Aloners

In a cramped urban landscape where the hum of traffic blends with the endless drone of a call‑center, Jina has crafted a life of deliberate solitude. By day she fields credit‑card inquiries with practiced confidence, hiding the frayed edges of her mental wellbeing behind a polished professional façade. Outside work, she drifts through the city alone—commuting with a stream of television dramas and mukbang videos as silent companions, and returning to a quiet apartment where the only sounds are the faint buzz of the street and her own thoughts. The world around her is meticulously ordered, yet it mirrors the isolation she has come to accept as comfort.

Family ties linger in the background, a distant echo of a father whose emotional distance amplified the grief of losing her mother. Jina watches this strained relationship from afar, a silent observer of the odd rituals that now fill his days. Her routine, however, begins to wobble when a new coworker enters the picture. Sujin arrives, earnest yet clumsy, demanding mentorship that forces Jina to confront the gap between her self‑imposed walls and the inevitable need for human connection. At the same time, a neighbor moves in next door, bringing with him a different sort of presence that subtly disrupts the rhythm of her solitary existence.

The tone of the film is a slow‑burning meditation on loneliness and the quiet desperation that can underlie a seemingly controlled life. It balances muted, almost clinical depictions of corporate monotony with moments of unexpected tenderness and absurdity—like the simple act of sharing a meal alone or the odd rituals of a family coping with loss. As Jina stands at the threshold of her meticulously arranged world, the film invites viewers to wonder whether the walls she has built will protect her or ultimately keep her from the healing that only connection can offer.

Last Updated: August 09, 2025 at 20:43