Hong Sang Soo
I think what draws me most to Hong Sang-soo’s films is how comfortably familiar they feel. When I watch his films, I’m brought back to quiet moments from my childhood in South Korea—moments spent alone, even in the middle of a dense crowd. Back then, solitude wasn’t uncommon for me: I’d commute to school and back by myself, spend my pocket money on dinner at street-food stalls, and—through a sort of unspoken trade deal—my mom would regularly drop me off at a nice restaurant near her church, letting me eat alone while she attended worship services. During those hours, I'd observe the people around me—the subtle gestures, quiet conversations, and fleeting expressions. It might not have been the most exciting way for a kid to pass the time, but I found a gentle intrigue in those mundane interactions, exactly the kind of intrigue that Hong Sang-soo captures effortlessly on screen.
Hong’s movies aren’t trying to convince you of anything grand; they’re just people having conversations, usually a bit awkward, always surprisingly relatable. The relationships he captures aren't dramatic or exaggerated; they're simple and human—full of misunderstandings, missed signals, and moments where everyone involved is quietly confused.
I don't always fully appreciate the clever structural tricks he's known for, but that's not what hooks me. Instead, it's the honesty—the rawness of those small, everyday interactions. His films evoke a deep appreciation in me for the complexity of social relationships, even through the most mundane conversations that often act as a facade over much deeper feelings and desires.
I'm slowly making my way through his work but some of my favorites so far have been:
- Right Now, Wrong Then: Watching the same scenario unfold twice made me think about all the little ways a conversation can go right or wrong, without ever knowing why.
- The Day After: Awkward, uncomfortable, sad, and hilarious in all the right ways, it nails the complexity behind small miscommunications.
- Hotel by the River: Quietly beautiful, with conversations about regret and family that sneak up on you.
- Walk Up: I loved how naturally and casually it portrayed the gradual evolution—and devolution—of relationships.
- Yourself and Yours: It captures that very real feeling of confusion and longing when you’re trying to understand someone else—and yourself—in a relationship.