While Korean animation director Han Ji-won's fame has steadily grown in her homeland, Netflix's worldwide release of her latest, most substantial movie, is the first opportunity for English-speaking viewers to legally stream her work. Her previous film, 2023's The Summer, a mere 61 minutes in duration, was a bittersweet, melancholic girls' love story filled with powerful emotional moments. Lost in Starlight takes its initial inspiration from 2016's Beautiful Moments, a 90-second TV advertisement for jewelry company Stonehenge made at the beginning of Han's professional directing career. Lost in Starlight shares several visual motifs with Beautiful Moments, and a similar premise of a girl yearning to follow a beloved family member to the stars.

Dr. Nan-young Joo is a brilliant, driven young woman, determined to follow in the steps of her mother, who lost her life to disaster in the first Mars expedition in 2026, twenty-five years previously. Now in 2051, Nan-young's closed-off personality makes her a liability for the next long Mars mission (a six month journey either way), and her lack of normal emotional response to a stressful VR simulation leads to her being demoted to reserve status by her NASA bosses.

Crushed but still determined to prove her worth, she returns home with the hope that if she can perfect her mission-critical life form respiration detection technology, NASA will reconsider her place on the mission. What Nan-young doesn't expect is for a chance encounter with local repair guy Jay to change her entire outlook on life. On first meeting they literally bump into one another, leading to the vinyl record turntable Nan-young is carrying to break. Thankfully, Jay can repair such vintage technology. As Jay romantically pursues the initially reluctant Nan-young, they gradually come to open up to one another about their hopes, dreams, and insecurities.

Lost in Starlight's depiction of a futuristic Seoul isn't too different from our present. While glimmering glass skyscrapers shine in the distance, Jay and Nan-young live in a world of old wood-and-stone buildings, and lived-in apartments. Augmented Reality visual overlays and omnipresent holographic projections are the world's main signifiers of technological progress, with characters able to manipulate virtual information screens and objects, Minority Report-style. It's functional, realistic tech that's utilized in grounded and unobtrusive ways, while also adding brightly-colored flare to the visuals. Long-distance communication now occurs with holographic scanning technology, which allows Nan-young's American friend's projected avatar to wander around her apartment as if she was there.

This is a movie drenched in color, from the verdant greenery of Seoul's parkland to the warm reds and browns of its older buildings, not to mention the vibrant, sparkling starscapes and sunsets, many of which would make Makoto Shinkai proud. Gorgeous, detailed background work isn't Lost in Starlight's only debt to Shinkai – with its focus on lovers separated by circumstances, space, and time, it's very reminiscent of his early work, most notably Voices of a Distant Star and 5cm per Second. Unlike with Shinkai, this is a romance featuring adult characters, without the focus on potentially frustrating, fruitless adolescent yearning. With a lift-off sequence reminiscent of Wings of Honneamiseand Mars-based exploration evocative of Arthur C. Clarke-style classic SF, director Han's influences shine through, while maintaining her own unique identity.

Han's collaborative approach with her two lead voice actors lends the central relationship a cozy, realistic vibe, which is remarkable, considering that while they are both veteran K-drama actors, this is their first time voicing animation. Nan-young is voiced by Kim Tae-ri (The Handmaiden), while Jay is voiced by Nong Kyung (Weak Hero). Both previously appeared together in live-action drama adaptation of the webtoon The Uncanny Counter, so perhaps their familiarity with one another helps sell the adorably dorky relationship between these two introverted, emotionally vulnerable characters.

Music is an integral part of Lost in Starlight's appeal, with a truly excellent soundtrack, and vocal tracks sung by the two leads, with lyrics they also collaborated on. While the main narrative thrust is Nan-young's drive to reach Mars, Jay's slightly more down-to-Earth ambitions involve music. An unfinished demo track he recorded, then quickly deleted years previously, becomes an important component of his relationship with Nan-young, and she encourages him to reconnect with his former bandmates to pursue wider recognition for his talents. Jay finds inspiration from Nan-young in conquering his seemingly insurmountable nervousness regarding public singing. In terms of visual motifs, the record player he repairs for her (only for her to horrify him by using it as a bluetooth speaker, as it's a real model from 2023) becomes incredibly important in the film's psychedelic climax. Nan-young's universe seemingly shrinks to the scale of a record turntable, as she hallucinates wildly, battling across the vinyl surface, luminescent grooves pulsing beneath her feet.

Said climax is tonally quite different to the preceding majority of Lost in Starlight's runtime, consisting of mostly chill, slice-of-life atmospherics. From the moment of the pair's inevitable separation, the emotional intensity and dramatic tension steadily climbs to an almost unbearable crescendo. Jay and Nan-young's holographic conversation while she wanders, then breaks down and weeps amongst the plants in the enormous rotating glass circular greenhouse, is a powerful, beautiful moment that emphasizes the pain of their separation, while also showcasing the incredible potential of human dreams and ingenuity. Nan-young's dreams drive her towards mortal peril, and Jay's reaction to the reality of their situation is painful, but realistic.

Once on Mars, the mission proves as dangerous to Nan-young's life as Jay feared, and the film switches gears to unbelievably tense disaster-movie mode. I'm not sure I breathed at all during the final few moments. I can confidently attest that Lost in Starlight kept my rapt attention throughout its entire runtime, especially during its incredible climax. While the scene juxtapositions between Nan-young's Mars-set tribulations and Jay's musical challenges are a little clumsy, they succeed in provoking visceral emotional reactions, and a genuine unpredictable unease as to the final outcome, whether bittersweet tragedy or hard-won happiness.

Lost in Starlight is a startlingly beautiful movie, with deeply relatable characters and a convincing central relationship, an entrancing soundtrack, a compelling story, and a tense, rewarding climax. Please don't be put off by any small-minded criticisms that as it's Korean, it “isn't anime.” I don't think it matters. It's a good animated movie, period. With a style reminiscent of anime, yet distinct enough to be its own thing, fans of romance and sci-fi anime films should consider broadening their horizons and giving Lost in Starlight a chance. I'm glad I did.