To touch. To feel. To be next to someone in reality. In the flesh. To ‘be’ inside a world where life is fleeting.

But feelings are not.

This fleeting reality is the story the Japanese film Egoist tells. Starring Suzuki Ryohei (Kosuke) and Miyazawa Hio (Ryuta), it follows fashion editor Kosuke, touching briefly on his past before delving into his tragic love story with a man struggling to make ends meet by selling his body. It tells an authentic story of a same-sex relationship in Japan that faces the harsh reality of financial disparity while trying to capture a moment inside the agony Kosuke faces.

Moments are fleeting. Memories are not. And it’s memories death leaves Kosuke with.

Death is a cruel reality. Nothing prepares someone for loss. Nothing prepares someone for brokenness. No matter how bright a life is, no matter how full, loss is a massive emptiness that breathes, “I have taken this from you.”

And that’s why feelings and memories outlive life. That’s why love lives on long after life has ended.

Egoist feels simple as a whole. It’s a life story that lives up to the autobiographical novel by Makoto Takayama that inspired it. Family. Love. Hardship. Selfishness. Smiles. Tears. Death. Overwhelming loss. Life after loss.

That’s life.

That’s the story Egoist tells.

But that’s also what makes Egoist so great. Films often try too hard to wax poetic because film is art, and art is a beautiful way to express oneself poetically.

But realism is also art.

The reality we live in often feels too dark to be artful. It’s hard to see the beauty inside pain. But pain, hurt, and loneliness are also beautiful in their own right. We avoid pain without realizing how full it can make our lives. Pain gives us a place to build off of. It teaches us to appreciate the things that don’t hurt us.

Pain is the main character in Egoist, but so is love. And in love, there is apology.

How often do we tell the people we love, “I’m sorry.” How often do we feel burdensome to the people we care about? How often do we feel overwhelming to ourselves and the people around us?

Apologies. Regrets. Fears. Responsibilities.

All of these are as much a part of love as happiness. All of these are emotions Egoist touches on. It seems more satisfying to focus on the joy of love rather than the sides of love that hurt. But where happiness fills us up, pain grows us.

I’ve lost a lot of people I’ve loved to illness, depression, and unexpected death. Each loss hit differently. And yet all of them felt the same. Each created a new emptiness to fill. And in an odd twist, trying to fill that emptiness gave me more reasons to live. To dream. To take responsibility for myself while also learning about myself.

Loss, like love, builds on itself. It never happens only once. For Kosuke, loss followed him, but with each loss, he found a new goodbye. A new reason to apologize. A new reason to blame himself. But it also opened up new ways to love and forgive himself.

Like Kosuke, no one understands love. Life would be dull if we did. Trying to understand love is why there is so much art that attempts to make sense of it.

Love is loss. Apology. Forgiveness. Brokenness. Need. Healing. Smiles. Laughter. Tears.

Life is fleeting. Feelings are not. Memories are not.

For Kosuke, caring for the people he loves is the same as taking care of himself. It’s the same as nurturing the love he found long after it’s gone. But his need to take care of others also walks a fine line between love and selfishness. And that’s the point of the film’s title and Kosuke himself. Keeping Ryuta close by supporting him financially and continuing to care for Ryuta’s mother after his passing is Kosuke’s way of helping himself. Told from Kosuke’s point of view, we see his need to keep Ryuta close, his need to hold onto their love by taking care of Ryuta’s mother. His need to recreate the affection he also misses from losing his mother.

The film feels one sided, but that makes the loss much more impactful. It makes Kosuke’s desire to keep Ryuta and his mother close that much more prominent.

Egoist opens with Kosuke and the life he lives and the wanting he feels. It ends in loss. But it also ends with Kosuke holding onto Ryuta’s mother’s hand. And isn’t that what life is? It’s holding on through everything. It’s selfishly wanting while also trying to understand.

All while holding on.

For a film that doesn’t shy away from itself and it’s reality, check out Egoist.

Rating- 4 out of 5