‘Egoist’ Is a Masterful Story That Lacks Romance

Rhoyei Suzuki and Hio Miyazawa in Egoist

The realization that someone is (or might be) Queer changes a lot for them. It begins a process of recalibration of one’s idea of the future to make sense of this discovery, especially when the wider society is overwhelmingly heteronormative. Egoist is set in Japan, a country where despite a high rate of economic development, it lags in cultural development.

While someone might convince themselves that they have everything handled after choosing a life other than the one prescribed by society, this might be an illusion.

Egoist’s lead character is Kosuke, and the illusion he had created of his life starts falling apart, leading him to great depths of emotional turmoil.

Film Analysis

Kosuke is your regular 21st-century gay man in Tokyo. He has a core group of friends who are all gay (as far as we can guess). Looks do lie because Kosuke has the typical masculine physique, but when he starts expressing himself, one can see traces of societal prescribed femininity.

He must feel secure with his friends because he kikis with them without a care in the world, and they all have a good time. This image of a gay man confident and secure in himself is a powerful one, and it’s a positive step in representation.

Kosuke and his friends have a good time that ends as that—a good time. There is no gay-bashing as they leave an eatery or passive-aggressive homophobia.

As a fashion magazine editor, Kosuke is living his dream life. He has good friends and a nice place, and his father is in the picture.

It is a life he has worked hard for, leaving his little hometown when he was eighteen for Tokyo. He keeps his head down and does the work, earning a coveted position as an editor for a popular magazine.

Kosuke must have sacrificed a lot when he was younger to escape his circumstances. He was bullied as a child because of his queerness, and when he moved to Tokyo, it was a permanent respite from his past troubles.

But this picture-perfect world Kosuke lives in is far from it. One of his friends is in a long-term relationship, and despite Marriage Equality not being a thing, the friend has signed marriage papers with his partner for the kick.

This conversation is uncomfortable for Kosuke because, despite all his achievements, he’s single.

The conversation pivots to body image, and soon, everyone starts panicking about their age. Kosuke takes it to heart and soon looks for a personal trainer. Despite his impressive physique, Kosuke is convinced that he is disintegrating.

One can see that Kosuke doesn’t enjoy working out. He does it because he must and sees no benefit in it beyond muscles.

It helps that his trainer is young and attractive, and all that complementing, grabbing, and squeezing starts to affect Kosuke.

In a short while, Kosuke and Ryuta — his trainer — begin a wildly sexually charged relationship.

If you’re a kilig chaser, you’ll be disappointed by this relationship. For all its sexual charge, the beginning is far from perfect. It’s like a midlife cliche where a bored housewife starts having sex with her trainer because the husband is never home.

Undeniably, Ryuta and Kosuke have a great time together in the moments when they are alone and present. Not all relationships must be this legendary tale full of obstacles. Even a single sexual encounter can be absolutely mind-blowing.

The relationship crosses boundaries, which makes it hard to root for.

Call me crazy, but I think you should not have sex with someone who’s your employee. The power dynamics are skewed, especially when Ryuta is poor and has to work multiple jobs to make ends meet.

To make matters worse, Kosuke starts gifting Ryuta little gifts here and there. One would have thought that Ryuta was intentionally asking for things at the beginning of their relationship, but it turns out Kosuke was paying too much attention.

A naive person would call Kosuke’s actions generosity, but as events unfold, that assessment sinks.

Kosuke has all the classic signs of an unreliable narrator. His actions contradict what he thinks of himself.

One of the earliest things he mentions is that he had a great relationship with his mother. Even after coming out to her, she accepted him, but she died when he was just fourteen.

Kosuke seems to have lagged in some emotional aspects of his development, especially in his relationship with his mother.

He pays his respects to her once a year, and despite what he claims, his father doesn’t seem aware of the deep bond between mother and son. Surely, such a bind would warrant several visits a year.

Ryuta and Kosuke’s relationship is purely physical until Ryuta’s mother — Taeko — enters the picture. Taeko is Ryuta’s rasion d’etre. Everything he does is for her, including sex work that he’d done since he was fourteen.

It turns out Ryuta didn’t just have chemistry with Kosuke. He did this with every client he took on.

The depth of Ryuta and Kosuke’s relationships exists because of Taeko.

Kosuke gravitates toward Ryuta because he gets to live a healthy, filial relationship, something Kosuke never did when he was younger like the age Ryuta is now.

Sooner rather than later, Kosuke finds a way into the Nakamura house, and after meeting Taeko, he is blown away by her. She is the mother he never had.

The gifts he’s been giving Ryuta become more extravagant. He graduates from items in a bag to cash and then a car.

Ryuta is none the wiser because he thinks he’s been favored, and it’s also hard to tell Kosuke no. He insists on giving Ryuta something so that he nearly kneels and walks on his knees.

As fate would have it, Ryuta dies!

Kosuke mourns, not because Ryuta is dead but because he might lose his only connection to Taeko. When Kosuke attends the funeral, he is beside himself after seeing Taeko’s state. He also remembers Ryuta’s beauty, which sends him over the edge.

He doesn’t miss a beat, and after Ryuta’s burial, he reaches out to Taeko. When he can feel her pulling away, he offers her money for upkeep. Soon, Kosuke starts sleeping in Ryuta’s bed and then asks Taeko to move in with him.

To her credit, she declines.

Tragedy strikes again, and Taeko is diagnosed with cancer at a very late stage. She will die soon.

Kosuke mourns the impending loss like his life depends on it. He becomes quite dutiful, visiting Taeko every day while she’s hospitalized.

For someone so confident in himself before, he can’t bear to look at himself in the mirror as he puts on makeup because he feels pity for himself. He’d lost his mother and will lose a second one.

It’s unclear what his relationship with his mother was like, but what’s clear is that he can’t be trusted to be honest with his emotions. He might have had a great relationship with her or not.

But for sure, Kosuke is emotionally challenged.

Hio Miyazawa and Rhoyei Suzuki in Egoist
Hio Miyazawa and Rhoyei Suzuki in Egoist

Egoist Review

The first half of this two-hour movie will be softer to watch for fans of romance and lust, but the second half undergoes a significant tone change.

The film’s promotional material teased a romance story, but the movie tells a different story. Therefore, it might be disappointing to people who have some expectations about it.

The lack of romance between the characters was disappointing, but there was something to be appreciated about the bigger themes the film explored.

Egoist is well-produced and directed by Daishi Matsunaga, but it would not be the gem it is without Ryohei Suzuki’s masterful performance.

For most of its portrayal, the film doesn’t judge its characters’ actions, which makes it fun to engage with. It might be true that my analysis of Kosuke’s relationship with his mother is off, but that’s the beauty of it.

One truly disappointing decision was killing off Ryuta so abruptly. He ceased to exist all of a sudden, and the gap he’d left was visible.

Don’t expect heartstopping kilig from the couple, but if you’re in the mood for something deep, Egoist might be your beat.

Rating: 8/10

Egoist Movie Trailer