Lee Haejun's Castaway on the Moon (2009) is one of the most appropriately timed recommendations I've ever received. We're well into our second year of enduring the pandemic, and with that has been a unique uptick in feelings of loneliness and isolation; Castaway on the Moon lends an intimate view of this experience that's understood by many, yet generally not quite unifying.

Our nameless main protagonist (Jeong Jaeyeong), known only as "male Kim" in the credits, just got dumped and he's drowning in debt, and he's so miserable that the only way out seems to be ending it with a jump from the infamous Mapo Bridge. Unsuccessful, he wakes up on the shore of an island in the middle of the Han River in a predicament that seems even more hopeless than the one he was trying to escape—his phone is dead, he can't swim, and no one is looking for him.

Though surrounded by millions of people on either side of the river, male Kim is entirely alone, but his life in the city was so taxing that it doesn't take him long to warm up to the idea of staying. His survival knowledge is limited, but the simplicity in living only for the trial-and-error that comes with learning to care for oneself in basic ways, and the beauty in that simplicity, sparks a new will to live. Each day he works hard and he learns more, unburdened by social pressures or responsibilities of modern life, and in their place are many more moments of joy found in small victories.

Unbeknownst to our hero, he's not so alone as he thought—he has a singular fan who's been enthusiastically observing him every step of the way. Known as "female Kim," our second protagonist (Jung Ryeowon) is a hoarder who hasn't left her home in three years. She has a rigorous daily routine that keeps her from feeling like that time is wasted—10,000 steps in place, a full day's work of social media tending, and photographing the moon before she hypnotizes herself to sleep. She, too, is alone and may as well be protecting herself from the world's pains that drove male Kim to his own crumbling mental state.

This routine is disrupted in a way most delightful when she finds male Kim on the other end of her camera lens, and he quickly becomes part of her day. She often finds his behavior to be decidedly alien—something they have in common—but he's also someone she wants to connect with. By going about his business, oblivious to his viewer, male Kim inspires female Kim to exit her comfort zone several times over because that connection is worth it.

On the surface, the two are total opposites; male Kim lives naturally, his scenes bathed in warm light and colors in the sun, and female Kim lives secluded in the city, shrouded in shades of blue where she thrives at night. It would be easy to tell this story in favor of one lifestyle or the other, that solitary living off the land is better than a city life of social media and material wealth or vice versa, but Castaway on the Moon views both without judgment. There is no right way, there is only what is best for you.

At the end of all things, Castaway on the Moon is a story of two people inspiring each other to live, and there is no story more uplifting. It's a drama as much as a comedy, and an unusual tale of romance while exploring the human condition. With that being said, I've simply never seen anything like it, and it's some feel-good magic we could all use. This one's a big recommendation, for your health.