Based on the book by Swiss-Korean writer Elisa Shua Dusapin, this elusive yet bracing drama centers on guesthouse worker Sooha (Kim Bella) as she escorts author from France Yan (Zem Roschdy) to the demilitarised zone just north of Sokcho. Symbolism abounds: Koya Kamura’s first feature also resides in a liminal space of the soul, with Sooha, left behind by her father from France while she was still in utero, trapped between dual heritages. After the French-speaking employee is compelled to chaperone the enigmatic author, she lingers uneasily between tetchy friendship and complex desire.
When she’s not digging into visually stunning marine dishes prepared by her fishmonger mother (Mi-hyeon Park), Sooha is lolling about with her boyfriend (Do-yu Gong), an hopeful model gunning for a move to Seoul. However this familiar rhythm is overturned when the outsider takes up residence for a long-term stay. Initially conforming to her prejudices about rude French men, he turns out, after an online search, to be acclaimed comic book writer Yan Kerrand. Arriving in Sokcho in search of creative fuel, he manages to extract the account of Sooha’s missing father from her. She spies on him through a air duct – but it remains to be seen whether he’s a proxy father, or something else.
Sooha’s buried emotions erupt in flashes of secret, winding moments of physical constraint and release. We witness only her internal world, though; Yan stays a remote presence, insisting on his solitary principles and sparing with details of his history. His enigmatic role, as Sooha projects her needs on to him, is deliberate – but this imbalance hinders Winter in Sokcho from fully opening up. Visual style – and control, with Sooha’s parent and partner both advocating cosmetic surgery on her – is clearly a central idea for Kamura. But despite Yan’s profession, it seems a bit adjacent to the main story, like the mysterious wrapped guest also in the guesthouse.
The trio of strong acts at the core – an nearly aggressive Zem, progressively unmoored Kim, and the self-involved Park Mi-hyeon – give Winter in Sokcho its solid centre, and if Kamura can’t quite narratively contain the wary faceoff between hotelier and guest, he is consistently on his toes emotionally speaking, often exploring a physical, sensory imagery. Obsessing over absence, threatening to succumb in subjective feelings, Kamura creates an fascinating kind of contemporary phantom tale.
Winter in Sokcho can be seen on Mubi from November 7.
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