I walked into Goodbye, Farewell, bracing myself for a melodramatic sobfest, and I got something more curious than that. It has its tears and heartache, sure, but it also has awkward silences, tonal missteps, and some narrative jolts that made me squint. Still, it’s hard to hate a film that dares to wander off the beaten path, even if it sometimes loses its compass along the way.
Wyn (Putri Marino) shows up in Seoul with equal parts desperation and hope, hunting for Dani (Jourdy Pranata), who’s gone missing or perhaps changed his identity completely. Enter Rey (Jerome Kurnia), an Indonesian working in Seoul, who becomes her reluctant guide and emotional tether. As Wyn stitches fragments of Dani’s trail, Rey glimpses secrets that don’t add up. When Wyn and Dani are briefly reunited, things, of course, go off the rails. Dani vanishes again, leaving Wyn and Rey in a tug-of-war between loyalty, love, and mystery. They also lean on Vanya (Lutesha) and Anto (Kiki Narendra) for emotional ballast, though those supporting roles sometimes feel more decorative than integral.
Let me start with what worked for me. The chemistry between Marino and Kurnia is quietly compelling. They don’t overplay their emotions; they sometimes just sit next to each other, letting gravity do the work. The film’s visual palette—soft Seoul nights, rainy alleys, city lights through windows often feels like the third character in the drama. Cinematographer Dimas Bagus gives us moments where the scenery speaks louder than lines. There are scenes I paused mentally: a rainy street, Wyn’s silhouette, Rey’s reflection in a cafe window, all small, lingering tastes of sorrow.
I also appreciated how the script doesn’t hand you every answer. There’s a discomfort in the not knowing, in the gaps, and the film leans into that. It doesn’t pretend to resolve all emotional threads. Wyn isn’t the kind of hero who charges boldly; she stumbles, questions, and sometimes does nothing. That messy humanity gives the film texture.
But, and this is where the film’s more irritating side showed, some of the gaps feel less like artistic silence and more like sloppy cutting. There are plot threads dropped so casually that you wonder if the editors just erased them without checking. Why certain characters act the way they do, especially Dani, gets murky. It’s as if the film makes bold promises (a secret identity, emotional history) and then forgets about them halfway through.
The tone is also inconsistent. One moment you’re in a quiet emotional drama; the next, you’re in a near thriller, then a romance, then back to confusion. Some comical bits are sprinkled, but they don’t always land. The pacing drags in spots where the film seems unsure whether to propel forward or just let inertia carry it. In one stretch, I wondered if the film had nodded off, and I missed a reel.
Another annoyance: certain visual or symbolic choices feel gratuitous. A dark outfit here, a shot of a phone screen there, a vague montage of memory, none of it tightly anchored to character or motif, just “cool-looking stuff.” And yeah, I rolled my eyes a bit when Dani’s vanishing acts seemed to depend on plot convenience more than a believable motive.
Still, for all its flaws, Goodbye, Farewell has an emotional core that pulses. As Wyn and Rey’s relationship evolves, sometimes accidentally, sometimes with intention, you feel their mutual heartbreak, guilt, and longing. There’s a moment late in the film when Wyn’s face registers an internal surrender; I felt that. The film accepts that closure isn’t always clean or guaranteed.
Some dialogue feels stilted (in key scenes, people speak as if narrating their own emotions), but Marino often rescues it with her subtle expressions. She conveys doubt, fatigue, heartbreak, and stubbornness, sometimes all at once. Jerome Kurnia’s Rey is more ambiguous; his quiet observance sometimes works, sometimes leaves you craving more motivation.
The decision to set this Indonesian story in Seoul gives the film a kind of dislocation that matches its emotional wandering. Wyn is a foreigner in a foreign land, chasing something and someone she doesn’t fully understand. That sense of being slightly lost—linguistically, culturally, emotionally—is perhaps the film’s underlying tension. Yet I wished the film leaned harder into that dislocation instead of occasionally glossing over it.
The supporting cast, especially Lutesha’s Vanya, offers moments of respite and grounding. Vanya feels more real and present in her small arcs than some of the film’s bigger ideas do in theirs. But too often, side characters seem to flicker in and out, used to nudge the leads rather than exist on their own.
In the end, the film doesn’t tie up all the loose ends. You finish watching with questions. Does Wyn truly find Dani? Does Rey stay or leave? Are they better off having crossed paths or never having tried at all? That ambiguity will frustrate some viewers—those wanting neat resolutions or emotional beats at all turns, but I kind of admired the courage in leaving things open.
Would I recommend Goodbye, Farewell? Yes, but with a caveat: it’s for someone willing to tolerate a little narrative mess in exchange for raw feeling. It’s not perfect, and it’s sometimes too timid to lean in or bold enough to commit. But when it hits, those moments hit. This film feels like someone whispering their heartbreak in your ear, not yelling it from a mountaintop. And that whisper lingers.
Final Score- [6.5/10]
Reviewed by - Anjali Sharma
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Publisher at Midgard Times