Everything Goes Wrong

In the searing heat of a Tokyo summer, the neon‑lit streets of Shinjuku pulse with a restless energy that feels both exhilarating and oppressive. It is a world where teenage crews drift through alleys, their aimless wandering a soundtrack to the city’s simmering tension. Amid this urban heat, a young man named Jirō moves like a spark caught in a gust, his attitudes and ambitions shaped by the chaotic rhythm of the streets and the fragile promises that hover just out of reach.

At home, Misayo – Jirō’s single mother – navigates a delicate balance between her own survival and an uneasy partnership with the polished businessman Keigo Nanbara. Their relationship, a quiet undercurrent of dependence and desire, casts a long shadow over Jirō’s everyday life, feeding his jealousy and sparking a simmering conflict between loyalty to family and rebellion against the adult world he sees as compromised. The household becomes a micro‑cosm of larger societal frictions, where love, power, and resentment intertwine like the tangled wires of the city’s endless neon.

Beyond the family’s strained ties, Jirō is drawn into a knot of fragile connections that tease at his yearning for acceptance. Toshimi, a girl from his circle, offers a tentative intimacy that remains tinged with distance, while Etsuko, a college student with her own hidden burdens, hints at a world of desperate choices lurking just beneath the surface. As these relationships intersect, the film swirls with a moody, almost claustrophobic atmosphere, suggesting that every decision reverberates through an already shaky network of bonds. The tone is both gritty and lyrical, capturing the paradox of youthful vigor colliding with a city that seems to refuse any easy resolution—where, for Jirō, everything feels poised to go terribly wrong.

Last Updated: December 05, 2025 at 09:15