(Check out Chris Reed’s Possible Love movie review, it hits Netflix November 6 following a successful theatrical run. Seen it? Join the conversation with HtN on our Letterboxd Page.)
South Korean director Lee Chang-dong made, in 2010, one of my favorite films, Poetry, addressing issues of memory, identity, trauma, and healing in a heartbreaking tale about a woman confronting a dementia diagnosis. In his latest, Possible Love, Lee tackles topics of equal—perhaps even greater—urgency, foremost among them human exploitation rooted in economic inequality. The result is a powerful parable for our current age, asking us to consider the price of civility when outrage is the best response.
Originally intended to be an homage to the late Polish filmmaker Krzysztof Kieślowski’s Dekalog, Possible Love expresses that inspiration in an opening title card with the biblical injunction “Thou shalt not covet.” By the end, there’s no other way to view this phrase than with anything but irony, given what we’ve learned. When venal overlords steal everything, and especially when they do with it a smile, I say, “Covet away.” Better yet, take it all back.
The story starts with a funeral. Mother Mi-ok (Jeon Do-yeon, The Housemaid), father Ho-seok (Sul Kyung-gu, Memori of a Murderer), and young son Cheol gather in the car for the long drive, only for Ho-seok to refuse to go in once they arrive. We’ll later understand that it’s his brother who died and discover the why of Ho-seok’s reluctance. For now, we are left to the mystery.
Our way in comes courtesy of documentarian Ye-ji (Cho Yeo-jeong, Parasite), who wants to make a film about the recent corporate restructuring of automaker SP Heavy Industries. Workers at the company went out on strike two years ago, an action that resulted in a brutal police response that landed many employees in the hospital and a few in the morgue, with jail sentences meted out to some of the survivors. Ho-seok was in the middle of it all.
Ye-ji and her husband, Sang-woo (Zo In-sung, Escape from Mogadishu), come from a much higher income bracket than do Mi-ok and Ho-seok, which proves something of an initial barrier to Ye-ji’s filmmaking efforts. But Mi-ok quickly decides to go with the flow, acquiescing to interviews and sharing intimate details of their lives. It will take Ho-seok much longer. He is essentially a barely functioning alcoholic, his addiction rooted in a life without much opportunity. And though Mi-ok is naturally a more optimistic soul, she occasionally, in flashback, examines the ways in which Ho-seok has proved an imperfect partner.
As part of her strategy to draw out Mi-ok and Ho-seok, Ye-ji invites them to dinner and, eventually, to the lavish vacation home Sang-woo inherited from his father. Sang-woo, it turns out, is a private-equity investor, part of a system like that which resulted in SP Heavy Industries’ layoffs. Though he is therefore in theory the villain, his charm and quick smile mask the nature of his avarice. In addition, he is either blissfully unaware of the conflict of interest with his wife’s project or a sociopath. The jury’s still out. Meanwhile, Ye-ji remains, herself, oblivious to how she is no less a predator.
Slowly (the movie is 165 minutes long), Lee builds his narrative out of barely expressed thoughts and emotions, layering threads in a cinematic quilt that condemns the worst tendencies of our time. Greed is not good, though it is certainly tempting. Eat the rich; or, at least, put them in their place. Sadly, most times they get away with their spotless lives, while the working stiffs, as they do here, continue to suffer.
– Christopher Llewellyn Reed (@ChrisReedFilm)
