Frühling, Sommer, Herbst, Winter... und Frühling

I remember when I saw this film on screen last year, I was struck by the rhythm director Kim Ki-Duk used in the film. It's deliberate, too deliberate for most I'd suppose. But like a reading good piece of philosophy, the filmmaker allows the viewer to get as much as they may find in the work. The story is more of a fable than a really conventional narrative- a baby is delivered to the steps of a Buddhist house on a lake, where the boy is raised by a master. He grows up, and falls temptation to the desires of the world. He decides to leave, only to return and find himself again. In the end, as winter comes, things come full circle. Each of the 'seasons' of the film are handled delicately, with the kind of simplicity that may appeal even more to children (the segment of the first 'spring' with the child transcends religion and goes into the basic stance of nature). The scenes of finding lust in 'summer' is not terribly graphic, but it puts the point on what is right and wrong in the customs and traditions of the religion. Then in 'Autumn', there are harsher lessons to be learned, and this also contains the best acting from the old master and the young, angry pupil. And 'Winter' becomes the most meditative of them all, with next to no dialog. Indeed that may be the turn off to most viewers- to say that the film isn't supported by dialog is an under-statement. And its not necessarily documentary realism. What I sensed from the film, and what stuck with me for a few days afterward, was the spiritual attitude behind the style, the confidence that the rhythm had a connection with the subject matter. It's one of the most soulful films to come out of the Eastern world in some time. It's less a traditional drama than a unique experience, for better or worse, really more for the better.

This film is a good example why cinema is called an art - this is not just another movie, but a real piece of art. The pleasure of seeing it belongs to the aesthetics, and it transcends beyond the action and beyond what only happens on screen, or what the characters say and do.

It is both a simple and complex story - the story of a life, catching all seasons of development of man: innocence of childhood - so quickly lost unfortunately, mistakes of the young age, tragedies of maturity , and wisdom coming with the old age.

The film is filmed at one location of a cut-breathing beauty. Beauty of nature is being maximized by the art of the camera. The soundtrack has little dialog, but the expressiveness of the actors makes the dialog useless. You feel the drama, you do not need to hear the words, and the music says more than words.

There are a lot of symbols in this movie, and I probably lost most of them because they belong to the Budhist culture. There are however many other symbols that speak to the European spectator - the cycles of life, the rhythms of nature, the magic figure 4, like the number of seasons of the year, or like the number of parts in classic symphony, the unity of space as in Greek tragedy, and time - one life instead of one day, all give to this creation a wonderful symmetry and equilibrium.

Worth seeing, this is a film that will make the delight of anybody who believes like I do that cinema is an art.

After watching the movie a second time, I was determined to find out what the Old Monk had drawn on the deck of the hermitage. The only clue I had was the scene's subtitle: "Prajnaparamita Sutra – it helps restore inner peace." Those were the words the Old Monk used to describe the sacred teachings that the Young Monk had to carve out as penance for his crime of passion. When I looked up the Prajnaparamita Sutra on the internet, I found out it was known as the Diamond Sutra of the Buddha.

The Buddha spoke the wise words in a monastery near Sravasti, saying that "this sutra should be called the Diamond that cuts through illusion because it has the capacity to cut through illusions and afflictions and bring us to the shore of liberation." There are 32 sutras or sections, and the 32 sections are also "marks" that are used to meditate on "the Tathagata" – which means "the suchness of all things (dharmas)." The meaning of Tathagata is "does not come from anywhere and does not go anywhere." The insight into the truth of the sutras consists in a realization that "the idea of a self is not an idea, and the ideas of a person, a living being, and a life span are not ideas either." A self-realized or awakened "Buddha" is called a Buddha because he/she is free of ideas.

The "Buddha" in the Diamond Sutra is also called the World-Honored One, and his message can be summarized by two axioms: (1) "Someone who looks for me in form or seeks me in sound is on a mistaken path and cannot see the Tathagata." (2) "All composed things are like a dream, a phantom, a drop of dew, a flash of lightning. That is how to meditate on them, that is how to observe them."

Now I will have to watch the movie a third time and meditate on the 32 marks that the Old Monk draws with the cat's tail on the floor of the ashram. I will also feel the urge to count and see if there are really 32 marks.

I'm constantly amazed by the appearance of some seemingly off-the-wall piece of art that when you view it evokes a stunning effect. The simplicity of this film, its low-key action and pace, its visual surrealistic beauty, all interact to create an emotional impression that is long-lasting and thought-provoking. Korea has been somewhat slower to enter the international cinematic world and here is a film with actors whose names stir little or no recognition. For myself, who has enjoyed the Korean films I've seen before, it was a delightful surprise. The film itself is a wonderful tapestry of Korean Buddhist culture, with quiet visual beauty, simple moral themes and human passions put into a simple, homespun perspective. The remarkable natural setting which reflects the wide spectrum of Korea's seasons, which range from hot, sticky humid-fraught summers to icy, cold snow-bound winters, become a metaphor of life with unadorned figures, completely human in form. The old monk becomes a witness to the interplay of human qualities, without judgment yet with a complete and quiet moral presence. The foibles of child cruelty is met with a simple retribution which imparts a lasting lesson. Judgment is always withheld and warnings are given simply. The effect of all of this rings long and lasting, much like the impression of a delicate Korean silk print: simple in design with plain brush strokes and stylized representations of nature-- yet, lasting in impression, often to the point of being unforgettable. I buy few videos and DVDs, preferring to see things I really enjoyed again and again. But, I've ordered this one.

This film left me speechless, and I still have a hard time putting how I feel about this movie into words. After seeing it the first time in the theater, my friend and I couldn't bring ourselves to say a word to each other...not even in the car on the ride back. The second time I saw it, after purchasing it, another friend and I walked around the campus for half an hour in silence. The third time, a friend and I sat in silence in her room for an hour after the movie was over. This film is that profound, touching, and moving.

Spring, Summer, Fall, Winter...Spring is the most beautiful movie I have ever seen. Visually it is fantastic, though several films surpass it in this aspect. However, the film manages to speak directly to the soul (or...failing to believe in the soul...something deep inside anyone watching it), and this is where it's beauty lies. Parts are so affecting that a painful nostalgia for a place you never knew overwhelms you.

I am sorry I cannot be more helpful...the quality that makes this movie so wonderful is well beyond words for me.