As a formalist, Hong Sangsoo rarely sticks to the same set structure, though, given his stylistic distinctions, many may assume he does. He often plays with time, linearity, and alternate outcomes in order to demonstrate how stories can be told, but his latest film is—at least within his own large filmography—structurally conventional in that it follows a kind of plot. As is always the case with Hong, the story is almost pure whimsy, even if the dialogue and situations come across as quotidian to a fault. For instance, everyone the titular protagonist meets during the course of the movie has read her latest book, which is one of the best jokes Hong—whose sense of humor is underappreciated—has ever hung a storyline on, suggesting either a universe where everyone indulges in fine literature or, more likely, one where everyone deploys a kind of strategic tactfulness.

Jun-hee (Lee Hye-young) has come to a regional city to visit her old friend (Seo Young-hwa), a lapsed writer who now runs a small bookstore. During one of Hong’s patented veiled-but-pointed conversations, it’s revealed that the two parted on less-than-ideal terms, and that Jun-hee is thinking of giving up writing. Though she doesn’t use the term “writer’s block,” as the movie progresses she justifies her decision to others by saying that she doesn’t have the patience to be imaginative any more. This journey to see an old friend, unannounced, comes across as desperate, even though she acts anything but. While in town she takes in a local tourist attraction and runs into a film director (Kwon Hae-hyo) who once tried, unsuccessfully, to adapt one of her novels. Their conversation is as tense as that between Jun-hee and the bookseller, but funnier since the director insists on smoothing out matters that Jun-hee is past forgiving. Nevertheless, the meeting does lead to yet another coincidental encounter in a nearby park with the actress Kil-soo (Kim Min-hee), whom the director berates for having decided to retire at a young age “with such potential.” Jun-hee, recognizing a kindred spirit, not only defends Kil-soo, though they’ve never met before (Kil-soo, of course, has also read Jun-hee’s latest book), but asks her out to lunch, where she proposes they make a short film together with Kil-soo’s film student nephew (Ha Seong-guk), an idea that Jun-hee has apparently came up with on this trip and was probably provoked by the director’s fatuousness. 

From there, the film devolves into Hong’s usual alcohol-fueled free-for-all, as it turns out that Kil-soo knows the bookseller and they all collect at her store for multiple bottles of makgeolli, along with a gregarious male poet (Gi Ju-bong) whom Jun-hee slept with once back in the day. At this point, whatever sparked Jun-hee’s decision to become a filmmaker, it’s too late to turn back, and while I think Hong had already made his point about the self-regard of this circumscribed group of arty types and didn’t need to go any further, he follows up with a screening of the proposed short film, which Jun-hee has successfully completed. A short clip is shown demonstrating only that her visual aesthetic aligns somewhat with Hong’s, which may be the ultimate joke, but one that I needed a second viewing to get. As a matter of fact, I laughed quite a few times the second time I saw it, and that’s saying something. 

In Korean. Now playing in Tokyo at Human Trust Cinema Yurakucho (03-6259-8608), Cinema Qualite Shinjuku (03-3352-5645).

The Novelist’s Film home page in Japanese

photo (c) 2022 Jeonwonsa Film Co.