Is this technically a gay show? Even after getting through the whole thing, that's still kind of tricky to answer. There's never any physical intimacy shown between the two leads, not even a single kiss. What it gives you instead is something that goes way deeper than that. It traces an emotional bond that spans a full decade between two guys who are both dealing with their own baggage, and what they share basically amounts to being soulmates. The story moves across Japan, South Korea, and Berlin. Honestly, whether people want to call what they have a romantic relationship or not doesn't really matter to me. A relationship doesn't need a label like boyfriends attached to it to actually mean something. And closeness doesn't need to be physical to feel genuine. What this show captures is something quieter but way more powerful, a bond rooted in understanding, respect, and just showing up for each other. Across eight episodes, each running 35 to 45 minutes, this is one...
Ethnically Russian and now Lithuanian Dima is in New York for an interview. He meets his old friend and ex-lover Kostas (original Lithuanian and now American). Throughout their insightful dinner, they reminisce about their turbulent past as secret lovers in the Soviet Army, during times of perpetual queer persecution, of which both have some controversial bittersweet memories, as it was an era of oppression but also coincided with their wild youth. Kostas has a slight edge since he was able to leave the conservatism and move to more independent US. Whereas, from the other side of the world, ashamed of Russian politics and imperialist culture, Dima, who identifies himself as bisexual and also has had a failed marriage, is still passionate about changing the world. Kostas’s approach is more academic, focusing on structural changes or the lack thereof, while Dima stresses the importance of personal choice. The political (both past and present) and impact of that v/s on today's queer generation goes on and on. Kostas makes Dima stay for the night after he writes him a very poignant apology letter, that creates a flicker of hope in me as audience that maybe these two lonely former lovers, may still have a chance with one another.
This apology letter in the last 5 minutes of the film were the best part of the film and something that connected with me. Prior to that, the conversations were very academic and had started to put me off at multiple times. I would keep hoping the conversation would give us a more detailed account of what really happened in military and in their past, but mostly its left for you to imagine and figure out by the little hints that we are given. Kostas and Dima’s intellectual musings are intimate details of lives lived. They can speak about the violence of living under Soviet occupation and the xenophobia towards homosexuality. One of the enthralling disagreements the pair engage in is the disagreement over the legitimacy of choice. Kostas argues that living under tough circumstances strips away the person having a choice, whereas Dima challenges this supposition. It’s a thread that will run throughout the film, revealing a meticulous attention to detail. But is that enjoyable to watch as an audience? Only sometimes. The Writer does indeed spark relevant debates on ideological and intimate topics but leaves most of them only superficial. The film’s driving interest is the idea of how we’re defined by our choices, for better or worse, but it’s effectively supported by a broad themes and ideas. The sec scene after the apology letter, in my opinion, was totally unnecessary, but I guess something needs to be give to the target audience. The two actors do a wonderful job and were the saving grace in an otherwise dialogue heavy, serious film reflecting on how we carry our pasts with us, even as we build our future. (5/10)
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