Posts by Lisa Cox4

I was thinking about this the other day after watching a local tournament wrap up. Everyone always talks about the players—the swings, the putting, the intense pressure of the final hole—but nobody ever talks about the people behind the scenes making sure the whole thing doesn't fall apart.

I used to work at a local country club during the summer, and let me tell you, it’s a different kind of madness. While everyone else is out on the grass enjoying the sunshine and the competition, there's someone else sprinting between the snack shack and the bar, hauling ice, and dealing with a mountain of trash. It’s a logistical nightmare that most people don't even notice until something runs out.

It’s kind of wild how much a community event relies on a handful of people just grinding away in the background to keep the vibe right. Without that steady flow of food and drinks, the whole atmosphere would shift from "relaxing weekend" to "total chaos" pretty fast.

Do you guys think we give enough credit to the staff running the logistics of these big local events, or is it just assumed they'll handle the heavy lifting?

Dennis Martin6 said:If it were just the two of them, he'd never use 'oku-sama.' 😁
Japanese is what you call a high-context language—everything changes based on context and social hierarchy (age, gender, job, family, etc.). It’s all baked right into the grammar. Even though the dressing room setup is informal, the husband is older and holds a higher social standing than the young actor, so the guy uses a polite term for someone else's wife. That’s why the husband doesn't even blink—it’s totally standard for that kind of setup. Only Oto pipes up, probably just because he's full of himself.
If it were just Oto and the actor alone, things would be informal, but since they're in an intimate relationship, there's no hierarchy there. The language would reflect that and be extremely casual. The actor would call Oto something like 'kimi' or just 'Oto' (no suffix). But in the dressing room, he calls him 'oku-sama' and 'Oto-san.' If he accidentally used 'kimi' or 'Oto' in there, the husband would catch onto their little scheme immediately. 😁

Thanks for the expert breakdown, again. 🙂

...he (the Mladić) is just being polite and using "respectful" terms because he wants to show Kafuku respect, basically complimenting him and showing how much he admires his methods and all that. When Mladić mentions in his comment that he was kindly invited by his "wife," he uses that "oku-sama" expression, which, as you said, puts their relationship into this pretty traditional husband-wife context, and she reacts to it. Plus, maybe they hadn't fully hooked up yet, so the guy is acting all stiff and "official"—even so, they're an older couple than him, and he respects them professionally. What I mean is, regardless of the language, he isn't behaving any differently than some decent guy from the States would. 🙂

On the flip side, they're such a modern couple, so I think the reason "the husband doesn't react" to her remark is simply because it's not "weird" to him that she’d react that way.

Speaking of which—I actually stumbled upon this one review where the writer points out exactly that, specifically how in Japan "gestures" carry so much weight. He notes how an open, passionate kiss between a husband and wife carries heavy "meaning" (because Americans/people there "don't usually do that"), essentially highlighting just how much of a "modern couple" they really are.

goldenhound32 said:I see there’s a massive amount of chatter about the plot, and it seems like everyone absolutely loved the film. Personally, I wasn't quite sold.

I spent the entire time wondering, "How is 'Uncle Vanja' actually relevant to this story?" To me, it felt like it could have been any standard drama.

Then again, I haven't read or seen "Vanja," so perhaps the disconnect is entirely on my end.

There is also one specific detail... though I'm not sure if it's a minor point, given how many times they bring it up through different lenses, but still... essentially, the play the protagonist is directing is performed in multiple languages. What is the purpose there? What is the actual advantage? 🤷 I just can't wrap my head around what that adds to the experience. If I were sitting in an American theater, would I really want to watch a play performed simultaneously in English and Tagalog while staring at subtitles? It's completely lost on me.

I think that’s exactly how the director wants to drive home the point that we’re living in this hyper-connected, globalized mess where you can just pull out a smartphone and translate any language in a heartbeat or look up some obscure meaning instantly. We've got stories from every corner of the globe hitting our screens faster than ever before, making language barriers almost non-existent... or at least, they really shouldn't exist anymore, right? 🙂

On the flip side, how much of a way is it to actually bridge those language gaps between different cultures? Especially when you've got a film right in front of you about a husband and wife where, honestly, nothing is working at all.

Dennis Martin6 said:Look, here's the thing... those are just standard ways to refer to someone else's wife. People don't take offense at stuff like that. He isn't "addressing" her from some high horse—it's actually the opposite: he's putting her above himself by using that "-sama" suffix. You'd use that for royalty, for instance. That's why I said it sounds a bit like a butler. By using that "-sama" register, he's also creating distance between them. She pulls him closer with that warning, and then he shifts to something softer and more informal, though still polite, using "-san."

Language register depends on context—and here, the context isn't "womanly dependence on an influential/dominant husband," it's "an informal situation in the dressing room after a show." Oto is playing it a bit cool here; her ego is coming out—first she snaps at her husband, then she snaps at this kid acting all polite. She's hierarchically above the young actor, so she uses her privilege to lecture him. It's just female ego, if you ask me.😁

edit: one more thing: 'oku-sama' can also carry a connotation of a middle-aged woman. Maybe that's what triggered her in a situation where she's introducing her young lover to her husband.

Hope things are going great on your end, too. 😬

Oh, one more thing: that "okusam" term can actually carry this whole middle-aged woman vibe. Maybe that's what triggered her—being stuck in some awkward situation where she's forced to play the part of a wife just to introduce her younger lover?

So, after reading what you wrote above about the meaning of this stuff, I actually went down a rabbit hole online to dig deeper, and I stumbled upon this perfect explanation... It’s exactly like when some guy calls a woman "ma'am," and she’s still feeling young at heart, so she gets all offended and snaps back that she's a "miss." 🤣

I’m just riffing here... but wouldn't this have actually landed if it were just the two of them—just her and Mladić—so he could address her directly? Instead, she’s standing there confronting both of them at once, basically introducing them to each other before reacting like that. Honestly, I think her comment is just this perfect blend of her asserting her independence and proving she isn't some "middle-aged" cliché.

Dennis Martin6 said:Rewatched that bit—he actually addresses her as 'oku-sama.' It’s an incredibly formal version of 'oku-san,' and honestly, it carries this slightly patriarchal weight because it implies a woman who watches a man's back. It traces back to feudal history where the landowner's wife lived "deeper" (oku) inside the house—further from the entrance and the outside world than the men. She's basically someone tucked away in the shadow of her influential husband. Plus, by using that '-sama' suffix, the young actor ends up sounding more like her butler or some servant. Later on, he switches to 'oto-san,' which is less formal, more intimate, and way more appropriate for the situation (which is why she doesn't complain). To me, her outburst is less about being "Kafuku's wife" and more about him using such a stiff, weirdly formal register.

Thanks for the deep dive. 👍

But that’s exactly what I was getting at... she "snubs" him, "rebels," and "reprimands" the kid for addressing her as "woman" in the context of "a female being dependent on an influential/dominant husband" right in front of Kafuku. Even in the translation I have, they put "woman" in quotation marks just so people don't misinterpret the nuance. 🙂

Dennis Martin6 said:It’s got nothing to do with him being unnecessary to her. It’s actually the exact opposite—just like electriccanyon26 already pointed out:

Look, when we talk about Kafuku—as the director—he’s the one actually processing and interpreting her stories. They're meant for him, not some random lover she's having an affair with. It'd be pretty interesting to find out who that guy actually is—the one whose house she breaks into. Personally? I'm betting it's the husband, not some lover. Period.

I’d go as far as saying it’s pretty obvious. But then again, we can't know for sure (since we don't know who the stories are actually intended for) because maybe a younger lover thinks the exact same thing when she serves up those same tales to him; we're only seeing one perspective here—her and the husband. I mean, what was that whole scene in the dressing room about, where she snaps at the young lover and tells him not to tell her she's a wife to Kafuku (before Kafuku even enters)?

Same goes for how she makes it crystal clear to her husband that these are just her infantile "fantasies" (I don't know at what age you reach adulthood in Japan, but her story involves seventeen-year-olds... they even make jokes about being teenagers). And when I say he isn't 'necessary'—well, he is the most important person to her (that's clearly the perspective the film gives us), but he isn't the *only* one... and that's the part the "male ego" just can't seem to wrap its head around.

P.S. One more little detail I forgot to mention earlier, where it’s crystal clear that he isn't actually "necessary" to her creative process.

Scene: the two of them are in a car in the morning, basically co-authoring the story they were talking about last night—a story neither of them actually knows the ending to. When he asks if she knows what happens next, she plays it off, saying she's just curious and has no clue. Then, he catches her in a lie, only to find out later that her lover is the one who actually knows how the story ends.

Dennis Martin6 said:You’re tripping. That whole "people see what they want—and what they can" thing is about the protagonists—it's one of the subthemes. I already laid that out at the start of this thread.

I'm telling you—you totally crushed it.

Let’s get real—this whole labeling thing kicked off with that "critique" you linked, where some critic used nothing but vague nonsense to accuse the director of sexism—and you just swallowed it whole without a second thought. I tried to point out that things aren't nearly as black and white as this "critic" is trying to force on us. Doesn't matter if I didn't manage to prove it, though.

That "critique" was an absolute joke—honestly, it doesn't get any lower than that. 😬

There you go, again. 😢Can someone please explain—where is this even coming from?

Looks like the proposal didn't pass. 😢

Dennis Martin6 said:Those lovers are nothing more than extras—literally just actors in their story. Kafuku and Oto are inseparable, which you can see right in those dialogue exercises where they play every single character in the play. As we find out, he's only in love with her (even if he stays distant), and she's only in love with him (even while she's cheating). We jump from that intimate paradox to this massive symbolic look at how individuals fit into society (the whole staging process), until the film ultimately turns into a meditation on what it actually means to grieve in a rigid, hierarchical society where everyone knows their role.

To wrap it up—to me, this feels way too overlayered just to boil down to sexism and male ego. But, you're absolutely right that people see whatever they want to see, or whatever they're capable of seeing. Which, honestly, is kind of what this film is about too. 😉

I don't get why there's this final comment again after I already made it clear at the start that I was speaking from "my own personal experience of the film"
plus the implication that I'm calling the film "great" just because I'm diagnosing sexists by watching it. Instead of actually engaging with the people in this thread, you just label them personally the whole time—sorting everyone into "types" like they're characters in a script. Am I supposed to write that even the lead actor can't accept that she loves him and is cheating on him at the same time, just so this whole conversation can hit rock bottom? 🙂 😢

I never once said I didn't feel or experience the complexity or the nuance, whether in the tiny details or the big picture... but I did say it also felt like a total revelation. For instance, how he gets uncomfortable when he's playing an actor and acts all messy, whereas he's totally methodical and systematic when he's in director mode (like that scene where he carelessly tosses his "costume" aside after acting, followed immediately by the one where he neatly packs his clothes in a suitcase). Or right at the beginning of the film when she’s telling her story and says... "how she hears the silence, and... the amplified silence, like a hearing aid filling the room" which could be seen as an allusion to their relationship, where they are constantly listening to each other while simultaneously maintaining this "sick" silence. Then, when he catches her cheating, everything unfolds through a mirror with such incredible finesse. And when she snaps at the young actor in his dressing room, saying "don't speak, woman" when they first meet... and so on. Likewise, despite the fluid and soothing pace, there are moments that are raw to the point of being painful, like a slap in the face (especially that bit with the cookie acting as a "messenger," or when she tells a story about having her own rules—that you can enter the house, but you can't masturbate in it 🙄 or that legendary moment with the candle 🤣).

Dennis Martin6 said:He isn't limiting her, he's directing. If you want to look at it that way, he's channeling her energy and giving it shape, which dictates the content too. We have no clue if she even needs him. Actually, word is she was an actress first and didn't even start writing until she married him. That totally tracks with how this film shows creation as a collective effort rather than just some lone genius having a sudden epiphany.
I think that's the whole point of the movie—things aren't such black-and-white binaries like you and a few others are trying to make them out to be. Speaking of which:

In Japan, there isn't this single Creator. There is no God. Maybe that's why they don't have a problem with dicks in temples and other raw stuff like that. 😁

Instead of calling it shamanic, I'd call it the Japanese method. You know, like when you show up as a rookie to a sushi master and spend four years doing nothing but washing rice. 😁

Can she even direct her own creation without him? I mean, what if the stories started coming to her when she was seeing other guys? 🙂

Road trips always carry those tired old metaphors about life and journeys—you know, "letting go of the wheel" and all that cliché stuff. There's even a bit of irony here with a man who has stopped moving entirely despite how much time is passing. But what I'm picking up is that being stuck in the backseat for a while, getting far away from everything familiar—maybe even traveling all the way to Hiroshima just to reconnect with himself, his grief, and finally drop that "male ego"—was actually good for him.

I think that’s the whole point of the film: things aren't as sharply binary as you and a few others are trying to make them out to be.

I'd suggest we don't reduce personal experiences of a film to this kind of "communication." 🙂

Look... I wasn't trying to "show anyone" anything; I was just writing down my own internal experience and how the film felt to me. I think I made it pretty clear by using the word "me" enough times above. 🙂

Then again, that's exactly what I'm "complaining" about—the lack of subtlety. I just called it rawness.

On that note: in Japan, there isn't this single Creator. There is no God. Maybe that's why they don't have a problem with things like dicks in temples and other raw practices. 😁

They might not, but maybe a better example in the context of the film would be the Japanese "geisha culture."

Instead of shamanic, I'd call it a Japanese method. You know, like when you show up as a young apprentice to a sushi master and spend four years just washing rice. 😁

Whatever, I stuck with that terminology because it paints a picture. Asceticism, steady methodical effort, rhythmic repetition... that's not some uniquely Japanese "invention" used to achieve spiritual or artistic "growth." 🙂

Dennis Martin6 said:She's portrayed as the creative force in the relationship—she writes plays and invents stories, while he just adapts others' work (Brecht, Chekhov). Personally, I see zero issue with linking that energy to sex. Instead of leaning into shamanism or Tantra, if we're going the mystical route, look at the positive view of femininity in Chinese 'Tao Te Ching,' where fertility is a symbol of creativity. This couple doesn't have kids, sure, but they have these stories she "gives birth to," if you catch my drift. 😬

In other words, I don't think this rawness is really about some male-female dichotomy. It's more about the fact that (in the film) we're in the Far East, not the West. Over there, those raw, biological, "lowly" aspects are baked right into the process of transcendence—and I'm talking about the Chinese influence here, not the Indian kind.

To me, it doesn't feel like she's giving birth at all because there’s zero struggle involved; if anything, it's the opposite. 🤣 I'm kidding a little, but let me try to break this down. 🙂

Art is essentially a creation that an artist channels... the truth is that he's effectively "in awe" of her because that flow comes naturally to her. She just lets the energy pass through, whereas he’s a total control freak who has to resort to exhausting "shamanic methods of rhythmic repetition" just to "hit a trance" and eventually unleash some creation. (Can you feel how raw that sounds? 😬 )

On the flip side, a work of art is always a form of self-expression—that’s exactly what he wants to micromanage and constrain in her (which is why he casts himself as the filter and the "editor"). He’s "jealous" of the fact that she doesn't actually need him to unlock her creativity (classic male Ego). Basically, the guilt he feels for not being there to "save" her—because he intentionally stayed out late—comes from his own realization that he acted entirely out of ego. And he doesn't stop there; he keeps leaning into that ego by basically weaponizing her lover against her. And so on...

in other words, I think that rawness isn't even about the male-female dichotomy, but rather the fact that we're in the Far East in this film, not the West. Over there, those raw, biological, "base" aspects are integral to transcendence (and I’m talking about Chinese influence here, not Indian).

Humans have always tried to use their creative powers to bridge the gap to being a Creator... but personally, this level of rawness feels like those fringe artists who decide to paint with semen instead of oils.

Dennis Martin6 said:whatever, it's fine 😁

I don't know if it's raw, but storytelling within stories—it's been part of the game since Scheherazade and *One Thousand and One Nights*, just like I said before. Besides, this film isn't just some adaptation of that one short story; it pulls from another piece in Murakami's 'Men Without Women' collection called 'Scheherazade.' That whole vibe of pulling stories from the edge of an orgasm and hazy memories? It all comes from there.

🙂

I'm not sure if it's raw, but storytelling within a story is basically baked into the DNA of narrative itself—we've been doing this since Scheherazade and the Arabian Nights, like I mentioned before. Besides, this film isn't just some adaptation of a single short story, it pulls from another one in Murakami's collection 'Men Without Women'—specifically 'Scheherazade' which covers that whole vibe of stories plucked from the edge of orgasm and memory.

If I know (this part is underlined). 🙂

Mystical or transcendent states belong to a specific set of human experiences that have been recognized in every culture since ancient times, from shamanism to Tantra. Take Tantra, for instance; it's built on the idea that we can access "God through sexual ecstasy," or as Tantrics poetically put it... the drop merging with the ocean. 🤣 But there's a razor-thin line between "Tantra and pornography," and that distinction comes down to just one thing: the state of consciousness.

In this film, we see two people who—acting almost "like shamans"—use rhythmic repetition (the mundane daily grind) to enter a trance "every single night" and thereby "access the beyond." And for her, it works every time during sex. I don't know, it feels a bit raw to me... and honestly, I feel like maybe only a male mind could dream up or fantasize about something like this. 🙂

Dennis Martin6 said:Nah, it’s just that they have the longest tradition because of how their society, culture, and language actually work. Europe mostly obsesses over social issues, while America is all about that individual impulse. The Japanese are the only ones systematically making films that holistically bridge both worlds. That’s what I was trying to do—expand the debate beyond just some shallow, emotional "this guy is a jerk" realization. But then Zrinka Pavlić's spirit possessed the thread and everything just went totally off the rails. 😁

Sorry 🙂 😬 ...I wasn't trying to drop a quote from some review, I was just trying to highlight how it helped me realize that raw part of the story that was bugging me. 🙂

Daniel Kelly57 said:Maybe try looking at it as her using those men to reach her Zen and find her creative flow. Though, the whole film definitely reeks of sexism. As for whether he's making fun of him or if he's actually a sexist himself, I'm not sure. People will interpret that however they want.🍿

That’s just a male perspective talking—that's not how women actually operate. 🕺

So, is he actually mocking him, or is he just being a sexist himself? I can't tell. Everyone likes to twist things to fit whatever narrative suits them best.🍿

He's a total control freak, there's no doubt about it. 🙂

amberfox7 said:We might as well shut this thread down now—someone went and quoted the female version of Miljenko Jergović, Zrinka Pavlić. Just when the debate was finally getting interesting, too. There’s always some party pooper, isn't there?

It wasn't "someone," it was me. 🤣

But you totally misread me... It’s not that I’m obsessed with her aggressive way of writing, or all that over-the-top emphasis on how "revolting" or "nauseating" things are, but she somehow managed to nail the actual vibe of the movie in this review. To me, that whole "creativity equals raw, unrefined grit" thing just landed perfectly.🙂

P.S. I only quoted that specific part, which she even praises at the end. 🤣

P.P.S. And I just had another epiphany... I had that exact same feeling after watching The Lighthouse.

electriccanyon26 said:Man, I don't know if that's a thing, but we should probably add it to the dictionary. 😁 The part with the silent woman felt unnecessary to the overall story. I rewatched the final third today, and maybe it's because I watched it in isolation without being fully immersed, but that whole sequence of mutual confessions at the end of a cigarette instead of a candle felt kind of cringe. To me, the entire section where they articulate everything we've already figured out could have been coldly cut. The final scene—the play scene—is powerful and cathartic enough on its own.

This totally knocked me out. 😬

And another thing, I spent the entire time feeling this weird sense of sleaziness toward him, so I ended up finding a review later that describes it perfectly, so I'll just drop a snippet of it here:

"I have this one issue with Haruki Murakami and film adaptations of his work. It's not that I have a problem with all his books and their screen versions—the silly, magical-realist ones are great. But when he writes meditatively, clearly from a personal and emotional perspective, his relationship with women creates this discomfort. Sure, he's sensitive, intellectual, progressive, and sexually positive, but he's obsessed with sex in a way that feels greasy and awkward. He always manages to mystify the fact that women communicate with his male characters through sex, and then takes such a mundane, everyday reality and turns it into some grand, divine experience for his male protagonists. This gives them these subtle, layered qualities, while the woman who 'awakened' him sexually remains nothing more than a nostalgic memory—a tool used to turn him into a real man."

That was exactly how I felt at the start of 'Drive My Car,' that highly acclaimed adaptation of a Haruki Murakami story directed by Ryusuke Hamaguchi, which isn't just competing for an Oscar for Best International Feature this year, but is also in the running for three other 'big' Oscars—for directing, adapted screenplay, and Best Picture. Right from those opening frames, I spotted that classic Murakami obsession, which is pretty much the obsession of all his male readers too. 'Here we are, naked and in a sexual frenzy, and now because sex is so transcendentally fantastic, my beautiful partner is going to grant me something special.' In this specific case, we're looking at a married couple where the wife, right after sex and still riding that post-orgasmic hormonal high, tells her husband these strange, interesting stories. She's a writer—she writes scripts for TV dramas and uses these stories for them—but the unexpected twist is that she doesn't remember these stories the next day, so he has to retell them to her, often adding his own commentary and suggestions.

I mean, seriously, thank God I didn't throw my dinner at the screen. Murakami & Hamaguchi, please, stop trying to intellectualize and mystify your sexism. It's like a woman can't be creative without having sex with her man, and then, being the inferior poor soul that she is, once his killer sexual magnetism wears off, she can't even remember her own creative outbursts and has to turn back to the source of all her creative power—her man. It's gross.

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I don't really struggle with heavy, emotional movies, you know? It’s more about those flicks where you just can't seem to detach yourself from the violence. I still remember my very first "heavy" movie experience... it was Hell Orange. Honestly, I haven't been able to bring myself to watch it again since.

Absolute madness of a movie. Pure cinematic poetry. 🙂

Ashley Grant66 said:So, what's the deal then? ovo So, what's even the point of the movie? 😁

I honestly feel like the ending wasn't even shot to land a final takeaway, you know? Like, what was the point? It’s just left hanging there without any real punchline or lesson. Is love really all you need? Honestly, that sounds like some Hallmark card nonsense designed to sell overpriced chocolates and greeting cards to people who haven't had a real conversation in years. You think just feeling some fuzzy warmth in your chest is going to pay the rent or fix the absolute mess that is modern life? Please. If love was actually the magic bullet everyone claims it is, we wouldn't be living in such a chaotic disaster of a world, right? It’s a nice sentiment for a song or a bad rom-com, but in the real world? It’s definitely not enough.Or maybe the director left that sense of incompleteness and emptiness on purpose, you know? Like he's just waiting for us to fully self-destruct before he finally closes the loop. 🤣 So, basically, he just wanted to hold up a mirror to the world we’re living in right now—to show us exactly how things actually stand today. Is that too much to ask?

One of the absolute best lines in the whole movie has to be that moment when Esther asks him if he thinks what they did was a sin... and he just hits her with that line about how she can rest easy because he's seen enough sin in his life to know exactly where the line is. Honestly, the casting here is perfection; when Schrader delivers that line, there’s just this specific, heavy vibe to it that you just can't fake. 😈

...I mean, I’m always watching the highlights of these movies and just wondering how many films actually exist in this world, since every single one seems to have its own weird little vibe. And this one is just top-tier... did you guys catch how they basically baked the creators' personalities right into the animal characters? Like, apparently Gustavo medo, Matthew, and Esther are all condors (?), while Hugo, Peter, and Augustine make up this little trio of lions. 😁

That first story hit way too close to home, bringing back memories of that plane crash, and the second-to-last one? It was basically a masterclass in covering up a murder, just like how they handled everything surrounding Hodakov’s daughter. 😢

For me, the absolute standout has to be the crime of passion episode 🤣... honestly, the sheer vividness of it felt like a total fever dream, almost like stepping right into Darrell’s nightmare from U-Turn. 🙂

Morgan Brown4 said:Maggie Gyllenhaal’s got *The Dark Knight* under her belt, plus Linda's work in *Peak* and a few others that pull her out of that "meh" zone. She's getting there—really close.
Sands also did *Warlock*. And man, Chris Lambert? Total legend. He’s in that same bracket as someone like Rutger Hauer—not exactly churning out massive blockbusters these days (should probably mention *Greystoke*, too), but movies like *Knight Moves*, *The Fortress*, *Gunmen*, *The Hunted*, or *Resurrection* basically cemented his status for B-movie buffs. Still, he's not quite on the level of Sam J. Jones or George Lazenby.

...I don't look at One Hit Wonders that way, obviously, because let's be real, most actors are just out there acting. To me, they’re more like rap stars who flash bright for a second just to leave us all going "wow," making us wait impatiently to see them again, only for them to vanish... just lost and burned out somewhere in the vast expanse of the universe. 🙂

Take Maggie, for example; she’s been busy the whole time filming stuff that’s high up on my list and honestly pretty well-chosen (Adaptation, Paris, je t'aime, Donnie Darko, Stranger Than Fiction...), but it’s like we didn't even "see" her there, right? That’s the true definition of a One Hit Wonder—when someone hits that level of success and then stays completely expressionless or "invisible." Or take Linda; she dealt with some mental health struggles, which probably tanked her career, and things might have gone differently if that hadn't happened, but she left that specific "impression" in Terminator that you just don't see anywhere else. Total One Hit Wonder move.

Lambert is a legend, sure, but after Highlander, everyone expected him to ascend to total A-list superstardom, and what actually happened?... he just aged out irrecoverably while doing whatever he was doing... he just wasn't built for that climb. 🙂