Departures (UK)

Stumbling into this tragicomedy was an unexpected delight, offering a compelling look at a man spiraling through a messy breakup and a toxic situationship. While the narrative itself might not break new ground, the execution feels remarkably fresh and the overall approach is distinctive. It provides an unfiltered, honest examination of body image, queer dating, and the unending battle with self-worth. Thanks to energetic, rapid editing and a voiceover paired with a nonlinear structure, the storytelling really succeeds. Ultimately, the film suggests that moving forward sometimes requires looking back first.

The story begins with Benji being dumped by his boyfriend. He enters a heavy spiral of rejection, drinking daily while his mother becomes increasingly concerned. He eventually understands that revisiting his past is the only way to move forward. Benji has realized he is submissive and gravitates toward dominant, somewhat rough men in bed, yet he still craves someone who will hold his hand and comfort him afterward. We flash back eighteen months to an airport where he meets Jake, an incredibly attractive man, as they both head to Amsterdam for the weekend. Jake establishes immediately that he is straight. Despite this, the two click instantly; Jake brings a girl back with them and later sleeps with Benji as well. They form an arrangement to meet in Amsterdam every month, with Jake paying for everything. Even though the sex is great, Jake insists on his straightness throughout. This arrangement eventually collapses because Benji wants more than just a physical connection, and Jake makes it clear that will never happen. Jake isn’t just dodging his own feelings; he loses his temper the moment he is pushed on the subject and struggles to understand that others have needs too. Benji eventually discovers Jake has a girlfriend back home, and we see the relationship slowly disintegrate through flashbacks. In the present, Benji attempts to move on by meeting a guy for a hookup, but the man turns out to be genuinely decent and suggests coffee instead. As they talk and connect, Benji finally realizes he must let everything go. The film also offers glimpses into the childhoods of both Jake and Benji, showing how those early years shaped them.

Much of this film succeeds due to its visual construction. A layered, scrapbook-like style uses illustrations over key moments to create a playful texture that is quite rare. Because the story is told largely through Benji’s perspective using voiceover, the choice works well; it is delivered with a raw, self-deprecating humor that feels authentic rather than staged. His internal monologue is blunt, giving honest screen time to topics rarely addressed so directly, such as toxic masculinity, body image, and the specific pressures within the gay community. At its core, the film grapples with desire, trauma, and self-sabotage. Benji is a relatable, average guy—the kind of person often sidelined in favor of characters with sharp jawlines and perfect abs—and seeing him centered is a welcome change for both queer media and the community. The casting for Jake is also spot on. Rather than a mere “hot villain,” he is portrayed as someone with stunted emotional skills navigating a world that rewards his worst instincts. The film smartly demonstrates how internalized homophobia builds up over years, quietly eroding a person’s sense of self without them realizing the extent of the damage. Whether or not viewers have experienced Benji’s specific extremes, many will find themselves reflected here. There is also a surprising amount of humor, with funny beats appearing during dark moments, and the filmmakers successfully blend these tones. It all works together to keep Benji likable even during his self-sabotaging spiral, and even the film’s depiction of homophobia is handled with a strangely tender, comedic touch.

While some might compare this film to Pillions, I found them to be two very different movies. It offers a refreshing perspective on relationships, whether you have been hurt by another or have caused your own pain, much like the way Benji ends up doing to himself.(7/10)