Recently, Korean author Hong Sangsoo has given us two new works each year. He loves small films, usually under 90 minutes, and with a scope that could encompass a novella or even a short story. Personally, I find them somewhat unpredictable. I don’t mean to say that Hong is inconsistent. In fact, it’s amazing how he can keep making the same type of movie over and over again. Even within the self-imposed limitations of Hong’s manners, there are wide variations in what he posts. In that sense, his new films are appropriate, if not essential, additions to his prolific filmography.
One of this year’s, In our days, is a pretty standard Hong: low stakes, chatty, and cast with well-known actors (if you think Wes Anderson likes recurring players, I’ll mention any of these). It’s also purely Hong thematically: creatives gently grappling with their late careers, hazy self-reflection, and gestures toward alcoholism.
The film divides its narrative between an actor who has given up on the profession (Kim Min-hee, whom Hong often refers to as his “muse”) and a poet who has gained popularity late in his career (Ki Joo-bong ). The connection between the two halves of the film is more thematic than anything else. (They both also mix gochujang into their ramyun.) As young people ask them how to live a life making art, none of them have satisfactory answers. One story is resolved when the actor’s roommate becomes desperate over a lost cat; the other, with the poet’s vices triumphing over his long-term health.
Hong does the kind of things every streamer and algorithm is allergic to.
In our days It’s a good thing if you’re a fan of Hong, though it’s probably not enough to turn you into a hater. And the second movie of this year, in water, might baffle even fans. For starters, it’s almost completely out of focus, save for an early scene in which the trio of characters share a pizza. At first, I thought something must have been wrong with the projector, and only realized it had been deliberate when the subtitles appeared clear as day. The effect makes the subtler parts of Hong’s work more blurred, literally. Small gestures, facial expressions: the little things that come to life in the mundanity of Hong’s work now become opaque. In a way it works; It’s also a bit annoying.
in water follows a director (Shin Seokho) who has taken two friends to Jeju Island to make a short film. In the past, the director’s characters seemed like obvious substitutes for Hong himself. We’re less safe here, not because he’s unfocused but because he might be a hacker. The director tours the place in search of inspiration. There is no script; the other two are excited but confused as to whether they will do this. The director keeps wandering around, hoping to get inspired.
That inspiration finally comes during an encounter with a woman who is collecting trash on the beach. From there, he gets the idea for the movie from him and they proceed to film it. Hong famously does much of the filmmaking himself: writing, directing, filming, editing, and even doing his own sound design. Is in water A peek behind the curtain?
But as the director-character explains what the short film is about, things become even more uncertain. Is the idea good or are they just pretentious tricks? (Ends with the main character walking into the ocean…) Does your two-person team believe, or are they just relieved that they didn’t waste their time? Your mileage may vary depending on what you believe. The ambiguity could also be the point. Personally, he wanted anything in the film to come into focus.
I’ve heard the director’s work described as “Korean mumblecore,” which doesn’t seem entirely correct to me but also not entirely incorrect. Without a doubt, they are the cinematic equivalent of lo-fi. In many ways, Hong’s job is to distill cinema to its bare minimum. He strips films of activating conflicts or real plots; Production values are kept as low as possible: casual, shot with digital camcorders that give his work a home-movie feel. The characters are often highly imagined, but are rarely given arcs. It’s hard not to see Hong’s work as a strong reaction to the way movies are made now: the emphasis on high, dramatic stakes and high escapism or, put simply, entertainment. Instead, Hong creates the kind of thing that every streamer and algorithm is allergic to.
Both films work best if you’re familiar with the Hong canon. For In our daysthat is a benefit, but for in water, that’s what makes it feel lesser compared to previous films that had stronger ideas and fewer gimmicks. Hong’s film duo from last year: Increase and The novelist’s film – were two of his best and most inventive efforts to date. Maybe next year will be stronger. As Hong often projects in her films, creativity is never a straight line, but rather a week of wandering until you finally meet a woman picking up trash.
