Primavera, Verão, Outono, Inverno... e Primavera

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.

Perfect Simplicity

My review of this film should end with those two words. However, the 10 line minimum requirement that IMDb requires of all reviews belies the differences between my world and the world shown to me in Spring, Summer, Fall, Winter…and Spring. I understand why IMDb does not want 1000's of (apparently) useless two-word reviews in their database. However, I would hope that they could make an exception for this film.

Perfect: The film is as close to perfect as a film could get. No shot is presented to us, nor a line of dialog uttered that does not make us ponder and understand at the same time. The film is also beautiful. (Like the previous reviewer, I am a fan of Asian cinema and never tire of the stunning ability of Asian directors to capture beauty on film.) This film exceeds most other Asian films I have seen in the cinematography regard. However, its beauty is surprisingly deceptive. Like most great films, it surpasses the 'cinematography' level of beauty and delves into the beauty of existence through its story. For example, the Old Monk has a different pet during each 'season' of his life. This is not discussed by the characters nor shoved in our face by the director – as would have been done if Hollywood had done this film. It is merely background we experience and come to understand. Two days after viewing the film, I am still finding new reflections in my mind that encompass the cinematography, the literal story and the underlying context of the film.

Simplicity: This film approaches a level of cinematic Haiku. While I don't recall the entire dialog with any specificity, I am sure you could print the script on one page of paper. The amazing part is that while you are watching the film, you don't notice this. Every shot moves the story along. The simplicity of life as shown by the story is reflected in the simplicity of the film. After the film ended, I had a strong urge to move away from civilization and live – or die – in peace with nature. I enjoy (and have come to be too dependent upon) modern inventions, so I will stay at home. However, this film will remain in my heart. It does exactly what good story-telling is supposed to do: Take us completely out of our world and put us in another. There is no wonder that this film was selected for so many film festivals.

This is a hypnotic film to watch. The beauty of it lays in the simplicity in which it has been told. Director Ki-duk Kim's images feel like paintings by great masters.

This story about Karma and Buddist beliefs could have used a bit of trimming to make it more appealing, since at times it is too static. This is a film to stay away for those interested in fast action or special effects. No one is going to find them here. What the viewer will get is a feeling of well being and inner peace. The director seems to be teaching us a lesson in how anyone can achieve nirvana through self examination, meditation and doing good no matter to whom. Also, how cruelty, be it against a harmless animal, or a human being, will haunt those who transgress throughout life.

The acting blends in with the serene beauty of the temple in the middle of the lake, as we watch one season following another, as seen by the amazing cinematography by Dong-hyeon Baek.

At the risk of boring you all senseless here are some observations off the top of my head.

THE HUT Representing the self. All the possessions and shelter needed is on the floating hut. When the young man can no longer live at peace and comfort in the hut then bad things transpire. He never commits lustful acts in the hut. When we seek happiness outside ourselves, we are never truly content.

THE DOORS The doors by the lakeside and in the hut are symbolic rather than prescriptive. The fact there are no walls means their use is not forced but elected. They represent morality and discipline. Morality is not defined by a higher power but by society and the self. By adopting the constraints the doors engender, self-discipline is attained. As soon as the young man transgresses these self-imposed boundaries, to sneak across to the young woman, then disaster follows.

THE DEAD ANIMALS The Master allows the young boy to let the animals die. He does not become an all powerful father figure, cleaning up after him, but allows him to make mistakes and suffer the consequences. Buddhism does not have a higher power but rather promotes self-awareness.

THE MILLSTONE AND BUDDHA Represent the twin stones of regret for killing the fish and the snake. What you do unto others, you do unto yourself. He has carried that karma around with him all his life until he transcends them both, carrying them to the top of the hill, near heaven. Here he cuts himself free and attains redemption through struggle.

THE MASTER Is a great teacher, but does not lecture. Hardly a word is spoken, but lessons are learned. A good teacher points the way for a student to discover self-evident knowledge for themselves.

THE MOTHER The veil, representing guilt and shame are ultimately the cause of her downfall. Hiding from the outside world can bring about ruin.

THE YOUNG BOY Both at the beginning and the end, represents us. A good life is attained not by the absence of bad thoughts, but rather by their mastery, so they have no hold over us. We choose our behaviour rather than it choose us. The new boy is not born without sin, but rather must walk his own path to divinity. The same actor playing the young boy show the eternal cycle of the human soul.

THE SEASONS The endless cycle of birth, growth and death.

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.