Introduction (Inteurodeoksyeon)

 

Writer/director Hong Sang-soo

director on the set

INTRODUCTION (Inteurodeoksyeon)                     B                                                          South Korea  (66 mi)  2021  d: Hong Sang-soo

Just barely over one hour, winner of the Silver Bear for Best Screenplay when it was shown at the Berlin Film Festival in 2021, this film was shot just before the Covid pandemic, but shows no signs of masks or social distancing, but it does show an empty restaurant, with one reference wondering when the customers would be coming back, and another indicating people are too scared to go out, however it was shot with a streamed-down film crew of just a few people, with Hong assuming the duties of writer/director/producer/editor/cinematographer/ and composer of the music, which are just brief guitar interludes at the end of each sequence, resulting in the shortest end credit sequence you are ever likely to see, as there is one page of what looks like hand-written Korean lettering, and that’s it, lasting about ten seconds.  Hong serves as his own cinematographer for the first time, which he repeats again later this same year with In Front of Your Face (Dangsin-eolgul-apeseo) (2021), which begins a pattern of two films per year for the next four years in a row.  Shot in black and white, a simple tale of young people on the edge of adulthood, told in three chapter headings, though only the first two are numerically marked, with hugs playing a significant role in each segment, where dramatic life changes occur between episodes, revealing various encounters with parents, friends, and parents’ friends.  Hong introduces us to an aimless young man, Young-ho (Shin Seok-ho), an actor who appeared briefly in The Woman Who Ran (Domangchin yeoja) (2020), which won Hong the Best Directing prize at Berlin, but here he is at the center of each episode, the youngest protagonist in a Hong film for more than a decade, as the story revolves around three different meetings with loved ones.  In the first, while asking his girlfriend Ju-won (Park Mi-so) to wait in a building across the street, he meets his father (Kim Young-ho), an herbalist/acupuncture doctor seen praying at the outset, apparently undergoing some personal crisis, though we never learn what prompted the divine outburst, but the meeting keeps getting delayed due to a surprise visit from a famous actor friend (Gi Ju-bong).  In the second he travels to Berlin to meet his fashion-student girlfriend Ju-won on a whim, and in the third he meets his mother (Cho Yun-hee) and that same acting friend while drinking soju in a café, accompanied by his own friend Shin Jeong-soo (Ha Seong-guk).  In each he anticipates an important conversation, but what’s interesting is how Young-ho continually gets sidelined in the story, overshadowed by the other characters.  Often compared to the dialogue-heavy films of Éric Rohmer, also paring his crew down to just three people when making Le Rayon Vert (Summer) (1986), Hong’s conversations are not nearly so intellectual, as Rohmer’s films are a reflection of the societal transformations of Europe in the 60’s or 70’s, while Hong draws from the contemporary mores of South Korea that continue to prevail.    

This is an artfully realized minimalist film shot on an extremely low budget, with tight schedules, using a system with the actors working from script pages that Hong writes earlier that same morning, allowing them the freedom to improvise, known for his signature long takes that appear simple, deep, and personal, where silences say more than words, yet the beauty of Hong’s films is that things are never as simple as they appear.  Compared to other films being released today, this is self-reflective cinema from one of the most original voices on the world stage, quiet and poetic, where just the changing tone of the voice, or a brief cigarette break, dramatically alters the emotional impact of the film.  As Young-ho sits in the waiting room, the nurse (Ye Ji-won) immediately recognizes him with a big hug, where apparently he had a crush on her when he was little, offering him an herb tonic as he flips through books and magazines.  The doctor receives a surprise visit from an old friend, a renowned theater actor (Gi Ju-bong), placing acupuncture needles on his back, but then leaves him alone, as the doctor wanders upstairs to take a nap, forgetting that the needles are still stuck in the man’s back.  Though his father apparently summoned him there, Young-ho is totally ignored, and ends up falling asleep in the waiting room, with a short interlude smoking a cigarette outside on the balcony as the snow begins to fall.  Not really about anything, this section alerts us to just how often our own expectations are never realized, perhaps due to some unknown circumstance that we know nothing about.  Each of the three sections unfolds exactly the same way, as a planned encounter is interrupted unexpectedly, or at least influenced by an impromptu circumstance.  The next section moves to Berlin, as Ju-won is moving there to study fashion design, accompanied by her mother (Seo Young-hwa), who introduces her to an artist friend living there who will allow her to stay temporarily, a bespectacled painter, Kim Min-hee, who questions the seriousness of her artistic motives.  Both Seo and Kim are Hong regulars, familiar sights in front of the camera, but it’s not really about them, as the focus is more on the younger generation and the ambivalence about their future, even remarking upon the formal speech that they typically ignore, but the incessant smoking is a habit passed down through generations.  When Young-ho arrives unexpectedly in Berlin, with plans to stay in Germany to study with her, it’s an uncomfortable reality jolt that feels more like stalking, like he’s too insecure to live without her, or allow her the freedom to be on her own, as they head over to Potsdamer Platz, standing next to the Landwehr Canal.  Making things even more uncomfortable, they don’t have any money, so when the conversation shifts to Young-ho’s wealthy father as a means of support, it adds an inter-generational level of discomfort in this clash of generations. 

Two years later, back in Korea, the shift is to a seaside town, where the water has a calming and cleansing effect, like a healing quality, as Young-ho and his cigarette-bumming best friend Shin simply breathe in the ocean air.  They are there to have lunch with Young-ho’s mother and her acting friend (Gi Ju-bong), who appeared in the first segment.  The older actor makes them promise not to get drunk, actually insisting upon it, but then pours them drink after drink, as things quickly escalate, with the young men turning away from the actor as they drink their soju, which is meant to communicate deference in the presence of elders, a practice not seen before in a Hong film.  Unbeknownst to us, Young-ho was inspired by the actor, apparently meeting up with him after such a long wait in his father’s office years ago, and has taken up the acting profession.  His mother invited them together to have her friend evaluate and help assess her son’s future in the business.  But Young-ho is having his own reservations, struggling with second thoughts about continuing, mentioning he struggles with kissing scenes, as they’re not authentic, also claiming his girlfriend is not comfortable with him in those situations, believing it is morally wrong.  Out of nowhere, the impassioned old actor starts berating the younger son, finding his position intolerable in the acting profession, as love is simply love, however it is conveyed, where it’s useless to discuss the morality of the act.  This drinking sequence brings the subject of morality front and center in a way none of Hong’s other films have, openly discussing just what it means, and whether it should matter to anyone else when discussing love, which is the filmmaker’s answer to all the lingering questions about his real-life relationship with the much younger actress Kim Min-hee, leaving his wife in the process, subjecting the couple to tabloid overkill, as it’s become a highly publicized national scandal.  The two young friends stagger outside afterwards, breathing in the sea air, as Young-ho has an apparition, indistinguishable from reality, something rare in Hong’s works that we only realize afterwards, bearing insight into the struggling relationship with Ju-won, but it’s a transition to Young-ho jumping into the sea, which is frigid cold, as people outside are wearing winter coats, with his friend helping him dry off afterwards, even offering a big hug for warmth.  Told in a rhythmic style, featuring young adult protagonists for a change, separate and apart from “the older generation,” struggling to define themselves in the shadow of parental expectation, where the convergence and imminent parting with their loved ones is a consistent theme, while the seaside locations were shot in Gangneung, a coastal city in Gangwon Province, renowned for its expansive, chilly winter beaches, such as Gyeongpo Beach and Anmok Beach, with the noise of street traffic contrasting with the incessant sounds of the ocean waves crashing.  Like one of Hong’s idols, Yasujirō Ozu and his films Early Summer (Bakushû) (1951), Tokyo Story (Tokyo Monogatari) (1953), and Floating Weeds (Ukigusa) (1959), the lyrical shots of the ocean help induce a feeling of transcendence.

Hong Sang-soo's 10 Favorite Films 

Good One

 

Writer/director India Donaldson

actress Lily Collias

Donaldson with Lily Collias

The director on the set

GOOD ONE               B                                                                                                               USA  (89 mi)  2024  ‘Scope  d: India Donaldson

Premiering at Sundance in 2024, yet also widely circulating on the festival circuit, where it played in more than thirty different film festivals, including Director’s Fortnight at the Cannes Film Festival, yet very little has been heard about this film, flying completely under the radar, where this is about as minimalist a film as you could possible create, seemingly out of nothing, with no narrative to speak of, a portrait in miniature of passing into adulthood, yet it’s all bathed in the pristine naturalism of a 3-day backpacking trek through the national forest of the Catskills in upstate New York.  While it bears a resemblance to Kelly Reichardt’s early film Old Joy (2006), which may be the cinematic template for this film, it lacks the sly homoeroticism and 60’s counterculture vibe of that film, which was shot in the rugged Oregon Cascade mountains of the Pacific northwest, instead approaching the subject through the lens of a generational divide.  It may also recall the outsider father/daughter dynamic living off the grid deep in the woods from Debra Granik’s remarkable 2018 Top Ten List #5 Leave No Trace.  Pared down to its bare bones, there’s little to no story, as not much happens, where this is about as low-key as you can get, more of a character study with nuance that is deceptively simple, where what lies beneath the surface is everything.  The daughter of New Zealand filmmaker Roger Donaldson (one of the many producers), having grown up in the business, this is the director’s debut feature, written with an eye on minute details, where if you blink you’ll miss what’s happening here, as it’s about as subtle a film as you’ll ever see, with a few interesting 70’s and 80’s choices of alternative music, like Kay Gardner - Touching Souls YouTube (5:45), Kevyn Dymond - Endless Present [US] Psych Folk (1984) YouTube (3:16), or a Nico and the Velvet Underground sounding Moonlove - All Your Mysteries YouTube (2:45).  Lily Collias in her first leading role is 17-year old Sam, a girl from Brooklyn in a relationship with another girl, mostly unseen except through text messages, just weeks away from heading off to college, becoming the central figure of the film as she embarks on a weekend excursion with two divorced dads, her own, Chris, James Le Gros from Kelly Reichardt’s Certain Women (2016), and his longtime best friend Matt, Danny McCarthy from the Coen brother’s The Ballad of Buster Scruggs (2018).  The total opposite of a Hollywood depiction, this trimmed down, offbeat approach is much more authentic, capturing the human experience in such a raw and visceral way, where nothing feels overly forced, accentuating what’s left unspoken, with a continual back and forth between these three characters, yet right from the outset there is turbulence, as Matt’s teenage son Dylan was also supposed to go, but abruptly refuses at the last minute, which is seen as part of the collateral damage from the recent divorce, still angry at his dad, blaming him for their separation.  Every child has that moment when they realize their own parents are flawed.  And while there is plenty of muttering under his breath, Matt is resigned to go without him, but it’s an inauspicious sign undermining whatever good intentions were originally planned.  Essentially a coming-of-age, father-daughter movie, but not a conventional one, with Matt serving as a comic relief sidekick and the butt of all jokes, continually making cocky and potentially offensive statements, as the filmmaker plays around with audience expectations and how easy it is to ignore the warning signs, where you never know what lies ahead as they head into the woods.    

Another film that was developed during the pandemic, allowing Donaldson an opportunity to spend time building her fictionalized characters, inspired by how an isolated environment could draw out family dynamics, often in funny and unexpected ways, creating something that was intimate and emotionally contained.  Ostensibly a buddy movie between two bickering old friends whose competing egos are a handful, continually airing long-held grievances, both seemingly suffering from a midlife crisis, chirping at one another endlessly, much of it dealing with their own personal regrets, with an overcontrolling Chris coming across as a self-absorbed know-it-all, who left Sam’s mother for a younger woman (she cheated first is his rationale), while the more anxiously insecure Matt wallows in his combustible feelings, with Sam silently sitting in the middle, occasionally acting as the arbitrar, continually trying to smooth things over.  Everything happens very slowly, as this film is painstakingly patient, allowing the words to sit with viewers and resonate, where it’s never anything profound, but more a reflection of their wounded state of mind, where both men come across as damaged goods with frazzled nerves, who tend to get tipsy, bringing along a flask, where they seem to be their own worst enemies, all but ignoring Sam, who may as well be invisible.  After spending the night in a one-roomed motel with two beds, and Sam sleeping on the floor, where the guys spend most of the evening in the bar, they get up early the next day, with Chris finding fault with everything Matt decides to pack, or overpack, as he’s brought any number of useless items, perhaps a metaphor for that overcluttered brain of his.  Yet once on the trail, the verdant scenery couldn’t be more calming and peaceful, enraptured by the sound of babbling brooks, where there’s a reason people visit these places, as it’s like a religious experience cleansing the soul.  Dad always takes the lead, like a military reconnaissance mission, with Sam a short distance behind, while Matt always brings up the rear.  It’s not your typical adventure, with a designated place in mind, instead it simply allows the wind and forest sounds to seep into their consciousness, changing up the landscape, altering the routines, discovering the beauty of the great outdoors.  Of course, there are other things that stand out, like not disturbing the environment, or attracting bears, so it’s important to bury waste products and keep all food covered, things Sam has already learned and does automatically, as respecting the environment they are in is an essential aspect of the journey, maintaining a balance at all times.  Who knew that the greatest risk of all was her own femininity?  They appear to be well-educated campers, so when they set up camp for the night, it comes as a surprise when three other male hikers stop to camp right next to them, taking advantage of the shared company.  This may not be what everyone desires, as who likes to feel crowded in the open terrain of the wilderness, but no one makes a fuss.  However, any male threat they pose to Sam, who suddenly finds herself overwhelmed and completely ignored by a sea of masculinity, is immediately overlooked in the interest of getting along and having a good time. 

While the lush beauty and contemplative atmosphere are the real highlight, what stands out is that Sam, who can be sullen at times, is wise beyond her years, seemingly acting more adult than the adults, where she actually says the least, yet her character stands out the most, assuredly connecting with her inner self, confidently saying so much largely through facial expressions, as she does not miss much, ultimately becoming the heart of the movie.  Being female and gay, her life is radically different from these two adult men whose lives are constantly in turmoil, thinking only of themselves, having little time for her, which this film makes very apparent.  Matt is something of an unfiltered chatterbox, but his emotions are raw, out there and exposed, coming up with the weirdest things to say, some of which is easily ignored, while other things can stick with you.  Chris is more tightly wound and reserved, used to managing his emotions and keeping them in check, yet it’s clear he loves and respects his daughter, but his measured tone can feel awkwardly stiff, like he’s playing a role, hiding what he really feels deep inside.  Both men have been deeply wounded by marriage and divorce, something that tore a hole in them, with frustrations literally seeping out of them, where this trip is an attempt to heal those open wounds.  There’s a delicate progression to the film, as the characters come to life, personalities are revealed, with viewers rewarded by glorious waterfalls and some magnificent vistas overlooking a glistening blue lake down below.  Their habits become known to us, with Sam being the responsible “good one,” actually preparing the meals, while also seen cleaning the cooking utensils by rubbing dirt in the bowls, as water is a precious commodity, used sparingly.  There is no cellphone reception deep into the forest, so they are disconnected from the outside world, having only themselves, becoming something of a family unit, with Sam and her dad sharing one tent, while Matt has the other, even bringing foldable chairs to sit on in camp.  There’s a moment that takes us aback, as Matt drunkenly blurts out something that inappropriately crosses a line, with Sam doing a doubletake, not at all amused, shocked at what she hears, but this happens organically, with no dramatic overtones, yet clearly Sam is offended.  The next day when she tries to tell her dad about it, he tries to minimize her outrage, hoping to lessen the impact, telling her to suck it up and not ruin the trip, but his apathy only makes things worse, as the damage has been done, and the floodgates have been opened.  It couldn’t be more quietly devastating, but Sam’s behavior afterwards reveals everything, telling us all that we need to know without any words being spoken.  The subtlety on display is impressive, carving out its own path, but the drama, what little there is, is more about the power of observation, allowing each individual viewer to come to their own conclusions, with an abrupt ending that really has no resolution, but exudes in the power of silence.  Shot in just 12 days by Wilson Cameron, a former visual effects producer, where the rhythm of the film is unwavering, capturing the beauty of the forest, with close-up shots of plants and insects, along with some interesting rock formations, and more than a few unexpected surprises, accompanied by an original score by Celia Hollander that never intrudes, but its ethereal presence is felt throughout.  In the end credits, special thanks are given to indie staples David Gordon Green and Larry Fessenden.