this story, in any form, is the definition of yearning. it’s nostalgic. emotionally inconvenient. lowkey dangerous.
and honestly, the movie surprised me. like first of all, i didn’t expect to enjoy it as much as i did. it was two hours long and i stayed interested the whole time, which is rare for me with romance because usually it gets too cliché or too corny and i mentally check out. but this was perfect.
going into it, i already knew people who read the book liked it, and people who hadn’t also liked it. but obviously there were the usual criticisms: “it’s not accurate,” “they left scenes out,” “it’s not the same as the book.” and i’m sorry but… that conversation is tired. a movie can never be as detailed as a book. you cannot condense hundreds of pages, inner monologues, and emotional build-up into two hours without losing things. that’s just reality. so i ignored all of that discourse going into this movie.
i actually made a conscious choice not to read the book first because i didn’t want to be biased. i wanted to judge the movie as a movie. not as an adaptation. not as a comparison project. just as its own thing. and for what it was? it worked. it was fun, engaging, emotionally soft in a way that didn’t feel forced.
poppy and alex still carry that same dynamic:
she’s chaotic, colourful, always running from stillness.
he’s quiet, grounded, emotionally repressed in a gentle way.
they balance each other, but they also trap each other in comfort and fear. and that’s what makes it hit. it’s not just romance. it’s timing. hesitation. emotional safety vs emotional risk.
and the yearning?? insane.
i’m usually an enemies-to-lovers girl. that’s my territory. but this movie single-handedly made me appreciate friends-to-lovers so much more. the slow realisation. the “this person has always been here.” the fear of ruining something good. it’s intimate in a different way.
there were moments where i genuinely felt jealous. like not even joking. watching them made me imagine myself in that situation: being best friends with someone, growing into something more, that soft shift from comfort into love. and i was like… yeah. i want that. that kind of connection. that kind of slow-burn emotional safety. it actually hit.
for the book, the structure is one of its strongest elements: jumping between past vacations and the present, slowly letting you piece together what went wrong. it feels like flipping through memories you’re not supposed to see yet. emotionally painful but addictive.
sometimes it drags, though. like it circles around the same fear for a little too long. the miscommunication is realistic, but still frustrating. you’re just sitting there like please say one honest sentence and free us all. but at the same time… that hesitation feels human. it feels like fear, not stupidity.
the movie trims that emotional dragging into something tighter and more digestible. it doesn’t overcomplicate itself. it keeps the core: longing, timing, missed chances, soft love.
and it’s rare that a romance keeps me genuinely interested without making me cringe. this one did. i was locked in. emotionally invested. lowkey giggling. lowkey sighing. lowkey imagining myself in their place.
this isn’t a romcom. it’s a romance for people who romanticise memory, timing, and almosts.
for people who believe love is built in quiet moments, not just grand gestures.
rating: 7.5/10
soft. slow. emotionally frustrating in the best way.
a story that makes you miss people who don’t exist and vacations you never took.
and a movie that made me appreciate friends-to-lovers way more than i was emotionally prepared for.
this story, in any form, is the definition of yearning. it’s nostalgic. emotionally inconvenient. lowkey dangerous.
and honestly, the movie surprised me. like first of all, i didn’t expect to enjoy it as much as i did. it was two hours long and i stayed interested the whole time, which is rare for me with romance because usually it gets too cliché or too corny and i mentally check out. but this was perfect.
going into it, i already knew people who read the book liked it, and people who hadn’t also liked it. but obviously there were the usual criticisms: “it’s not accurate,” “they left scenes out,” “it’s not the same as the book.” and i’m sorry but… that conversation is tired. a movie can never be as detailed as a book. you cannot condense hundreds of pages, inner monologues, and emotional build-up into two hours without losing things. that’s just reality. so i ignored all of that discourse going into this movie.
i actually made a conscious choice not to read the book first because i didn’t want to be biased. i wanted to judge the movie as a movie. not as an adaptation. not as a comparison project. just as its own thing. and for what it was? it worked. it was fun, engaging, emotionally soft in a way that didn’t feel forced.
poppy and alex still carry that same dynamic:
she’s chaotic, colourful, always running from stillness.
he’s quiet, grounded, emotionally repressed in a gentle way.
they balance each other, but they also trap each other in comfort and fear. and that’s what makes it hit. it’s not just romance. it’s timing. hesitation. emotional safety vs emotional risk.
and the yearning?? insane.
i’m usually an enemies-to-lovers girl. that’s my territory. but this movie single-handedly made me appreciate friends-to-lovers so much more. the slow realisation. the “this person has always been here.” the fear of ruining something good. it’s intimate in a different way.
there were moments where i genuinely felt jealous. like not even joking. watching them made me imagine myself in that situation: being best friends with someone, growing into something more, that soft shift from comfort into love. and i was like… yeah. i want that. that kind of connection. that kind of slow-burn emotional safety. it actually hit.
for the book, the structure is one of its strongest elements: jumping between past vacations and the present, slowly letting you piece together what went wrong. it feels like flipping through memories you’re not supposed to see yet. emotionally painful but addictive.
sometimes it drags, though. like it circles around the same fear for a little too long. the miscommunication is realistic, but still frustrating. you’re just sitting there like please say one honest sentence and free us all. but at the same time… that hesitation feels human. it feels like fear, not stupidity.
the movie trims that emotional dragging into something tighter and more digestible. it doesn’t overcomplicate itself. it keeps the core: longing, timing, missed chances, soft love.
and it’s rare that a romance keeps me genuinely interested without making me cringe. this one did. i was locked in. emotionally invested. lowkey giggling. lowkey sighing. lowkey imagining myself in their place.
this isn’t a romcom. it’s a romance for people who romanticise memory, timing, and almosts.
for people who believe love is built in quiet moments, not just grand gestures.
rating: 7.5/10
soft. slow. emotionally frustrating in the best way.
a story that makes you miss people who don’t exist and vacations you never took.
and a movie that made me appreciate friends-to-lovers way more than i was emotionally prepared for.
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