undecided on whether it would rain or shine, so both happened almost alternately throughout the day. I had just finished my daily practice on Duolingo for my Japanese language lessons, and I wasn’t particularly in the mood to take my usual after-work nap.

“Lost in Starlight!,” I suddenly exclaimed under my breath.

It was actually my first time watching an animated Korean film—if Solo Leveling doesn’t count. I had absolutely no expectations going into it. All I knew was that the voice actors were Kim Tae-Ri and Hong Kyung. That was enough to spark my curiosity. I remembered skimming the synopsis when I watched the trailer, but by the time I sat down to watch it, I had completely forgotten what it was about. Looking back, I think that worked in my favor. There’s a unique kind of joy in discovering something with a blank slate, without any idea of what you’re about to experience. It reminded me of the first time I watched Before Sunrise. I had stumbled upon it years ago while Googling “the greatest films of all time to watch before you die.” It was on one of those lists. I didn’t know anything about it, didn’t even bother reading the plot summary. I just trusted my instincts and pressed play.

Two hours later, I was still in front of the screen—completely moved. I had watched it in low quality on Facebook, but I didn’t care. I was heartbroken by how the story ended, not because it was tragic, but because it was so real. And yet, underneath all that, I felt euphoric. It was the first time I had ever truly loved a movie.

I felt like I had fallen in love—either right at that moment, or during the entire time I was watching it. I couldn’t even place the happiness I felt. It was something I had discovered on my own, without any recommendations or hype, and that made it even more special. I savored every scene, every piece of dialogue. I was stunned that a film—so simple, so stripped-down—could affect me so deeply. No dramatic twists, no flashy visuals. Just two people talking, a story that flowed naturally, moving steadily forward. And I loved every second of it.

And I felt this too after watching Lost in Starlight. I might sound hyperbolic—and I know I am—right now, riding the peak of that post-movie high. This film might not even be that good for others, but I'm speaking from the moment, and I want to capture that here in this blog. I want to document how great this film feels to me, despite the fact there are loads of animated romance films out there I could find and watch.

I’m telling you, it’s been ages since I last felt that “kilig” feeling—that tingling, sensational buzz you get from a romantic film. The last movie that really did that for me was Before Sunrise. After that? I honestly can’t remember if anything else ever hit the same way. And now here I am, gushing over the hopeless romantic vibe of this animated film.

Let me start with the animation. It reminds me of those cyberpunk-style images I see on Pinterest whenever I’m hunting for a new desktop wallpaper. It’s funky, 4K-ish, and has a touch of Spiderverse visuals—but with a Japanese anime twist. It’s not clumsy, where a character looks off when viewed from another angle. It’s polished, kinda dreamy, and clearly futuristic, which makes sense since it’s a romantic sci-fi film. The colors are bursting like a comic book, again giving me Spiderverse vibes. This film is legit high quality—and honestly, every shot looks like it’s made to be screenshot.

The story is definitely not new. When we talk about sci-fi, there are myriads of films—mostly Western—that come to mind. The first one I thought of was Interstellar. It was actually in the back of my mind while I was watching this. So the challenge, or at least what I had in mind early on, was: how could Lost in Starlight be different? What new thing could it offer that would make it stand out and have its own identity? Or would it just be another sci-fi-ish film trying to give yet another perspective on what life might be like in the future and the never-ending expedition into outer space?

To be honest, I actually liked how the film stayed grounded and didn’t get too ambitious in that part. Right from the start, it was clear they weren’t aiming for a full-on sci-fi plot with heavy jargon, random equations, or Einstein name-drops. It wasn’t like that at all. I’d say it’s more of a romantic film than a sci-fi one. The sci-fi elements are just in the background. So if you're expecting something like Interstellar but animated, this isn’t it. But if you’re in the mood to feel butterflies in your stomach, then this one’s for you.

I was seriously blushing while watching them—from start to end.

It didn’t even feel like they were animated. I saw them as real people. The gestures, the expressions, the little movements—it all felt real.

One scene that made me swoon was that night when they had to grab another Coke. They stopped somewhere, rested a bit, and just chitchatted. Nan-young asked Jay about his lifelong passion for music, and Jay said he was waiting for it to come back to him. Nan-young, listening intently, started moving her fingers like tiny footsteps—step by step, inching closer to his elbow resting on the railing. Then she said, “It’s coming back now to you.” Their tipsy faces, especially Jay’s—he was already blushing from her gestures—blushed even more. It was so subtle but it hit me hard.

Obviously, music plays a big role in this movie, especially since Jay is a musician. I think that one scene where Nan-young played a demo song she accidentally found on Clouds—without knowing it was Jay’s—really marked the moment he realized he was doomed for her. Of all the people in the world, the chances were so slim, and yet the girl he happened to bump into while out on a delivery turned out to be the same person who had downloaded his song just minutes before he deleted it. And it wasn’t just any song—it was Nan-young’s favorite. Small world, right?

I haven’t listened to the full playlist yet. It’s not available on Spotify or even YouTube. Strangely, though, it is on Instagram. I found “Bon Voyage” when I tried adding music to a picture I posted. 

I couldn’t stop talking about how this movie made me feel. Right after watching it, I opened my Letterboxd app, gave it a glimmering 5 stars, and added it to my liked movies without a second thought.

One thing I allow myself when rating a movie is to go with how it made me feel. I don’t try to be too strict or overly objective. I don’t want to judge a film only by its structure, deeper themes, or the technical standards that supposedly make a film “great.” If it moves me, that’s enough.

It honestly makes me feel giddy whenever I find a movie that hits just right. It lifts my mood, makes my day, and even inspires me to write things like this.

Lost in Starlight is a well-made film—and truly impressive for South Korea’s first animated feature. Animation isn’t something the Korean industry is widely known for (yet), but I can see the ambition and heart behind this project. It’s the kind of movie you’ll want to share with your friends—which I already did.

Imagine seeing an old friend for the first time in years—only to find out she’s dying. Now, what would you do if she asked you to stay in the room next to her until she decided to take her own life?

That haunting premise lies at the heart of The Room Next Door, a film that faintly sits in my memory from the buzz surrounding last year’s Oscars. As I was looking for yet another conversational film, I stumbled upon a list on Letterboxd where this film was included. The moment I felt I had settled in, with the familiar whirring of my two e-fans in the room and seeing the gentle red light of my desk lamp reflected against the out-of-place CLN paper bag in the corner, I decided to finally watch the movie.

From the get-go, the only things I knew about the movie were its intriguing title and its blessedly short runtime (just under two hours) which made me happy, thinking I could finish it in one sitting. (I ended up finishing it in two, but still.) The story opens with Ingrid at a book signing, and little did she know that in just a few minutes, her life would begin to unfold. Through a mutual friend, she finds out that an old acquaintance, Martha, has been diagnosed with cervical cancer and has only weeks—or maybe months—left to live. The next scene shows Ingrid greeting Martha rather casually, despite years of not seeing each other. 

Ingrid and Martha

On a positive note, I felt more connected to them when they were just talking. They shared a lot of thoughts about life and especially death, and it felt like I was there, kind of eavesdropping on their conversation. There were some good and memorable lines from both of them that I even took screenshots of. The only problem was how they delivered those lines. Why did they feel so emotionless? They were talking about tragedies and death, but they sounded like they were just practicing their script with the camera on. It came off kind of flat and boring to me. I could hear a little change in their voices, but I couldn’t really see even the smallest twitch on their faces.

And again, the film kept telling instead of showing things to the viewers. Because of that, I couldn’t help but feel kind of disconnected at times while watching.

In the end, I couldn’t help but keep questioning their friendship, especially Ingrid’s. Sure, she took care of Martha when she agreed to stay with her next door. But it made me wonder—was she really doing it out of friendship, or was she more interested in what she could gain from it? Like, maybe using Martha’s situation as inspiration for her next book. It felt a bit unclear, and that made their relationship feel kind of complicated to me.

Red, Green, and Yellow: The Colors of Life and Death

All throughout the film, I kept noticing the colors red and green showing up a lot—in the background, on walls, and in different objects. What stood out the most was how these colors were tied to the two women themselves, especially in the clothes they wore. It felt like those colors were kind of representing something deeper and definitely has some interpretative significance.

In a narrative or cinematic setting, green is often used to symbolize life and renewal, while red is more about death and loss. In this movie, the main themes are death, mortality, and acceptance.

They even mentioned Virginia Woolf, who is known for her suicidal writings, and James Joyce’s 1914 short story The Dead, which was referenced a few times—especially its closing lines:    

“The snow is falling, falling faintly through the universe, and faintly falling on all the living and the dead.” 

In the first part, the color green was more used to Martha and color red to Ingrid (see the first two pictures below). This was during the time when Martha was still being taken care of in the hospital—doing some tests and therapy, basically experimenting on herself, as she put it.

Later on, there’s a scene where Ingrid wears both red and green. This happens when they’ve moved into the rented place but go back to Martha’s flat because she forgot her "medicine." This moment felt like the point when they had stepped into each other’s colors.

In the later parts of the film, the color roles seem to reverse. Martha often wears red while Ingrid wears green. To me, Martha wearing red now represents her acceptance of death. Ingrid in green shows that she still has hope—maybe even hope that Martha will choose to keep living.

There’s also the red door to Martha’s room. She left it open but told Ingrid that if she ever found it closed, that would mean Martha had finally died. To me, that red door doesn’t just represent a boundary between them—it feels like it represents the boundary between life and death.

Before the Red Door Closes

Now that I'm almost done with my analysis, I realize I actually enjoyed the process of reviewing the film more than watching the film itself. The color associations were perfect and gave me space to brainstorm and pay closer attention to what I saw in each shot.

The film could have been better if the scenes were stitched together with smoother transitions. I felt like the execution wasn’t quite effective, and the story came off as a bit disjointed. Honestly, I had a hard time connecting with the film—especially sympathizing with Martha, even though that may not have been the intention. As for Ingrid, the actress’s performance didn’t feel convincing enough for me to cry with her when her friend died.

The late revelation about Martha’s daughter didn’t help either. Although I did notice a few cinematic parallels that were clearly inserted to prepare for the story’s conclusion, they didn’t feel strong enough to make the ending hit emotionally.

To close this off, I would like to quote one of the many on-point reviews I found on Letterboxd: "I'm going to text a few friends and explain to them the premise of this movie and then ask them, would you ever do that for me? Just to see who the real homies are."