The husband lives a boring but happy life with his beautiful and kind wife, Asuka. In their second year of marriage, Asuka decides she wants to take up a hobby and starts online English conversation classes. One day, the husband comes home and feels a sting of jealousy seeing her laughing and chatting on the computer with a Black English teacher, but he tells himself it's just online and nothing to worry about. Later, Asuka tells him she’s going to an "English conversation meetup" and leaves. When she doesn't come home and won't answer her phone, the husband's anxiety spiraling out of control as he realizes the meetup wasn't just about language.
There were too many irrelevant parts that could have been shortened, and too many characters that didn't advance the plot. Either way, some things didn't add up. This was just another played out plot with little, if any, originality in it. By the end of the film, I wasn't happy that she finally got her freedom, I was happy that it was finally over.
When you first hear that there is a series on Netflix where the lead character’s wife dies from cancer and he becomes dangerously suicidal, you wouldn’t immediately assume that it’s a comedy.
Lin-Manuel Miranda's Tony-winning musical translates beautifully to the screen.
Korean pop culture has mastered emotions as both a scientific field and an artistic revolution. Think of how K-Pop and K-Dramas have taken over the world. How? Simply put — they are addictive. How are they addictive?
Love, Simon (2018) based on the book “Simon vs The Homo Sapiens Agenda” (by Becky Albertalli) is a teen LGBTQ+ rom-com with themes of longing to find others with similar struggles, and ultimately is a story of acceptance of identity from those around you, and most importantly, from yourself.
