The appeal of the film lies not only in its distinct social critique, nor solely in its high artistic achievement as a realist film, but also in its sharpness, sensitivity, and clear stance, as well as its profound empathy for marginalized groups. It differs from the recognition and sharing points we saw in "The House of Discontent" and "Oasis." Undoubtedly, this film's most prominent qualities are its realistic themes, clear political stance, identification, narrative techniques, composure, and true meaning, which initially and directly confront us, striking our eyes. I wonder if, after watching, it deeply shook our hearts, as we see that in this film, Lee Chang-dong touches upon Northeast Asia and the increasingly severe social issues that exist in today's world. The most prominent issue we all recognize after watching this film is its direct yet literary approach to addressing the widening wealth gap and the solidification of class divisions in today's world.
Using the short stories of Japanese novelist Haruki Murakami, the film expresses the theme of wealth disparity to a shocking and even heart-wrenching degree. Right? We see the wealthy youth, and we see two ordinary people, Jong-soo and Hae-mi, who, on the surface, appear to be contemporary youth, yet the stark class differences between them and their seemingly common lifestyles and values provide a very advantageous and important entry point for the film. In this seemingly coincidental encounter among contemporary youth, the wealthy youth delivers a vivid line: "Doing nothing, very rich, a mysterious man, a mysterious young man, Korea's Gatsby." Jong-soo's response is, "There are too many Gatsbys in Korea." Then, when it comes to Ben, he describes himself: "I do a bit of this, a bit of that, or I can say I do nothing, or I just play. What's the difference between working and playing today?" Well said, postmodernism, well said, this digital age, well said, the expression of homebody living or the creative era. Then he cooks, saying, "Cooking is preparing a sacrifice for myself, and then I taste it myself."
From the mildest perspective, it is like what I mentioned in class with my classmates about American playwright Eugene O'Neill, who said: "Today, there are no gods in our world; we only have one kind of god, and that god is called the demigod of materialism." The only definition of the demigod of materialism is the successful. And today, this Ben self-identifies as a god; he prepares sacrifices for himself and chooses his own offerings. Those nameless girls drifting in the city may become the sacrifices he chooses, perhaps to offer to himself, to stimulate his life that has lost the ability to feel, which can never shed tears. For this, he might even invite Jong-soo, who clearly loves Hae-mi deeply and has made declarations and confirmations about love, to be an observer, a witness, to enhance his pleasure. This is one interpretive path in the film, a version of the film's story, direct, sharp, cruel, and heart-wrenching. However, the social issues it touches upon go far beyond this; aside from wealth disparity, we see it addresses youth employment issues, touching upon the increasingly high and gradually rising unemployment rates in Korean society, which is also Northeast Asian society.
This film addresses young people facing unstable work and living conditions under the gig economy and unprotected employment systems after graduating from university. It briefly touches upon rural decline and agricultural bankruptcy. Furthermore, it also addresses the debt issues that most people in today's society, even those who consider themselves middle class, find difficult to escape. In the story, several people closely related to Jong-soo's life are deeply mired in debt. His father, insisting on agriculture and unwilling to invest the money he once had into real estate, ends up in debt and ultimately breaks the law due to uncontrollable emotional impulses and anger. Hae-mi becomes a typical urban drifter, heavily in debt, with a large credit card overdraft, yet completely oblivious to the existence of loan sharks.
These stories are not far from us. For example, I once read online about stories of "naked loans." In the film, that mysterious, nameless phone call returns to Jong-soo's life, while his mother is a direct victim of loan sharks. Behind Hae-mi's debts lies a larger global issue: consumerism is transforming us into extremely similar lifestyles and life forms with no class distinctions in consumption. Therefore, at an international airport in a certain African country, we see leisurely wealthy youths and poor rural working girls, both yearning for the same international travel and the same consumerist lifestyle, yet needing to pay completely different prices.
The film also deals with changes in international circumstances. For example, the television in Jong-soo's home plays a speech by Trump, where he states he will prioritize the interests of American workers. Right across from Jong-soo's home is the border, and in his space, one can hear North Korean political propaganda broadcasts. In their conversations, Chinese tourists become the objects of mockery for the wealthy Korean youth and the suffering of service personnel in the tourism industry. However, Chinese tourists also represent the flow of consumer funds.
The entire film is filled with realism, accurate details, and a delicate and rich narrative. I really like this film; if its theme were limited to this, it would already be an important masterpiece or fine work in today's world. However, what truly attracts and conquers me about this film is its extremely clever, exquisite, and meticulously crafted structure showcased in a longer independent film. I feel this film is not just a film; to be precise, it offers many paths and ways to enter this film text. After watching this film, we can choose different interpretive methods based on our own interpretations, understandings, and narratives.
For instance, we can completely read this film as a genre film; what genre would it be? It can be seen as a crime thriller. In this story, Ben is an evil, perverted dual-faced killer, while Jong-soo is a heartbroken lover, simultaneously playing the role of an amateur detective or private investigator similar to those in such stories. When we interpret this film as a crime thriller, we find it possesses a rather delicate, in a sense, traditionally rigorous dramatic structure. At this point, we can abandon the previous interpretive method, no longer understanding every detail as a realistic detail, nor linking every theme to reflect its strength and texture in real social issues.
When we interpret this film as a crime thriller, we discover it has a rather delicate, in a sense, traditionally rigorous dramatic structure. For example, we know that the most typical expression of the so-called rigorous classical narrative structure is "the gun shown in the first act must be fired in the fifth act." In this film, we can find many such examples.
For instance, when Jong-soo first returns to his father's house, he enters the tool room, and the camera advances to the toolbox in a way typical of genre films, revealing a complete set of knives inside. These knives ultimately become the murder weapon in the final act. Additionally, when Hae-mi and Ben visit Jong-soo, the lighter that appears ultimately becomes the tool for arson. These elements resonate with each other in a very tight classical narrative, constructing a story of a perverted killer's crime being solved.
Of course, this film is not just a crime-solving story. We can also interpret it from another angle, viewing it as a Hitchcock-style suspense film. In such suspense films, the killer is typically a perverted murderer, and the detective often has an inner psychological trauma and dark side. The father is a mentally unstable prisoner serving time, all of which can form some understanding of Jong-soo's inner darkness or his perversion.
In this line of thought, we can view the entire story as a trap designed by a perverted serial killer targeting Jong-soo, a psychological game of a psychopath. From the beginning, Ben (abbreviated as BAM) actively invites Jong-soo to join this game, constantly reminding Jong-soo about his criminal plans and clues.
We can see that when the three first meet, BAM is very interested in Jong-soo's identity as a writer, which may be the reason he invites Jong-soo to join this psychological game. But there may be another explanation: when BAM hears Hae-mi say she trusts Jong-soo, he may think the real fun of this game lies in destroying Hae-mi's trust in Jong-soo.
Thus, BAM actively invites Jong-soo to join the game, specially visiting Jong-soo to tell him he likes to burn abandoned greenhouses. Jong-soo immediately sensitively captures this information, questioning BAM on what basis he judges who is useless and who is not needed. Then, BAM elegantly responds to Jong-soo using existential philosophy, stating he does not judge, does not choose, only accepts; this is a natural selection.
Then, BAM tells Jong-soo: "I have chosen the greenhouse, very close to Jong-soo." He comes to inform Jong-soo: "Today I will scout the location." At this point, we see Jong-soo begins to act wildly; he fully receives the dangerous information, warnings, and perversion that BAM transmits. So, in addition to questioning him, "On what basis do you judge who is useless?" he also makes a declaration of love, saying, "I love Hae-mi." He wants to endow the meaningless, unloved Hae-mi with meaning and value through this trivial declaration of love.
However, he frantically searches for the greenhouse, trying to determine which one is the one Ben has locked onto, the useless greenhouse that no one needs. He simultaneously frantically calls Hae-mi, and miraculously, the call connects, but no one responds, only suspicious ambient sounds are heard. So, who would allow this call, in fact, directed at a deceased person, to connect? What do all the ambient sounds suggest? And next, during Jong-soo's tracking of Ben, Ben even takes him to the dumping ground, showing him the location of the reservoir, which is clearly where the body was discarded and was the source of the suspicious sounds during the phone call.
In this interpretive context, perhaps we can logically understand why Ben would attend the meeting. Ben could have been as ruthless and cruel as he was with Hae-mi, discarding this worthless, low-class young man with dreams of being a writer. Why would he attend the meeting? I say, in such a cat-and-mouse game, it may provide a perfect explanation.
Moreover, I think in this film, we might also provide a philosophical, or modern psychological, or pathological psychological interpretation. That is, the characters in the story, in the face of a reality devoid of hope for change, without upward mobility, without prospects, without certainty, and without a sense of security, experience fatigue, despair, and weariness, leading to a strong impulse towards death in the characters and roles. This is the very painful and touching detail in the story, regarding Hae-mi's description of "Little Hunger" and "Great Hunger."
Then, Hae-mi's mention of the evening glow over the African wilderness, when it disappears, is as if it never existed. She says, "I really wish to disappear like the evening glow." She immediately adds, "But death is too scary." Then comes the most beautiful scene in the film, Hae-mi's dance at dusk.
In a sense, Hae-mi is under the temptation, call, and impulse of death and despair. The same could perhaps explain Ben. He chooses Jong-soo, not as a witness, a mouse in the cat-and-mouse game, but as his own killer. This may explain why the director consciously designed Ben to embrace Jong-soo. Of course, the fujoshi present will certainly draw the conclusion that this is a gay interpretation, which I will not elaborate on. It is said that what attracts Ben has never been Hae-mi; it has always been Jong-soo. This interpretive path is left for fujoshi to imagine, for you to develop your fan fiction writing.
For me, he has not exhausted the entirety of the film. In fact, director Lee Chang-dong, during his last visit to China, was asked by Chinese audiences about the film "Burning." However, at that time, only a few viewers at the Cannes Film Festival had seen the film, so director Lee Chang-dong's response to this film was very cautious. He said, "To put it simply, I won't spoil it, right? You wait, I hope you watch this film, and then we can discuss it." But regarding this film, he still said one thing: "In this film, I want to say the world is a huge mystery." In another interview at the Cannes Film Festival, he used a similar description, saying, "The world is a riddle."
Well, this leads us to the next interpretive path in this film, or the next film contained within this movie. I call it the original narrative or original film. Why do I say this? Notice that when the film progresses to two-thirds, a space and scene suddenly appear where Jong-soo is writing. Everyone must have noticed this scene.
I wonder if you have recognized that Jong-soo writing and a previous sex scene both occur in Hae-mi's room; could it be that you did not recognize it? Then the director, fearing our spatial recognition might not be clear, specifically cuts to an outside shot afterward. The outside shot allows us to clearly identify that this is Hae-mi's room, where Jong-soo entered when he helped Hae-mi take care of the cat. At this point, Hae-mi has already gone missing; Jong-soo once entered Hae-mi's room, but now he can no longer enter Hae-mi's room.
However, the director does not provide any explanation, nor does it seem logical for Jong-soo to be writing in Hae-mi's room. After this segment of Jong-soo writing, the film presents the only exception in the entire narrative, or the only bug, where all of us viewers witness BAM using his professional makeup kit to apply makeup to a girl. I wonder what you felt when you saw this scene; when I first watched it, I was horrified. He personally applied makeup to his victim, giving her a deathly appearance.
But notice that throughout the film, everything is very strictly controlled within Jong-soo's presence and perspective. Everything that happens is predicated on Jong-soo's presence; the entire story unfolds from Jong-soo's limited viewpoint. Jong-soo does not know what has happened to Hae-mi, nor does he know what BAM is doing, unless Jong-soo is present.
At this moment, the scene of applying makeup to the deceased, of course, Jong-soo cannot be present, yet it allows us viewers to witness directly. So, what direction does this lead the possibility of explaining the story? It leads us to at least consider that the latter half of the story, or even the entire story, is Jong-soo's writing, Jong-soo's fiction. Because Murakami's original work ends with the girl's disappearance, with no explanation, no extension, and no tracing of its possibilities. And Lee Chang-dong continues the story here, and this continuation begins with Jong-soo's writing, allowing us to confirm afterward that Ben is the murderer, confirm that Ben is a perverted serial killer, confirm that Ben is due to these nameless—everyone must remember that line of Ben's dialogue.
He expresses in a very emotional yet light manner, "Hae-mi disappeared like smoke." Then he describes her as having not a penny, not contacting her family, and no one in this world searching for or caring about her existence. Then he sighs, saying, "Hae-mi is truly a woman lonelier than she appears."
Afterward, Jong-soo's search confirms Ben's description. Hae-mi has disappeared; no one is searching, no one is worried. She is not even listed among the missing persons, and may never be, because everyone understands she has made herself disappear to evade her debts.
So, when the story extends to this point, all narratives about class, about having no money, no one, no family connections, drifting and struggling in the big city, dreaming of consumption, these girls can become the sacrifices of these wealthy youths in extreme boredom. This may be Jong-soo's imaginative attempt, an effort to extend this unresolved story into a conclusion, to provide a logical possibility for the countless missing persons in the flow of the big city and the world.
After this, notice that Jong-soo is invited again to Ben's home, where he discovers a watch similar to Hae-mi's in Ben's bathroom. Of course, this is not Hae-mi's watch, but the cheapest electronic watch from a lottery. This watch was indeed given to Jong-soo by Hae-mi, and Jong-soo had also returned it to Hae-mi. However, we can imagine that similar watches are produced in thousands, mass-produced. This watch may not be Hae-mi's true possession, or a remnant after her murder. Thus, the actions of confirmation and revenge may only exist in Jong-soo's writing. Therefore, "Burning" becomes a writing about writing.
Moreover, this interpretation leads to a certain philosophical or narrative discussion about meaning. Notice that at the beginning of the film, there is a setup for the drama class Hae-mi attends. What she learns is the Pantalo mime (55 performance). Everyone remembers that line: "You don't need to pretend the orange is here; you just need to forget the orange is not here." This leads to a discussion of the film, which can perhaps be completed with questions. So, is the orange here?
Then, is the cat here? Is the cat named "Little White" here? We only see cat feces, and we know cats usually do not respond to their names being called, but perhaps the cat comes to greet you when you have not called its name. So, when Jong-soo shouts "Bless," and the lovely cat walks towards him, it may not prove anything. So, is the cat here?
Then, crucially: is the well here? Hae-mi's story, about falling into a well during childhood, about loneliness and helplessness, about desperate expectations, becomes a basis for her trust in Jong-soo and Jong-soo's imagination of Hae-mi being in trouble. He imagines the missing Hae-mi waiting in the well for him to save her, but Hae-mi's mother and sister say, "This liar is making it up; there is no well next to our house." Then he goes to find the village chief, who gives a vague answer. She accidentally receives a positive answer from her long-missing mother, saying there is a well. But "Is the well here?" remains a question. And then it can become another level of questioning: "Is Hae-mi here?" "Did Hae-mi ever exist?" Is this a character imagined by the narrative?
I say this is another interpretive path. Then the last interpretation—though I cannot say it's the last, I say another interpretive path is that we can read it as a kind of original film because director Lee Chang-dong said that in Murakami's novel, the protagonist is supposed to burn a granary. Yes, the abandoned granary becomes his object of choice, while the director changes it to a greenhouse, burning the greenhouse. I will extend this a bit. He said, why choose to burn the greenhouse? He said because the greenhouse is made of plastic film, and plastic film, like film stock, is a petroleum byproduct. He said the greenhouse is a basic infrastructure of modern agriculture, but once abandoned, it can be useful, but once abandoned, it becomes completely useless, like film stock. So, his choice to change the story into one about burning a greenhouse.
The film features numerous shots from Jong-soo's perspective inside and outside the greenhouse, which can itself serve as a self-assessment of the film medium, the disappeared film medium, regarded as completely useless and no longer needed.
Throughout the story, whether in the suspense layer, the original writing layer, this so-called philosophical layer, or the layer of "the world is a riddle," we can return to an original film layer in the movie, about "seeing." We will always see what we want to see; our eyes have already been socially and culturally coded before we look at things. When we look, we always carry expectations, so we can only see what we can see, what we desire to see. This may be the film's multiple interpretations, multiple entry paths, and the riddle of the film itself. Of course, it is very interesting.
This film is famously adapted from Haruki Murakami's "Barn Burning," but in fact, another text it involves is American writer Faulkner's "Burning Horse." Notice that in the film, Jong-soo says he loves to read Faulkner, so Ben also reads Faulkner. He hints at another origin with this method. In fact, he provides us with another more realistic, political-economic interpretation of this film. That is, in Faulkner's time, the economic value and function of horses; in the era when Murakami was writing, the impact of granaries; in today's modern agricultural space, greenhouses play a similar role and impact.
He brings us back to Lee Chang-dong, as a master of realist cinema and a highly socially conscious practitioner. I do not want to say "fighter," nor do I want to say "practitioner," but rather a practitioner with a high sense of social responsibility, imparting that social sensitivity to this film. That is, regarding personal life in an environment filled with uncertainty, filled with the struggle and cruelty of capital, filled with the struggles and cruelties of debtors, our lives gradually lose security and confirmation. In such an era, individuals, particularly young people, perhaps more prominently, their life states and mental states can reflect modernist alienation, modernist loneliness, drifting, and exile, but it is certainly not limited to this. It has too rich a social dimension, but at the same time, in the face of such sharp and harsh social realities, our uncertainty is not only about survival but also about self-doubt regarding our cognitive abilities, about our ability to grasp, interpret, and understand this world. This is perhaps the cleverness of the film's structure, the wisdom of its structure, and the richness of its interpretations, a deeper or more powerful expression.
I have spoken too much; thank you all.
That year, they awarded the Cannes Palme d'Or to "Shoplifters." I gave a differential score to the Cannes Film Festival jury for this. In fact, I also like "Shoplifters," but I really feel it cannot be placed on the same level as "Burning."