Una viaggiatrice a Seoul

"Yeohaengjaui Pilyo" is a film that stirs the pot of artistic debate. While it aims to blend the subtleties of cultural exchange with personal growth, its execution falls short, presenting a tableau that feels unfinished. The narrative, which follows a French woman's journey of self-discovery in Korea through teaching and learning, is marred by a meandering pace and underdeveloped character arcs. The director, while respected by critics, seems to have missed an opportunity to polish this story into the gem it could have been. Critics and audiences alike must ask: does the film's reputation hinge on its director's past accolades, or does it stand on its own merits? It's essential to strip away the veneer of prestige and evaluate the film's true artistic value. As it stands, this cinematic piece requires a more critical eye and honest discourse to elevate the conversation around taste and artistry in film. Shameful!

A dull movie with flat characters in which nothing relevant happens. A wasted opportunity to showcase the relationship between a foreigner and Korean culture. The script seems to have been virtually non existent during filming (if there was any script at all).

There was no way of connecting with the story or any of the characters, as they were all incredibly lifeless. An awkward nonsense.

In short, dialogue is nonsensical, camerawork is amateur at best, actors don't bother making any effort whatsoever. Don't waste your time watching this crap because it's over an hour of your life that you won't get back.

As usual, Hong Sang-soo provides a typical simple, dialogue-filled, and character exploration narrative on the concept of closeness within individuals, alienation, and conversations. Sang-soo always provide some art-house dramatic works that resembles the work for Eric Rohmer's in the modern generation and is filled with likable characters, solid performances, and dialogue that are most of the time, feeling of the lessons from a poetic novel or realistic conversations.

With the simple production, writing and direction, Sang-soo does drift away from some of the focus within the narrative but as a whole, it stands out as another solid work from Hong.

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.

Hong Sang-soo has finally made an action film. Of course not. Again, this is much more of the same from Hong, to the point where this will blend into all his other films with a struggle for differentiation. Even the fact Isabelle Huppert stars has no unique value, starring now in her third collaboration with the director - not my favourite of his works, I might add.

The premise for this comes from an interesting place. Iris (Huppert) is a French woman living in Seoul, a seemingly accomplished French teacher, though conducts her lessons largely in English. But on entering her second lesson with Won-ju (Lee Hye-young) and her watching husband Hae-soon (Kwon Hae-hyo), we learn she is a complete novice, trying out teaching as she spends her days wandering.

The couple are sceptical, but sit out the lesson nonetheless. Conversing, and drinking (as is Hong's way), in English, we have a repetition of the conversation with her earlier student. It appears Koreans only learn certain stock phrases when studying English. Iris wants people to express more.

This, therefore, is the set-up for much of the conversation and drinking Hong films rely so much upon. Iris encourages her students to open up more and more; to dig a little deeper until they find what they truly want to express. A quick translation into French is scribed, with the student given the note to learn by rote. That way, they will be able to express themselves more in French than any vocabulary textbook will teach them.

Along her journeys, Iris encounters some Korean poetry, which is quickly translated for her, furthering her belief to learn more about a culture from a short text rather than a full vocabulary. This idea, while key, doesn't perhaps sustain a film entirely on its own. Though Hong's films maybe never fully satisfy, despite the enjoyment they offer. As ever, it is long discussion to get to a realised argument.

It is beyond this idea, however, where the film falters a little. Iris is living with a younger Korean poet, In-guk (Ha Seong-guk). Awkwardly, his mother visits, and Iris makes herself scarce. What follows is a fairly typical debate between parent and child as to concerns over the unconventional relationship. While perfectly serviceable, it doesn't perhaps have the charm of much of Hong's dialogues.

It also weakens Iris' role. Much like "In Another Country" (2012), Huppert comes off as simultaneously charming, awkward and vulgar, to the point where you're not quite sure how to take her. The last half hour, therefore, confuses what was up until then a well-worked piece on the nature of travel, translation and expression.

We do not need to speak a language fluently to understand and experience a culture. In fact, that knowledge may limit us to generic platitudes. As a traveller, it is more important to keep an open mind.

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