REVIEW: Return to Seoul

Return to Seoul is a film that is resonant in its essential question of “how does one consolidate the roots of one’s own identity when they are foreign to oneself?” The movie follows the 25 y/o Freddie as she navigates the country of her birth and its foreign cultures and people. Originally traveling to Korea on a whim with her friend Tena, she decides to pay a visit to the Hammond Adoption Agency that facilitated her adoption. The creation of these international adoption agencies began from the large amount of Korean orphans resulting from the aftermath of the Korean War in the 1950’s. From this, she is contacted by her birth father, who has been separated from Freddy’s birth mother, and she makes the decision to go see him with Tena. However, her trip there is mixed with reluctance, the ambivalence is painted on her face to the point that you can feel her stomach churning. Her worries are justified when she comes up feeling even more disconnected to the family that revels in her return. While her father wants Freddie to stay in Korea, she cannot as she is a French woman with a home, friends, and family back in France. He cannot accept this, however, leaving her discomfort to culminate in an encounter where he follows her to a bar, and she rejects his drunken fatherly embrace, screaming “Don’t touch me!”

Freddie markedly does not fit in with the culture in Korea, and her experiences in her first trip to Korea certainly show this aspect of her the most. She is explicit in her defiance of cultural norms and etiquette, making sure that others know that she is a French woman, not Korean. To this effect, Tena’s translations fail to express the harshness of her words, and the language barrier between her and the Koreans in the movie further complicate her disconnect from the culture. Additionally, Freddie is simply an interesting character, for she swaps between lifestyles, partners, and friends throughout the entirety of the three-part movie. She is brazen, indulging herself in music, soju, and hookups.

One final thing I was intrigued about was the use of extended scenes of music with the stages of Freddie’s life in mind. In any capacity, the music plays an integral role in representing the different phases of her life through all of the different time-skips. It helps to describe how her freedom and independence manifests throughout different genres, characterizing Freddie through her different stages of life: as a young woman moving through adulthood. It’s an intensely resonant narrative device that creates beautiful juxtaposition with her coming of age.

The film screening of Return to Seoul was shown as a part of the Korean Cinema NOW: Diaspora Edition event. These movie showings are presented by the NAM Center on Saturdays in the Michigan Theatre throughout the Winter 2024 semester. If you’re interested in Korean cinema—especially as they relate to the Korean diaspora or diasporic identities in general—then there are still many more films being put on, and they all have free admission with catering from Miss Kim herself (I have to say that the food is really nummy! (˵ •̀ ᴗ – ˵ ) ✧). So, don’t hesitate to indulge in a fun Saturday outing these movie are worth it!

Runtime: 1 hr 59 min 

Rated R

Screenshot of the movie taken from the npr Article: “‘Return to Seoul’ is About Reinvention, not Resolution”

REVIEW: Shoebox

7:15pm • Wednesday, Oct. 18, 2023 • State Theater

Shoebox was a thought-provoking film that stood out for its deliberate and introspective approach to storytelling, coupled with cinematography that beautifully captured a city in transition. The story, which took place in Allahabad on the cusp of its renaming, followed Mampu as she watched her father struggle to maintain his deteriorating movie palace in the midst of a health crisis. The narrative drew me slowly and quietly into a world where local politics intersected tragically with personal daily struggles.

One of the standout features of Shoebox was its cinematography. The film took its time, offering long, meditative shots of a city in the midst of transformation. These visuals provided a vivid backdrop to the characters’ lives, showcasing the beauty and decay of the urban landscape. Allahabad itself became a character in the film, reflecting the societal shifts and economic challenges faced by its inhabitants. Each frame was a work of art, and the cinematographer’s mastery was evident in every scene.

For me, the most meaningful aspect of the film was its understated portrayal of Mampu’s struggles to care for her father against a backdrop of corrupt politics. The characters’ daily lives were punctuated by the effects of political decisions made far beyond their reach. The powerlessness of the family was palpable, and their attempts to navigate a system riddled with corruption were both poignant and frustrating. Mampu’s experience reflected that of many who had to choose between protesting the injustices dealt to them and protecting themselves and those they cared for.

One of the most impactful moments in the film occurred during a simple yet profound scene involving a pack of cigarettes. This moment of intimacy between Mampu and her father became a lens through which the family’s dynamics were clarified. It revealed the unspoken connections and tensions that existed within the household, adding depth to their characters and relationships. This subtlety in storytelling was another of the film’s great strengths, showcasing the actors’ ability to convey emotions without the need for grandiose displays of drama.

In conclusion, Shoebox was a mesmerizing and quietly powerful film that invited viewers to contemplate the intersection of personal and political challenges. Its deliberate pacing and exquisite cinematography created a sense of immersion in a world where beauty and decay coexisted. The film’s understated storytelling style allowed the audience to connect deeply with the characters. Shoebox was a masterclass in subtlety and a testament to the impact of quiet moments in cinema. It was a poignant exploration of the human spirit in the face of daunting challenges, leaving a lasting impression long after the credits rolled.

REVIEW: Simona

2:40 pm • Saturday, November 5, 2022 • State Theater

Simona was a lovely and in-depth documentary exploring the life of Simona Kossak and the marks she left on family, friends, and the broader Polish environmentalist community. A biologist and environmental activist who spent most of her life secluded in the Białowieża* Forest, one of Europe’s last old-growth wildernesses, Kossak’s story is told through conversations among family members, friends, and former colleagues, accompanied by archival photos taken by her life partner, Lech Wilczek.

I appreciated the candidness with which most of the interviewees discussed Kossak’s life. In particular, the ongoing conversation between Ida Matysek (the film’s main narrator) and her mother, Kossak’s niece, created an overarching narrative for the film that focused more on Kossak’s personal relationships with her family than her scientific career or activism. By balancing this narrative with insights from Kossak’s professional acquaintances and friends, not only did I gain a holistic understanding of how Kossak engaged with the world around her, but I learned about the dark as well as light sides of her history.

One of my favorite themes throughout the film was Kossak’s emotional connection with the animals in her care, which the film often  represented as intensely maternal. I came to understand that history would be remiss to say Kossak had no children–the devotion she demonstrated for the animals she raised was no less than that of a mother for a human child. In one heartbreaking story, Kossak raised a lynx she named Agata, who was killed in an domestic accident when Kossak’s partner, Lech Wilczek, lost his balance and dropped a bundle of firewood on top of her. Kossak canceled all engagements and grieved for months, and the incident also strained her relationship with Wilczek as if they had experienced the loss of a child.

Photo by Lech Wilczek; from Opowieść o Niezwyczajny Życiu Simony Kossak by Anna Kamińska, published by Wydawnictwo Literackie, Krakow 2015.

I am left with questions about Kossak’s affection for animals as compared with her love for the forest at large. As a biologist, her interest was in animal behavior, and in her activism much of her work dealt with preserving the diversity of animal species existing in the Białowieża Forest. I am curious about whether she was equally devoted to the conservation of plant life in the forest. One of the stories included in the film was about her efforts to save dying chestnut trees around the school where she worked, but the film framed these efforts more based on her partiality to the trees for sentimental reasons than for environmental reasons. Much of my reading on the subject of forestry and conservation lately has dealt with the importance of trees in global ecosystems, and I know research on the social relationships between trees is gaining more traction in the scientific community as of late. I wish I could hear Kossak’s take on these issues, and see how she would engage in activism against the accelerating deforestation of her beloved Białowieża Forest today. If I can ever find English editions, I hope to add her books about the forest and her experiences there to my shelf.

 

*pronounced bee-ah-wo-vee-EDGE-ah

PREVIEW: Czarna owca (Black Sheep)

What: a Polish comedy/drama film, brought to Ann Arbor by this weekend’s annual Polish Film Festival

When: Saturday, November 5, 9:00pm

Where: State Theater

Tickets: available on the State Theater website, $9.25 for students

Czarna owca, or Black Sheep, is a Polish drama and comedy about a family falling apart at the seams. Magda and Arek have had a successful marriage of 25 years, and are now living with their adult son, Tomek, and his girlfriend Asia, while taking care of their aging father. However, a series of secrets and revelations soon cause chaos, prompting each character to confront their own closely-held desires and fears, while finding ways to mend the tears ripping apart their family. At least, that’s as much as I could find out from the few online synopses available for this film in English. Much of the plotline remains a mystery to me, and I look forward to discovering this family’s secrets alongside the characters this Saturday night.

PREVIEW: Simona

What: a Polish documentary film brought to Ann Arbor by this weekend’s annual Polish Film Festival

When: Saturday, November 5, 2:40pm

Where: State Theater

Tickets: free with reservation on the State Theater website [click here]

Simona is a documentary about the life of Simona Kossak, a Polish scientist and environmental activist. Based on what little I could discern from Google-translated Polish film reviews, Kossak, who was descended from a long line of famous Polish painters, was rejected by her family and chose to seclude herself in Poland’s primeval Białowieża Forest for the greater part of her life. There, she studied animal behavior and advocated for the preservation of the forest’s natural environment. The film explores Kossak’s eccentric life through the lens of her great niece, Ida Matysek, using photographs taken of Kossak by her life partner, Lech Wilczek. I hope the English subtitles for the film do Kossak’s inspiring story justice, and I look forward to learning about what seems like a magical life spent in one of the world’s oldest–and most threatened–forest environments.

 

REVIEW: Compartment No. 6

Compartment No. 6, a film by Finnish director Juho Kuosmanen was the kind of film that really makes you forget you’re sitting in a theater. The majority of the film consists of two travelers sharing a cabin on a sleeper train, heading from Moscow to Murmansk, Russia. Laura is a Finnish academic coping with the inevitable dissolution of her relationship while Lyokha is a Russian working-class man headed to make some money in the mines at their destination. Laura is conversely headed to see a set of petroglyphs as a historic endeavor, a trip that her sort-of-but-not-quite ex-partner dropped out from.

 

It feels a little tired to follow the arc of “they can’t stand each other” to “they have a snow ball fight, giggling and red-nosed,” but there’s a sense of sincerity to this film that is impossible to shake. This could very well be due to the fact that I’m not familiar with Eastern European culture and the lived realities of these places, but the setting felt as though it was constructed with a careful and affectionate eye.

 

The train as a center of activity and plot development was fantastic. In such a small space there seems to be an entire world constructed, as the two characters venture throughout various locations within the train. This kind of claustrophobia also lends itself to an accelerated intimacy, both in terms of the visual framing of the characters and the actual plot.

 

I’m still trying to decide how I feel about the ending of this film. I suppose I really mean the final act, as I’m wondering if it was entirely necessary. This section leaves the train and thus shifts contexts in a way that, yes, wraps everything up, but doesn’t quite align with the rhythm of the rest of the film. I think I also would have liked more ambiguity to the way their relationship ends, but at the same time I can’t be mad that this part of the movie finished the story off in a satisfying and sweet way.

 

At the end of the day, though, this film consists of every beat you hope to hit when travelling: interesting and frequent new characters, a feeling of imminent change, and an understanding that everything is so bittersweetly temporary. This movie is well worth a watch, and is sure to remain in viewers’ minds as we all wait for our next train to catch.