Worth: $15.00
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Cast:
Lee Jeong-Eun, Kwon Hae-Hyo, Tang Jun-Sang
Intro:
Shin keeps Ji-wan’s existential exploration to a gentle pace, showing neither any rush to get where she needs to or taint her message with overwrought symbolism.
Shin keeps Ji-wan’s existential exploration to a gentle pace, showing neither any rush to get where she needs to or taint her message with overwrought symbolism.
In the latest feature from Shin Su-Won (Glass Garden), filmmaker Ji-wan (Lee Jeong-Eun, Parasite) is in a slump, both financially and spiritually. Her most recent film, Ghost Man, is doing so poorly at the box office that even her own son, Bo-ram (Tang Jun-Sang), struggles to support her creativity. He doesn’t leave her completely hanging though. Bo-ram offers up the suggestion that she should move away from ‘boring’ movies and gravitate towards Avengers style blockbusters. Elsewhere, it’s becoming increasingly obvious that Ji-wan’s marriage is well and truly over.
Looking for a semblance of creative endeavour, Ji-wan accepts a gig restoring Jae-won Hong’s A Woman Judge, in preparation for its 50th anniversary. The only catch is that the sound keeps dropping out, there’s no script to determine what dialogue is missing and, oh yes, the entire third act is missing. Daunted, but keen for the money, Ji-wan sets forth on a cinematic treasure hunt to complete the film.
Shin uses Ji-wan’s journey to highlight how female filmmakers are often pushed to the sidelines. Our intrepid explorer initially struggles to find anyone who can throw light onto Hong’s legacy. When Ji-wan finds the line ‘You will vanish someday, like I did’ tucked away in one of Hong’s scripts, it’s like her fears about the future have been carved into her tombstone. Shin even uses a bit of creative embellishment to further highlight the parallels between Hong and Ji-wan by stating that A Woman Judge was the former’s third film before she disappeared into the shadows. In reality, Hong only ever directed one film. However, at the end of the day, if Bohemian Rhapsody can fictionalise an entire icon’s life, it seems only fair to allow Shin this one tiny bit of narrative flair.
Hommage is not just about how hard women have it in the industry. The film’s justified grievances are firmly set on apathy towards women in general. Early in the film, one of Ji-wan’s neighbour’s corpse is found in her car three months after dying by suicide. Although the woman is taken away unceremoniously by the paramedics, the car remains in the car park; almost taunting Ji-wan with another haunting example of how easy it is to be forgotten and not missed.
Shin keeps Ji-wan’s existential exploration to a gentle pace, showing neither any rush to get where she needs to or taint her message with overwrought symbolism. Instead, like a therapist making a breakthrough with a client, she allows the viewer to sit in the moment and savour what has been said.
There are times when this gentle saunter to the finish line veers close to being a little too cosy in its presentation. Ji-wan’s one scene with her husband feels like it would have come straight from a soap opera if it wasn’t for Lee’s grounded and expressive performance. Initially playing Ji-wan like the personification of a resigned shrug, it is impossible not to cheer her on her way to some sort of acknowledgement of her talent, her perseverance and indeed, her womanhood.
