The third and final installment of Mercedes Ron’s acclaimed Culpables trilogy, Culpa Nuestra (Our Fault), marks the much-anticipated conclusion of Nick and Noah’s turbulent saga.
Directed by Domingo González and starring Nicole Wallace as Noah and Gabriel Guevara as Nick, the film reunites a passionate fandom for a swan song that’s both emotionally charged and rich with dramatic turns.
With its October 2025 release on Prime Video timed after the runaway success of the previous films, Culpa Nuestra has already set records, with its trailer garnering an astounding 163 million views in a single week, more than any prior original streaming film within that time span. The feverish global anticipation is a testament to the trilogy’s ability to ignite tightly held emotions across generations and cultures.
Three themes from trending online conversations dominate the discussion: “Bittersweet Reunions,” “High Emotion and Toxic Love,” and “The Netflix Effect: BookTok and Global YA Phenoms.” This review will examine how each plays out in Culpa Nuestra, weaving a critical perspective alongside reflections from fans and critics alike.
Bittersweet Reunions: Love and Resentment at Jenna and Lion’s Wedding
Culpa Nuestra opens at the wedding of Jenna and Lion, positioning itself immediately as a story about reconciliation, but with no simple resolutions. Four years after their devastating breakup, Noah and Nick find themselves together in the same room. The tension is visceral.
Both characters have grown Nick as the heir to his grandfather’s business empire, and Noah at the dawn of her own career. But beneath their new lives, the pain and desire never faded.
Nicole Wallace delivers a nuanced performance as Noah: every hesitant glance and nervous smile reflects a woman teetering between past wounds and the dangerous hope for renewal. Gabriel Guevara’s Nick is emotionally scarred, prideful, and struggling to let go of past slights.
One of the film’s strengths is its confident refusal to force an easy reconciliation. Instead, director Domingo González allows the wedding setting to peel away each character’s bravado, revealing vulnerability through charged silences and explosive arguments.
The film expertly draws viewers into these emotionally loaded reunions, culminating in moments where forgiveness and resentment wrestle openly.
Instead of grand gestures, it is the loaded conversation, shared laughs, and visible longing that carry the emotional stakes. It’s a treat for viewers who have followed Nick and Noah’s painful journey from the early “forbidden love” days to this mature, if still uncertain, stage.
High Emotion and Toxic Love: The Best and Worst of Young Romance
No recent teen romance saga has courted as much debate about the nature of “toxic love” as the Culpables series. Culpa Nuestra takes this to its limit, pushing Nick and Noah through a gauntlet of jealousy, pride, betrayal, and unhealed trauma.
Fans and critics alike are caught up in this whirlwind of emotions, leading to trending online discussions dissecting every heated exchange and devastating confession.
What sets this film apart is its refusal to sanitize young love; Nick’s inability to forgive, Noah’s need for independence, and the emotional baggage they both carry are painted in raw, sometimes uncomfortable detail.
The narrative traces their journey through heartbreak, family turmoil, and the anxieties of growing up, never shying away from the darker sides of attraction and attachment. Their chemistry, more mature but occasionally more fraught, anchors the movie’s grittier tone.
The story draws directly from Mercedes Ron’s bestselling novel, with scenes echoing some of the most heart-wrenching moments from the source material.
However, as some fan reviews note, not every subplot or relationship gets the depth it deserves, with secondary characters occasionally feeling sidelined. Still, the main arc between Nick and Noah provides enough drama and romantic intensity to satisfy most returning viewers.
Key moments Noah’s pregnancy revelation, Nick’s accident, and the climactic reunion, are delivered with deft emotional weight, thanks in no small part to the leads’ performances.
Even as they make difficult choices and blunder into old patterns, Nick and Noah are never reduced to clichés; their flaws and hopes remain strikingly human.
The Netflix Effect: BookTok, Global YA, and Prime Video’s Streaming Phenomenon
Culpa Nuestra is more than just a film; it’s a literary and streaming event. Ending a trilogy that originated on Wattpad, the series epitomizes the modern YA novel’s journey to screen stardom.
The impact is palpable: BookTok, the vast subcommunity on TikTok dedicated to emotional coming-of-age reads, has exploded with speculation, fan edits, and heated discussions regarding the adaptation’s fidelity to the books and the cast’s chemistry.
While competing Netflix properties like “Through My Window” have garnered similar buzz, no other Spanish-language original has captured such devotion on Prime Video’s platform.
Culpa Nuestra (Credit: Pokeepsie Films)
The trilogy’s adaptation success also points to the rising influence of Spanish-language YA stories in global media. The casting, spearheaded by Wallace and Guevara has received broad praise, credited with bringing emotional depth and deeply relatable insecurity to their roles, even when dialogue or pacing falters.
Cameos and minor characters are handled with care, referencing a continuity that rewards loyal fans without confusing new viewers.
It is these choices careful adaptation, dynamic marketing, and the willingness to embrace high-stakes emotion, that have allowed Culpa Nuestra to both conclude a beloved trilogy and set a new standard for international streaming originals.
The emotional crossroads at the heart of Culpa Nuestra prove the Culpables trilogy’s enduring power. This final chapter may polarize some fans with its shifts in tone or omission of favorite subplots, but the core romance remains fiercely, painfully compelling.
While secondary characters may sometimes fade in the shadow of Nick and Noah’s heartbreaking reunion, their intense connection and desperate hope for a new beginning drive every scene.
Careful pacing, stellar leads, and a willingness to wrestle with the complexities of toxic love make Culpa Nuestra a satisfying and at times deeply moving farewell to one of the most successful international YA romance sagas of the streaming era.
The Review
Culpa Nuestra
Review Breakdown
- Acting & Characters 0
- Direction & Storytelling 0
- Visuals & Action 0
- Overall Entertainment Value 0
Cure (1997) by Kiyoshi Kurosawa is acclaimed for its disturbing portrayal of human vulnerability and chilling atmospherics. The film follows Kenichi Takabe, a Tokyo police detective, as he investigates a baffling series of murders.
Each crime is committed by an ordinary person, spouses, workers, citizens, who carves a large X into the victim’s neck or chest. There’s no clear motive, and the perpetrators confess without knowing why they acted.
Takabe’s private life is in turmoil due to his wife Fumie’s worsening mental health. She suffers from schizophrenia, sometimes vanishing from home and leaving Takabe stressed and exhausted.
As the number of killings grows, Takabe and his colleague, psychologist Sakuma, search for patterns among the murderers. The only connection: all had encounters with a mysterious man named Kunio Mamiya.
Mamiya is introduced as a wanderer with supposed amnesia, frequently repeating questions and acting vacant. Under police custody, he proves impossible to interrogate.
Instead, he asks personal questions, revealing uncanny knowledge about Takabe’s life and probing into his insecurities. His sly demeanor hints at a calculated manipulator rather than a confused drifter.
As the investigation deepens, it becomes apparent that Mamiya uses hypnotic techniques sparked by repetitive sights like water movement or a lighter’s flame to override people’s free will and implant homicidal commands.
The process is subtle and almost supernatural; his power seems to exploit the hidden cracks in each person’s psyche, bringing their resentment or suppressed rage to the surface.
Peel Back the Layers: Hypnosis, Evil, and the Shattering of Self
Takabe and Sakuma discover that Mamiya has a background in psychology, specifically mesmerism and the history of hypnosis. A crucial clue appears in an old film reel and books found in Mamiya’s possession.
The materials reference a historic mesmerist, Suejiro Bakuro, who performed “spiritual healing” but was rumored to drive patients to homicide. The recurring motif of the X isn’t just a grisly calling card; it’s part of the hypnotic ritual that prompts murder.
As Takabe struggles to break free from Mamiya’s influence, his situation deteriorates. He becomes unable to control his emotions, especially following an apparent vision in which his wife’s fate mirrors the previous victims. In panic, Takabe commits Fumie to a hospital, but by now, the psychological pressure is overwhelming.
Sakuma, meanwhile, succumbs to Mamiya’s insidious reach. After reviewing evidence and a hypnotic videotape, he unconsciously paints an X on his wall, experiences violent hallucinations, and is soon found dead, handcuffed to pipes, another unexplained tragedy attributed to Mamiya’s indirect control.
Mamiya is placed under tighter security following these events, but escapes after hypnotizing a guard to his death. The method of escape remains unclear, but the implication is that Takabe’s latent vulnerability may have played a role, either by accident or subtle compulsion.
Cure (Credit: Prime Video)
The final confrontation occurs in an abandoned mental hospital. Takabe, at his wit’s end, tracks Mamiya down and, after an intense faceoff, shoots him. Before dying, Mamiya wordlessly gestures an X in the air, as if passing a torch.
Takabe explores the setting and finds a creaking phonograph. The device emits a male voice, likely Bakuro delivering hypnotic instructions, confirming that the occult tradition predates Mamiya and hints at something systemic, ancient, and endlessly recurring.
Shortly afterward, Fumie’s body is found bearing the same X, matching the earlier victims. The scene devastates Takabe, blurring the line between victim and perpetrator.
Final Act: The Cycle Continues, Evil Finds a New Vessel
The film closes in a brightly lit restaurant where Takabe sits, finished with his meal. The camera lingers on his serene but empty expression. He answers a phone call, possibly related to a new crime scene.
As Takabe lights a cigarette, the scene subtly shifts perspective: a waitress, previously cheerful and ordinary, is approached by her manager and then glides over to pick up a large kitchen knife.
The film cuts to black as the music swells, letting implications hang in the air. The audience is left with the image of Takabe, calm and composed, yet transformed.
This closing moment suggests a terrifying revelation. Mamiya’s true achievement was not merely causing individual acts of murder through hypnosis; it was to transfer his power and mission to someone new.
The “cure” referenced in the film’s title is a dark, ironic twist: the only way for Takabe to rid himself of anguish was to accept, or inherit, Mamiya’s ability.
The detective, once a seeker of justice, now demonstrates that same sinister, hypnotic influence. When the waitress lifts the knife, it’s clear the killing will continue, and Takabe has become the new missionary for this corrupted force.
Deeper Meanings: Human Potential for Violence and Loss of Identity
On one level, Cure is a complex thriller about crime and detection. On a deeper level, it’s a commentary about the universal fragility of identity.
The line separating an ordinary person from an abuser or murderer is distressingly thin under the right set of influences; anyone could be made to act out the darkest impulses, especially when their repressed rage is exposed.
Takabe’s journey is tragic: his attempts to bring rational order to irrational circumstances instead lead him to embody the very evil he sought to eradicate. As the “cure” spreads from one host to another, the film exposes the horror at the core of human nature, the possibility that who we are can disappear in an instant, subjugated by a power we don’t understand.
Kurosawa’s ambiguous storytelling ensures that the film’s meaning remains unsettlingly open. Whether Mamiya’s influence is supernatural, psychological, or both, the results are harrowing: violence infects like a virus, and its hosts can be anyone, even those tasked with stopping it.
