The Novelist’s Film 2022

[Neomi Bensch]

Thefilm was released theatrically in South Korea on April 21, 2022.[11] It was screened in Masters & Auteurs section of the 46th Hong Kong International Film Festival on August 16, 2022.[12] It also made it to Icon section of 27th Busan International Film Festival and screened on October 6, 2022.[13]

On the review aggregator website Rotten Tomatoes, 100% of 26 critics' reviews are positive, with an average rating of 7.9/10. The website's consensus reads, "Hong Sang-soo reaffirms his ability to distill beauty and wisdom from the mundane in The Novelist's Film, a pure and delightful deliberation on an artist's creative process."[18] Metacritic, which uses a weighted average, assigned the film a score of 82 out of 100, based on 10 critics, indicating "universal acclaim".[19]

David Rooney of Hollywood Reporter wrote, that the film "conceals thoughts on the insularity of creative communities, the ticking clock of an artist's life and the importance of remaining open to finding truth even in what appear to be random connections". Concluding the review Rooney stated, "The Novelist's Film is an unapologetically slight entry, stripped back to the point where it seems to be about nothing and has nothing especially profound to say. But it's a pleasurable exercise for an artist continually in conversation with himself about the value of his work and what his collaborators bring to it. As such, Hong's 27th feature is arguably less an essential new chapter than a teasing footnote to everything he's done before."[20]Guy Lodge reviewing for Variety opined, "The latest miniature from the prolific South Korean auteur won't rank among his most essential works, but it still offers playful pleasures aplenty."[21]Stephanie Bunbury of Deadline wrote, "Here's another walking-and-talking film from festival favorite Hong Sang-soo, encapsulating a sliver of Korean life with his customary elusive delicacy." Concluding Bunbury stated, "the film rather than sharing a sense of completion, makes it clear that this is the flow of creative life. They [the novelist and the director] will keep working. It's what they do."[22]

James Mottram of the South China Morning Post gave 3.5 stars out of 5 and wrote, "Hong's film is driven by gentle coincidence and good humour". Mottram opined that "those who don't have the patience for Hong's delicate brand of cinema may find The Novelist's Film frustrating, but this simply shot tale of human interaction has a beauty all of its own."[23] Jake Cole of the Slant Magazine gave 3.5 stars out of 4 and wrote, "The Novelist's Film suggests that Hong has yet to exhaust his methods of deriving significance and beauty from the most quotidian of details, and perhaps that his strongest work is yet to come."[24]

A novelist visits a bookstore run by a young colleague who's been out of touch, then takes a walk with a film director and his wife. She meets an actress and tries to convince her to make a film together.

HE DID IT WHAT THE FUCK HE TRANSCENDED HONG SANGSOO IS SUPERHUMAN THIS IS EXPERIMENTAL CINEMA THIS IS WVERYTHING KIM MINHEE WEARS A LEATHER JACKET AHHHHHHH PROBABLY THE BEST B&W CINEMATOGRAPHY SINCE LIKE FUCKING MY DARLING CLEMENTINE FUCK

This is so perfect structure in this give and take between casual and inevitable. It moves perfectly and makes great of its suggestion if day in the life diary. Careful observed and packed with small stolen moments and gestures It makes more than most Hongs out of small variations from recognizable bits as fits a movie about how life is filtered through fiction.

Hong's first film about EVERYTHING. Not a film about dysfunctional relationships, not a film about terrible men, or a film with multiple parts and twists. THE NOVELIST'S FILM couldn't be described as anything other than a film about nothing and everything. From the very second the film begins, everything about it resembles a typical a Hong film, but as it progresses you begin to realise his typical narrative twists and turns no longer exist, dragged away in the gusts of wind of the parks and streets that our characters venture across and what is eventually left is the remaining elements left in a Hong film: the vibes, and Hong himself.

Audience: Do you have a lot of films together with this close group or do you change actors? For instance, the scene with the sign language was perfect. You said that you write in the evening the day before. So that means the actors get this information in the morning and they have to act and to play it? Was this scene your idea, or did it come out of a process of working together?

Audience: You said using the process is really important and you accept what comes out of it. Do you purely want to enjoy the process and the experience that comes along with it? Or after every film, do you also reflect on the process and then think about what is probably not so great for this one, what could be better? And then for the next film, you try to modify the process to make it suits you and your team better?

Lee Hyeyoung (In Front of Your Face) stars as a novelist disenchanted with her writing. When she runs into the filmmaker whose project to adapt one of her novels fell through, she resolves to make a film starring a popular actress (Kim Minhee).

The second experience is that of revisiting one or many of the films and coming back to rooms that might look different this time around; previously hidden nooks and drawers now expanding our first encounters. As we watch again, the old becomes new and the anxious search for novelty is put into question.

The most prominent example of this attitude is his use of the zoom to create a purely optical movement. In order not to interrupt the flow of the acting and to accompany the development of the action, he instead chooses to either zoom in or zoom out, a decision that everyone else would have rejected for being too intrusive, too artificial. Finally, after at least ten films, it has been accepted, naturalized, even celebrated as a sign of authorship, of style. Yet now, in his last two films, he is not zooming anymore.

And so I recalled another conversation I had, this time with director Jaime Puertas Castillo: while discussing what could be his next film, he surprised me by revealing the importance of proximity, and a desire to make films in proximity, from what we have around us, close to us, given to us. An unpredictable strength lies there that might be enough, enough to make a film, enough to make sense. How much is enough for making sense? What questions does a film need to ask? Does a film need to resolve them or keep them without closure? How can we restore to images and sounds some of the rich ambiguity this powerful proximity holds within? A sense of mystery, something unsaid, is necessary to keep the films open, to invite us and move forward. Director Hongs films have the (extra)ordinary ability to hold these mysteries effortlessly. We remain on the verge of making sense. We doubt. We might not fully see. Things remain in that moment just before they become evident. But they are there, as things are. And that might be enough. The film ends, and we go out the door.

1. Which film is actress Kim Min-hee writing at the coffee shop in Grass? Why does actress Gong Min-jung go up and down the stairs? And what does actor Ahn Jae-hong see when he contemplates the grass that gives title to the film?

3. Is there a woman escaping in The Woman Who Ran? Why does Kim Min-hee come back to the cinema? Is going to the theater to watch a movie effectively a short-term rental that provides those without a home with a temporary roof? (Thank you, filmmaker Gina Telaroli for that note!)

While Joon-hee is waiting in front of the bookstore, she is soon greeted by that young female employee, who, to our little amusement, behaves as if nothing serious had happened between her and her employer. Her friend also comes out not long after that, but, to our small bafflement, she does not say anything about what really happened between her and her employee, and Joon-hee does not ask about that at all as talking with her friend more about how long it has been since they met each other for the last time.

When Joon-hee subsequently goes to a local observatory tower alone, she happens to encounter a middle-aged filmmaker and his wife, who are incidentally her close acquaintances. After having a conversation among them for a while, they eventually come to take some walk outside, and that is how they come across Gil-soo (Kim Min-hee), a well-known movie actress who has been rather dormant during recent years.

The 2022 film opens with bookseller Sewon (seven-time Hong performer Seo Young-hwa) and younger employee Hyun-woo (three-timer Park Mi-so) arguing loudly behind closed doors. Once they emerge, Jun-hee (Lee Hye-yeong, a veteran TV actress making a vivid impression) pretends not to have heard a thing (the argument is never explained). With her chic hairstyle, leather gloves, and e-cigarette, she looks every inch the successful author. Sewon, a former writer, gave it up years ago.

Once the atmosphere settles, Hyun-woo, a former actress, joins the two for an afternoon coffee and shares phrases in sign language, her area of study. After catching up, Jun-hee takes her leave to explore her old stomping grounds.

At a tower, she runs into filmmaker Hyo-jin (Kwon Hae-hyo). The tension in these encounters indicates that Jun-hee's frankness makes some people uncomfortable. In this case, resentment lies in his inability to bring an adaptation of one of Jun-hee's novels to life. He blames investors who didn't find her work sufficiently commercial, while Jun-hee blames him for a lack of support.

The situation grows more tense when they run into actress Kil-soo (10-timer Kim Min-hee) who has been taking time off. Hyo-jin considers it "a waste." Jun-hee finds his attitude patronizing, insisting that Kil-soo has every right to manage her career as she chooses. Jun-hee's blunt-force manner helps to explain why Hyo-jin hid from her when he first spotted the novelist.

3a8082e126