Miryang

Lee Chang-dong's exceptional "Secret Sunshine" is the single most emotionally ravaging experience of the year. It is an instantly sobering, brutally honest character piece on the reverberations of loss and a graceful memento mori that resonates with a striking density of thought, yet remains as inscrutable as the emotions it observes. Through its layered naturalism and stunningly trenchant view of small-town dynamics, Lee implicitly deconstructs the traditional Korean melodrama by pulling apart the cinematics of excess and ripping to shreds the arcs that shape its characters and grounds the proceedings into a crushing grind of stoic realism.

"Secret Sunshine" remains an immensely compelling, fluid work throughout its 142-minute runtime. Its bravura first hour is filled to the brim with subtextual insinuations, remarkable foreshadowing and adroit reversals of tone brought about by humanistic capriciousness. Adapted from a short story, Lee infuses the film with his sensitivity for the sublime paradoxes of life, last seen in his transgressively comic and irreverent "Oasis". Understanding how personal revolutions are forged when views of our universe are changed, Lee not only sees the emotional cataclysm of a widow's sorrow through an inquiring scope but also feels the tumultuous existential currents that underpin the film when religion becomes a narrative scapegoat in comprehending the heinousness of the human experience.

Do-yeon Jeon's ("You Are My Sunshine") Best Actress accolade at Cannes in 2007 is well deserved. Her performance as the widow Shin-ae remains an unrelenting enigma. As a character pulled apart by forces beyond her control, the sheer magnificence of this performance is central to the film's turbulent nature. With Jeon essaying one cyclonic upheaval after another, there's a tremulous sense of collapse that the film, to its credit, never approaches. Instead it finds a delicate balance that saps the charged theatricality and subsequent banality from ordinary tragedies and its fallouts. She becomes the centre of the film's universe as well as ours. Filmed in glorious hand-held CinemaScope, the film demolishes the cinematicism of frames and compositions by becoming visually acute just as it is quietly harrowing when the camera never relinquishes its gaze from Shin-ae through times of happiness, guilt and remorse.

Lee captures the details of life in the small, suspicious town of Miryang – the awkwardness of communal situations, its uncomfortable silences and its devastations spun out of personal dramas. Shin-ae's interactions with the townsfolk rarely inspires dividends, especially when they are merely done out of obligation to fit in for the sake of her son, Jun (Seon Jung-yeop). The one recurring acquaintance is Jong-chan (Song Kang-ho), a bachelor mechanic of uncertain intentions who helps her en route to Miryang in the film's enchanting open sequence set to a captivating stream of sunlight. Song has situated himself as a comedic anti-hero in South Korea's biggest films but his nuanced, low-key delivery here purports the director's thought process of never having to reveal more than plainly necessary.

If pain is ephemeral, then grief can never truly dissipate. And Lee finds complexity in subsistence. When Shin-ae attempts to head down the path of reconciliation only to be faced again with unimaginable heartbreak, she unsuccessfully employs the fellowship of evangelical Christianity as a foil to her sorrow. But Lee knows better than that when he understands that religion, in the context of the human canvas of strife and misery, is never a simple solution. But Lee never rebukes the essence of religion as he realises the value of salvation for some through a higher power even if it serves a form of denial in others. The scenes in its latter half which deal with religion doesn't allow itself to become aggressively scornful, which is a feat in itself considering how many filmmakers let the momentum of the material take over from what they need to say to be true to its story and characters.

Lee's first film since his call to office as his country's Minister of Culture and Tourism is an uncompromising dissertation on human suffering. In a film so artless and genuine, it arduously reveals that there's nothing as simple as emotional catharsis, just the suppression and abatement of agony. "Secret Sunshine" leaves us with tender mercies pulled out of evanescence, and points towards a profound understanding of despair and faith.

I love how Lee Chang-dong tells a story. I went in to this completely cold, and he had me hooked for all 142 minutes. I can't say I loved it, especially as it compares to some of his other work - it's just so unrelenting in its examination of grief - but its powerful moments which are deftly delivered will undoubtedly have real staying power. Among those is that scene in the prison, when through a beatific smile a man who has committed genuine evil claims to have been forgiven by god, which made the film an interesting examination of faith as well.

Those with faith sometimes claim that without it, any immoral act would be possible, but here we get the inverse. To have faith and believe your acts can be absolved can lead to the same depravity. The young woman navigating stages of grief as well as trying to process her evolving thoughts about god, starting with "if there is a god, why would he allow evil in the world to innocent children?" touch on things about the human condition that are impossible to reconcile, and may make you feel as tortured as she is if you think about them. To his credit, Lee never turned this into a crime story with a twist, or a revenge story, instead simply dwelling on the aftermath of something terrible happening to a good person.

There are clearly moments when religion is being critiqued, such as when the protagonist blares "It's a Lie" by Kim Choo Ja over the loudspeakers during a congregation, but it's notable that it's not completely portrayed as negative. The gentle arc of Song Kang-ho's character, starting from being a creep who jokes along with his buddies in aggressively harassing ways to a woman in their workplace, and ending with turning down an offer for sex and saying that attending church helps make him feel peaceful, was deeply humanistic. Throughout the film, the performances from Song and Jeon Do-yeon were fantastic, more than keeping up with a deep, emotionally complex script.

This is one I admire more than love, but I could see that changing over time. It certainly had me thinking about it for a long time afterwards, and Lee Chang-dong continues to be a director I'd see anything from.

For me, it was difficult to endure through the entire movie as it is very long and not uplifting. The main character Shin-ae is in almost every scene but she is not a like-able character. She is a selfish mom who put her son in danger by pretending to be rich when she isn't and leaving her young son by himself in the large house she is renting in a town she just moved to. We find out that she moved to this town as it was the birthplace of her unfaithful ex-husband who died in a car crash. We later find out that Shin-ae resented her mother who hit her with a spoon and denied her schooling in a music program. But the moments that explain Shin-ae's mental state are too brief. Instead we are shown endless scenes that don't add to the story, just a bunch of scenes with Shin-ae acting recklessly and everyone around her tolerating her. A large amount of time is spent on her experience with Christians and Christianity. It ends with her questioning how God could forgive the murderer before she could and her breaking the the window of the pharmacy couple who try to help her. The mechanic character played by the famous Song Kang-Ho from Parasite does not seem real. Who in reality would put up with her? The son character is the most uplifting one and the young child actor does a great job with his portrayal. Song Kang-Ho also brings lightness and humor. The main character is shown without any makeup with unstyled hair throughout the entire movie. Actually, no one in the movie wears any makeup. Everyone is shown with ordinary clothes and hair styles. I think the Director was trying to make this movie look like a documentary. Even though this is an acclaimed movie, I think a movie should be entertaining. This was not. This should have been edited down with more emphasis placed on her past that explains her current actions and cut out all of the vomiting scenes. She vomits so much, I thought the character was pregnant.

I tend to view Burning and Poetry as masterpieces, but I'm somewhat disappointed in this film. That stems in part from the scenes of religious conversion which are a bit drawn out and not really enjoyable to watch (these could have easily been abbreviated), but more critically, the portrait of Shin-ae's emotional state feels very andro-centric, not least the scene involving the pharmacist. It made me a little uneasy. There are also a number of transitions in her character which are simply too abrupt, and in general a lack of believability in what happens to Jun and how abruptly it does. It begs the question of why she would have left him in the first place? And while Jeon Do-yeon does an extraordinary job as the beleaguered mother, Soon Kang-ho as the ever cheerful Jong chan becomes a little wearying. The film otherwise lacks depth because we're never invited into her psychological state, and remain mostly voyeurs watching her at arm's length.

Corean cinema can be quite surprising for an occidental audience, because of the multiplicity of the tones and genres you can find in the same movie. In a Coreen drama such as this "Secret Sunshine", you'll also find some comical parts, thriller scenes and romantic times. "There's not only tragedy in life, there's also tragic-comedy" says at one point of the movie the character interpreted by Song Kang-ho, summing up the mixture of the picture. But don't get me wrong, this heterogeneity of the genres the movie deals with, adds veracity to the experience this rich movie offers to its spectators. That doesn't mean that it lacks unity : on the contrary, it's rare to see such a dense and profound portrait of a woman in pain.

Shin-ae, who's in quest for a quiet life with her son in the native town of her late husband, really gives, by all the different faces of suffering she's going through, unity to this movie. It's realistic part is erased by the psychological descriptions of all the phases the poor mother is going through. Denial, lost, anger, faith, pert of reality : the movie fallows all the steps the character crosses, and looks like a psychological catalog of all the suffering phases a woman can experience.

The only thing is to accept what may look like a conceptual experience (the woman wears the mask of tragedy, the man represents the comical interludes) and to let the artifices of the movie touch you. I must say that some parts of the movie really did move me (especialy in the beginning), particularly those concerning the unability of Chang Joan to truly help the one he loves, but also that the accumulation of suffering emotionally tired me towards the end. Nevertheless, some cinematographic ideas are really breathtaking and surprising (the scene where a body is discovered in a large shot is for instance amazing). This kind of scenes makes "Secret Sunshine" the melo equivalent of "The Host" for horror movies or "Memories of murder" for thrillers. These movies are indeed surprising, most original, aesthetically incredible, and manage to give another dimension to the genres they deal with. The only thing that "Secret Sunshine" forgets, as "The host" forgot to be scary, is to make its audience cry : bad point for a melodrama, but good point for a good film.