*This piece is part of our Critics In Conversation series, where two writers offer different perspectives on the same film. Read Jillian Russel’s review here.*
Ryusuke Hamaguchi’s Wheel of Fortune and Fantasy is a river flowing against conventional storytelling. Love is a gamble. And if you know anything about casinos, the players rarely win. The slice-of-life series explores the shadows of regretful romance and the glimmers of hope which implore characters to continue to roll the dice. In three self-contained vignettes, action is packed into wishful conversation between two people. The extrapolation of relationships begs viewers to look inward while also drinking in every word of many tense and intimate scenes. The stories are as restricted as the romantic gestures within them, each concluding with a lonely and unresolved emptiness.
The first episode “Magic (Or Something Less Assuring)” opens with a lengthy conversation between Meiko, played by Kotone Furukawa, and her best friend, Tsugumi, portrayed by Hyunri. Tsugumi gives a detailed account of her magical 15-hour first date she had recently gone on, which left me wanting to see rather than hear. When I was almost ready to close my eyes, Meiko suddenly runs upstairs to ask her ex-lover about his magic date, and the unlucky love triangle is revealed. Their explosive fight slowly turns to an internal reflection, showing how the threads of their past love had left a complicated web of emotions. Most romance movies would top this argument with a grand gesture from the man and a promise of forever. Yet this situation is left with many truths untold. This episode sets the tone for the rest of the slow burning feature.
This feature is not for the grandiose. If La La Land is Coca Cola, Wheel of Fortune and Fantasy is La Croix. It is hints of pain, murmurs of love, and memories of heartbreak. The second episode “Door Wide Open” is stomach-wrenching to watch, but not due to emotional acting. The acting style of the main duo Segawa (Kiyohiko Shibukawa) and Nao (Katsuki Mori) is more rhythmic and matter-of-fact. This tight-lipped professor, Segawa, and former student, Nao, unfold a dialogue which reaches a level of raw honesty that most people run from at all costs. The honesty twists to severe intensity when Segawa and Nao speak directly to the camera. The two see each other so clearly, it was as if they’re removing their skin, and stripping the audience as well. Segawa speaks of his fantasy novel, saying the words have a mind of their own and he rarely has the control to put personal desires in the text, which hints at a self-aware nature of the script itself. Fortune and Fantasy doesn’t feed desires of love, it follows the flow of reality, no matter how maddening it may be. The repetitive romantic piano theme which concludes this tortured story feels almost tongue-in-cheek, like a fluffy pillow on top of a bed of nails.
The third and final episode “Once Again” features a middle-aged woman, Moka (Fusako Urabe) attending her high school reunion in hopes of a reconnection with her past lover. At this point, I was begging on my knees for Moka to win (“Please, God! Let one of them be happy!”) And just momentarily, Hamaguchi gives into classic romance through a dramatic escalator encounter where Moka reunites with Aya (Aoba Kawai). But, like a carrot on a stick, Hamaguchi yanks all hope away when it is revealed that Aya and Moka have a mutual case of mistaken identity. Now, awkwardly and very comedically, two complete strangers are standing in a room together. Yet this becomes the most touching love story of all. With the floor pulled out from under them, Moka and Aya take turns sharing their grief, and act as a sponge for each other to bleed upon. Through the security of an anonymous encounter, they are able to let go of the ghosts they had clung to. Then, like a Claude Monet masterpiece, I was able to see how each minimal blot of unobtained desire created a grander picture of romance. The classic ending of chasing a lover and happily ever after may make an action-packed film, but it doesn’t force the individual to ever take a hard look at their reflection. The romance of self-realization was the real love Hamaguchi chased down. And one day, when I cling to my cats and Wendy Williams reruns, I will recall the beauty of eternally being alone.
