Chuncheon
is a popular tourist attraction among Koreans, because of its lakes and
temples, and partly due to the hit K-drama Winter
Sonata that took place there. However, there will be no melodrama for the
three characters we follow as they drift through the resort town. They already
understand life’s disappointments too well to indulge in any sort of cheap theatrics.
Instead, they will attempt to find temporary respite from loneliness in Jang
Woo-jin’s Autumn, Autumn, which screens
during this year’s New Directors/New Films.
Ji-hyeon
does not know the middle-aged couple, but he is sitting uncomfortably close to
them on the commuter train. Although they seem to have an ambiguously romantic
relationship, Se-rang and Heung-ju still seem awkward in each other’s presence.
Splitting the film’s structure in two (and inevitably prompting a chorus of Hong
Sang-soo comparisons in the process), Jang follows Ji-hyeon first. For reasons
that are never fully explained, the recent college graduate is having an
unusually hard time landing professional employment, so he understandably finds
sleepy Chuncheon absolutely stifling. Yet, a horribly awkward encounter with a
former classmate will ultimately yield small, but potently bittersweet
revelations. Frankly, those will be Jang’s specialty.
When
Jang shifts his focus to Se-rang and Heung-ju, they will revisit many of the
same landmarks we passed through with the listless Ji-hyeon, but they will try
to enjoy them as touristy day-trippers. It turns out they met through a Korean
internet dating site, so you know they must be lonely. Technically, Se-rang is
not divorced like Heung-ju, but it is doubtful her husband would notice or even
care if she started having an affair.
As
you should have assumed by now, Autumn,
Autumn is not about plot, per se. Despite the parallel construction, it
really is not about narrative gamesmanship (in the tradition of Hong) either.
Arguably, Jang is not so far removed from the aesthetics of Kore-eda, closely
observing his damaged characters in long takes, but inviting sympathy and
forgiveness for them at every turn.
Lee
Se-rang is utterly heartbreaking yet also affirmingly radiant as her namesake.
Likewise, Woo Ji-hyeon’s performance as the graduate is almost shockingly open
and vulnerable. Yet, for some reason Jang and Yang Heung-ju largely keep
Heung-ju’s defenses up, so we never feel the same sort of empathetic connection
to him. Still, he forges an undefinable rapport with Lee, helping facilitate
her genuinely moving confidences.
