Tali Moon

This show is full of tough military men, but the strongest soldier was definitely Trin—for not wavering even just a little as a young man going through his gay awakening in goddamn 1969. While his student Victor, with whom he shares intellectual equality, social ideals, and deeply rooted empathy, goes in for a kiss on three separate occasions, Trin stays firm. He is written as entirely unaffected by romantic crisis. At that point in the story, Trin is not only fighting a heavy, dangerous political war, but his stability with Tanwa is fractured. When a human being is that exhausted and lonely, boundaries naturally blur. When Victor—who mirrors his intellect, values his soul, and is literally willing to die for their cause—offers comfort, leaning into that comfort is only natural. Maybe the books Trin read about homosexuality helped him know immediately who he wants? Maybe he just didn't feel attracted to Victor? No, I think Trin was written with unrealistic emotional certainty. Is this really what the confusion of a 1969 queer awakening looks like? Doesn't it look more like clean romance fantasy? By ensuring Trin is completely immune to Victor’s approaches, the script squanders the raw, electric screen presence of newcomer Peter Deriy, who steals every scene he's in. Trin could have been caught between a deep, revolutionary connection with Victor and a passionate, bohemian escape with Tanwa—and still ultimately choose Tanwa. At least this way, his relationship with Tanwa would feel earned rather than pre-programmed from the start.

True historical queer dramas are critically acclaimed because they lean into the messy, fragile choices people make under immense political and societal pressure. Even though "Be On Cloud" tries very hard to be more than "just BL," whenever they have to choose between artistic integrity and protecting their money makers, the commercial ship will win every single time. "Shine" simply can't outshine the corporate tropes masking as "prestige art". And it also can't hide its plot holes, which leads me to the real main couple of Shine: Naran and Krailert. Their forbidden romance wasn't only about filthy sex in a backroom; they were poetically intertwined, sending each other secret messages through a newspaper column and books in the library. Now that's the kind of romance that make all the girls and gays swoon. Almost every scene carried a narrative purpose and practically drove the plot of the series. But they don't get their happy ending because, all of a sudden, Krailert's wife Dhevi is a supervillain who threatens him to stay with her because otherwise it will affect Naran's safety. Sure, it makes sense that in 1969 she doesn't want a divorce, but her being this scheming, all-knowing mastermind is a bit... sudden?

She instinctively knows that Moira must have cameras in her hotel, which makes me wonder: why wouldn't Moira help Krailert on her own initiative? Why does it require Dhevi to activate her help? It shows the writers didn't know how to resolve the political plot naturally, so they used a cheap plot device to force everyone into their pre-determined endings. Shine loses its momentum by leading to a solution that feels more like a theater play: "Ta-da! And that's how we won against corruption," instead of a clever political conspiracy. In the end, only Trin and Tanwa get their happy ending. By prioritizing commercial fan service over the dangerous friction of a 1969 narrative, "Be On Cloud" proved that their political plot was just a new playground for the same old BL tropes. But real art requires breaking the rules.

C'est la vie.