Burning

Burning, a 2018 South Korean psychological drama, skillfully plants itself at the intersection of the ordinary and the extraordinary. Directed by the acclaimed Lee Chang-dong, the film features a multi-faceted narrative and an array of deep and complex characters, played by a remarkable cast, including Yoo Ah-in, Steven Yeun, and Jeon Jong-seo. Continually blurring the line between reality and assumption, Burning explores themes of loneliness, alienation, and obsession against a backdrop of socio-economic disparity.

Yoo Ah-in plays Jong-su, an aspiring young writer whose parents’ financial distress and umeployment leave lingering shadows on his own life. With his father in legal troubles, he has to take over the management of their dilapidated family farm on the outskirts of Paju, near the North Korean border. His humdrum existence takes an intriguing turn when he runs into Hae-mi (played by Jeon Jong-seo), a girl with whom he shares a childhood acquaintance from their tiny hometown.

Hae-mi, who describes herself a pantomime, is an enigmatic figure living in the bustling urban landscape of Seoul, often overwhelmed by loneliness and seeking solace in the company of others. Before she embarks on a solo trip to Africa, she asks Jong-su to look after her cat while she's away. Jong-su, who harbors secretly nurtures feelings for Hae-mi, willingly accepts this simple request, even though the elusive cat remains unseen throughout Hae-mi's travel.

Hae-mi returns from Africa with an unexpected companion, the urbane and cosmopolitan Ben, played by Steven Yeun. Ben, with his sleek Porsche, luxurious Seoul apartment, and high-brow habits, is the archetypal rich guy, providing a stark contrast to Jong-su's near-squalid existence. Ben's wealth, origin, and source of income remain an enigma, eliciting suspicion and jealousy in Jong-su, who feels his chance slipping through his fingers.

As the relationship between these three characters unfolds, the audience can sense the palpable tension. Jong-su oscillates between his strong feelings for Hae-mi and his feeling of inferiority in front of the affluent Ben. His interactions with both Ben and Hae-mi subtly expose the class divide that pervades society, a theme closely mirrored in Korean cinema.

The plot begins to simmer when Ben reveals a bizarre hobby to Jong-su. It's a pastime so strange that Jong-su can't help but probe further into it. This ignites the central mystery in Burning, a puzzle that refuses to be solved, a slow-paced suspense that gnaws at the audience as the narrative progresses.

However, Burning isn’t your conventional suspense thriller, nor does it adhere strictly to the norms of a romantic drama. Director Lee Chang-dong skillfully weaves this tale transcending genres, playing seamlessly with suspense, romance, and social critique. He takes his time: the scenes unfold slowly, even languidly, more like a gentle probe rather than a relentless pursuit of a climax. This pace gives the audience plenty of time to soak up the mood of the film while letting the mystery stir up naturally.

Similarly, the performances by the lead trio are also commendable. Yoo Ah-in delivers an extraordinary performance as the brooding, introspective Jong-su who grapples with uncertainty and jealousy. Jeon Jong-seo is magnetic in her portrayal of the free-spirited yet vulnerable Hae-mi. Steven Yeun's depiction of the aloof, nonchalant Ben is both alluring and fear-provoking.

Burning stands out for its stunning cinematography. The film is visually memorable, evoking a range of emotions, from the tranquil rural landscapes to the bustling urban jungle of Seoul, and the hauntingly beautiful twilight scenes. In essence, the cinematography serves as a narrative tool rather than just a visual frame.

Lee Chang-dong's film also carries an intriguing literary connection as it draws inspiration from Haruki Murakami's short story "Barn Burning." However, the film’s narrative branches out into a myriad of themes, digging deeper into the human psyche, offering more complexity than the original story.

In conclusion, Burning is a subtle, hypnotic movie that refuses to fit into a single genre box. It is a triumph of psychological and social storytelling, exploring human relationships, class disparity, and the mystery of the human psyche, all while gracefully balancing uncertainty and suspense. Perhaps more than providing a resolution, it asks its audience to reflect, contemplate and interpret, leaving lingering questions and thoughts rather than clear-cut answers. As captivating as it is elusive, Burning is an artful creation that is a testament to Lee Chang-dong's filmmaking prowess and the compelling performances of its stellar cast.