Sokcho in Winter Analysis: An Atmospheric Slow-Burning Story of Family and Closeness in a South Korean Frontier Town
Inspired by a novel by Swiss-Korean writer Elisa Dusapin, this elusive yet refreshing film follows hotel employee Sooha (Bella Kim) as she escorts author from France Yan (Zem Roschdy) to the DMZ just north of Sokcho. Symbolism abounds: Koya Kamura’s first feature also camps in a no man’s land of the soul, with Sooha, abandoned by her French father while she was still unborn, trapped between dual heritages. After the francophone hostess is compelled to chaperone the enigmatic author, she lingers uneasily between strained companionship and Oedipal attraction.
Everyday Existence and Upheaval
If not enjoying visually stunning seafood cooked by her fishmonger mother (Park Mi-hyeon), Sooha is relaxing with her partner (Do-yu Gong), an hopeful model gunning for a move to Seoul. But this familiar rhythm is disrupted when the foreigner settles in for a extended visit. Initially matching her prejudices about impolite Frenchmen, he turns out, after an online search, to be acclaimed comic book writer Yan Kerrand. Arriving in Sokcho in search of creative fuel, he manages to extract the story of Sooha’s missing father from her. She spies on him through a vent – but the question lingers whether he’s a proxy father, or another figure entirely.
Inner Turmoil and Symbolic Layers
Sooha’s buried emotions surface in bursts of clandestine, winding moments of physical constraint and release. We are privy to only her inner life, though; Yan stays a distant figure, upholding his solitary principles and sparing with particulars of his history. His cipher status, as Sooha projects her desires on to him, is intentional – but this imbalance hinders Winter in Sokcho from fully opening up. Aesthetic expression – and control, with Sooha’s mother and boyfriend both pushing cosmetic surgery on her – is clearly a central idea for Kamura. Yet despite Yan’s profession, it seems a bit separate from the primary narrative, like the mysterious bandaged diner also in the guesthouse.
Performances and Cinematic Craft
The three focused performances at the core – an nearly aggressive Zem, progressively unmoored Kim, and the self-absorbed Park – give Winter in Sokcho its emotional anchor, and if Kamura can’t quite thematically corral the wary faceoff between innkeeper and visitor, he is consistently on his toes emotionally speaking, often exploring a physical, sensory imagery. Obsessing over absence, threatening to drown in internal sensations, Kamura creates an intriguing kind of modern ghost story.
Winter in Sokcho is available on Mubi from 7 November.
