Written by Sami Salazar
Note: Spoilers ahead.
What happens if romance defies the premises of what we know as ‘love’? Director Irene Villamor’s new film explores that very concept—the space ‘Only We Know’. The film follows the story of a retired English teacher, Betty (Charo Santos-Concio), as she develops an unconventional bond with Ryan (Dingdong Dantes) who is wading the tall grasses of grief following the unforeseen passing of his wife. They navigate through the tied struggle of loss and external expectations with companionship of each other.
Director Irene exhibits a relationship that didn’t mold itself to please society. With the addition of the unexpected chemistry of the stars, their portrayal of non-traditional relationship dynamics proved to be one of the film’s strengths—one free from labels, hierarchy, or societal prescription. The film sits us in front of an image reflecting the beauty of relationship anarchy, which seems to be an attempt to challenge the viewers’ acceptance of such connections. It didn’t seek an easy explanation of what love is. And by refusing that, it lets viewers experience a connection without needing a convenient categorization. The ambiguity of their relationship isn’t a gap in the film—it is the point. It is a cordial, if sometimes confusing, take on modern intimacy.
Grief shows as two natures: subtle and visceral. At times, it is a deafening element as seen in Ryan’s engineering work becoming blurred memories of his late wife. A metaphorical terrain showing how he continues building something he has already lost. Also, showing subtly lingering with his environment’s loneliness, silence, and shrouded aches. The interplay of imagery and performance contribute to the idea of grief that when it is silent, it’s unseen but everywhere. But when it is loud, it will echo to places (or people) we don’t expect. Slowly, Ryan and Betty’s emotional bond slowly transforms that grief—not only in joy, but perhaps, in peace.
The original premise and intent of Only We Know is ambitiously beautiful. The message and experience it is trying to convey is essential, but there are moments where the story relies on familiar techniques that counters its uniqueness. The use of montage sequences, while visually lyrical, sometimes substitutes for a deeper narrative progression. Additionally, the backstory involving terminal illnesses, though handled with constraint, echo a familiar trope in local cinema which may feel overly recognizable to some viewers.
Only We Know is a quietly affecting exploration of grief, healing, and the kinds of love that don’t always announce themselves. Its emotional resonance comes not from sweeping gestures, but from the slow build of connection between two people quietly unraveling and slowly stitching themselves back together.
One of the film’s most elegant metaphors is a stray cat that roams Ryan and Betty’s shared space. First rejected, then embraced, then sent away. The cat mirrors how both characters wrestle with love: resisting it, needing it, and ultimately choosing it. In the end, it’s this recurring symbol that underlines the film’s most enduring message: love, even when uninvited or misunderstood, finds its way back.
