Hong Sangsoo

[knives]

The only Rohmer I can think of that has this sort of cheery, breezy tone (pretty much throughout) is Reinette and Mirabelle.

I also find the Rohmer connection to be severely overextended. I suspect that is just everyone's first response to any film featuring young people talking deep stuff while doing young people stuff. I wonder if whatever Hong's Korean influences were were more well known to the west if that Rohmer connection would be brought up less.

[therewillbeblus]

I agree that it's a common default, and I've noticed that it doesn't fit as consistently with his work more often than not (across what I've seen thus far), so in that way it's perhaps "overextended" if applied to his entire oeuvre. However, he has explicitly cited Rohmer as an influence and has a very French-heavy Sight and Sound top ten, with no Korean influences on there (not saying there aren't any, but his films appear to me to be much more Western than his contemporaries; I'd be curious to see other Korean films like these). I also think it's unfair to dismiss the specific readings without explaining why. For example, I would be interested to hear how you view Rohmer's tone as different from my response to Michael's post, or refute how Nobody’s Daughter Haewon seemed to hit that similar vibe as I outlined. To me it's less to do with "any film featuring young people talking deep stuff while doing young people stuff" (which describes many, many awful films) than the sensation of holding onto emotional and philosophical contradictions, through a lens of contradictory whimsy and intense groundedness, yet remaining hopeful and taking on the weight of optimism for its characters objectively, and providing it to them at the end.. basically optimism in the face of embracing life's contradictions through visualizing a subjective-objective dance in narrative space.

I find it's very distinct and complex apart from that "talking deep stuff" (I actually don't think that Hong's films tend to involve "deep" discussions as much as his visual style elicits the Rohmer vibe of filmmaking, so I can't align with that reading at all) and still find a few of Hong's films to imbue that feeling quite synonymously. Maybe we just have completely different ideas of what a Rohmer film is, which is totally fine, but it also feels a bit strange to outright dismiss the reading the way you did especially when I actually explained my take on it following the post you quoted, in no way related to the rather condescending suspicion you are proposing for those of us who do think there's something there.

[Michael Kerpan]

I can't honestly think of any Korean antecedents for Hong. His style and content seems to have little or no connection to the Korean "new wave" kicked off by PARK Kwang-su (followed by LEE Chang-dong, PARK Chan-wook, HUR Jin-ho et al) and even less to older Korean cinema. He doesn't seem to cite other directors as influences in interviews -- but does mention Chekhov, Dostoevsky and Cezanne.

[The Fanciful Norwegian]

Jang Sun-woo's The Road to the Racetrack is very much like a proto-Hong film in some respects, especially its structure—though typically of Jang it evinces a much more jaundiced outlook than Hong's own films. Hong has been open about its significance to him; he saw it while living overseas and it convinced him that he could make movies in Korea. The Korean Film Council has uploaded it to its Youtube channel, though it's a big step down from the DVD.

[therewillbeblus]

The Day a Pig Fell into the Well is a strong debut, and very different from where Hong would emerge to, though I appreciated the consistent personal strings that were present even then (the "do you still drink hard?" question in the first scene signifying an early awareness of problem-drinking and the utilization of alcohol as a coping mechanism; self-destructive behavior that would become more internalized later, but here manifests as explosive, etc.)

Colin's post early in the thread is so perfect that I can't really add to it, but this line specifically caught my eye:

This leads to questions about what caused the breakdown of the marriage? And in her inability to contact the novelist she is pushed into confronting what seem to be the 'real' reasons for their relationship breakdown - an encounter with a relative(?) and her young son working in a chemists and seeing the staged photo of herself, her husband and their young son in the photographic studio's window (which itself beautifully suggests the facade of 'perfect' relationships - perhaps the whole film could just be seen as a 'what if?' scenario about what the lives of people we might see in such posed photographs are really like!)

I love that idea that people of equal dignity and worth are coexisting around us, and that we still default naturally to snap-judgments without the capacity to obtain absolute knowledge due to limitations in perspective. This is another early indicator of what Hong is interested in exploring in his films, along with the aggressive parts in us that are either acted out or brew below the surface and present themselves through indirect courses of action. I also appreciated your view of the empathy for the writer's self-destructiveness not coming easy, but still there given our insight into his conflict with social systems around him.

[knives]

Jang Sun-woo's The Road to the Racetrack is very much like a proto-Hong film in some respects, especially its structure—though typically of Jang it evinces a much more jaundiced outlook than Hong's own films. Hong has been open about its significance to him; he saw it while living overseas and it convinced him that he could make movies in Korea. The Korean Film Council has uploaded it to its Youtube channel, though it's a big step down from the DVD.

That's genuinely helpful to know. I'm fairly ignorant of Korean cinema having only seen two films from before the current generation took off so the more information the better.

[Michael Kerpan]

Fanciful Norwegian --

Thanks. I missed that reference to Jang.

[therewillbeblus]

Woman on the Beach is sublime. The director’s speech about his movie idea is great, and another example of Hong ‘logically’ explaining that the search for tangible meaning is impossible when it’s inherently enigmatic, followed by the woman’s dismissal of its soundness and offering that at least he “has a way with words.” It’s a terrific scene and one of the combinations in wisdom and self-deprecation that Hong would replicate with slight shifts in the future. Her later proclamation that awareness begets meaning and that this attention means “the world won’t be lonely” is lovely and masks a more humble idea, yet similar to what Hong’s stand-ins usually profess.

The theme of ‘honesty’ is there too, with the later woman saying she’s only as honest as she needs to be in any situation, and the director himself descending into a dishonest pit that alienates all. For Hong, honesty appears to resemble a deceptively spiritual shadow, one that is entangled in ideology and socially-enforced ethics (“we’re repeated images imprinted on us by others”) as much as cognitive and emotional reasoning, and our own imperfect consciences. The director is honest to his own desires, just as Hong’s characters are honest to their drinking, sexual impulses, emotional gravity, solipsistic perspectives, and general selfish drives through his films; and yet verbally he is dishonest to himself and - more literally - others in the end. The mystery of authenticity is something he continuously chases through recognizing consequences born from innate flaws in people, most notably himself.

This film has one of the most ethereal tones of all his films. I loved the extra meditations on beautiful fleeting moments, which counteract all the interpersonal struggles with honesty by infusing so many frames with honest expressions filmed in real time, lingering for what feels like forever. Michael, I can see why you equated this to List’s breezy vibe, though this one didn’t quite have the Rohmerist quality that a select few of his others have had for me. The difference is barely describable, but there was less of a sensation in validating subjectivity and holding onto an objective present to have faith in the future; instead more of a mystical meditation that is wholly devoted to dissecting dual subjectivities, in him and her. There is definitely still a clear influence though.

The focus on honesty is so unfiltered that the film predominantly stresses the challenge of interpersonal relations and the desperate longing to hold onto magical bouts of connection, which is an honest desire to return to an honest moment, even if the actual process is intangible. The intellectualized drawing with the three dots and shapes is validated by her as “amazing” (contrasting with the earlier beach scene) but Hong knows that whatever truth is in here can only be properly validated in a fantasy without a fight (which crumbles later when she declares it to be a “bullshit philosophy” and he leaves, emasculated of his only security in intellectualized convictions).

For what it’s worth, I think that scene is the most intelligent and in step with my own philosophy in all of his films, which obviously says something about me too. The key piece to Hong’s films for me is this greater awareness (beyond self-awareness) that whatever truth we can muster is only a slice of the pie, and yet we must remain in a conflicting state of willingness to question and learn, as well as believe in our own limited perspectives in order to live honestly with ourselves. His characters grow the course of his filmography to emulate this development on the screen, but Hong has always had these reflective capabilities within him to be able to display them from the beginning. Having now binged almost all of the rest of his films over the weekend, I cannot think of a filmmaker who speaks my own language more than Hong Sangsoo, specifically in the bridged philosophical-emotional realm of attempts to access what can only be described as the enigmatic essence of spirituality.

When the characters apologize at the end, they say, “I’m sorry. Honestly.” The need to stress that the apology is honest recognizes the insincerity that passes unknowingly between people for their own self-driven motives; and conversely, the reflective practice that occurs internally as the characters say this out loud allows for them to transcend that dishonesty, as best they can, and is hopeful for connectedness going forward. There is empathy in how they ask after the other’s feeling, and yet a self-focused individuality in their separation and personal empowerment. It’s as honest a moment as they can possibly have, an instant of subtle growth, and a perfect ending to a perfect film - which can only be topped by the optimism of people with no obvious motives helping her get her car unstuck from a sandpit.. the small yet massive power of empathy.

[Michael Kerpan]

Virgin is my sentimental favorite -- but if pushed to break my tie between it and Woman on the Beach, I would almost surely have to go with the latter. There is almost nothing about it I don't love -- and I love it more and more as it progresses. I love the clear (to me) shift of the viewpoint character from our (anti-)hero to our heroine. And I think it develops an almost Rivettian vibe once the two women become (at least temporary) allies (viz. Pont du Nord, Love on the Ground). And the little epilogue, with the car on the beach (and its "rescue" by the two passersby) always fills me with delight. (This whole film feels more Rivetty -- in one of his more playful moments -- than Rohmery).

[therewillbeblus]

I wholeheartedly agree, though I also find a lot of overlap in the spacious air and thematic philosophies in Rivette and Rohmer (while their surface-level content is quite different!) so I'd say it's a nice mesh.


Michael, I find that our tastes on Hong are pretty aligned. Since I've now finished off his filmography (yeah, it was a nonstop binge weekend), I guess I’ll post my favorites considering we’ll likely never have a list project (unlike others, I do feel like I can honestly rank the order of the ones I love- though the top three are interchangeable).

Ultimately I found that, even though I can't say Hong has made a "bad" film, there was an inconsistency to his work's ability to strike a chord or serve as more of a musing that grazed impressive surfaces without penetrating them, with the biggest low period occurring between Woman on the Beach and Nobody’s Daughter Haewon (or List, including shorts). Thematically I feel closely linked with him, you could even say 'blended' in mindsets, perhaps more than any other filmmaker I've stumbled across - and when his films worked for me they were among the most harmonious experiences I've found between myself and a film. I want to thank this board profusely for bumping this thread enough lately to get me to take the plunge.

1. List
2. Virgin Stripped Bare By Her Bachelors
3. Woman on the Beach
4. Nobody’s Daughter Haewon
5. Yourself and Yours
6. 50:50 (Venice 70 short)
7. Right Now, Wrong Then
8. Grass
9. On the Occasion of Remembering the Turning Gate
10. The Day a Pig Fell into the Well

Discounting shorts, The Power of Kangwon Province and Tale of Cinema would be next.

[Michael Kerpan]

I guess I need to revisit Nobody's Daughter -- as I haven't seen it since it first showed up. We do seem to have a very high degree of concurrence on Hong.

I wonder whether some of the films that didn't resonate as much on first viewing might (or might not) produce a different impact on reviewing, depending onm one's mood and situation at the time. I know the ones I liked best have held up (or improved) -- but have not reinvestigated the less favorite ones with rigor.

I like Hong's films very much -- but would say that the current director who resonates most with me is Kore'eda.

[therewillbeblus]

For me it’s all about his own layered self-awareness and humility to leave space for that ‘truth’ to be inherently solipsistic, embracing perspective as one of the nebulous keys to life’s wonderful mysteries, and.. so much more that I’ve already tried to describe with words but ultimately just hits an artistic sweet spot. He reminds me why I love movies and life.

I think you’re probably right, and I watched his oeuvre in a random order too, so watching him evolve and spreading his works out over a longer period of time would probably yield different appreciations. Even though I wrote up some reasons why I love Nobody’s Daughter Haewon, its placement is hard to argue. The lead actress destroyed me with her honest performance and relatability, and I’d be lying if her ‘second drink’ moment didn’t elevate this miles above where it might be otherwise. I think that moment- for so many reasons- is the best thing he’s ever done.

[jigen]

A question that's long puzzled me about Tale of Cinema, a film which I love: did the director of the film-within-a-film also play the male lead of that film-within-a-film? In the second half, the actress confirms that the director did act in the film, and when we see the poster for the retrospective, the face on the poster is the face of the male lead. However, in the hospital scene at the end of the film, the director in the hospital bed seems (?) to be a different person? Is he in fact the man who played the father in the film-within-a-film? Maybe I've made a mistake. I've rewatched it many times, but I've never been able to work this out.

[yoshimori]

The difference in the looks of the the "actor" and "director" did also raise for me, first time I saw the film, the question you're asking. Still, I assumed Lee Ki-woo played both parts, but that Hong's hair and make-up folks did a good job of aging him - bangs in part 1 versus receding hairline in part 2; baby face v scruff; etc.

If you've got a blu-ray handy, you can see that the actor in part 1 and the director in part 2 have the same unusual left ear patterning.

[jigen]

Ah, yes, I'll take a closer look at the ears later!

It's a testament to the strength of Hong's filmography that no two Hong fans seem to have the same favourite! For me, Turning Gate, Right Now Wrong Then and The Day He Arrives would probably top my list. Perhaps Oki's Movie too, though I need to rewatch it.

I do like Woman on the Beach, but it may be my least favourite due to what (to me) feels like one of Hong's few big missteps: the sequence where Jung-rae blows up at the waiter, who as far I'm concerned had done nothing to warrant such treatment. Of course, Jung-rae's explosion is the kind of behaviour you'd expect from one of Hong's unpleasant male characters, but what bothered me is the way Mun-suk goes along with it, glaring at the waiter on her way out and telling him he should "be nicer to his customers". The only objections to this appalling behaviour are put into the mouth of Chang-wook, in order to skewer him as a snivelling hypocrite who only pretends to care about injustice to impress girls. But even if he had ulterior motives, which of course he did, I frankly agree with every word he said in this scene: they had treated the waiter like dirt. Mun-suk tells Chang-wook "You're selfish, just like us", and this may well be accurate in his case (and I can understand why she would have lost patience with this weird clingy hanger-on) but considering the way she and Jung-rae behaved in the restaurant this line strikes me as the sort of smug self-justification I'd usually expect Hong to be critical of. I personally found this quite off-putting, and it may be the only time I've kind of disliked one of Hong's female characters.

[therewillbeblus]

Interesting thoughts, I also thought that scene was curious but it didn't bother me quite so much. I like your reading of Chang-wook as having ulterior motives (which fits well with Hong's understanding of people as inherently having a selfish side, conscious or not) but I also think he believes he's acting with morality - and therefore subjectively is, which isn't mutually exclusive from the selfish side wanting to impress. As far as Jung-rae and Mun-suk's interactions, I took the former to be an imperfect act of arrogance by the director and the latter to show how a) Mun-suk is becoming attracted to Jung-rae and therefore is becoming blinded (as people do when becoming increasingly attracted to an object of affection) and following him with limited peripheral vision, and b) that, given this point, all people are imperfect, including women. She shrugs off Chang-wook's annoying demands to go become more acclimated to the only thing she cares about in this given moment, Jung-rae. She is taken by his charm, and this becomes more apparent as the film progresses (measured in many ways, including by how much rope she gives him with her willingness to accept his self-serving intellectualizations with responses that range from star-eyed flattery to skeptical nudging and even verbally aggressive anger).

I think that across the first section of his filmography, Hong began to slowly change the behaviors of his characters to becoming less overtly aggressive, narcissistic, or mean-spirited, toward a composite that is equally flawed but more restrained and subtle, even to the characters themselves. He isn't a stranger to doing this with female characters though. My favorite female character in his body of work is the titular Haewon in Nobody's Daughter Haewon, who wins us over immediately as incredibly amicable before we discover her drinking problems, cheating history, seeming unawareness of her defects that cause her friend group to despise her, and vanity. And yet she is also this blistering empathic free spirit who can be faithful, appropriately self-conscious, and very aware of herself and others. There is a complexity of contradictions there that Hong lets us see from the perspective of others in a brief scene where she leaves the room, and then allows us to circle back to this person to be seen with more dimensions, which only make her more relatable by showing unlikeable sides.

Similarly Mun-suk's inability to check herself in supporting the director, after appropriately teasing him just a scene or two earlier on the beach with her own assurance, demonstrates that flaw in her character but also all people who lose insight and scope in the pursuit of romance, which can shade one's ethical scope in favor of emotion. This feels very in step with one of Hong's central themes: that people are emotional - and even the most intelligent, self-actualized, cognitively-bound people who live by congruent philosophies, will fail to live by their beliefs in favor of enigmatic emotions that disrupt our morals, cause cognitive dissonance, and lead to imperfections. The process of recognition, living in the moment with the experiences, growing and changing, and finding ourselves again, cyclically and imperfectly, is what makes people whole, or (relatively) perfect. So for me, Mun-suk's actions in the restaurant directly mirror her phone call with him later in the movie where she asks about how his leg is, and shows genuine care for him, now divorced from her romantic longing and back to a self-actualized individualist who acts out in compassion rather than following the moves of a potential lover for self-gain. But she will probably sacrifice that or another trait of hers again down the line, and rinse, cycle, repeat, which means she's only human.

[jigen]

What a thorough and thoughtful reply! I agree with a lot of this, particularly the second paragraph where you chart the gradual change in Hong's characters over the years. I've noticed this change too, and it may be one reason why I have a special affection for the films from ~2010 onwards, which are warm and wistful but no less prickly and emotionally complex.

I think your observations about Woman on the Beach are very astute, and yet, and yet... I can't shake the feeling that Hong really does think that Chang-wook is an opportunistic fraud who only pretends to care about injustice. He even includes an exchange once things have calmed down where Chang-wook asks Jung-rae "You know my intentions were genuine earlier, right?" and Mun-suk, disgusted, says "You never quit". I would like to think that Hong intended for this character's selfish desires to co-exist with sincere good intentions as you suggested, but for whatever reason it doesn't play that way to me. It struck me as an overly-cynical and mean-spirited depiction of someone speaking out about something he perceives to be unjust— but of course there's a lot of room for interpretation and I can certainly see why you've come to a different conclusion!

[therewillbeblus]

I actually agree with you in the context of the film, but would just reframe it where I think there's room for both. Essentially Hong seems to believe that self-awareness, while never an absolute or linear process with finite ends, is the path to finding acceptance, gratitude, and the will to grow, learn, change, etc. Chang-wook isn't allotted the development that the other characters are, as this isn't his story, and he's left as a two-dimension character who is always keyed up with anxiety, taking a uniformly offensive approach trying to 'fix' the unbearable emotional responses of his self-consciousness. As a result, he cannot be aware of his actions' effects on himself or others; he just can't get out of his own way for a second, nor does he have a willingness to. Jung-rae and Mun-suk, for all their flaws, are more comfortable in their own skins, self-actualized just enough to access the world beyond total solipsism, though they definitely both exhibit these traits (exhibit A is the scene in question). They are capable of having these selfish and empathic intentions co-exist with some semblance of consciousness as a result of their individual identity-comprehensions, an acceptance in themselves which then opens doors for willingness to engage in self-reflective practices.

Chang-wook's inability to reflect doesn't stop him from believing that he has good intentions. In fact, his own 'belief' that he's acting in accordance with morality is a defense mechanism that keeps him in an unaware state, because to part with that 'belief' would bring him out of such solipsism into a state of self-reflection. To illustrate my point, I'll use a real-life example. At my work, a common phrase to the children who were in a state of emotional dysregulation, rigidly fixated on a narrative of what happened that straight up didn't happen (i.e. "He made me punch her!"), would be a staff member responding, "I believe that you believe that [Johnny made you hit her, or whatever]." This was to validate that narrative without acknowledging it as truth, with the hope being that once the child had calmed down, and thus able to engage in a reflective processing of the incident, we could then engage in that conversation.

Hong believes that Chang-wook believes that he's acting morally, but he also shows this as a facade, like you say. The truth is, all his characters keep themselves in the dark to some degree - just like all of us, but Hong is a somewhat introspective intellectual more in line with the main characters. He has more interest in exploring the existential plights of half-aware, half-stuck people than those like Chang-wook who are just obnoxiously in a perpetual space of erratic fear drowning out any capacity for growth (at the given moment), because they're just not interesting or relatable for him. Imagining a movie centered even slightly more around him as a character sounds painful, but I also align more with Hong's imperfect but semi-self-aware characters (as I'm sure many people on this forum do as well).

I also agree on his later output being overall preferable, though it still wasn't consistent. I don't know what was going on for Hong while he was in that middle period, but part of why I wasn't that excited by it is that he seemed in a period of stagnation. I'd love to read a biography on him someday and compare his films along a timeline of personal events, as I have a feeling that they would reflect far more than what we can already gather, and he's already one of the most transparent artists I can think of offhand!

[jigen]

I guess my problem is: speaking strictly about the specific context of acting abusively towards a service worker, I don't think that Jung-rae or Mun-suk do seem self-aware or semi-self-aware at all, and I don't think they exhibit self-awareness about that sort of behaviour elsewhere in the film, and (I guess this is the crux of the issue for me) I'm not certain how self-aware Hong himself is about this, as I don't see much reason to believe that he disagrees with Mun-suk's assessment of the situation in question.

(As we've both noted, Chang-wook has obvious ulterior motives for upbraiding Jung-rae and is a pretty pathetic guy etc., but as far as I'm concerned the actual substance of what he says in this scene is clearly morally right. (Maybe I'm alone on this but I don't think I am?) I'm uncertain as to what Hong's perspective would be on this.)

[therewillbeblus]

My guess is that he believes that life is about self-discovery through participation rather than rigidly fixating around a moral as a defense against that participation/self-discovery. I don’t know why he would draw out that long scene, give us insight into how clearly odd the director’s reactions were in a front-row seat, and show the exchange between men with the director refusing to apologize out of ego for an emotionally driven action, if he wasn’t acknowledging this action as harmful (though I think he’s a moral relativist and sees things as ‘harmful’ rather than ‘immoral’ for example).

I also think Hong is humble enough to know that to have his characters attain self-awareness there or later in the narrative around that specific action would be inauthentic. He’s admitting from an objective position that he’s done this (or generalized harmful actions due to ego and acute emotion), much like I can give someone advice that I don’t always take myself. I think the difference in what we are looking for is that I don’t care at all if Jung-rae or Mun-suk, in the heat of their growth later on, stop to say “oh shit we weren’t nice to that waiter” because that’s not how life works and it would be troublesome to the validation of imperfections and the impossibility to achieve total self-awareness that Hong preaches and that we know.

Having the morally-right character be the one who will not grow or participate in life according to Hong’s philosophy of the meaning of life, while allowing his characters who will (to some extent, nonlinearly and with bumps) be wrong in the situation, further embraces his ironic take on life as full of murky waters of contradictions. Giving us that specific catharsis would undermine his entire thematic interest, as I see it. I think we need to take a leap of faith many times in Hong’s work to assume that he is very aware that people are imperfect and is intentionally showing us new shades of these problems, so we can look for the moments they appear to mature along the general roots of these behaviors (ego, emotional regulation, compassion), rather than ‘fix’ the specific surface level actions they’ve committed (yelling at a waiter). This therapeutic growth is often exposed in response to a totally different incident later on, just like actual life.

[jigen]

Points taken - all very fair, and well-put. In my defence, I don't think I was asking for any of those things and I'm sorry if that's how it came across! (e.g. hand-holding; neatly-labelled Good and Bad stickers on every character and line of dialogue; an inauthentic signposted late-stage epiphany; everything tied up with a bow; etc.) I'm a great admirer and I've seen and loved almost all of his work, which is often knotty, complex, ambiguous, mysterious, fraught with contradictions and paradoxes and all the strange currents of our inner lives, and all the better for it. I do think that there is a moral dimension to his work, and that in this instance - for me - I think he miscalculated, to the point where it read to me as weirdly reactionary, but clearly I'm not doing a good job of identifying and articulating exactly what it is that doesn't sit right with me, so: I won't belabour the point any more! Thanks so much for all your illuminating responses - I'll certainly keep these thoughts in mind when I next revisit the film!

[Michael Kerpan]

Showing us character who act like jerks does not equal showing approval of acting jerky. It just tells us something about the characters -- under the circumstances under which they behaved poorly.

[zedz]

Showing us character who act like jerks does not equal showing approval of acting jerky. It just tells us something about the characters -- under the circumstances under which they behaved poorly.

80% of the male characters in Hong's films act like jerks (and I don't know if the remaining 20% even have speaking parts!) It's what he does, and exploring the delicate calibrations of male jerkiness is one of the pleasures of his films.

[jigen]

Hi Michael Kerpan and zedz— I agree with both of you! I feel embarrassed at how badly I'm expressing myself here. As I've said I really am a big fan of his, and I don't know why Woman on the Beach is the only film of his that I've had this problem with (I've seen everything of his save the last 3 or 4). I'm starting to feel like the problem is with me, rather than with this film, haha!

I'm not meaning to argue— when I've lurked on this board in the past I've always found both of your writing on Hong extremely valuable and helpful. I only want to explain why I might have misread this scene, because at this point I'm starting to feel a little embarrassed. As you said zedz, at least 80% of Hong's male characters are jerks, and as such I expect it, and of course I know that Hong is not endorsing their jerky behaviour, and I don't mistake depiction for endorsement there — that's the male characters. But I think that (for the most part?) his female characters are considerably less jerky - the women in his films, while still often flawed and difficult in their own ways, tend to come across as much better, kinder and more decent. Because of that overall difference in jerkiness between his male and female characters, I'm afraid that I probably did make the beginner's mistake Michael Kerpan highlighted of thinking that Hong basically "approved of" Mun-suk's (that is, the female character's) behaviour in this scene, which I personally found incredibly jerky and unpleasant.

[Michael Kerpan]

I think Hong very much approves of Mun-suk overall -- especially once she begins to "wake up". But that does not mean he "approves" of everything she does -- especially before she begins to change.

What I like about this film is the fact that it portrays a character being shaken out of their initial state of mind (makes me think a little bit of Green Ray, another of my favorite Rohmer film).