Full review in English · GL SERIES ITALIA
AI GIRL starts well. Very well. From its opening episodes, the series establishes a strong pace, delivers compelling scenes, and surrounds its story with a dense mystery capable of constantly generating new questions and theories.
The influence of the famous manga Absolute Boyfriend – Zettai Kareshi is unmistakable: the concept of an artificial partner created to embody a romantic ideal is reimagined through a GL perspective and woven into a narrative about technology, memory, and the fear of abandonment. All the elements were there to transform this familiar premise into something fresh and surprising.
The leading actresses also contribute significantly to the series’ success. Myyu Khawisara Singplod (@calledmemyyuk), as Gen, effectively conveys her character’s vulnerability and emotional restlessness. Chanya Amarit Duval (@chanyaduval), playing the dual role of Ai and Irene, handles two visually identical yet emotionally distinct characters with remarkable confidence. Chanya carefully modulates her expressions, mannerisms, and emotional register without allowing the performance to become a mere technical exercise. Myyu rises to the challenge and ultimately becomes the emotional centre of the story.
From a technical standpoint, the cinematography remains largely functional. It lacks a particularly distinctive visual identity and rarely adds a deeper layer of meaning to the narrative, but it clearly establishes the contrast between the sterile coldness of the laboratory and the comforting warmth of Gen’s home. The direction chooses to remain invisible, placing itself at the service of the story and its performers. Meanwhile, the editing sustains an engaging rhythm, avoids unnecessary pauses, and keeps the audience invested. And it is precisely because so much of the series works that its ending feels even more disappointing.
AI GIRL had everything it needed to become the series of the year, perhaps even one of the most revolutionary GL productions of 2026. For most of its runtime, it carefully cultivates the mystery connecting Gen, Irene, and Ai. Why does Gen dream about Irene? Why does she keep drawing her face? Is there a direct connection between AI GIRL and Love Beyond Dreams? Could Rann’s journey through time have altered something and caused Gen and Irene to be separated? The series encourages its audience to develop theories, search for connections, and assign deeper meaning to every clue. These expectations were not created out of thin air: the writing itself deliberately constructed them.
Then the answer finally arrives.
Discovering that Gen dreamed about Irene and repeatedly drew her simply because she had once seen her in a café is not a revelation. It is a narrative collapse. Such a weak explanation does not meaningfully connect the clues scattered throughout the story; instead, it retroactively strips them of their significance, destroying one of the foundations upon which the series had built its fascination. Gen’s final decision is even more problematic. By choosing Ai over Irene, Gen does not appear to choose love, she chooses the security of never being abandoned. She chooses someone programmed to stay, understand her, and always place her first, rejecting the inevitable uncertainty of a relationship with a human being who can make mistakes, disagree with her, or even leave.
From beginning to end, Ai never truly challenges Gen or forces her to confront the possibility that she might be wrong. She operates according to a very simple principle: the customer is always right. Ai was designed to satisfy Gen’s emotional needs. Of course she seemed perfect. But can perfection written into a line of code truly be considered love? This choice could have opened the door to a courageous exploration of control, emotional dependency, and the desire to replace the unpredictability of human relationships with affection created entirely to order. Yet the ending never genuinely interrogates Gen’s decision. Instead, it presents it as romantic fulfilment, reducing what could have been the series’ most compelling conflict to a safe and conventional resolution. The problem is not a lack of coherence. Gen’s decision is entirely consistent with her fears and her desperate need to feel chosen. But coherence alone is not enough to make an ending satisfying. Why settle for such an ordinary conclusion when the story had built the foundations for something so much greater?
The premise was there. The narrative foundations were there. AI GIRL had the opportunity to challenge the conventions of GL romance and genuinely explore the boundary between love, programming, and the fear of abandonment. Instead, its finale reduces a complex mystery to a fragile explanation and a fascinating moral dilemma to an excessively simple choice.
AI GIRL remains an engaging, well-acted series filled with excellent ideas. And that is precisely what makes its conclusion so frustrating: this is not the ending of a series that lacked potential, but the ending of a series that had already proven it could be extraordinary, and, at the finish line, chose banality over creativity.