Wheel of Fortune and Fantasy (2021)

Wheel of Fortune and Fantasy is special because it turns the simplest cinematic ingredient—two people talking—into something as suspenseful and surprising as an action scene, where a pause can land like a plot twist and a sentence can redraw a whole life. Ryusuke Hamaguchi stages three intimate, conversation-driven romances that feel like chamber pieces: precise, humane, and quietly devastating in the way they honor how desire and regret can coexist in the same breath. The performances are so natural you stop “watching acting” and start eavesdropping, carried by dialogue that’s funny, awkward, piercing, and achingly true. If you need big spectacle or tidy catharsis, this may feel too understated, but if you’re open to a film that finds thunder in emotional nuance and the strange luck of human connection, it’s deeply rewarding.

Wheel of Fortune and Fantasy is trying to capture the messy way desire, chance, and regret ricochet through ordinary conversations, and Ryusuke Hamaguchi commits to that quiet, observational vibe. It’s mostly people talking in rooms, with tension built from what’s said, what’s withheld, and what’s imagined—so if you need momentum, big twists, or clear emotional closure, this will feel slow and frustratingly unresolved. As an anthology, it’s also uneven: one segment may land like a gut punch while another feels like a well-acted exercise that doesn’t quite add up. If you’re patient with ambiguity and enjoy intimate, dialogue-driven drama, it’s often sharply written and surprisingly affecting; if you’re looking for a tidy romance or a conventional payoff, you’ll likely leave irritated rather than moved.