a compassionate, occasionally unruly film that examines class, caregiving and the gig economy through the lives of a working-class Singaporean family
Anthony Chen’s We Are All Strangers is a quietly powerful film about people stretched thin by money, duty and the unpredictable demands of everyday life. Rather than relying on a tidy plot, Chen assembles a series of lived-in moments—kitchen conversations, late-night stalls, brief acts of kindness—that gradually reveal how relationships reconfigure when survival is the dominant logic. The camera watches with a steady, compassionate eye, letting intimacy and friction accumulate until small decisions feel seismic.
Characters and performances
The film’s greatest asset is its cast and the intimacy Chen coaxed from them. Performances are subtle but decisive: a look, a repetitive gesture, a short silence carry as much meaning as any monologue. Andi Lim grounds the film as Boon Kiat, a noodle vendor whose steadiness masks the precariousness beneath his optimism. Opposite him, Yeo Yann Yann is bright and pragmatic as Bee Hwa, a Malaysian migrant navigating bar shifts and online hustles; their late-blooming connection quietly expands the idea of family beyond bloodlines.
Koh Jia Ler’s Junyang captures the pressure of a younger generation—pulled between service obligations, first love and limited prospects—while Regene Lim’s Lydia represents the pull of social expectation and class difference. The ensemble’s tiny, specific choices—how they dress, how they move through cramped flats, how they measure their words—make the characters feel particular to Singapore and universally familiar at the same time.
Tone and restraint
Chen trusts restraint. Where the story might have tipped into melodrama, the actors’ restraint and the camera’s patience keep emotions anchored. Scenes of modest generosity sit beside clearer mistakes, and the film lets both stand without moralizing. When the narrative later introduces riskier strands—loan sharks, petty schemes—the jolts feel intentional, even if they unsettle the film’s earlier calm.
Themes and social context
At its core, We Are All Strangers explores how precarious work and cramped living shape intimacy. Live-streamed commerce, gig work and everyday hustles are not background color here; they are structural forces that determine who cares for whom and how care is paid for. Chen lingers on the choreography of labor—the practiced smile, the multitasking hands, the rhythm of a livestream—to show how economic pressure infiltrates private life. Care is staged as maintenance: cooking, cleaning, remitting bills—all become narrative currencies that reveal dependency, resentment and tenderness.
Form and style
Visually, Teoh Gay Hian’s cinematography and Chen’s measured editing emphasize proximity and constraint. Tight frames, naturalistic light and an eye for domestic detail make spaces feel lived-in and claustrophobic at once. The film breathes slowly at first, then quickens as years pass; this pacing mirrors the way adulthood accelerates responsibilities. Rather than flashy camera moves, Chen uses composition and continuity to let objects and routines tell much of the story.
Strengths and critiques
There’s a lot to admire: empathetic direction, a finely tuned ensemble and a convincing sense of place. Yeo Yann Yann in particular gives the film warmth and grit—often supplying comic relief without undermining the stakes. Some viewers may bristle at tonal shifts when quieter domestic scenes give way to harsher incidents; these pivots can feel abrupt and risk scattering the film’s focus. Still, they underscore the film’s central point: ordinary lives are porous to systemic pressures.
Context in Chen’s work and impact
We Are All Strangers continues Chen’s interest in responsibility, coming of age and domestic complexity, and it reunites him with collaborators who understand this delicate register. Its selection for the 2026 berlin film Festival signals a growing appetite for stories that treat everyday survival with formal care. The film’s emphasis on observation over exposition may influence how future filmmakers depict family, work and care—favoring moral ambiguity and texture over clear-cut resolutions.
For viewers
If you prefer films that unfold through gestures and atmospheres rather than tidy plot mechanics, this one rewards patience. It offers richly detailed scenes, tender surprises and ethical questions that linger. If you want clean answers or steady pacing, the film’s unresolved threads and occasional tonal jolts may frustrate. Either way, Chen has made a work that listens closely to how people invent families, barter care and keep going when life narrows.
In short, We Are All Strangers is an empathetic, formally assured portrait of modern intimacy—one that insists the small things we do for each other are both practical labor and the fragile architecture of belonging.