In his film, it's often two or three people having quiet conversations. Such scenes are rare in today's world, where social media dominates. I believe this is one of the charms of Hong Sang-soo's work. He uses simple equipment and straightforward filming techniques to capture the small, immersive moments of daily life and the sincere, delicate communication between people.
In his films, there's rarely a sense of time rushing by. The time in the film flows like a rivulet, and sometimes it even feels slow or awkward. The dialogue in the film doesn't seem to demand perfection, but rather preserves a sense of naturalness and truth. The characters blend with the actors themselves, making it hard to tell whether it's the script or an inherent part of the actors' personalities. The storyline is sometimes clear, sometimes veiled in mist, but it is always quiet and unhurried.
As he mentioned in an interview:"I don't aim to create grand narratives or films filled with dramatic conflict. I hope my films are as natural as life itself, without the need to deliberately create drama. Because life, in itself, is full of ups and downs and changes."
He doesn't aim to shoot perfect big-budget films; he simply captures life, filming the scenes and images he likes. As a result, his films often fluctuate along a level line named "Hong Sang-soo". Sometimes, his work is praised and even awarded; other times, the audience might not quite understand it. It's much like everyday life-sometimes filled with sparkling moments, sometimes with sad ones, but most of the time, life rises and falls along the line of "self".
This film takes an hour to slowly depict Huppert's day in Korea. In the morning, she talks with her student (the film captures the pauses in thought, awkward silences, and the clumsy dialogue), guiding the student to express her feelings, write them on index cards, and record them on a tape. Afterward, there's casual conversation and farewells. At noon, she quietly eats lunch alone, then goes to the next house to teach French, chatting, playing the guitar, taking a walk in the park, and receiving her teaching fee for the day. In the evening, she returns to her friend's house, gives the fee to her friend, and thanks him for taking her in.
In Hong Sang-soo's films, ordinary spaces and objects in daily life are no longer lifeless. Instead, they are given life and meaning through the delicate and sincere dialogues captured by his lens, becoming vivid and meaningful.
In the last half hour of the film , the boy talks with his mother, whom he hasn't seen in a long time. During the conversation, the sense of flow created by Huppert gradually disappears in the space. The mother is very protective of her child, but this overprotectiveness, while seemingly caring, is superficial. It is a care that remains on the surface, failing to delve into the child's inner world. The mother fails to see the child's inner thoughts or feelings; she is blind to his true needs.
As the dialogue unfolds, the space becomes small, narrow, and suffocating. This because excessive protection stifles different thoughts, and leaves no room for the child's own feelings or inner world to be acknowledged. If a person is treated this way from a young age, they may lose their vitality and become dull. Vitality and sensitivity, like tender sprouts, need careful nurturing to grow.
From another perspective, the size of space doesn't imprison people; rather, it's whether people confine themselves inwardly. If one restricts their sensitivity, they can only measure the world in square meters. But if sensitivity is allowed to stretch and vitality is allowed to grow freely, it will bring forth a magnificent, free, and vast inner landscape-like a wide grassland, a starry sky, and an ocean.
