QUICK’N DIRTY: LIVE FROM THE RED SEA
There are those characters that take the audience by the hand and lead us through a story, and then there are those that sweep us up in their slipstream and drag us through the story. The latter is like the proverbial being dragged through the garden hedges. South Korean director Yoon Ga-eun’s The World of Love is definitely the latter. Jooin (Seo Su-bin) has a fierce energy that dominates the frame. Even in its slow early going, Jooin has a presence that’s hard to ignore, helping to keep us interested as the story finds its thematic and emotional rhythm.
The World of Love is a sensitive story about seventeen-year-old Jooin’s experience with trauma. At first, Jooin appears to be a carefree, if not a little wild, but when she’s asked to sign a school petition and challenges a sentence in its decree, old wounds are gradually exposed.
What’s captivating about Yoon’s film is its metamorphosis. There’s a genuine evolution across its 116-minutes. Shifts happen in a layered way on both sides of the screen. From the audience’s point of view, their understanding of the characters shift. Why this is striking in the context of The World of Love is because change is a central theme, specifically how knowledge shifts perspectives and influences people’s behavioural patterns. So, the revelation around the hour mark has the power to change not only how the audience see Jooin in a different light, but her classmates. Given the revelation, one might think that Yoon’s focus would be dominated by her concern for her young protagonist, but immediately she seeks to imbue the drama with nuance, by exploring the way traumatic events affect not only the victim but others. Yoon does this by developing the mother character, who herself develops into a more intriguing character.
Yoon’s sensitivity to the story and its characters is an asset. The filmmaker has a gift for crafting signature moments that define the story’s journey. These moments, however, venture beyond cause to appreciate the narrative craftsmanship. They open up the film’s emotional spectrum and transport the audience inside intimate and private moments where a character will bare their soul. In one powerful scene, in a car wash, Jooin experiences the pain of old wounds while her mother sits still and quiet. The juxtaposition between Jooin and her mother in this scene is resonates with a genuine power, but by framing the scene from behind, Jooin and her cinematographer Ji-hyeon Kim elevate its significance. As human beings, we are compelled to find the right words and save one another. On occasion, we require someone to simply sit quietly with us and not say or do anything. As the scene unfolds our compassion is stirred but so too is our powerlessness to help Jooin. The positioning of the camera and the framing is integral to provoking these emotions and constructing the deeper reflections of the moment.
Cinema has an inherent curiosity about the human condition. In the case of The World of Love, Yoon is entering what might be an uncomfortable conversation for some audiences, not only about trauma, but a broader world view. Jooin’s classmates struggle with the revelation because in their minds it changes everything. An observation The World of Love raises is that life, our interpersonal relationships or identities are not neatly compartmentalised but are messy. Hence, people who are depressed can be happy, and people who have suffered trauma can be carefree, full of life and humour despite the wounds inflicted. And this is where Seo Su-bin’s performance shines, by expressing Jooin’s rich emotional nuance.
The World of Love showed in the 5th Red Sea International Film Festival.
