Sofia’s review published on Letterboxd:
In a subtly sprawling, delirious style, layers of sensitivity are exposed, peeling away to reveal a world in which music blares and rain falls, dreamers hum and jostle, evading thoughts, passions... and all the while people are lost— in love, obsession, in cycles that are too familiar. The urge to rupture these cycles strain against the shackles of heartbreak, though human sensitivity and yearning for compassion break through to some feeling of recognition— if not of other people, then of beauty in the mundane, of the significance in what is deemed insignificant.
Not a lot is revealed about the characters, their pasts and motives; instead we are met with the swelling sense of sincerity, sensitivity, of the worlds that collide and conjoin, governed by utter chance. Just as connections between the people of this whirling city fuse only to dissipate, so too are we left feeling as though something here remains unrealised. Perhaps it’s the sense of longing, of dreaming in a world thrumming with constant motion, energy, light— the feeling that you must latch onto something, quick, before it loses itself to the chaos and the frenzy. And so the characters here latch onto those previous pieces of simplicity, however insignificant they may be— a piece of themselves, a scrap of forgotten passion or an infectious rhythm to root themselves in so that they too don’t become— or remain— lost.
For one man dreary with wasting love, his passion dissolves in the heart but lingers in its propensity to destruct, to drive him to obsession, into cycles not so easily ruptured, to repetitions nauseating in their meaninglessness. In an attempt to free himself, he latches onto another, a woman who is herself suffering, though we know little of it. She is seemingly free from emotion, for we never see into her eyes, obscured as they remain by shades, and her features remain elusive, hidden in red lipstick and a blonde wig. The meeting between these two is fleeting and it seems they come to know little of each other; equally oppressed by their separate miseries, they meet, and then flit straight out of each other’s lives.
For another man, he is haunted by his own memories of fleeting love, another lost, another unrealised. So lost is he that as another woman— another chance encounter— invades his apartment, swapping and changing things, he fails to notice, lost inside his head, and in the world. She herself is lost in a dream world, in a quiet passion, striving for something and refusing to think. You like loud music? Yes, the louder the better. It stops me from thinking. Perhaps it is better this way, to dream free from thought, to be governed by feeling alone. The two— a man trailed by memories of fleeting love and a woman losing herself in music louder than thoughts— seem to hang suspended in their potential for love, connecting only fleetingly before pulling away, only to meet again, perhaps to resume that which dissolved too soon.
Here is revealed life, as it is, outlined by human connection, poisonous in its impermanence, heartbreaking in its fleeting touch, though one of the few treasures we humans are capable of claiming.