Sogongnyeo

Wonderful film. Deep and strong in it's delicacy. I empathize a lot with it. Beautiful photography and story. Deep sadness and introspection. Slow flow and strong emotions at the same time.

I don't know what to say with other words so I paste the same thought there for the required characters

Wonderful film. Deep and strong in it's delicacy. I empathize a lot with it. Beautiful photography and story. Deep sadness and introspection. Slow flow and strong emotions at the same time.

Wonderful film. Deep and strong in it's delicacy. I empathize a lot with it. Beautiful photography and story. Deep sadness and introspection. Slow flow and strong emotions at the same time.

Clean, simple but obsessive.

That's all I would say about the gem that somehow I missed for 4 years. The film started with a soft, simple story about the girl who decided to stay at her friends' house to save up for other's important things: whiskey and cigarettes. But from that seem-to-be simple and somehow stupid idea, the film touched the deepest meaning of life, the consequences of every decisions we made in life, about the true difference that distinguish one from the others. You will find your eyes locked in the screen from the beginning to the very end.

The acting is extremely elegant, the dialogues are touching and funny, but the best things I can say about this movie is its cinematography. No crazy 90-minute one-take, no dolly zoom or breath-taking over view from some imaginary helicopter, the cinematography of the film is perfect that I won't even look for it. A well deserved praise for the director who I believe master the art of film.

I won't hesitate to recommend this film to anyone who truly want to understand the Eastern cultures, understand the people working under the pressure of society, and the life we really want to live, that somehow we have to find and fight for every single days of our life.

This movie really make me thinking about life. The plot is simple but for some reason it can touch my heart. I also like the acting a lot. The meaning behind the story is subtle enough and I like it a lot.

Everything is perfect and nothing bothers me. If all those who produce movies have this much sense, directing, and neatness, the world will be filled with really good films.

I literally can't believe such a wonderful and beautiful movie can be made with $320k in production costs. It is super LIT!

The most remarkable thing is lighting. The lighting behind the camera, which illuminates characters in a narrow space such as a dark alley or room, evokes naturalness but also makes them more adorable. However, there was no lighting in the scene of couple at dawn, and this delivers the temperature of air, which is so much colder and heavier. I really like these lighting decisions.

The structure, script, and acting were also good. Leakless structure, editing without superfluous parts! I felt like that I read a tidy article with a fabulous topic and solution.

It was a very enviable and respectful time for people who make fun things fun. The world is full of fun and cool stuffs, and it makes me struggling!

Hyeon-jeong, Dae-yong, and Rok-yi's episodes were very fun and giggling, but Jung-mi's consternated me. The movie was so adept at getting the issue off the table, but I think we should highlight it.

"I have money for a glass of whiskey and cigarettes, but no money to pay the rent."

If I regard the former as a metaphor for the most indispensable and fundemental cost of pursuing individual happiness, yes I can agree. I don't want to force the people to give it up. However, I think it is a pretty dangerous idea to ask someone else for a favor because I'm willing to give someone a bed when he or she asks me. I would have hooked if Mi-so slept in the parks and spent the rent at an indispensable basic cost. But she decided to share the burden with others, so she didn't lose anything. Of course, Jung-mi is rich to waste in throwing good food away, so in that episode it's almost Jung-mi's fault to reject Mi-so. But I doubt that Mi-so did well.

"Let's owe a favor to others just until I save the deposit of the house rent."

Can't she stop pursuing her own happiness until she save the deposit?

Microhabitat is quietly funny in that dry, blink-and-you'll miss it sort of way. Jeon Go-woon's debut is a subtle but assured sly satire about how utterly absurd adulthood turns out to be. The story follows Miso, played with pitch-perfect restraint by Esom, a character whose struggle to afford life's small pleasures in a world that demands too much and gives too little is all too relatable. Her choice of cigarettes and alcohol over her flat is a stark reflection of the compromises many of us make. What follows is a sofa-surfing odyssey through the crumbling dreams of her so-called friends, now the so-called 'adults'.

Each stop is a mini-tragicomic gem. Her sister, in the glamourous corporate job, which turns out to be little more than serfdom, held together by intravenous supplements, for which she undertook a nursing qualification to administer (the most valuable training she's taken). The joyless new parents, the pitiful man-child, a 50-year-old living with his parents, who support his attempts of abduction in order to marry him off. There's bleak satire in every corner-an unflinching look at how adulthood has failed us all. Never cruel-just painfully recognisable.

Miso's drifting detachment has hardened into something more radical. She begins to see those who've conformed as traitors-sell-outs to a broken system. Her lifestyle becomes a quiet manifesto, a rebellion against the rat race. Her freedom unsettles those who've buckled down, exposing their choices as cowardice. What begins as a story of survival turns into a powerful critique of societal norms. It's bleak, funny, and strangely empowering, leaving the audience enlightened and thoughtful.

The third act lands with a quiet, aching finality. As Miso's boyfriend confesses he's trading his dreams for stability, the film crystallises its core heartbreak-not just that adulthood is disappointing, but that even the dreamers eventually surrender. His choice isn't cruel, just crushingly ordinary. It's the slow erosion of hope that stings most. The time jump that follows is disorienting, deliberately so. Her old bandmates speak of Miso at a funeral with the hollow nostalgia of people who've long buried their idealism. Their words are polite, rehearsed, meaningless-revealing more about their own resignation than about her. And then, in a wordless, lingering moment, we glimpse a woman-greying, solitary, and still moving forward. Whether it's truly Miso or just her ghost doesn't matter. What matters is the sense that she never gave in. In a world that wears everyone down, her continued existence feels like a quiet act of defiance.

Microhabitat brilliantly mocks the illusions of adulthood with a knowing, bitter chuckle. Bleakly funny, oddly moving, and wonderfully observed.