Oh Lucy! 2018

Setsuko Kawashima Shinobu Terajima is a lonely, middle-aged office worker in Tokyo who feels detached from her coworkers, lives in a cluttered studio apartment, and remains estranged from her sister, Ayako Kaho Minami. Her world begins to shift when her niece Mika reveals she can no longer afford the English classes she signed up for and asks Setsuko to take over, sending her to the school for a complimentary first lesson. What follows is a quiet, illuminating journey through memory, longing, and the complicated pull of family.

At the language school, Setsuko encounters John Josh Hartnett, an American teacher who welcomes her with warmth, gives her an American name—Lucy—and outfits her with a bright blonde wig to adopt a new persona. She also meets Takeshi Komori Kôji Yakusho, who attends class under the name Tom. The instant ease she feels with John draws her deeper into the world of English study, a space that feels safer and more inviting than her own life. Yet the romance is brief and disorienting; John abruptly quits and heads back to the United States. Outside the school, a glimpse of John and Mika sharing a kiss before slipping into a cab confirms Setsuko’s fears: Mika has moved on, and a piece of her old life has begun to fade away.

Back in Tokyo, Setsuko tries to rejoin the flow of her ordinary routine, but the new teacher at the school proves too conventional and she withdraws once more. A postcard from Mika arrives, bearing a Los Angeles address, and Ayako urges Setsuko to follow—despite their fraught relationship and the complicated history that binds Ayako to Mika. The impulse to chase a fragment of the life she craves becomes a test of loyalty, memory, and resolve for Setsuko.

The journey to Los Angeles is charged with misgivings and curiosity. They arrive to find John at home, claiming Mika has left him and that he has no idea where she is. As Ayako and Setsuko comb through clues, a postcard from Mika surfaces, hinting at a motel in San Diego. With a shared, stubborn determination, the sisters rent a car and drive toward the last-known location, hoping to uncover Mika’s whereabouts and perhaps a path back to the people they’ve lost along the way.

While they wait for a sign from Mika, John offers to teach Setsuko how to drive, and what begins as a practical lesson gradually reveals a deeper, more intimate connection. Their bond deepens into a night of passion, and in a moment of reckless longing Setsuko asks for a tattoo that would resemble John’s. When she shows him the result, he rebuffs her, underscoring the fragile boundary between fantasy and reality that threads through their encounter. The next morning, Ayako confronts John and insists he take her to Mika. He returns to his house, where he introduces Ayako to his estranged wife and daughter; they know where Mika is but will not disclose it, leaving Ayako with a thin thread of information and a sense of betrayal.

Left alone at the motel, Setsuko encounters Mika, who reveals she broke things off with John after discovering his family. The sisters share a quiet moment—a beachside picnic where Mika needles Setsuko about her crush on John, and Setsuko admits that she once slept with him. The tension between them erupts into a physical clash, but it ends with Mika attempting suicide by leaping from a cliff—an act she survives. In the hospital, John confronts Setsuko about what she may have told Mika, and Setsuko asserts that her feelings for John are real, even as he rejects her and drives away. Ayako’s counsel is blunt: stay out of their lives.

Back in Tokyo, Setsuko learns she is being transferred to another department and chooses to quit, a decision that foreshadows a broader sense of upheaval. The moment is compounded when she overhears her coworkers laughing and cheering as she steps out of the office, a painful reminder of how quickly her world has shifted from possibility to loss. Gripped by despair over losing John, her job, and her family, Setsuko attempts suicide by overdosing on pills. Takeshi finds her just in time, forcing her to vomit the pills, and in the aftermath he resists her attempts to seduce him, treating her with a quiet, reluctant kindness. As they walk toward a subway station, Takeshi opens up about his own pain: his son’s death, the guilt he carries for being too strict, and why he sometimes embodies Tom as a way to cope with grief. He asks for a hug, and Setsuko responds with warmth, recognizing a human connection in the midst of turmoil.

Throughout its arc, the story follows Setsuko’s fragile navigation of desire, duty, and the longing for a second chance. The Tokyo-to-Los Angeles journey unfolds with aching tenderness, exploring how families—biological, chosen, or forged in the crucible of loss—shape and threaten the people we become. The film invites a patient, reflective viewing, letting viewers sit with the quiet moments of confession and the harder, noisier ones of heartbreak.

In the end, the film leaves Setsuko with a cautious sense of resilience. Her encounter with Takeshi offers a stark, human moment of tenderness—a reminder that even when love is complicated, human warmth can exist in small, meaningful folds of vulnerability. The final image lingers on the possibility of healing through connection, even when life has pulled people in divergent directions, and it underscores a core truth: that longing, empathy, and the simple act of seeking another person out can illuminate a path through pain.