Reviews

Interesting But Short Film

I was interested in this film because one of the actresses, Sun Mei Lin, has a supporting role in the 2025 hit series Speed and Love.” This was a short, 12 min film, about two women in a relationship discussing marriage as they are preparing to attend someone else’s wedding. There is no soundtrack and only the two characters in the film which is kind of documentary in style with a “breaking the fourth wall” element. The film was interesting but I don’t know if I would watch it again. The ending was kind of abrupt and left me wanting more. This film was difficult to find but streams for free on GagaOOLala.

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I like eccentric characters -- but these are too unlikable and pretentious. "Merci exercises" and "twighlighting" but no straight answers from any of them, ugh. These were not simple people going about their simple lives -- "The Zen Diary" did it so much better.

Nothing is ever explained -- why is is so cool to ride on the lady's tricycle that even the student who has just arrived knows about it? Does the school teacher ever teach? Why does the guest house owner not remove the wheel of the tricycle when he checks for punctures in the tire? (That last one hurt to watch.) And what about that other hotel? Nothing is connected, even though it seems to want to be until the last minute. This is not simplicity, this is faked depth.

It did have its surreal moments, with the hotel where guests worked on the vegetable fields or how the woman pulled her heavy suitcase along the sandy beach -- but these moments were far and inbetween.

I don't really have anything else to say, the film deeply annoyed me. *And* it bored me to tears.

If you want to see a cool film set on an Okinawan island, go watch "Nabbie's Love".

Edit to add: This film has won the Manfred Salzberger priye at the 2008 Berlinale and was a nominee for the "World Cinema - Dramatic" categegory of the Sundance festival, so there are certainly people who think the film is excellent. And as you can see from Elisheva's comment below, there are viewers who like the film. Please don't follow other opinions, make up your own.

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An important story, but disappointing plot...

I think stories like these are important to tell, but this was still a difficult plot to endure. The movie was very realistic in some ways and very socially critical. The homophobia (internalized and not) and insecurities are ripe in this one. The legal battle was stressful to watch (which I think is good and showcases a lot of Japanese attitudes on gay topics)... But, in the end, I'm very disappointed that the woman who hit her own child and neglected her during the custody battles to the point that she was found wandering by the police... that sort of person won custody. It's realistic that most women, even the abusive ones, will get custody of children over a man.. but I'm angry Nagisa didn't fight at all. I understand he didn't want to drag his ex-wife while she's vulnerable, but the real vulnerable one is the child. This is evident by how her whole personality changes when she's living with her mom in the aftermath.

Nagisa is a very selfish character, which is fine (those sorts of people need to be represented too).. but the whole time I felt bad for both his partners-- especially Shun, who he left behind because of his internalized homophobia and returned to when he had no other options. The "romance" between them didn't feel good or healthy to me. Shun felt like was a second choice and was generally an afterthought in this 2 hour long movie.

TL;DR Good plot but unsatisfying (yet realistic?) ending/results of divorce. I am choosing to believe that the reason for them revisiting Shun and Nagisa at the end is to transfer the custody.

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Listening Before It’s Too Late

*A Place Called Silence* is a heavy, unsettling film that stays with you long after it ends. The story explores bullying not as a single cruel act, but as a slow, suffocating pressure that seeps into everyday life. Told through quiet moments and restrained tension, the film asks how far silence can stretch before it breaks.

The actress delivers a powerful performance built on restraint. Her expressions—fear, guilt, fury, and love—feel painfully real, especially from a mother’s point of view. She embodies a parent torn between protecting her child and navigating a system that often looks away.

From a mom’s perspective, this film is a warning and a call to attention. It suggests that dealing with bullying starts with noticing the small changes, listening without judgment, and refusing to dismiss pain as “just a phase.” Silence may feel safer, but the film reminds us that speaking up—early and firmly—can be an act of protection and love.

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A Story That Reminded Me to Keep Going

*The Dumpling Queen* is a heartfelt film based on a true story, following an immigrant woman’s journey from street vendor to business icon. Set between 1977 and 2000, the story captures resilience, motherhood, and quiet ambition, told through bowls of handmade dumplings and years of hard work.

The actress delivers a deeply grounded performance—never loud, never showy, but emotionally precise. You feel her exhaustion, her stubborn hope, and her love for her children in every scene. Supporting characters add warmth and realism, making the struggles feel lived-in rather than dramatized.

Visually, the film leans into warm, slightly muted tones that perfectly reflect the era. From cramped kitchens to growing storefronts, the atmosphere carries the texture of late-70s grit evolving into 90s confidence. There’s a nostalgic rhythm to the pacing—unhurried, observant, and sincere.

*The Dumpling Queen* isn’t just about success; it’s about endurance, dignity, and the quiet power of starting small and continuing anyway.

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Malaya but Bound: The Illusion of Freedom in The Kingdom

I recently learned that The Kingdom, produced by MQuest Ventures in collaboration with APT Entertainment and MZet Television Productions, is set to continue as a series. That news prompted me to revisit the film on Netflix—and I realised I’d never actually written a proper review. So, here we are. Watching it again only reinforced how compelling its core idea is. The Kingdom is an alternate-history action drama set in a Philippines that was never colonised, instead emerging as a sovereign monarchy known as the Kingdom of Kalayaan. It’s a question many of us have quietly wondered about—what might the country look like had history taken a different turn—and the film leans fully into that speculative space.

In this reimagined timeline, Lakan Makisig Nandula, a widowed king, faces a looming crisis of succession. With three very different children—Dayang Matimyas, Magat Bagwis, and Dayang Lualhati—he must decide who is worthy to inherit the throne, even as political alliances, forbidden love, and betrayal threaten to tear the kingdom apart. Into this fragile balance steps Sulo, a social outcast whose involvement with the royal family sets off a chain of events that will shape Kalayaan’s future. Directed by Michael “Mike” Tuviera, who won Best Director at the 50th MMFF, and written by Michelle Ngu-Nario (from a story she co-wrote with Tuviera), the film boasts an impressive ensemble: Vic Sotto as the weary and burdened Makisig; Piolo Pascual as the vengeful yet principled Sulo; Cristine Reyes as the ambitious and politically astute Matimyas; Sue Ramirez as the initially sheltered Lualhati; Sid Lucero as the volatile Bagwis; and Ruby Ruiz in a commanding role as the Punong Babaylan, the kingdom’s spiritual and moral anchor. Notable special appearances from Eula Valdez, Iza Calzado, and Cedrick Juan further enrich the world. (For context: Lakan means king, Dayang princess, and Magat prince.)

What stands out immediately is the care and conviction behind the film’s vision. Tuviera and Ngu-Nario’s world-building is confident, imaginative, and deeply considered. Even if the execution had faltered—which it doesn’t—I’d still admire the sheer ambition of reimagining the Philippines on its own terms. Thankfully, The Kingdom is far from a misfire. It’s a gripping political thriller, layered with compelling characters and ideas that resonate beyond its fictional setting. At its best, it functions as thoughtful speculative fiction: by imagining what the country could have been, it offers sharp commentary on what it is today.

Vic Sotto’s casting as Makisig initially raises eyebrows, given his long association with comedy, but his performance is one of the film’s quiet triumphs. This may be the least “smiling” role of his career, and it works. He portrays a man exhausted by power, constrained by ancestral laws and divine expectations, and slowly worn down by the weight of rule. Close-ups linger on the sorrow and fatigue in his eyes, revealing a king who doesn’t crave authority but feels trapped by it. It’s a refreshingly restrained performance—one that allows space for his co-stars and presents a ruler who is, quite unusually, tired of staying in power.

The film’s strength also lies in its texture. Visually, it blends the familiar with the imagined: drone shots of recognisable Metro Manila landmarks recontextualised by monarchist imagery; interiors that resemble ancestral homes; production details like floor patterns, textiles, and a redesigned flag that feel organic rather than gimmicky. The use of indigenous fabrics and designs is especially striking, suggesting a fashion and identity shaped entirely outside colonial influence. Language, too, is carefully considered—the dialogue leans into deeper, less Hispanised Tagalog, subtly reinforcing the film’s alternate history. Spirituality permeates governance, with babaylans guiding the royal family and ancient laws such as the Batas ng Tugmaan (Law of Retribution) shaping justice. These choices invite reflection on which cultural elements may have been diminished or lost through colonisation, making the film’s Gatpuno Antonio J. Villegas Cultural Award feel well earned.

Performance-wise, the ensemble largely delivers. Cristine Reyes gives Dayang Matimyas a commanding presence balanced by vulnerability, particularly in her fraught relationship with her father, and she easily owns the film’s most convincing fight scenes. Sue Ramirez brings nuance to Lualhati, even when the character’s naïveté grates—as it should. Sid Lucero is reliably intense as Bagwis, while Ruby Ruiz exudes authority and moral complexity as the head babaylan. Piolo Pascual, unsurprisingly, excels in the quieter moments as Sulo, conveying restrained rage and grief with precision, even if that intensity doesn’t always fully translate into the action beats. A standout sequence—the one-on-one confrontation between Makisig and Sulo under ancestral law—is genuinely gripping, elevated by the emotional stakes carried by the supporting cast. Iza Calzado, in a brief role, is particularly memorable, suggesting an entire unseen backstory through subtle gestures alone.

If the film falters, it’s mostly in pacing and clarity. Some action scenes could be cleaner, and a few narrative threads feel underdeveloped. Ironically, my biggest complaint is that I wanted more time in this world—the film could easily have been 20 minutes longer. Still, Jessie Lasaten’s score lends the story an epic sweep, and the overall experience remains engrossing. The Kingdom reminds us of cinema’s power to reimagine reality, to pose uncomfortable questions about governance, class, tribalism, and freedom. Kalayaan may mean “freedom,” and its people may be called Malaya, but the film makes it clear that corruption, inequality, and betrayal can flourish even without foreign rule. In the end, The Kingdom leaves us unsettled in the best way—asking whether freedom is simply the absence of colonisers, or something far more difficult to achieve. As a foundation for future stories, it’s rich with possibility, and as a film, it lands with a seriousness and ambition that lingers long after the credits roll.

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The Massacre Remains, the Heroism Is Rewritten

Dead to Rights is an important act of historical denunciation. Its graphic depiction of the Nanjing Massacre confronts an atrocity that remains largely marginalized in Western-dominated historical narratives. In that sense, its brutality is not excess, but correction.

The film’s real problem lies not in what it shows, but in whom it erases. To construct a purified national epic, it appropriates well-documented acts of heroism carried out by foreign missionaries and European civilians who risked their lives to protect Chinese civilians, transferring those actions to an ideologically immaculate protagonist. The crime is preserved; the moral credit is reassigned.

This does not deny the massacre—it nationalizes virtue. The result is a curated memory: horror is retained because it serves remembrance, while inconvenient witnesses are removed because they complicate the narrative. Dead to Rights does not falsify history; it re-edits authorship of heroism.

As denunciation, the film is legitimate.
As narrative, it reveals how even truth can be selectively framed.

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A family story around Tapei night market

This movie grabbed my attention thanks to its original storytelling and filmmaking as we follow 3 generation of women/girls from the same family : mother - sister - daughter, adult - young adult/teen - kid, it is fascinating to see their interactions as they are resetting their life in Tapei night market.

The market (and Tapei) are characters in itself. The way the director is filming it, so buzzy with noise and people feels super real. There are a lot of interesting scenes where the camera put itself at the level of the 5 years old daughter navigating the bustling with life market that are truly immersive. It just feel real and raw at so many levels.

Acting was quite good with the young actress Nina Yeh making an excellent job as the adorable 5 year old daughter. Ma Shih Yuan and Janel Tsai complete the family in a very believable way. You feel the love, the rebellion, the fights and the disappointments in their relationships.

I would recommend this to people that are looking for a familial movie which rather than leaning on the wholesome aspect goes into greyer sides of poor & women-only family.

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Memorable movie...even if the plot never fully reach destination

I truly loved this movie centred around 2 ballroom male dancers, one (Sugiki) being specialized in "standard dances" and the other (Suzuki) specialized in "latin dances", as their rivalry relationship evolved as they work teach each other. It is very much a characters-centric film with the main focus being on Suzuki and then Sugiki. I loved to see the ennemies-friends-to-lovers bond that formed in a very organic way, even if the reason for them to work together is a bit forced.

I loved the production value, there are some memorable and impactful scenes, with the chemistry being excellent between the two main actors. Overall, the cast did a great job at emoting and at dancing and showing proper dance stances and figures. The two secondary female roles were ultra interesting and it is a bit of a shame they are not put in a more central position in the movie.

My main regret regarding this movie that I truly enjoyed is that the main characters never reach the destination of their journey. The movie never got to the 10Dance event and the other competitions felt a bit like a letdown. I also had the feeling to always watch the same kind of dances rather than the full variety of each of the style. It is understandable as the cast are not professional dancers and might not have been able to carry more challenging moves or to cope with a lot of variety in addition of showing properly emotional luggage of their characters. Still, I would not have minded a bit more of variety in the dances themselves.

I would recommend this to people looking for a ennemies-to-lovers BL with a dance twist. Despite the fact I found some elements odd or contrived for scenario purposes, the payoff was worth it for the journey that the characters are going through... Even if the destination (with the goal of the story set up from the beginning) is never really reached.

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Fun true love story, lighthearted warmhearted and uplifting

This is not one of those masterpiece movies, it is rather simple and lightweight, BUT it is also rather profound. Simple is beautiful :) The story is about true love - the dude does everything to help her, lets her go and lets her come to him on her own.

The plot is fun, the actions are righteous, and the resolutions lead to everyone growing up and changing for better... So, I say, this is one movie to watch.

The only problem with this movie is that the FL has done NOTHING for her character growth except to go away to fulfill her dreams and then come back to him. She is oblivious to everything that happened LOL
ML did all the work.... as usual in most kdramas :(
The second most of the emotional work and growing up was done by the "demon" LOL who luckily responded to all the work of the ML. FL's dad and sisters stayed consistently great.

As for technicalities:
Hm, FL lead got an acting award for her role here... "The 29th Chunsa International Film Festival was held on December 23. Lim Yoon A, who played the lead character Jung Seon Ji in the film Pretty Crazy, released this past August, received the Best Actress award for her movie role. "

I saw the FL aka this actress in question in King the Land and in Bon Apettit your Majesty and she acted THE SAME in both - exact same facial expressions and body language..... It was OK in Bon Apettit bc it fit the ML acting style and the two of them did some great comedy together. She has a talent for finding comedic moments.

But ... the point is, she acts the same every time.... And she acts that SAME as the Daytime FL in this movie too. The only difference is acting crazy at night. She did that part fine, but anyone can act that... acting crazy is easy.... and .. even some of those demon faces are repeats of her SAME "angry look" from all other dramas.
So ... why did she get the award... ? bc her dramas brought in a lot of money and had lots of viewers?

So that's why I gave 9.5 for acting. Bc FL is the same old repeated herself. I really dont see different characters when she acts.

The Dad - that famous actor - should get an award for his role, he is great...

ML in this movie is great and should get an award for acting too.

This is the first time ever I saw ML actor. I was pleasantly surprised.
ML is incredibly handsome! Esp since he doesnt look like a "plastic flower boy" but like a real person, he even has wrinkles from frowning, had real color in his face, clearly he was not indoors all the time, and he is a genuine healthy athlete, not just a couch potato lifting weights, and he has genuine black hair. So refreshing!

So many models taking up acting and being terrible at it.. like... ML in Would you Marry Me, etc etc etc. Many cannot even smile, or have artificial "gym" bodies, like ML in Dynamite Kiss... Many are so pale, it is clear they have not been outdoors forever, like... ML in The Real Has Come or ML in Spirit Fingers (at least they acted very well there, but a pale bloated face is just .. not a healthy sight.)

After writing this, I read the bio of ML actor and found that I was correct, he is a gold medal boxer. Ok, I got that! I am an athlete myself so I could tell he is an athlete and moves correctly from the core. All right, score in investigation, inspector megre!
But I know nothing about plastic surgeries.... so... am I correct that this is not (at least not big) plastic job? Maybe I can only detect only huge distorted plastic looks, like... Cher, mom of FL in Graceful Liar, etc.

In any case, ML is one handsome guy who looks like a real guy to me and is a real athlete, and also acts well. Wow refreshing!

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Ten dance? Tense dance.

A lavish banquet for the eyes, ears, touch, and senses—a fusion of light, melody, lines, color, and raw passion. 10Dance carries the searing heat of a Latin rhythm and the refined elegance of a Waltz’s fleeting touch, all layered over the underlying aches of possession, distance, and the icy chill of the Reaper.

It is no secret that the entire film revolves around a single central theme: the dance. The characters are dancers; the soundtrack is a medley of waltzes and Latin beats. Yet, dance here transcends its objective definition. We do not watch this as a documentary on technique, nor do we merely see two performers moving to a beat on stage. We see two people in love. A viewer might not grasp the mechanics of a routine, but they can feel the music and the movement, getting swept away in every sequence. It is simple, really: dance is the vessel for love. Like the interlacing of fingers, the sway of a hip, the drive of a step, or the locking of eyes, the dance pulls them into a world of passion and affection. Music becomes the catalyst that turns humans into a fuse, where skin-to-skin contact transcends to become the most primal of longings—a burning heat ready to consume these entranced dancers, even when they are performing a gentle waltz meant for the most refined gentlemen.

To be honest, I have always adored the metaphor of love as a dance. A performance requires two people, and within that space, they truly inhabit a world meant only for themselves. There might be couples crowding the stage, or just two souls dancing in a back alley; they might be under a blinding spotlight or shrouded in total darkness. Some dance with a partner; others embrace an imaginary silhouette to take their long, sweeping strides. To complete the dance, all one needs is emotion and the courage to follow the heartbeat. A dancer has the right to invite a partner, and the moment they extend a hand to take another’s—stepping together into the light—that is the moment most akin to love. It is an invitation: Step into my dance, and we shall move in rhythm until the music ends. Because, quite simply: love is an intertwining.

Sugiki and Suzuki are far from a conventional pair. One is the embodiment of Standard perfection; the other is the raw, sun-drenched fire of Latin dance. One moves by the book through rigorous discipline; the other dances like a sudden eruption of heat from a desert wasteland. It is as if while the Queen of England is being served Coronation Chicken, Castro is igniting a revolution in Cuba. The distance between an International Standard runner-up and a Japanese Latin champion is not just the distance between two sides of the globe—it is a spiritual chasm. And yet, ultimately, no heart can beat only as it wishes, no body can defy the music, and no soul can resist love. Just as the opulence of a royal coronation differs fundamentally from a revolution blooming in a colonized land, who is to say the frantic thrum in the chests of those two men is any different? At this point, these two strangers surrender their bodies to the heart's command, to the notes, and to the dance.

10Dance is beautiful because it cherishes the most exquisite aspects of being human: both carnal desire and deep emotion, the sensory vibrations existing in every muscle fiber, every sound heard, every touch felt, every gaze, and every breath. Love here doesn't just spring from sentiment and head straight for the soul; it is grounded in these very "human" facets. These two strangers are drawn to each other before they even realize it, and from start to finish, every opportunity for contact is placed on a high-tension wire, vibrating as if it might snap at any moment. That tension feels like an electric current charging the air between them; they are unconsciously pulled together, yet neither speaks of it. Indeed, neither Sugiki nor Suzuki says "I love you" even once. We only know their love through their eyes (often dark and searching in the dim light), their locked kisses, their gestures, and most explosively, through their dancing. The film offers no definitive conclusion to the feverish love hidden beneath the distance of these parallel universes—perhaps because the original manga is ongoing—but as a standalone piece, this open ending feels like the perfect answer. It is an invitation for an honorary dance, sweeping Sugiki and Suzuki into an embrace across every rhythm—noisy, melodic, vibrant, and intoxicated. Finally, they have truly merged. When the dance concludes with a fleeting kiss, their final words are a promise to meet again in a competition where both are at their best—loving the way they love, dancing as their bodies tell the story. They have found their own answer.

If forced to choose between the Latin and Standard styles, I find 10Dance leans slightly more toward the color of a Standard dance. The passion and noise of the Latin influence feel like blood pumping beneath a detached exterior—the silent suffering and yearning one often finds in a soft melody. Instead of letting the heart speak, the love in the film is expressed through high-wire nervous tension (sexual tension). The primal instincts of the Latin dance are guided by steps that are sophisticated, slow, and noble, carrying the manipulative and terrifying aura of a Reaper rather than a gentleman. The production is incredibly polished, making the film as poetic and artistic as intended: the fierce, wild fire of the Americas; the noble, romantic elegance of the West; and the reserved, thoughtful sentimentality of the East. Whoever conceived the idea of two dancers falling in love through the dance itself is, quite frankly, a genius.

While the film successfully stimulated my sensory nerves and left me in awe of its "purely cinematic" camera work—and while I was mesmerized by the acting (I sighed more than once at their expressions, especially Ryoma’s magnetic presence)—I still felt a slight void in the overall experience. Aesthetically, it is flawless; every frame could be a still photograph, rich in classical style. But emotionally, the fragility and lack of commitment in the relationship occasionally left me feeling restless. The dialogue requires too much "reading between the lines," creating a sense of ambiguity and drifting reminiscent of Hong Kong romance films—distinctive, but at times suffocating, because the viewer can never quite grasp the emotional current. Everything hangs in a state of tension that affects not just the characters, but the audience as well—a feeling of being adrift, unanchored, and fumbling in the dark. The lack of words equals a lack of communication; it seems the film cares less for that and more for how bodies speak. Yet, I still loved the narration and the characters' brief inner monologues. The actors’ eyes know how to tell a story, guiding the viewer so we aren't left lost for too long. The presence of refined language—saying only what is necessary and filtering the rest through a gaze—is an art form in itself.

In short, despite the occasional suffocating psychological tension, 10Dance is a complete, deeply aesthetic, and artistic work. It is slow yet seething, as if stepping right off the pages of a Japanese manga—lingering, nostalgic, and profoundly deep in both beauty and soul.

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