Drive My Car (2021)

Drive My Car (2021)

The film really drives, even with its hefty three-hour runtime. It calls to mind Bergman because it relies so heavily on dialogue, but unlike my usual experience with Bergman, this feels like a smooth, comfortable ride where you actually have space to breathe and absorb the moments. Given how the plot unfolds, it also reminds me of Three Colors: Blue. There’s this idea that we can’t fully process experiences while they’re happening; we need time for everything to settle. In a way, that’s the actors' job—to live with the text for months just so they can truly "react." Then there are those who have the luxury of wasting too much time trying to reconcile the irreconcilable—fools, really...

It offers something more than the hundredth recycled story about emotional repression and avoidance (if I’d just read the synopsis, I probably would have skipped it), and it’s worth a second look. But man, three hours... Still, since the core concept is solid and leaves you with something tangible at the end, if that requires three hours, I'll take it. My only real gripe is the female driver; the way her character is written and resolved feels a bit basic.

"Drive My Car". Japan

electriccanyon26 said:Drive My Car (2021)

The film really drives, even with its hefty three-hour runtime. It calls to mind Bergman because it relies so heavily on dialogue, but unlike my usual experience with Bergman, this feels like a smooth, comfortable ride where you actually have space to breathe and absorb the moments. Given how the plot unfolds, it also reminds me of Three Colors: Blue. There’s this idea that we can’t fully process experiences while they’re happening; we need time for everything to settle. In a way, that’s the actors' job—to live with the text for months just so they can truly "react." Then there are those who have the luxury of wasting too much time trying to reconcile the irreconcilable—fools, really...

It offers something more than the hundredth recycled story about emotional repression and avoidance (if I’d just read the synopsis, I probably would have skipped it), and it’s worth a second look. But man, three hours... Still, since the core concept is solid and leaves you with something tangible at the end, if that requires three hours, I'll take it. My only real gripe is the female driver; the way her character is written and resolved feels a bit basic.

Mda. Honestly, it's borderline rude to run for three hours. Fine—if you can stomach the first two, there's a bit of a payoff in the third hour; it still drags through those monologue sequences, but sure, it carries some weight. But there is absolutely no reason for it to hit the three-hour mark—none at all. The pacing wouldn't feel any faster even if everything were condensed into two hours; it would still have that slow, deliberate crawl, so I can't help but complain about the runtime. Is there a psychological term for temporal abuse? 😁

northerncrane4 said:"Drive My Car". Japan

Mda. Honestly, it's borderline rude to run for three hours. Fine—if you can stomach the first two, there's a bit of a payoff in the third hour; it still drags through those monologue sequences, but sure, it carries some weight. But there is absolutely no reason for it to hit the three-hour mark—none at all. The pacing wouldn't feel any faster even if everything were condensed into two hours; it would still have that slow, deliberate crawl, so I can't help but complain about the runtime. Is there a psychological term for temporal abuse? 😁

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.

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.

Oh, please—that scene is actually great! 😁 Sure, it doesn't serve much of a narrative, psychological, or symbolic purpose, but life isn't all about being utilitarian. People are just hanging out—the silent woman is essentially "talking" to herself in her own way, the driver is messing around with the dog, they're having a good time. Plus, it’s a killer contrast to the first half of the film, where the husband and wife are so detached that their communication is basically reduced to this weird fetishized interaction mediated by pre-recorded dialogue (which are really just monologues anyway).

I caught that Finnish candidate movie, Compartment No. 6, about a young Finnish woman traveling by train toward the remote Russian north. It's like a millennial version of 'Brief Encounter' for the 21st-century digital age—people who are nostalgic for the analog vibes of the '80s and are pretty sexually fluid. 😁
The characters are a bit—well, as electriccanyon26 would put it—basic. I wasn't a fan of the whole "thug turns into a sensitive soul" transformation, and that sneaky Finn guy? Total cringe. Generally, it felt like the short film's metaphor was just "hug and smile, distance and closeness." They needed more of that old lady who only counts redheaded Irishmen. 😁 It ends up being just okay.

Dennis Martin6 said:Oh, please—that scene is actually great! 😁 Sure, it doesn't serve much of a narrative, psychological, or symbolic purpose, but life isn't all about being utilitarian. People are just hanging out—the silent woman is essentially "talking" to herself in her own way, the driver is messing around with the dog, they're having a good time. Plus, it’s a killer contrast to the first half of the film, where the husband and wife are so detached that their communication is basically reduced to this weird fetishized interaction mediated by pre-recorded dialogue (which are really just monologues anyway).

I caught that Finnish candidate movie, Compartment No. 6, about a young Finnish woman traveling by train toward the remote Russian north. It's like a millennial version of 'Brief Encounter' for the 21st-century digital age—people who are nostalgic for the analog vibes of the '80s and are pretty sexually fluid. 😁
The characters are a bit—well, as electriccanyon26 would put it—basic. I wasn't a fan of the whole "thug turns into a sensitive soul" transformation, and that sneaky Finn guy? Total cringe. Generally, it felt like the short film's metaphor was just "hug and smile, distance and closeness." They needed more of that old lady who only counts redheaded Irishmen. 😁 It ends up being just okay.

It also adds some much-needed weight to that character, which makes sense since the sequence right before the epilogue belongs to her. There’s plenty of other stuff to pick apart here. First off, that 40-minute exposition could have been cut short! For instance, the crash and his glaucoma feel completely redundant—unless the director was trying to suggest that the theater in Hiroshima somehow had access to his medical records and forced this specific driver on him, but even if that were the case—so what?

Dennis Martin6, are you seriously arguing for the total dismantling of cinematic storytelling? Every one of those monologue segments is actually a fascinating little film within a film, yet we're denied them and forced to just stare at people reciting lines. It's the exact opposite of what a movie should be. Do you think there's a deeper reason for this, or is it just lazy?

northerncrane4 said:It also adds some much-needed weight to that character, which makes sense since the sequence right before the epilogue belongs to her. There’s plenty of other stuff to pick apart here. First off, that 40-minute exposition could have been cut short! For instance, the crash and his glaucoma feel completely redundant—unless the director was trying to suggest that the theater in Hiroshima somehow had access to his medical records and forced this specific driver on him, but even if that were the case—so what?

Dennis Martin6, are you seriously arguing for the total dismantling of cinematic storytelling? Every one of those monologue segments is actually a fascinating little film within a film, yet we're denied them and forced to just stare at people reciting lines. It's the exact opposite of what a movie should be. Do you think there's a deeper reason for this, or is it just lazy?

I think they gave a pretty mundane reason for why he hired the driver, and honestly, I bought it—given that whole mess with the other director earlier. But purely through association, I can’t stop linking it to the story his wife is writing—that bit about the girl walking into her friend's room—and how surveillance cameras show up in the final version of that tale. I don't have some logical, airtight explanation for why those two things connect, aside from the obvious visual symbolism. Maybe it's just a continuation of that tension between subjective belief—what you personally perceive—and objective truth—the automated way the world sees us. It feels like an extension of his wife Oto's and Kafuku's obsession with reconciling those two planes of reality... basically, trying to accept what's actually there. (By the way, Oto literally means "sound.")😁So she loved him AND was cheating at the same time? Real smooth.

northerncrane4 said:It also adds some much-needed weight to that character, which makes sense since the sequence right before the epilogue belongs to her. There’s plenty of other stuff to pick apart here. First off, that 40-minute exposition could have been cut short! For instance, the crash and his glaucoma feel completely redundant—unless the director was trying to suggest that the theater in Hiroshima somehow had access to his medical records and forced this specific driver on him, but even if that were the case—so what?

Dennis Martin6, are you seriously arguing for the total dismantling of cinematic storytelling? Every one of those monologue segments is actually a fascinating little film within a film, yet we're denied them and forced to just stare at people reciting lines. It's the exact opposite of what a movie should be. Do you think there's a deeper reason for this, or is it just lazy?

Look, this is totally subjective and I get where you're coming from, but I actually loved that idea of handling dialogue through monologue. There are probably a million ways to read into it, but here’s what jumped out at me: there’s this specific thing about the Japanese language where the verb always lands at the end of the sentence. Practically speaking, if you want to know exactly what someone is trying to say, you're basically forced to let them finish their thought. That’s how these characters talk—it’s actually what makes it feel realistic—but then it gets stylized into these occasionally massive, extreme soliloquies. It's the total opposite of how American or European films handle "realistic" dialogue, where "realism" usually just means people constantly cutting each other off and overlapping. This feels more like an Altman extreme—taking that concept and turning it into a legit signature style.

Plus, I’m a huge fan of that relentless, obsessive style of storytelling—you know, where the monologue just swallows everything else whole. Characters, plot, psychology... it all gets devoured. Take Thomas Bernhard, for example; his stuff is basically one massive, crushing monologue. I haven't picked up Rachel Cusk yet, but apparently she does a milder version of that same thing—she recently put out that "Outline" trilogy.

Monologues take the place of dialogue. Instead of objective storytelling, everything is filtered through the protagonist's perspective, which eventually extends to how the actor experiences the script itself.

The fundamental issue is that there was never any actual dialogue between him and his wife. Their communication—or rather, his version of it—was nothing more than a series of monologues and his own one-sided interpretations. She would try to open up and share her stories after they had sex, but he’d just check out, reacting mechanically because he'd rather just go to sleep. Then, the next day, he recounts those same stories back to her, adding new details she never actually mentioned. He processes her life, reframes it, and hands it back to her; she simply accepts his version as the truth. What she does with the actors is superficial at best—the text is what matters, and in this case, he holds all the cards.

That’s how their relationship functioned, but you can draw a direct parallel to the way he runs his theater productions. As a director, his system is built on stripping actors of their autonomy. They aren't allowed to react instinctively; they have to wait until they know the entire script before they are permitted to shape a response.

It’s the same system he uses to manage his private life. On the cassette, every character in the play is condensed into a single monologue delivered by his wife. He experiences the story through his own lens, inside his car, interpreting the world within a space where he feels in control. (Before the driver arrived, he used to immerse himself in the text; when she first showed up, he recited it mechanically, much like his actors during rehearsals, until he felt he could trust her "objectivity.") His car is quite literally his comfort zone—a sanctuary where he attempts to interpret his marriage and settle his own guilt on his own terms, using a role and a script that he completely dominates.

Dennis Martin6 said:I think they gave a pretty mundane reason for why he hired the driver, and honestly, I bought it—given that whole mess with the other director earlier. But purely through association, I can’t stop linking it to the story his wife is writing—that bit about the girl walking into her friend's room—and how surveillance cameras show up in the final version of that tale. I don't have some logical, airtight explanation for why those two things connect, aside from the obvious visual symbolism. Maybe it's just a continuation of that tension between subjective belief—what you personally perceive—and objective truth—the automated way the world sees us. It feels like an extension of his wife Oto's and Kafuku's obsession with reconciling those two planes of reality... basically, trying to accept what's actually there. (By the way, Oto literally means "sound.")😁So she loved him AND was cheating at the same time? Real smooth.

Look, this is totally subjective and I get where you're coming from, but I actually loved that idea of handling dialogue through monologue. There are probably a million ways to read into it, but here’s what jumped out at me: there’s this specific thing about the Japanese language where the verb always lands at the end of the sentence. Practically speaking, if you want to know exactly what someone is trying to say, you're basically forced to let them finish their thought. That’s how these characters talk—it’s actually what makes it feel realistic—but then it gets stylized into these occasionally massive, extreme soliloquies. It's the total opposite of how American or European films handle "realistic" dialogue, where "realism" usually just means people constantly cutting each other off and overlapping. This feels more like an Altman extreme—taking that concept and turning it into a legit signature style.

Plus, I’m a huge fan of that relentless, obsessive style of storytelling—you know, where the monologue just swallows everything else whole. Characters, plot, psychology... it all gets devoured. Take Thomas Bernhard, for example; his stuff is basically one massive, crushing monologue. I haven't picked up Rachel Cusk yet, but apparently she does a milder version of that same thing—she recently put out that "Outline" trilogy.

Sure, they gave him a reason, but I was trying to look at the whole thing through a more nuanced lens. It made me wonder if there’s some deeper truth they aren't telling us, though the film doesn't really offer anything in that direction.

Dennis Martin6 said:There are probably other interpretations; my first thought was this linguistic quirk in Japanese where the verb always comes at the end of the sentence. Practically speaking, if you want to know exactly what someone intends to say, you’re forced—almost compelled—to let them finish their thought.

👍 Yeah, that's the kind of insight I was aiming for. Interesting—though it still doesn't justify it for me...

Dennis Martin6 said:That’s actually how the characters talk here, which is part of the realism, even if it’s stylized into those occasionally extreme, long monologues. It’s the opposite of how European or American films handle "realistic" dialogue—usually, that means lots of interruptions and overlapping speech. Take someone like Altman, for instance; he takes that concept and turns it into a signature style.

It isn't the fact that the dialogues are monologues that bothers me; it's that these monologues are *exclusively* monologues. The camera just sits there filming an actor delivering a speech. To me, that feels incredibly uncinematic. I would love for there to be a deeper reason than it's a film about the process of staging a play, so it uses a theatrical way of conveying information. Because, first off, it isn't really a film about the process of creating theater (that process is depicted in a very rudimentary, almost isolated way in this movie). And second, if you're making a film, you should use cinematic tools. If you're going to insist on telling rather than showing, at least give me a compelling reason and—for God's sake—keep it brief! Instead, we get a film that refuses to act like a film for a shallow reason, only to have it placed on a pedestal through major awards and nominations. It feels a bit shady to me.

Dennis Martin6 said:Plus, I’m a fan of that kind of narrative style in literature. Thomas Bernhard is a great example where the monologue swallows everything else—characters, narration, psychology. I haven't read her yet, but apparently Rachel Cusk wrote her 'Outline' trilogy in a somewhat milder version of that same way fairly recently.

(I finished the first part of the Cuskin trilogy, but the next two didn't grab me—and they won't.) Look, literature doesn't quite work that way—a written sentence remains a written sentence, even if it's presented as a monologue (which is, essentially, the "I" form).

@electriccanyon26, those monologues would still be monologues even if they were staged. Actually, a story about a girl breaking into a house would be incredibly interesting to see, rather than just hearing it through the perspective of the wife, then the husband, and finally the lover. One could argue the narrators in all those monologues serve as cinematic canvases, but that feels like a bit of a director's easy way out.

Dennis Martin6 said:Look, personally, I didn't find the director's choice regarding those monologues to be uncinematic at all. If anything, most of them were hypnotic—partly because they maintained a sense of temporal and spatial unity. It feels like the director is systematically stripping away visualizations and flashbacks to force a linear progression, which aligns with the message in that final monologue (and honestly, it’s quite an odd move for a film centered on grief, especially when the lead is clearly "stuck" in the past).

I agree with everything here. My only issue is that, in the end, three hours just doesn't sit right with me. Who knows—maybe if it were shorter, the confessions in the third hour would lose some of that hypnotic pull? But I doubt it. There is a theatrical technique called shrtih, and I think he could have leaned on that a bit more often. 😁

It has been quite a while since I last sat down for a Japanese film, and honestly, when I saw the runtime for this one, I lost all motivation. 😁

I actually enjoy Japanese films with a slow burn where seemingly nothing happens, but three hours is just too much... 🙂

It’s almost three hours long, yeah—no lie. Honestly, I was fully prepared to just zone out because usually, movies like this totally bore me to tears, but it actually flew by and I thought it was amazing.
I’m definitely not an expert when it comes to this kind of cinema, so I don't have a ton of other movies to compare it to, but for me? It totally hit the spot.

I haven't actually read the short story this was based on, but you can definitely feel Murakami's influence here; in my opinion, it’s even more palpable than in that Korean production from a few years back. Even though nothing particularly explosive happens in the film, I found myself so absorbed that I didn't once glance at the runtime to see how much was left—which, for me, is a true testament to how much I enjoyed it. It doesn't lean into any specific obsessions, but it might just be the only truly worthwhile thing I've watched from this past year.

I thought the film was... lovely, honestly—really good. Everything eventually clicks into place and makes sense by the end, but I totally agree that it definitely could have been a bit shorter!
I honestly thought the second half was way better—once all the characters finally start clicking together, it really hits. I especially loved those table read scenes; seeing the behind-the-scenes process of putting a play together was so cool, especially since I used to do a bit of theater myself back in the day!
I honestly felt like the whole film was just—in the simplest terms possible—a celebration of storytelling itself. 😁Oto uses storytelling to process deep loss—it’s pretty moving. Even though these theater folks speak different languages, they all rely on this shared script as their main way to connect and express themselves. The lead character basically lives by interpreting everyone else's stories. There’s this incredibly powerful scene where a young actor tells the woman's story while they're in the car, and then—get this—he absolutely nails his rehearsal the next day. It’s like that storytelling actually cleared his head and helped him find himself within her words again. Then you have this reserved driver roll in, someone who isn't even part of the art world at all, only to share a life story that's more intense than anything he could have ever made up.

Dennis Martin6 said:I think they gave a pretty mundane reason for why he hired the driver, and honestly, I bought it—given that whole mess with the other director earlier. But purely through association, I can’t stop linking it to the story his wife is writing—that bit about the girl walking into her friend's room—and how surveillance cameras show up in the final version of that tale. I don't have some logical, airtight explanation for why those two things connect, aside from the obvious visual symbolism. Maybe it's just a continuation of that tension between subjective belief—what you personally perceive—and objective truth—the automated way the world sees us. It feels like an extension of his wife Oto's and Kafuku's obsession with reconciling those two planes of reality... basically, trying to accept what's actually there. (By the way, Oto literally means "sound.")😁So she loved him AND was cheating at the same time? Real smooth.

Look, this is totally subjective and I get where you're coming from, but I actually loved that idea of handling dialogue through monologue. There are probably a million ways to read into it, but here’s what jumped out at me: there’s this specific thing about the Japanese language where the verb always lands at the end of the sentence. Practically speaking, if you want to know exactly what someone is trying to say, you're basically forced to let them finish their thought. That’s how these characters talk—it’s actually what makes it feel realistic—but then it gets stylized into these occasionally massive, extreme soliloquies. It's the total opposite of how American or European films handle "realistic" dialogue, where "realism" usually just means people constantly cutting each other off and overlapping. This feels more like an Altman extreme—taking that concept and turning it into a legit signature style.

Plus, I’m a huge fan of that relentless, obsessive style of storytelling—you know, where the monologue just swallows everything else whole. Characters, plot, psychology... it all gets devoured. Take Thomas Bernhard, for example; his stuff is basically one massive, crushing monologue. I haven't picked up Rachel Cusk yet, but apparently she does a milder version of that same thing—she recently put out that "Outline" trilogy.

I find this stuff really fascinating—honestly, I could get lost in it for hours!

electriccanyon26 said:Monologues take the place of dialogue. Instead of objective storytelling, everything is filtered through the protagonist's perspective, which eventually extends to how the actor experiences the script itself.

The fundamental issue is that there was never any actual dialogue between him and his wife. Their communication—or rather, his version of it—was nothing more than a series of monologues and his own one-sided interpretations. She would try to open up and share her stories after they had sex, but he’d just check out, reacting mechanically because he'd rather just go to sleep. Then, the next day, he recounts those same stories back to her, adding new details she never actually mentioned. He processes her life, reframes it, and hands it back to her; she simply accepts his version as the truth. What she does with the actors is superficial at best—the text is what matters, and in this case, he holds all the cards.

That’s how their relationship functioned, but you can draw a direct parallel to the way he runs his theater productions. As a director, his system is built on stripping actors of their autonomy. They aren't allowed to react instinctively; they have to wait until they know the entire script before they are permitted to shape a response.

It’s the same system he uses to manage his private life. On the cassette, every character in the play is condensed into a single monologue delivered by his wife. He experiences the story through his own lens, inside his car, interpreting the world within a space where he feels in control. (Before the driver arrived, he used to immerse himself in the text; when she first showed up, he recited it mechanically, much like his actors during rehearsals, until he felt he could trust her "objectivity.") His car is quite literally his comfort zone—a sanctuary where he attempts to interpret his marriage and settle his own guilt on his own terms, using a role and a script that he completely dominates.

👍

Btw, the excuse for bringing in a driver is just nonsense—really lazy writing. Especially when you consider how a fancy theater with enough budget to treat its lead actor like a superstar would still hire some controversial guy who... well, you know, does questionable things to minors. I mean, he isn't exactly seen as a risk to the production or the theater's reputation. 😵
And let's not forget that the driver is, of course, unrefined and "tomboyish"—we're supposed to immediately realize she won't clash with the main guy and that she's got some heavy life story to deal with.

It’s great. A real slow-burn drama. Honestly, one of the main leads saved it for me by driving my all-time favorite car: the Saab 900 turbo! They absolutely steal every second they're on screen and did a phenomenal job. In my opinion, they definitely deserved an Oscar nomination in one of the categories.🙏🙏

Honestly, three hours is just way too long these days

It’s pretty obvious these artists are just floating around in their own little bubble

I mean, seriously, who is actually footing the bill for this stuff?

A decent film should really clock in somewhere between 83 and 103 minutes😒

Who even are you?
You’re definitely no Kubrick!

Ashley Grant66 said:I thought the film was... lovely, honestly—really good. Everything eventually clicks into place and makes sense by the end, but I totally agree that it definitely could have been a bit shorter!
I honestly thought the second half was way better—once all the characters finally start clicking together, it really hits. I especially loved those table read scenes; seeing the behind-the-scenes process of putting a play together was so cool, especially since I used to do a bit of theater myself back in the day!
I honestly felt like the whole film was just—in the simplest terms possible—a celebration of storytelling itself. 😁Oto uses storytelling to process deep loss—it’s pretty moving. Even though these theater folks speak different languages, they all rely on this shared script as their main way to connect and express themselves. The lead character basically lives by interpreting everyone else's stories. There’s this incredibly powerful scene where a young actor tells the woman's story while they're in the car, and then—get this—he absolutely nails his rehearsal the next day. It’s like that storytelling actually cleared his head and helped him find himself within her words again. Then you have this reserved driver roll in, someone who isn't even part of the art world at all, only to share a life story that's more intense than anything he could have ever made up.

I find this stuff really fascinating—honestly, I could get lost in it for hours!

👍

Btw, the excuse for bringing in a driver is just nonsense—really lazy writing. Especially when you consider how a fancy theater with enough budget to treat its lead actor like a superstar would still hire some controversial guy who... well, you know, does questionable things to minors. I mean, he isn't exactly seen as a risk to the production or the theater's reputation. 😵
And let's not forget that the driver is, of course, unrefined and "tomboyish"—we're supposed to immediately realize she won't clash with the main guy and that she's got some heavy life story to deal with.

Personally, I interpreted the film as a critique of those whose lives grind to a halt because of someone else's death. You can almost see it right there in the title. Life isn't supposed to stop just because someone passes away; instead, you keep driving forward, even if there are different people behind the wheel now.

I don't know which streaming services everyone else used, but I caught this in a theater and one detail in the subtitles totally threw me for a loop—they referred to the car using a neuter pronoun. 😁

As for the film itself? Way too long. The movie and the book are pretty different, and you hit the nail on the head regarding the traffic and the glaucoma situation. In the book, that’s exactly why he gets a driver, but since the film doesn't move the action to a theater in another city where they wouldn't know a thing about it, the director just completely bypassed that whole plot point.

Honestly, I liked the book version better than the movie's story and wish the film had stayed more faithful to it. After all that tension and restraint between the two leads, that sudden emotional outburst they both have on the island felt super forced to me. I'm with electriccanyon26 on this one—a really powerful scene in the theater would have been more than enough.

The chauvinist in me caught onto the underlying theme here: this movie basically argues that women can be whatever they want, and men just have to stoically endure it if they want to be loved or enjoy their lives.

By the end, he’s even blaming himself—yeah, it’s your fault because she enjoyed using young actors as warm bodies on your couch, and you're the bad guy because you didn't explicitly tell her it bothered you. I guess we live in an era where we just glorify being unfaithful.

Jokes aside.

That whole subplot about the young actor hitting photographers is just cringe—a cheap, lazy writing shortcut. I honestly expected something more Hitchcockian, maybe the protagonist snapping and murdering the kid in a fit of madness; that would've been something. The initial outburst at the photographer worked okay as a character beat, but turning it into this repetitive cycle? Without spoiling too much, it was a massive missed opportunity. It should have gone in a completely different direction.

The car scene where the young actor wraps up her narrative is hands-down the worst acting in the film; you can literally see the kid struggling, just staring blankly into space.

The last thirty minutes are a slog—emotionally hollow and frankly pathetic. And that moment where the driver explains how she, spoiler, killed her mother? Just lame.

It’s like Batman—ninety minutes too long.

That said, there is merit here. The husband's performance, playing the silent actor, is Oscar-worthy; top-tier talent right there. The lead actor is also flawless throughout—he absolutely crushed it. The direction and framing are very polished and soothing; I genuinely enjoyed the shots of the city, the roads, and the landscape. That bit with the tunnels felt like a lovely nod to Tarkovsky.

I have to admit, I'm getting tired of these films that feel like filmed stage plays, but it's alright.

Anyway, it’s a forced experience. Realistically, it’s a 6/10. It falls apart way too much.

p.s. I won't even touch that nonsense about her "pre-orgasmic" ideas for drama; it feels like a solution cooked up by some adolescent playwright obsessed with erotic thrillers. However, the sex scenes with the husband were beautifully directed, so I'll let that slide.

amberfox7 said:The chauvinist in me caught onto the underlying theme here: this movie basically argues that women can be whatever they want, and men just have to stoically endure it if they want to be loved or enjoy their lives.

By the end, he’s even blaming himself—yeah, it’s your fault because she enjoyed using young actors as warm bodies on your couch, and you're the bad guy because you didn't explicitly tell her it bothered you. I guess we live in an era where we just glorify being unfaithful.

Jokes aside.

That whole subplot about the young actor hitting photographers is just cringe—a cheap, lazy writing shortcut. I honestly expected something more Hitchcockian, maybe the protagonist snapping and murdering the kid in a fit of madness; that would've been something. The initial outburst at the photographer worked okay as a character beat, but turning it into this repetitive cycle? Without spoiling too much, it was a massive missed opportunity. It should have gone in a completely different direction.

The car scene where the young actor wraps up her narrative is hands-down the worst acting in the film; you can literally see the kid struggling, just staring blankly into space.

The last thirty minutes are a slog—emotionally hollow and frankly pathetic. And that moment where the driver explains how she, spoiler, killed her mother? Just lame.

It’s like Batman—ninety minutes too long.

That said, there is merit here. The husband's performance, playing the silent actor, is Oscar-worthy; top-tier talent right there. The lead actor is also flawless throughout—he absolutely crushed it. The direction and framing are very polished and soothing; I genuinely enjoyed the shots of the city, the roads, and the landscape. That bit with the tunnels felt like a lovely nod to Tarkovsky.

I have to admit, I'm getting tired of these films that feel like filmed stage plays, but it's alright.

Anyway, it’s a forced experience. Realistically, it’s a 6/10. It falls apart way too much.

p.s. I won't even touch that nonsense about her "pre-orgasmic" ideas for drama; it feels like a solution cooked up by some adolescent playwright obsessed with erotic thrillers. However, the sex scenes with the husband were beautifully directed, so I'll let that slide.

It’s only because you’re feeding into it.

electriccanyon26 said:It’s only because you’re feeding into it.

Exactly—he's the one at fault. He's too rigid, shackled by these endless routines and rules in both his life and his directing style. Honestly, he practically deserves to be cheated on. If he wasn't constantly droning on about "their" emotions—what a piece of work—maybe she wouldn't have felt the need to stray.

I don't have an issue with her infidelity, but I do have an issue with how the whole thing is being mystified and romanticized—much like his approach to working with actors. At its core, the film is just pretentiously boring.