Blue Period

🎥 Synopsis: Yatora is a good-looking student with excellent grades and plenty of friends. One day, when he draws a painting of a quiet morning for an assignment, he realises that he wants to pursue a career in arts.

Brilliant, Bold and Beautiful

Blending emotion and artistry, the trailer hinted at a story beyond art—one about passion and the drive to create. It immediately drew me in, and I had to see if the movie lived up to that feeling. And I’m happy to say it did.

“Getting good grades is just like hanging with friends. I do what I have to do. I do that and get results. But why does it feel so unsatisfying?”

This line struck a chord with me. In school, I followed the same formula—put in the effort, get the expected outcome—but it often felt empty, like I was just going through the motions. And if I’m being honest, that feeling still lingers at times. Checking off boxes and meeting expectations is one thing, but finding real fulfillment in what we do? That’s something else entirely.

Maybe that’s why Ryuji Ayukawa’s character stood out to me so much. From the moment she stepped onto the screen, exuding confidence and a clear sense of self, it was impossible not to take notice. There’s something enviable about that—about knowing exactly who you are and what you want, or at least appearing to. Fumiya Takahashi was stunning in the role, bringing Ryuji to life with a presence that reminded me of Taiga Aisaka from Toradora—bold, defiant, and impossible to ignore.

It’s been a while since I last watched a J-drama, mostly because they always leave me an emotional wreck. So, when I recognized the complexity of Ryuji’s gender identity, I braced myself for a lot of heavy drama.

But to my surprise, she wasn’t as involved in the main plot as I expected. I initially thought she and Yatora would struggle together through their artistic journeys, but that wasn’t the case. Maru Mori didn’t have much screen time either. I assumed a love story would develop since she seemed like the muse, but I was wrong.

The focus was on Yatora, and I actually liked that. His journey felt personal, and the film stayed true to his growth as an artist rather than forcing unnecessary subplots. Instead of romance or shared struggles, the story explored his insecurities, creative breakthroughs, and the pressures of pursuing art. It felt raw and genuine.

I won’t go into details to avoid spoilers, but these moments hit hard—so much so that I couldn’t hold back my emotions and cried. I loved the subtlety—the carefully composed frames, the way art was woven into the storytelling, and the depth of meaning behind it all. It wasn’t just about what was shown but also what was left unsaid, lingering in quiet moments and making it all the more moving.

Yet, as much as the film moved me, something about the ending felt incomplete. I wanted the examination scenes to dive deeper—not just into the art creation process, but also the critiques and peer reactions. I also kept expecting something to happen with his arm, but it never did. Maybe I was reading too much into it, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was missing.

In the end, everything was wrapped up nicely, especially with one heartfelt line: “Thanks for believing in me.”

Pursuing a passion often feels like walking alone, weighed down by doubt. But the belief of even one person can light the way forward. That simple moment was a reminder that even the smallest act of support can make a world of difference.

That’s what made Blue Period such a beautiful experience. It wasn’t just about art—it was about the emotional journey of creating, overcoming doubt, embracing vulnerability, and discovering meaning along the way. If you love stories about passion and perseverance, this film is worth watching.