According to adventurous and silently suffering Hae-mi (Jong-seo Jun), the bushmen of the Kalahari desert have two different designations for hunger. There's Little Hunger, which just refers to those who are physically hungry. Then there are the men and women who hunger for the meaning of life, a spiritual starvation known as Great Hunger. While many of the characters in Lee Chang-dong's Burning don't exactly possess a bounty of food, their primary affliction is this second type of meaningful longing. In a world of record youth unemployment and tedious aimlessness and political turmoil, where does anyone fit? Hae-mi and the almost perpetually passive Lee Jong-su (Ah-In Yoo) both suffer the effects of this condition, though they'll go to different lengths to solve it.
For the first half of Burning, it seems this yearning is the driving force of the understated, sometimes ponderous narrative. When we meet Lee Jong-su, he's at a crossroads in life. His military service and school days are in the rearview mirror, but he has yet to find much success as a writer. Instead, he does part-time work on the side while tending to his family's farm on the countryside, which was put into his hands after his father ended up in prison. In one scene, he stares at the pictures on the wall of his family home, filled with memories of his father's glorious past. The creation of crucial memories of his own seems to be just out of Lee Jong-su's reach, as the crushing weight of personal and professional limbo weighs down his life.
One day, Lee Jong-su runs into Hae-mi on the street. She's an old friend from childhood, but he hasn't seen her or seemingly thought about her in ages. They have a cigarette together, later making plans for dinner. That evening, Hae-mi tells her long-lost pal about her plan to go to Africa, to seek fulfillment and purpose in a new land. While she's gone, she asks Jong-su to watch after her cat. The timid feline never shows itself, but he knows it's there based on the litter alone.
Then another player enters the picture. When Hae-mi returns from Africa, she's with Ben (Steven Yeun), the only other Korean citizen at the airport in Nairobi during a flight delay. They became fast friends, so the whole trio goes to get lunch together, celebrating new friendships and grand explorations. Ben is, unlike Jong-su and Hae-mi, extraordinarily rich, yet we don't exactly know what he does. Played by Yeun with a smile that suggests so much at once, he's a charismatic- and incredibly compelling- individual. Eventually, it's obvious that something about Ben is off- at least it's obvious to Jong-su. As he learns more about his perversely wealthy acquaintance, Jong-su's suspicions increase even further, until a creeping fear and a startling revelation link the two men forever.
What starts as a drama of existentialism and disillusionment becomes something else entirely- part American Psycho, part Great Gatsby retelling, all totally mysterious. It's incredible to watch a movie constantly reinvent itself in front of your eyes, evolving by the second and gradually occupying new, uncomfortable territory. At 148 minutes, Burning is a bit of an endurance test, though Lee's stately, unhurried pace is crucial for the methodical descent into increasingly unnerving depths. It's a film that wraps its viewer into a tighter and tighter grip, drawing you in before uncoiling another twist that will shift the ground beneath your feet.
In this way, Burning is destined to leave many audience members with more questions than answers; I know this was true in my experience. Lee's latest has been described as an enigma by many critics, and I suppose that's an apt label. It's a complex and multi-faceted puzzle, only one that might not be fully solvable in the end. Now, don't confuse the challenge of piecing together Burning with a kind of incomprehensibility. Its core narrative makes perfect sense, and you can solve 90% of the puzzle without breaking a sweat at all. But in the end, you'll still be left with a few pieces that just don't fit; are you missing something, or were they part of another puzzle that got mixed into a bigger picture? Throughout the film, Jong-su receives calls from someone who never answers on the other line- is there a connection here or is it just one more creepy twist?
Burning thrives on the contrast of abundant clarity and total haziness, permanently oscillating itself between truth and ambiguity. Lee's meticulousness and deliberate control of his formal elements allow for a stunning attention to even the tiniest of details; these small touches and minor gestures will almost always make a return later in the film. At the same time, so much of what lingers in the mind comes from the thick layer of murkiness that hovers over the film. It's a layer that exists on the level of the film's eerie composition, but it also comes from a compulsion for implication and suggestion over explanation.
It all culminates in a confounding, unshakable film, one that hangs in the mind like a dark cloud well after its "mystery" has been purportedly solved. Certain scenes prove to be more disturbing on a second glance than others, while the spirit of unknowable complexity will likely make additional viewings an attractive possibility. It's an altogether daunting and extraordinary work, melding genres, socio-political tensions, and personal desire to create something chilling.
Yet even with its strain of unpredictability, Burning remains consistent as a portrait of Great Hunger writ large. In this search, we're brought along on an ever-intensifying journey towards an elusive sense of meaning and purpose, destined to end in darkness for whomever may seek it.
THE FINAL GRADE: A- (8.2/10)
Images: Well Go USA/IMDb
For the first half of Burning, it seems this yearning is the driving force of the understated, sometimes ponderous narrative. When we meet Lee Jong-su, he's at a crossroads in life. His military service and school days are in the rearview mirror, but he has yet to find much success as a writer. Instead, he does part-time work on the side while tending to his family's farm on the countryside, which was put into his hands after his father ended up in prison. In one scene, he stares at the pictures on the wall of his family home, filled with memories of his father's glorious past. The creation of crucial memories of his own seems to be just out of Lee Jong-su's reach, as the crushing weight of personal and professional limbo weighs down his life.
One day, Lee Jong-su runs into Hae-mi on the street. She's an old friend from childhood, but he hasn't seen her or seemingly thought about her in ages. They have a cigarette together, later making plans for dinner. That evening, Hae-mi tells her long-lost pal about her plan to go to Africa, to seek fulfillment and purpose in a new land. While she's gone, she asks Jong-su to watch after her cat. The timid feline never shows itself, but he knows it's there based on the litter alone.
Then another player enters the picture. When Hae-mi returns from Africa, she's with Ben (Steven Yeun), the only other Korean citizen at the airport in Nairobi during a flight delay. They became fast friends, so the whole trio goes to get lunch together, celebrating new friendships and grand explorations. Ben is, unlike Jong-su and Hae-mi, extraordinarily rich, yet we don't exactly know what he does. Played by Yeun with a smile that suggests so much at once, he's a charismatic- and incredibly compelling- individual. Eventually, it's obvious that something about Ben is off- at least it's obvious to Jong-su. As he learns more about his perversely wealthy acquaintance, Jong-su's suspicions increase even further, until a creeping fear and a startling revelation link the two men forever.
What starts as a drama of existentialism and disillusionment becomes something else entirely- part American Psycho, part Great Gatsby retelling, all totally mysterious. It's incredible to watch a movie constantly reinvent itself in front of your eyes, evolving by the second and gradually occupying new, uncomfortable territory. At 148 minutes, Burning is a bit of an endurance test, though Lee's stately, unhurried pace is crucial for the methodical descent into increasingly unnerving depths. It's a film that wraps its viewer into a tighter and tighter grip, drawing you in before uncoiling another twist that will shift the ground beneath your feet.
In this way, Burning is destined to leave many audience members with more questions than answers; I know this was true in my experience. Lee's latest has been described as an enigma by many critics, and I suppose that's an apt label. It's a complex and multi-faceted puzzle, only one that might not be fully solvable in the end. Now, don't confuse the challenge of piecing together Burning with a kind of incomprehensibility. Its core narrative makes perfect sense, and you can solve 90% of the puzzle without breaking a sweat at all. But in the end, you'll still be left with a few pieces that just don't fit; are you missing something, or were they part of another puzzle that got mixed into a bigger picture? Throughout the film, Jong-su receives calls from someone who never answers on the other line- is there a connection here or is it just one more creepy twist?
Burning thrives on the contrast of abundant clarity and total haziness, permanently oscillating itself between truth and ambiguity. Lee's meticulousness and deliberate control of his formal elements allow for a stunning attention to even the tiniest of details; these small touches and minor gestures will almost always make a return later in the film. At the same time, so much of what lingers in the mind comes from the thick layer of murkiness that hovers over the film. It's a layer that exists on the level of the film's eerie composition, but it also comes from a compulsion for implication and suggestion over explanation.
It all culminates in a confounding, unshakable film, one that hangs in the mind like a dark cloud well after its "mystery" has been purportedly solved. Certain scenes prove to be more disturbing on a second glance than others, while the spirit of unknowable complexity will likely make additional viewings an attractive possibility. It's an altogether daunting and extraordinary work, melding genres, socio-political tensions, and personal desire to create something chilling.
Yet even with its strain of unpredictability, Burning remains consistent as a portrait of Great Hunger writ large. In this search, we're brought along on an ever-intensifying journey towards an elusive sense of meaning and purpose, destined to end in darkness for whomever may seek it.
THE FINAL GRADE: A- (8.2/10)
Images: Well Go USA/IMDb
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