I feel sick. Not in a bad movie way, but in a… that did something to my insides way. It’s 1:47 AM and my room is dark except for the glare from my laptop screen. Netflix is asking me if I’m still watching Guilty. Yeah, Netflix, I’m still watching. I’m just… processing. My remote is on the other side of the couch. I don’t want to pick it up. My hands feel kind of dirty.
Okay, so. It’s about this college singer, VJ, who's accused of rape by a younger student. And his girlfriend, Nanki, this moody, songwriter type, she’s the one who has to figure out what she believes. I started it because I was scrolling, you know, just endless scrolling, and the title looked… intriguing. And it’s a Netflix original, so, you know, easy. Just click and sink into the couch cushions. That’s my move. Comfort is king. I was wrapped up in my favorite blanket, ready for some mindless entertainment. This was not mindless. Not even close.
There’s this song. "Jazbaat." It plays early on. It’s this angsty, rock-anthem thing that VJ’s band performs. The lyrics are all about inner turmoil and passion and blah blah blah, standard college band stuff. But it’s stuck in my head. Not in a good way. It’s like an earworm that’s actually a parasite. Because later… much later… you hear it again. But this time it’s different. The context shifts everything. The lyrics suddenly sound like a confession, a boast, a cry for help all at once. They use the song to unravel the entire story, cutting back to the performance with this new, horrifying knowledge. It’s so clever it made me angry. I literally sat up, my blanket falling off my lap, and just stared at the screen. My mouth was open. It’s one of the most brilliant uses of a song I’ve ever seen in a movie, and now I can’t get the damn tune out of my head because it feels tainted.
It all felt a little too real, you know? The college party scene, with the flashing lights and the sticky floors and everyone shouting over the music. It reminded me of this one party I went to in my first year. It was in some guy's basement, and the air was thick with sweat and cheap beer. I saw this girl there, she was super drunk, leaning against a wall, and this guy was just… talking to her. A little too close. A little too handsy. I didn’t do anything. I just watched for a second, felt this weird pit in my stomach, and then my friend pulled me away to play beer pong. I completely forgot about it until watching this movie. I wonder what happened after I left. I wonder if she was okay. But whatever, that’s not the point. The point is the movie pulls those memories out of you, the ones you’ve filed away under "things you don't think about."
I kept pausing it. That’s the luxury of watching at home, right? I could pause, go get a glass of water, stare out the window at the quiet street and just… breathe. Because the movie makes you feel complicit. You’re seeing it all through Nanki’s eyes, and at first, she’s defending him. She’s questioning the victim. And I hated her for it. I was literally talking to my TV, like, "What are you DOING? Open your eyes!" But then I had to stop and think. Have I ever done that? Not outright blamed someone, but… doubted? Hesitated? It’s uncomfortable. The movie holds up a mirror and the reflection is ugly.
And the twist. When it all clicks into place. When you realize who the real villain is. My heart was pounding. I had to pause the movie again and just put my head in my hands. It wasn't a jump scare, it was a… soul scare. A deep, gut-wrenching realization that made me re-evaluate every single scene that came before. It’s so well-constructed. But now that I’m sitting here, typing this out… was it too neat? In the end, there’s a clear villain. A clear resolution. I thought I loved it, but now… was it actually kind of a simplistic take on a super complex issue? Does wrapping it up in a neat little bow with a confession undermine the messy, gray reality of these situations? I don't know. I feel like I should re-watch it, but I also feel like I can’t put myself through that again tonight.
The whole experience was just so claustrophobic. Watching it alone in my dark room, the sound coming through my headphones… it felt like these people were whispering their secrets directly into my brain. The big screen would have been too much. Too loud. Here, in my little bubble, it was personal. It felt like a confession I wasn't supposed to hear. The way the camera gets right in Nanki’s face, you can see every flicker of doubt and fear. It’s intense. I had to take my headphones off at one point because the sound of her pen scratching on her notebook as she tried to write a song was driving me crazy.
So, who is guilty? The movie is called Guilty. Is it him? Is it her? Is it the system? Is it all of us for looking away? My brain is doing cartwheels. I thought I had it figured out. I thought I knew who the bad guy was. Then I thought I knew who the real bad guy was. Now I'm just thinking everyone's a little bit guilty of something. The friend who didn't speak up. The girlfriend who didn't want to see. The lawyer who plays the game. It's a mess. A beautiful, important, infuriating mess.
Okay. I need to stop. My brain is fried. I feel like I just ran a marathon in my head. I’m going to go stare at a wall for a while.
8/10. - solid
-Ishaan