I want to be just like a melody.

After Yang – 3.5/5

The soul is a shelf, and the illusion is that we are filled by the things we choose to keep—or discard. But, mostly, it's the things we have no choice in. The things that stay that we want to discard, and the things that wave goodbye as we cling for them to stay. Whole memories—minutes, hours, days-long—become little fleeting visuals; no longer stories, barely moments, not worth repeating, hazy as they are. I think there are times the movie approaches self-parody; brief recordings of light reflected on walls, children's laughter, women's smiles, wind blowing; the flashback montage of every dead girlfriend who died before the movie starts. It's so gentle as to feel inhuman. In a movie about life's preciousness, it feels overly deliberate. You can't paint a full portrait with snippets. So, like memory then.