“Lost in Starlight” arrives on Netflix with considerable anticipation and the distinction of being the platform’s first original Korean animated feature film. Its simultaneous release in select U.S. theaters underscores the importance Netflix attributes to this ambitious project. “Lost in Starlight” is a poignant science fiction romance set in a meticulously imagined Seoul of 2050, charting the celestial and emotional orbits of an aspiring astronaut and a talented musician whose dreams are as vast as the cosmos that separates them.
The Story
“Lost in Starlight” invites viewers to Seoul, 2050, a city gleaming with futuristic advancements yet grounded in enduring human aspirations. The narrative orbits Nan-young, an astronaut whose ambition to reach Mars is deeply intertwined with the legacy of her mother, the first Korean astronaut chosen for a Mars mission, whose own journey ended in tragedy. After the crushing disappointment of failing her final test for the fourth Mars Expedition Project, Nan-young’s path seems clouded. It is in this period of uncertainty that she meets Jay, a musician of considerable talent who has retreated from his own artistic ambitions and now finds quiet purpose running a vintage audio equipment shop.
Their meeting is sparked by a poignant link to the past: Nan-young’s desire to repair an old record player, a memento left by her mother. From this seemingly simple interaction, a tender romance blossoms, one that breathes new life into their dormant dreams. Jay, encouraged by Nan-young’s unwavering support, begins to rediscover his passion for music, while Nan-young finds a renewed sense of hope and connection. The story’s central conflict ignites when Nan-young is unexpectedly offered a second chance to journey to Mars. This dream realized comes at a profound cost: a separation spanning 225 million kilometers, forcing the pair to confront not only the immense physical distance but also the undefined, star-strewn path of their future together.
The film thoughtfully explores how Nan-young and Jay navigate their individual ambitions against the backdrop of their shared love and the looming, almost unbearable, separation. Commendably, the narrative sidesteps common romantic tropes of prolonged misunderstandings, opting instead to portray a relationship where communication and the courage to face insecurities are paramount. This approach allows for a more mature and resonant exploration of love under extraordinary pressure.
The story artfully juxtaposes the grand, almost abstract ambition of space exploration with the intimate, tangible nature of human connection. Nan-young’s dream is Mars, a vast and scientifically challenging frontier. Jay’s world, in contrast, is one of melodies, the warm crackle of vinyl, and the intricate mechanics of vintage audio equipment—a more personal, sensory realm. Their love story unfolds not in sterile laboratories or spaceship simulators, but through shared, earthbound moments: dates exploring the familiar yet futuristic streets of Seoul, the quiet intimacy of repairing a record player. The primary obstacle to their happiness is, quite literally, the breathtaking vastness of space that threatens to divide them. The film’s own tagline encapsulates this dichotomy: “In 2050 Seoul, an astronaut dreaming of Mars and a musician with a broken dream meet among the stars, guided by their hopes and love for each other.” Through this framing, “Lost in Starlight” appears to pose a profound question about the hierarchy of human aspirations. Is the monumental societal achievement of space travel inherently more valuable than the deep, formative connection between two individuals? The film, while respecting the allure of the stars, seems to tenderly argue for the irreplaceable, life-giving power of the latter.
Characters and Performances
The emotional core of “Lost in Starlight” resides in its two protagonists, Nan-young and Jay, brought to life through nuanced voice performances. Nan-young, voiced in Korean by the acclaimed Kim Tae-ri and in the English dub by Maitreyi Ramakrishnan, is depicted as a brilliant and intensely driven individual. Initially, her life is singularly focused on her Mars mission, a pursuit fueled not only by scientific curiosity but also by a deep-seated need to bring closure to her mother’s fate. Her character arc involves navigating profound disappointment and then grappling with the immense complexity of balancing a once-in-a-lifetime career opportunity with an equally profound personal love. Kim Tae-ri, celebrated for her versatile roles in productions like “The Handmaiden” and “Mr. Sunshine,” reportedly approached this voice-acting role with meticulous care. Despite admitting to some insecurities about her voice, she focused on achieving a deep synchronicity with the director’s vision, aiming to create a vocal presence for Nan-young that felt distinct from her previous on-screen characters.
Jay, voiced in Korean by Hong Kyung and in English by Justin H. Min, is a musician who has allowed his dreams to fade into the background, finding quiet refuge in the tangible world of retro audio gear. He is presented as a flawed yet relatable character, running from past musical failures and insecurities. It is Nan-young’s belief in him that helps rekindle his passion. Hong Kyung, who gained recognition for his performances in “Innocence” and “Weak Hero Class 1,” expressed that he was drawn to the “appealing” scriptwriting and director Han Ji-won’s compelling visual interpretation of 2050 Seoul.
The relationship between Nan-young and Jay is portrayed with a refreshing maturity, acknowledging the emotional messiness and physical intimacy that characterize adult connections. They are not idealized figures; rather, their individual strengths seem to emerge from their vulnerabilities, and they find a compelling balance in each other. Early reviews have highlighted the natural, flowing chemistry between the voice actors, making the couple’s burgeoning romance particularly engaging to witness. Adding another layer to this dynamic, Kim Tae-ri and Hong Kyung reunite for this project after two years, potentially bringing an established rapport to their vocal interplay.
Beyond the futuristic setting and the extraordinary circumstances of an astronaut and a gifted musician, both Nan-young and Jay are defined by deeply relatable human vulnerabilities. Nan-young’s initial failure to make the Mars mission is a significant blow, especially given she is described as “bright and driven, but her work is her life,” suggesting an identity heavily invested in achievement. Jay, on the other hand, “buries his dreams” and is “running away from his dream,” haunted by past criticisms of his music. Their individual growth is not solely a product of personal resolve but is significantly catalyzed by each other’s unwavering faith and support. Nan-young encourages Jay’s music, and Jay’s genuine care and interest in Nan-young as a person, beyond her ambitions, helps her to open up. They consistently “lean on each other,” and the film delves into “the insecurities both characters face.” This grounding in authentic emotional dynamics suggests that “Lost in Starlight” posits that true strength and the pursuit of one’s most cherished dreams are often not solitary endeavors but are nurtured and fortified within the crucible of supportive, understanding relationships that acknowledge and embrace human imperfection.
A Retrofuturistic Seoul
“Lost in Starlight” is a visual feast, presenting a “retro-cyberpunk” aesthetic that is both inventive and deeply resonant. Director Han Ji-won masterfully crafts a 2050 Seoul that feels simultaneously futuristic and warmly familiar, blending cutting-edge technology with nostalgic touchstones like whirring record players and treasured vinyl albums. This visual language is the result of what Han describes as a “deliberate collision of the past and the future.”
The film is frequently described as “gorgeously animated,” a testament to its intricate detail. Close attention is paid to individual linework—the subtle stray strands of a character’s hair, the nuanced lines tracing emotion on a face—creating what one review calls a “stylized yet authentic vision.” The animation seamlessly integrates 2D and 3D techniques, employing 3D for elements like the desolate, beautiful landscapes of Mars or to add depth and scale to specific city scenes.
The environmental art is particularly noteworthy for its richness and “lived-in” quality. Every frame, whether depicting a sprawling cityscape or an intimate bedroom, is packed with details that provide exposition and deepen the world-building. Director Han Ji-won consciously chose to highlight Seoul’s existing architectural contrasts by making “old things look older and more worn down, and new things more minimalistic,” rather than simply superimposing futuristic designs. Symbolic imagery is employed to striking effect: a spinning record transforms into a swirling galaxy; flowers burst forth in dazzling explosions of color. The director herself notes that the “turntable aesthetic tied to the cosmos” serves as a key creative and narrative tool. The film’s shifting color palette, moving through blues, pinks, reds, yellows, and greens, further enhances the emotional tenor of scenes and establishes distinct atmospheres.
This “retro-cyberpunk” visual style is far more than superficial dressing; it functions as a potent visual metaphor for the film’s core thematic concerns. The persistent presence of analog technology and cherished old objects—Nan-young’s mother’s record player, Jay’s vintage audio equipment—amidst the gleaming advancements of 2050 serves to underscore the endurance of human emotion, memory, and tangible connections. The meticulously crafted “lived-in” feel of this future actively resists the often sterile, impersonal tropes of science fiction, suggesting a world that has evolved without erasing its history. Director Han Ji-won’s fascination with “old objects” and the idea that “trends come back around,” coupled with the animation’s focus on “minute actions” that make “the everyday feel dynamic,” roots the futuristic in the relatable and familiar. In essence, the visual design of “Lost in Starlight” compellingly argues that the future will not, and perhaps should not, efface the past or the tactile, emotional anchors that continue to define the human experience. It is a future that wears its history, its heartaches, and its hopes within its very aesthetic.
Han Ji-won’s Vision
At the helm of “Lost in Starlight” is Han Ji-won, a pioneering creator in Korean animated film. Her previous directorial works include the 2023 Girls’ Love-themed Korean animated film “The Summer” and the short film “The Sea on the Day When the Magic Returns” (2023). Her filmography indicates a keen interest in exploring “subjective moments and emotions of the younger generation living in the pressure cooker of South Korean society,” a sensibility she brings to this larger-scale production.
For “Lost in Starlight,” Han Ji-won envisioned a universe where objects and art forms beloved today retain their fascination for future generations. This was inspired by her observation of the cyclical nature of trends and an initial desire to tell a story that could span generations, eventually settling on a narrative where “the current times we live in became the past” for her characters. Her artistic approach emphasizes emotional depth, with a particular focus on “minute actions” in animation. She cites the work of filmmakers like Mamoru Hosoda and the recent animated feature “The First Slam Dunk” as inspirations, where “the everyday feels dynamic” and emotionally charged. A professed love for traditional 2D animation and a belief that “the technology of convenience will never stamp out the love and appreciation for older ways of doing things” profoundly inform the film’s optimistic embrace of analog elements within its futuristic setting. The comparatively larger budget afforded to “Lost in Starlight” compared to her previous independent projects allowed her greater creative freedom to implement these artistic experiments.
This distinctive vision has already garnered high praise, notably from director Bong Joon-ho, who lauded “Lost in Starlight” as a “visual masterpiece that takes you across the universe,” specifically highlighting Han Ji-won’s “intricate and fantastic visual storytelling.”
Despite the grand science fiction canvas of interstellar travel and futuristic cityscapes, Han Ji-won’s established focus on personal, emotional narratives and her meticulous attention to small human details suggest an auteurial, character-driven sensibility. Her fascination with traditional 2D animation, a medium traditionally celebrated for its expressive character work, and her nuanced vision of 2050 Seoul—one that prioritizes existing urban contrasts and makes “old things look older” rather than simply adorning buildings with “spaceship-like details”—further reinforce this. Even Bong Joon-ho’s acknowledgment of her “intricate and fantastic visual storytelling” seems to recognize that this visual mastery is in service of a deeper emotional core. Han Ji-won appears to be using the framework of science fiction romance not merely for its spectacle potential, but as an elevated, luminous stage upon which to explore profoundly human and relatable emotions. This positions her as a distinctive and compelling voice in the expanding world of international animated feature films.
The Role of Music
Music in “Lost in Starlight” is not mere accompaniment; it is a “core element that drives the narrative.” It serves as an invisible tether, connecting Nan-young and Jay even before their fateful meeting and later anchoring them when light-years threaten to pull them apart. Given Jay’s identity as a musician, the score naturally assumes heightened importance within the story’s emotional architecture.
One standout piece is the couple’s recurring theme, “Bon Voyage.” Notably, a version of this track features the distinctive vocals of Kim Taehyung (V of global phenomenon BTS), whose “crooner-like inspiration balances the futuristic setting with analog nostalgia,” perfectly encapsulating the film’s aesthetic blend. Adding authenticity and a personal touch, the lead voice actors, Kim Tae-ri and Hong Kyung, reportedly participated in writing some of the lyrics for music featured in the film, a collaboration that likely helped ensure the songs effectively captured the “headspaces” and emotional journeys of their respective characters.
The film’s musical approach, particularly Jay’s deep connection to vintage audio equipment and the “analog nostalgia” evoked by tracks like V’s rendition of “Bon Voyage,” beautifully mirrors the overarching “retro-cyberpunk” visual theme. Jay’s work at a “vintage audio equipment shop” and Nan-young’s quest to repair the “old record player left to her by her mother” are not just plot devices but symbols of enduring connections to the past. The soundtrack itself, blending futuristic soundscapes with the warmth of “analog nostalgia,” reinforces this. This resonates deeply with director Han Ji-won’s vision, which incorporates “retro objects” and draws on the idea that “trends come back around.” Thus, the music in “Lost in Starlight” functions as more than just an auditory backdrop; it is an active thematic layer, acting as a temporal bridge. It links the characters to past emotions—Jay’s buried dreams, Nan-young’s poignant memories of her mother—and their tentative hopes for the future, underscoring music’s timeless ability to articulate the deepest facets of human experience across ever-changing technological landscapes.
‘Lost in Starlight’ Now Streaming on Netflix
“Lost in Starlight” arrives as a luminous and heartfelt achievement, successfully navigating the ambitious expanse of science fiction romance while marking a significant milestone as Netflix’s first original Korean animated feature. Its strengths are manifold: a visually stunning animation style that seamlessly blends retro charm with futuristic wonder, a deeply emotional narrative anchored by relatable characters, and thematic explorations that resonate with timeless human concerns about love, dreams, and connection.
The film will undoubtedly appeal to a wide audience, particularly fans of thoughtful animated dramas, poignant science fiction romances, and the ever-expanding universe of Korean cinema. Those seeking a visually breathtaking and emotionally engaging experience will find much to admire. Indeed, some early reactions have drawn comparisons to the heartfelt, star-crossed lover narratives of filmmakers like Makoto Shinkai (director of “Your Name.” and “Weathering with You”), suggesting a similar capacity to deeply move audiences.
Where to Watch
