Director Hong Sang-soo, a field observer of human nature, scrutinizes it with affection. His is not a Seinfeldian lens which tries to capture “nothing,” but a curious look at the grace and awkwardness of daily life, more reminiscent of the French New Wave. In Woman on the Beach, he turns his light-handed, almost voyeuristic attention to a handful of twenty- and thirtysomethings in South Korea. Too often the reality of this age is drowned out by gimmicky plots, ultra-hip clothes, or angst ridden crises. Not here. Sang-soo’s characters are honest, fresh and, for lack of a better word, unremarkable.

The story line is also unremarkable, at least in the beginning. A filmmaker, Joong-rae (Kim Seung-woo), decides that a short trip to a beach resort is exactly what he needs to clear his head and churn out a new script, and he convinces his production designer friend Chang-wook (Kim Tae-woo) to come with him. Though married, Chang-wook, in turn, brings his quasi-girlfriend Moon-sook (Korean TV star Ko Hyun-joung), a delightful musician who quickly catches Joong-rae’s eye. Everything from their interactions (clumsy chitchat interrupted by sweet insights and observations) to the setting (an expansive panorama of a barren, off-season beach) to the camera work is bravely un-romanticized. And while all three characters are palpably neurotic and their mannerisms comically exaggerated, their fumbling never slips into the absurd.

Though Sang-soo’s language of youth, passion, and uncertainty is universal, naturally it’s informed by contemporary South Korean culture, which, at least to the American viewer, exemplifies the cliché of “East meets West.” From their Converse kicks to their cell phones, these young adults are emblems of modern style. But peeking through their relatable tastes and dispositions is a vestige of distinctly Asian values. They bow, they shy away from public affection, and, with varying success, try to uphold high standards of respect. The women – even strong, independent Moon-sook – are somewhat demure, in gesture if not in character. They seem to carry the load of a deeply ingrained humility, delicately covering their mouth after small (but frequent) sips of soju or mindlessly dabbing a dinner table for crumbs.

Coming from a culture where traditions are weak and the young are the first to shirk them, this contrast is fascinating to see, though in all likelihood, the director may not have even had it in mind. He’s more interested in the state of the modern Korean man, whom he diagnoses with feelings of inadequacy toward his western counterpart. Unfortunately, this complex is explored a bit too dramatically in protagonist Joong-rae, who finds Moon-sook’s past sexual experience with foreign men to be a road block to their relationship. And though conceptually interesting, his drawn-out struggle with her transgressions creates a needless emotion overload for this film, a smartly comic and otherwise subtle nod to reality. Yana Litovsky
January 9, 2008