Whether it’s Parasite or Squid Game, and now Lee Chang-dong’s Possible Love, Korean filmmakers are more attuned than anyone to the economic disparity impacting the world. Eight years after his Oscar-winning drama, Burning, Lee returns with a moving portrait of two families on opposing ends of that divide, and asks whether these two sides can ever truly understand one another? What’s incredible about the film, a Grand Jury Prize winner at Venice earlier this year, is how vital it is in exploring the issues we are facing right now, all in a compelling drama that will have you hooked from start to finish.
The film centers on two married couples: laid off laborer Ho-seok (Sul Kyung-gu) and his wife Mi-ok (Jeon Do-yeon), along with the well-to-do Ye-ji (Cho Yeo-jeong) and her trust fund nepo-baby husband Sang-woo (Zo In-sung). While attending the funeral for one of Ho-seuk’s “brothers” (the word he uses to describe his former co-workers) who appears to have committed suicide, Mi-ok encounters Ye-ji, a documentary filmmaker shooting a movie about the fired employees of SP Heavy Industries. Ho-seok and many others loss their jobs after a failed strike, and most of them are still grappling with it.
The women become fast friends, with Mi-ok acting as the central voice in Ye-ji’s film, talking about how the firings impacted her family. The camera is always on, even at moments that are incredibly awkward. Mi-ok seems to enjoy the attention and time in the spotlight, or perhaps she likes being around the luxurious life Ye-ji leads. She certainly can’t stop asking about the price of the filmmaker’s clothes, or getting star-struck over the Internet-famous Sang-woo, who she calls “cool” at one point.
Meanwhile, Ho-seuk is a complete wreck. An alcoholic who can only sleep when he’s had enough to calm his mind, he is utterly incapable of speaking about what happened on the last day of the strike. Nor can he stand to be in the presence of his former colleagues, a reminder of what he lost and who truly stood by his side when the chips were down. Even his new job doesn’t help, as it’s more dangerous and requires more manual labor than he was doing before. It feels like a humiliating step downward, and we wonder if Ho-seuk is destined to go the same route as the man whose funeral they attended.
Lee quietly traverses the same class divide of Bong Joon-ho’s Oscar winner, Parasite, and the longing and jealousies they both hold. In true Lee fashion, the tension builds steadily but slowly, perhaps taking too long to reach it climax. But the build is so delicious, and Lee has a lot to say, leaving nobody in the upper crust of society unscathed. Motivations, secrets, desires, and trauma swirl in every interaction. Ye-ji can’t convince Ho-seuk to participate in the documentary, so she invites him, Mi-ok, and their son Cheol to stay at their posh vacation home by the sea. It’s here that Ho-seuk finally lets his guard down, but it comes as Mi-ok finds herself drawing closer to Sang-woo, who seems receptive but is busy working out a lucrative business deal.
It’s here, during this trip, that Lee brings the real differences between them into sharper focus. Mi-ok sees their home as something she might read about in great books. Ye-ji, who gets chastised for wearing her expensive clothes to interview struggling ex-employees, has no concept of how naive she is. She thinks, because of her middle-class background, that she and Mi-ok are the same. It would be funny if it wasn’t so disturbing her lack of clarity on this, especially for a documentarian. On the other hand, Sang-woo has always seen Mi-ok and Ho-seuk as documentary subjects, not equals and certainly not friends. This comes to a head in a shocking outburst that, in the wrong hands, would’ve played as overdramatic and forced, but Lee’s guidance keeps the ship steady throughout.
When we finally see the violent events of the strike unfold, and why Ho-seuk is so traumatized by them, it’s a punch to the gut. Not because it is so unforeseen, but because of how timely it feels. AI and the reduction of manual labor is a recurring theme, but so are corporate takeovers and the government’s complicity in allowing its workforce to be destroyed. The scary thing about Possible Love is how timely it is. Yes, it works as a devastating work of drama, but also as a reflection of the global class divide that is only growing worse with no end in sight.
Possible Love opens in select theaters on October 23rd, followed by Netflix on November 6th.
