‘What does nature tell you’ review: Hong Sang-Soo Family Drama

No figure in the world cinema is as productive as the South Korean Hong-Soo band, or consistent in exploring variations on similar topics, always from a new angle. With such a fertile exit – it has 33 features under the belt, all except three since 2000 – not all can be perfectly formed by gems. But when pieces are merged, they can be uniquely satisfactory, finding a shade in simplicity, poetry in worldly, deeper meaning in the most experienced exchanges. What does nature tell you (Geu Jayoni Nine Mwarago Hani) is one of Hong’s amazing recent intakes.

The lives of artists, random meetings, light meals, pauses for cigarettes and drunken humiliations are all the main groups of HONG’s films that appear in this account of an unplanned introduction of a young poet into his family for three years, who somehow never mentioned his existence to his parents. Maybe because she predicted the result. Crueliness and descent are also often figured out in the director’s work, bringing the Acrid aftertaste to this reflection of the isolation of wealth and class, and the naivety of showing contempt for the privilege of well -meaning potential laws.

One of the prominent qualities of Hong movies is the naturalistic hand of the hand that makes the screenplay conversations completely spontaneously, giving the audience a feeling of eavesdropping on the conversation that happens in the moment. It is this attribute that makes this deceptive direct mapping of the jaw on the road to the road so transfixing.

In eight chapters without a title, the movie begins with Donghwa (Ha Songguk) driving his girlfriend Junhee (Kang Soyi) to his parents’ house. The inconvenience under their mutual affection hints at Junhee’s hesitation to introduce him to his family and that Donghwa is too uncomfortable to suggest it. But when he gets out of the car to smoke a cigarette, he was drawn to the size and splendor of her family home, so Junhee decides that it would not cause damage so that he would quickly look at him with a flawlessly landscaped front garden.

What she does not anticipate is her father, Oryyong (Kwon Haehyo), who throws herself on the driveway. A handsome, confident man, Junhee’s father is immediately friendly with Donghw, but he seems more interested in his car. It is surprised by the ’96 model, as if it were vintage jalopia and insists on taking it to Spin. “He even has a cassette!” Says Oryeong upon his return, with what seems almost like a true appreciation. Of course, he calls on his daughter to stay for dinner to meet Junhee’s mother, who will not be home until later.

While Junhee goes up to talk to his older sister Neunghee (Miso Park), which seems to have no noticeable interests other than sitting on the melody at the traditional Korean Gayageum, their father returns to Donghwa to the garden to smoke. Oryeong seems to be delighted to find out that Donghwa is a poet, like his wife Sunhee (Cho Yunhee). He even admires a mustache mustache (“so beautiful”) and Goatee, admitting that he never managed to grow his face hair.

Grabbing a bottle of fermented rice Makgeolla from his stock in the garden, Junhee’s father gives his boyfriend a tour of the field. Oryeong tells the visitor that he designed and built a house on a slope for his mother, who died of cancer a few years ago, and now views the property as a memory of her. “Filia love can change the mountain,” Donghwa says, maybe stressing the depth as Oryyong breaks another bottle.

Clearly, a man is used to the fact that people follow his commands, Oryeong tells Junhee to take his sister and Donghw for lunch and visit the local temple so he can do some things before Sunhee comes home. This excursion shows it comfortable enough, even if the edge of the needle ran into neunghee’s testing Donghw via Bibimbap -as pork. It seems particularly curious about why he refuses any financial support of his father, a respected lawyer, quietly seduced him as a loser driven by a creepy car.

Neunghee and Oryyeong ask the same question Donghw: “What do you like in Junhee?” But despite his claim that he is a poet, he has nothing but a generic praise for her.

Hong and his excellent actors – everyone, except the newcomer Kang, is members of the director’s unofficial repel company – they adhere to you in which point Donghw is driven by the discomfort or exactly when Junhee’s family begins to quietly exclude him as a spouse. It seems significant that both of her parents are reluctant to switch from a formal address to more famous conditions with him.

If lunch was a preliminary test, a complex chicken dinner turns into a trial. They remain cordial and let Donghwa basically eliminate as a potential son -in -law, while Oryeong continues to spill his whiskey shots, on top of Makgeolla and red wine. You can say that it is on cards on cards, even if it is late when they take a medium meal break to take a break and show your guest sunset.

Hong flirts with Comedy Cringes such as Donghwa Pratteo about an attempt to live with only what is needed, not relying on others, also rasododating about his emotional response to the ancient Ginkgo tree in the temple. But his poetic aspirations begin to sound fluttering. Sunhee seems to barely suppress her eyes as her mind is ticking. When Neunghee presses his buttons too many times that he always has his father’s money to return, now completely lost Donghwa explodes and is immediately stunned.

This unpleasant family scenario could have played any number of ways, from a wide comedy to a volatile drama, but Hong puts his own seal of sui generis. Nothing is never forced or transcribed. Even a post-Murm conversation between Oryyeonga and Sunhee after dinner, while ridiculously terrifying, never pushes laughing. Hong Mainstay Kwon shows the expansive side of his character, but his cordial welcome is decisively conditional, while Cho subtly makes Sunhee to the one he calls shotguns in the family.

As usual, Hong is his crew, attributed to DP, composer, editor and sound designer, along with the writer, producer and director. Over the years, he has developed an economy of means and hard efforts that serve well with his characters and their negotiations on everyday life. The overcoming of separate fixtures with a fixed camera allows for a detailed observation, with occasional pans and zums to divert our attention. Its use of a low -cut video seems to be a soft focus of Donghwine vision when it doesn’t wear glasses.

Goodbye the scenes between Junhee and Donghwa affects both actors the next morning. She shows concern for a deep hand on his hand from the moment he looked at the moon during the night and stumbled. But when she locked her in a tight embrace to say goodbye, she almost blinks. The open end is ambiguous, but the prospects for the future of their relationship look clear, even if at least one of them still does not know it.