New York Film Festival 2023: IN WATER & IN OUR DAY

In Our Day, the 30th feature from prolific South Korean director (not to mention writer, producer, cinematographer, editor, composer…) Hong Sang-soo, reflects on the small pleasures that make life worth living: a bowl of spicy noodles, a soft cat, a drink with friends, a long drag on a cigarette. Coincidentally, for me, one of those small pleasures is Hong Sang-soo movies—and, as is often the case, this year’s New York Film Festival lineup features two of them. And while the combined running time of both is less than some of the other features screening at the festival, that doesn’t mean that Hong is running out of things to say or new ways in which to say them.

In Water (Hong Sang-soo)

Hong’s 29th feature has the filmmaker making one of his most daring formal choices yet: almost the entire film has been shot out of focus, rendering each image slightly smudged and blurred. Considering that Hong’s vision has been deteriorating over the years, one can choose to see this as an intimate gesture, with Hong inviting us to see the world through his eyes…or perhaps it was just a last-minute decision made on set while Hong was focusing the camera, which is essentially what he has said happened. Either way, it’s a technique that works wonders, giving In Water a dreamlike, soothing quality that can only be compared to sitting alone in an empty gallery with Monet’s Water Lilies. Without the distraction of so many minute details, one can be carried away by the gentle waves of the story, which focuses on a trio of friends who have traveled to Jeju Island in the empty, barren offseason to make a short film.

The director, Seongmo (Shin Seokho), has recently quit acting and decided to make this self-funded short as a passion project, enlisting a cinematographer (Ha Seongguk) and an actress (Kim Seungyun) to join him. He doesn’t want to write a screenplay in advance; he’d prefer to wait for inspiration to strike and then create the film almost spontaneously. That moment occurs when he encounters a masked woman picking up trash on the beach; their awkward conversation is recreated, almost word for word, by Seongmo and his collaborators in their film. But the resulting short doesn’t merely mimic reality; it elaborates on it and finds further meaning in it. Like the best of Hong’s own films, it meshes life and art into something entirely new, complete with a melancholic ending that draws from Seongmo’s other memories and utilizes a song he wrote himself. 

What Hong shows us in In Water is essentially his own notoriously minimalist filmmaking process by proxy: a small cast of familiar collaborators, no formal script, hardly any crew, paid for out of his own pocket. The scene in which the trio re-enacts Seongmo’s discussion with the trash picker on camera is set up exactly as it was when Hong shot the previous scene, echoing that earlier sequence while also providing a behind-the-scenes look at how he put it together in the first place. (Did Hong also previously meet a trash picker and have this conversation, inspiring the creation of both scenes? It’s more than likely.) It’s all very meta, something only emphasized by the blurred vision through which we see it all play out, allowing us to feel as though we are seeing Hong’s creative process through his own eyes.

So many of Hong’s films focus on characters who are filmmakers, but rarely has he ever shown us these characters in the midst of actually making films. This makes In Water all the more unique among Hong’s extensive filmography and, in many ways, the ideal entry point for newcomers to his work. After all, what better way to be introduced to his signature style than to watch it come together on screen before your eyes? It’s incredibly enlightening and may end up inspiring you to go out and shoot a film this way yourself. 

In Our Day (Hong Sang-soo)

Following the experimentation of In Water, In Our Day is more of a comfortable return to form for Hong; whether you see that as good or bad is up to you. The film cuts between two storylines that initially appear unrelated but, as small similarities and coincidences pile up between them, eventually feel deeply connected. In one, we’re introduced to the disillusioned actress Sangwon (Hong’s partner and frequent collaborator Kim Minhee), who has returned from abroad and holed up in the apartment of her friend Jungsoo (Song Sunmi) to contemplate her next move. She’s developed a close bond with Jungsoo’s cat, a fluffy creature called Us who constantly begs for treats and pets, knowing no one can resist him (and trust me, once you lay eyes on this cat, you’ll understand why). 

When Sangwon’s younger cousin, an aspiring actress named Kijoo (Kim Seungyun), comes to consult her about what it takes to succeed in the field, Sangwon tells her it’s honesty—the ability to recognize even the worst parts of oneself and utilize that knowledge in one’s performances. In one of those wonderful, quintessentially Hong scenes that blurs the lines between art and life, narrative and reality, Sangwon claims that most directors reject such raw honesty; they expect her to perform according to a predetermined idea of what they want, not what she feels. The disappointment elicited by such requests, and the inability to give what she believes to be her best work as a result, is a large part of what has led Sangwon to abandon acting, she says, before adding that she has met only one person capable of inspiring her to continue. 

As the character Sangwon discusses how watching this unnamed person work motivated her to keep going, we can’t help but also hear the actress Kim Minhee describe what it’s like to work with Hong—thus proving her point that he is the only director who encourages and embraces such honesty from his actors. Needless to say, Kim gives a beautifully natural performance that functions as a fitting bookend to the similar role she played in Hong’s 27th feature, The Novelist’s Film—an actress who would rather quit altogether than do work she doesn’t believe in, but who is willing to answer the call if and when inspiration comes knocking. (Fortunately for us, if Kim continues her partnership with Hong, that seems likely.)

The second storyline focuses on an aging poet named Hong Uiji (the delightfully crotchety Ki Joobong) who has acquired a cult following among younger readers. One, a student named Jisoo (Kim Miso), is making a documentary about him; another, an actor named Jaewon (Ha Seongguk), is visiting to ply him with various questions about the meaning of life. It’s all a bit trying for Uiji, especially since his doctors have forbidden him from indulging in his two favorite vices: drinking and smoking. The more questions Jaewon asks, the more Uiji—who keeps draining cans of nonalcoholic beer, to no avail—finds himself contemplating whether or not it would really hurt to have just one real drink. 

Because this is a Hong movie, you can guess what happens next, and it’s clear that the happiness Uiji derives from engaging his young acolytes in a drunken game of rock paper scissors outweighs any additional damage he’s doing to his health in the process. After all, is there any point in a life bereft of small joys such as a glass of soju with friends? The older characters in In Our Day have experienced enough to know what makes life worth living and art worth making; the younger characters attempt to take shortcuts by asking them to tell all when in reality, they can only learn through experience themselves. 

In Our Day checks all of the usual boxes for a Hong feature: a bifurcated narrative, artists talking about the artistic process, many bottles of soju being drained, and—something that has become ever more present in his movies as Hong ages—a focus on the contrasting attitudes between different generations, as younger people turn to their elders in the hope of receiving answers to those ever-present questions about life, love, and the meaning of it all. Naturally, the answers given are not in the form of clear-cut pieces of advice, but long and winding meditations that only elicit more questions (not to mention, more drinking). Throughout, Hong utilizes many of his signature long, static takes and punctuates one shot with what might be his most charming zoom to date. Still, to dismiss In Our Day as just another stereotypical Hong film is to miss out on what is actually one of his most satisfying and uplifting features, full of incisive conversation and wonderful moments (not to mention, a remarkable cat). As Uiji says at one point, life is short and soon we die, so why not enjoy it while we can? In Our Day manages to be not only an ode to such enjoyments but one of them itself. 

Conclusion

No doubt Hong is already hard at work on his next feature(s), but if there’s anything to be taken away from In Water and In Our Day, it’s that he’s continuing to evolve and find new ways to tell complex stories about the connection between life and creation.

In Water and In Our Day are screening as part of the Main Slate at the 2023 New York Film Festival.