A cinematic puzzle cast in minimalist black and white, Yoo Heong-jun’s slippery feature debut delves into the malleability of identity, performance and life itself. It unfurls over long takes, and the tension between movement and stasis lingers in every frame.
Put on bed rest after a vicious stroke that damages her short-term memory, Hwa-ryeong (Cho Hyunjin) – an actor – struggles to recall the plot of her last film. Chatty visits from colleagues only serve to complicate matters. Mentions of a retired performer, a daughter and an ex-husband recur, but it remains unclear how these storylines cohere. It is as if, like Hwa-ryeong, her peers have been struck by amnesia.
These fractured narrative pieces are brought to life in the second half of Yoo’s film, which pushes its meta intrigues even further. With Cho Hyunjin stepping into the role of a nameless performer, it is seemingly implied that the scenes in this section are taken from Hwa-ryeong’s much-talked-about film. At the same time, the characters’ motivations and their relationships to one another constantly shift, resulting in an intriguing constellation of diametrical variations and repetitions.
The continual relational reconfigurations are also reflected on a visual level. While much of Yoo’s diptych revolves around lengthy conversations, which are reminiscent of the work of fellow Korean Hong Sang-soo, these dialogue-heavy sequences are also punctuated by wordless scenes where the camera merely observes characters walking through empty alleyways. One particularly striking sequence silently pans back and forth between the quiet paths that connect to a crossroad, a visual manifestation of the film’s ever-changing structure. This preoccupation with the idea of transition, and the threshold between living and acting, can occasionally render Yoo’s film a touch clinical. Its mesmerising formal inventiveness, however, suggests that here is a talent to watch.
Source: theguardian.com
