FROSTED WINDOW
(The 2025 London Korean Film Festival runs November 5-18 and Hammer to Nail is excited to welcome writer Nathan Sartain to the team providing boots on the ground coverage. Check out his Frosted Window movie review. Seen it? Join the conversation with HtN on our Letterboxd Page.)
There’s a consistently familiar warmth to Kim Jong-kwan’s Frosted Window, one which never fully subsides even when the subject matter departs from a rather light, often humorous look at romance to a poignant gaze into both the emotional and physical weight that loss can carry.
Flanked by the beautifully shot backdrop of Seochon, a famous neighbourhood in Seoul, Frosted Window is an anthology built around three chapters. The first sees Han-kyung (Chang Ryul) searching for his idea of affection, at first flirting with a woman in a cafe who he tries to impress with an anecdote about being present when Timothée Chalamet stopped by that very location for a drink. This endeavour goes nowhere, yet when he does seem on the precipice of finding a bond that could perhaps carry some meaning, the leather jacket-wearing protagonist can’t resist the temptation of a plant shop worker, who he had previously believed he was dating, calling his phone.
In the next short, Bo-ra (Jeon So-young) takes a man to a small bar, flirtatiously teasing him about the “sexy” scent whisky can leave on your body after drinking it. But she admits she doesn’t want a “messy fling with a man who is taken,” so following a brief kiss outside, returns to the bar to pursue its bartender instead. They too appear close to genuine connection, until her date walks back in to look for a watch he had dropped.
Finally, in the season of winter we trace an actor, Mari (Ok Ja-yeon), as she navigates an emotion she doesn’t quite have a handle on: grief. Revealed over the course of diary entries, a short film she stars in, and even the receiving of a bouquet of flowers, the protagonist eventually comes to realize the gravity of just who and what she has lost.
Seamlessly crafted, Frosted Window is an engaging feature which, thanks to the grounded nature of each short’s composition, allow the audience to quickly connect with each character’s experiences, as well as the humble bar and cafe settings they find themselves in. For example, we’ve all either met, or know secondhand about, a man like Han-kyung, who awkwardly and seemingly indiscriminately flirts in the hopes of securing a date. Similarly, we can arguably cynically relate to Bo-ra, a person content to push the boundaries of a friendship with a good-looking acquaintance, whilst also pursuing an authentic association with someone she still believes is rather “plain.”
Just as skillful, though, is how gut-punching the film’s third act is. From the start we know Mari is going through some kind of pain, but the slow-burn release of grief is heartbreaking, taking the audience along with the lead on her journey towards inevitably, but suddenly, needing to grapple with raw emotion. Culminating in a final scene that is impeccably resonant, it may be quite an acute tonal shift for some, but it’s nonetheless well executed.
To that extent, Ok Ja-yeon deserves credit for her performance, giving an understated depth to her depiction of Mari. Whether it’s reflective stares or timid conversations, you can always sense there’s something bubbling under the surface in a way which builds nervy tension for the eventual unraveling of her true story. In a different but equally important vein, however, Chang Ryul is an energetic delight as Han-kyung. Zippy and bashful, you can’t help but invest in his romantic endeavours, nor resist laughing at some of his corny attempts to get the subjects of his interest on board.
Still, this is very much an ensemble showing, and everyone from Yeon Woo-jin as an observant bartender, to Joo Jong-hyuk as a drunken man doubting his relationship and toying with the idea of cheating, add something to the screentime they’re afforded, and help ensure there is no wasted material.
All in all then, Frosted Window is an excellent offering. Director Kim Jong-kwan again excels in his short form narrative work, this time painting a picture of a neighbourhood packed full of experiences that can be equal parts amusing, thought-provoking, or just downright intriguing.
– Nathan Sartain
London Korean Film Festival; Kim Jong-kwan; Frosted Window,
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