I sat down to watch 18th Rose expecting a soft, emotional coming-of-age film. What I got instead was a two-hour masterclass in how not to communicate, dressed up in pretty lighting and formal gowns. And to be clear, I wasn’t bored, but entertained. Just not always in the way the film intended. Let’s start with Rose, our protagonist, who is so committed to having the perfect debut that it becomes less of a celebration and more of a full-time project management role. I admire the dedication. I do. But at some point, I stopped seeing her as a relatable teenager and started seeing her as someone who would absolutely schedule her own emotional breakdown between 4:00 and 4:15 PM. Xyriel Manabat does her best to ground the character, and she succeeds in making Rose likable in quieter scenes, but the writing insists on giving her decisions that feel… generously described as “bold,” and more accurately described as “please stop.”
Then there’s Jordan, the mysterious, quiet guy who enters the story like he’s been instructed to look thoughtful at all times. Kyle Echarri plays him with a kind of gentle restraint, which works until you realize he’s carrying entire emotional arcs on the strength of subtle facial expressions and minimal dialogue. At times, I found myself leaning forward, trying to figure out what he was thinking, only to realize the answer was probably “not much, because the script hasn’t told me yet.”
The central deal between Rose and Jordan is where things begin to spiral, not in a dramatic, edge-of-your-seat way, but in a slow, inevitable, “this could have been avoided with one honest conversation” way. The film relies heavily on misunderstandings, withheld truths, and characters choosing silence at the worst possible moments. Watching it felt like observing a group project where no one wants to open the shared document, but everyone is upset about the outcome. And the thing is, I get it. Miscommunication is a classic storytelling device. But here, it’s used so frequently that it stops feeling like a narrative choice and starts feeling like a coping mechanism for the plot. Every time a conflict arose, I found myself predicting exactly how it would unfold, and I was rarely wrong. It’s not that the film lacks ideas—it’s that it seems oddly committed to not doing anything surprising with them.
That said, the film does look good. Visually, it’s polished in a way that almost distracts you from everything else going on. The coastal setting is beautiful, the lighting is warm, and the debut scenes are carefully staged. There were moments where I thought, “This is lovely,” immediately followed by, “Wait, why is this scene still going?” The cinematography is doing a lot of heavy lifting, and honestly, it deserves recognition for sticking with the film through all its emotional indecision.
The pacing, however, is where things really start to test your patience. At over two hours, the film takes its time, sometimes too much of it. Some scenes feel like they exist purely to remind you that the movie is still happening. The middle portion, in particular, drags in a way that isn’t reflective or introspective; it just feels repetitive. The same emotional beats come up again and again, slightly rearranged, like the film is hoping you won’t notice.
Dialogue is another mixed experience. There are moments of genuine sincerity where characters express something real and grounded. And then there are lines that feel like they were written to sound meaningful but end up sounding like someone trying very hard to say something important without actually saying anything. I wouldn’t call it bad writing across the board, but it’s inconsistent enough to pull you out of the story. What I did find interesting, though, is the film’s focus on expectations—family, social, and self-imposed. Rose’s desire to control every aspect of her debut reflects a deeper need for validation, and the film does touch on that in ways that feel honest. Unfortunately, these moments are often surrounded by plot choices that undermine their impact. It’s like the film briefly becomes insightful, then immediately gets distracted by its own drama.
And speaking of drama, the emotional reveals don’t always land the way they should. There’s a lot of buildup to certain moments, and when they finally arrive, they feel oddly underwhelming. Not because the ideas aren’t strong, but because the execution lacks urgency. I kept waiting for a scene that would genuinely surprise me or shift the tone in a meaningful way, but the film stays firmly within its comfort zone.
By the final act, everything starts to wrap up in a way that is neat, predictable, and just satisfying enough to prevent frustration from turning into disappointment. The resolution feels earned in a technical sense, but it doesn’t leave a lasting emotional impact. It’s the kind of ending where you nod and think, “Okay, that makes sense,” rather than feeling anything particularly strong.
Despite all this, I didn’t hate watching 18th Rose. In fact, I was consistently engaged—partly because of the performances, partly because of the visuals, and partly because I was genuinely curious how the film would resolve its many self-inflicted complications. It’s not a bad movie; it’s just a movie that occasionally feels like it’s working against itself. If anything, it’s an experience. A slightly chaotic, sometimes frustrating, often amusing experience where you watch characters make questionable choices in beautifully lit settings. I laughed more than I expected—not always at jokes, but at the sheer persistence of the film’s commitment to avoid simple solutions.
In the end, 18th Rose is a decent coming-of-age story buried under layers of unnecessary complications. It has heart, it has effort, and it has moments that almost come together perfectly. But it also tends to overextend, overcomplicate, and overestimate how long an audience will patiently watch people not say what they clearly need to say. Would I recommend it? Yes, but with a very specific mindset: go in ready to enjoy the ride, question every decision, and occasionally yell “just talk to each other” at your screen. It’s more fun that way.
Final Score- [5.5/10]
Reviewed by - Anjali Sharma
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Publisher at Midgard Times