‘Lasting Moments’ (2025) Netflix Movie Review - A Devoted Couple Fights, But Hold on

I walked into watching this film thinking it would be simply another romance with a twist, but what unfolded felt slightly above that, in large part because of how grounded and honest the performances are. From the opening scene of Aki and Pia in modest surroundings — making do, dreaming big — you sense the stakes aren’t about blockbuster thrills but about the quiet urgency of everyday love. The way they lean on each other, how Pia pushes herself to lift her family from poverty while Aki tries to keep pace and sometimes stumbles, gives the story its emotional core. The writer-director (Fifth Solomon) sets out to explore not just “will they stay together” but “who will they become” in the process, and for many stretches that exploration works beautifully.

One of the film’s strongest points is the chemistry between the leads (Sue Ramirez as Pia and JM de Guzman as Aki). Their interactions don’t feel forced or rehearsed—they feel lived-in. There are moments where Pia silently stares at an opportunity she regrets not taking, and you believe that in that silence, she’s making a thousand decisions. Aki’s frustration when he sees Pia advancing while he remains stuck has texture: it’s not villainy, it’s fear. These layers give the characters weight. On top of that, the film’s look is restrained but deliberate: quiet camera moves, naturalistic lighting, a pace that allows scenes to breathe. It gives room for the small moments to register (a glance, a missed call, a memory smothered by a busy life). The cinematography supports the emotional rhythm rather than distracts, and I appreciated that restraint.

The story introduces a turning point when tragedy strikes—something the film doesn’t mince—it reshapes their path, and the film takes on a different tone. Up until then, you have a feeling you know where the story is going: couple works, obstacle appears, they reconcile. But the film subverts that somewhat by allowing the trauma to linger, by making the healing process visible. That is commendable: you’re not just shown the breakup or the fight, you’re shown the after-effects, the things that people often skip. For instance, the story shows how Pia’s ambitions start to wedge space between them, how Aki begins to resent that gap, how the memory of what used to be haunts them. The script does a fine job of balancing hope and regret.

And yet—this is where I had some reservations. While the film nails the emotional tone, at times the pacing suffers. After the tragedy, there are stretches where the film lingers perhaps a bit too long in moments of reflection, and the weight of internal pain begins to feel repetitive. I found myself wishing for a stronger external conflict or more variety in scene design. The film is rooted so deeply in internal lives that sometimes the external world—the jobs, the family demands, the social pressures—feels like a passive background rather than an active force. Because of that, there were parts where I lost a little connection, waiting for the next emotional beat rather than being swept by one.

Another minor issue: some supporting characters could have benefited from deeper development. Pia’s family, for example, looms large as motivation but remains at arm’s length. Their struggles and voices feel more like scaffolding than fully realized arcs. That doesn’t ruin anything—far from it, but it does mean that occasionally the main characters’ motivations have to carry more than the story seems willing to ask of them. Also, the ending, while emotionally satisfying, feels a bit predetermined: the film hints at real risk, real change, and yet resolves in a safe way. I wanted a little more daring: a scene that shatters the routine, a decision that completely upends one of the characters. Instead, the closure is gentle, which will appeal to many, but left me slightly wanting.

Still, when all is said and done, the film delivers. The dialogue is smart without being showy: characters speak how people in real life speak with hesitation, truncation, and mis-timed lines. There’s a scene where Aki gives a perfunctory “I love you,” and Pia doesn’t reply, and the camera just lingers on her turning away. That moment, simple as it seems, says more than a thousand words. Moments like that make the film worthwhile—not because they are flashy, but because they trust the audience to feel.

I also want to highlight the direction. Fifth, Solomon resists easy sentimentality. The film never pushes you to tears by pounding you with music or melodrama. Instead, the quieter choices— he ambient sound, the glance out a window, the uncut breath contribute to the tension of what’s unsaid. That kind of discipline is rare in films that centre on relationships and emotional healing. The film’s visual palette, soft browns, muted daylight scenes, and small places rather than grand sets reward patience. It reminds you that sometimes the greatest drama happens in kitchens, in traffic jams, in unpaid bills, and in the things we pretend are “just for now”.

On the emotional side, the film made me reflect on memory: how the “good old days” aren’t always as good as we remember, how progress often creates loss, how love sometimes waits in the margins rather than centre stage. The way the film handles that is tender rather than heavy-handed. I found myself thinking about my own relationships, the choices I’ve deferred, and the things I took for granted. That kind of resonance is a strength, and it stayed with me after the credits rolled.

In terms of performances beyond the leads, the actors doing the smaller roles (friends, co-workers) do solid work. They create a world that feels lived-in. But again, I keep returning to the thought: I would have liked one of those characters to press a harder wedge, to force a confrontation that shakes Aki and Pia out of their inertia. Because as much as the internal drama is rich, sometimes I long for an external event that jolts the story into a different gear rather than gradually winding up.

In conclusion, I’d say this is a film worth seeing if you appreciate character-based storytelling, emotional honesty, and the kind of love story that doesn’t glamorize but humanizes. It may not deliver wild surprises or blockbuster moments, but it gives you a thoughtful, mature look at what it means to build something together, to lose something together, and to try again. If you're willing to go at its pace and let the quieter moments wash over you, you’ll find a lot to like. And while there are a few scenes where the momentum dips and the support cast feels underused, those are minor compared to the whole. For me, Lasting Moments is ultimately a quietly strong film, not perfect, but genuine, and for that alone it stands out.

Final Score- [7/10]
Reviewed by - Anjali Sharma
Follow @AnjaliS54769166 on Twitter
Publisher at Midgard Times