BURNING: A Harrowing Examination Of Duality, Class And Isolation
People and circumstance change our perception of things for better or worse. And depending on how they’re fleshed out, sometimes it can become a continuous search for truth.
In Burning, everything and everyone is set up carefully in a way that seems cautious and intentional, yet fleeting; there seems to be some sort of underlying deceit. Things are invisible, yet so prevalent. Soon enough, this mysterious pattern becomes a perpetual cycle of obsession. What is real? What is true? These are the burning questions that South Korean director Lee Chang-dong masterfully ignites in this film.
As the line between reality and fantasy is blurred, haunting perceptions of privilege, jealousy, and isolation are brought to light. These perceptions not only have the protagonist, but us, frantically digging for truth. It’s a story weaved with metaphors and questions that leaves an unending trail of possibilities.
A Tale Full of Riddles
Based on Haruki Murakami’s short story, ‘Barn Burning’, the film follows Jong-su (Ah-in Yoo), a quiet and passive part-time delivery guy and aspiring novelist who bumps into a bright yet mysterious woman, Hae-min (Jong-seo Jun), who claims that they knew each other from their hometown.
Things start to get weird and move fast, as they begin to reconnect. Hae-mi peels an invisible tangerine for Jong-su, tells him she’s going on a trip to Africa to find “great hunger”, and asks him to feed her cat (a cat that he never sees) while she’s away. They sleep together, she leaves, and returns back home with a wealthy, Jay Gatsby-type guy, Ben (Steven Yeun). Heartbroken and confused, Jong-su finds himself in their company more than he’d like, while being sunk into a winding tunnel of riddles.
Duality Paints A Portrait of Complex Perceptions, Framed with Burning Rage
Lee’s ability to flesh out vague complexities of the characters is commendable. Perhaps what drives these complexities is the duality that Jong-su and Ben evoke. It harbors masculine, class, and romantic competition. It’s not really a tale focused on a love triangle or a who did what, but more of an examination of a power struggle.
It becomes a cat and mouse game, as Ben feeds him metaphors and riddles to his amusement. Jong-su chases them, trying to claw out something on the guy. Ben is a privileged, charming, and mysteriously wealthy guy who lives life nonchalantly. But he also lives it very cunningly. He shows off his life of privilege, uses metaphors, and watches Hae-min and Jong-su, both young and broke, with amusement. Is he a psychopath or just a dick?
Jong-su is a poor, working class guy who hasn’t necessarily grown out of his boyish phase with his awkward stance and mannerisms. He doesn’t know much about the world, but it’s a divided and mysterious one for him. Bearing the burden of his father’s mistakes, he’s confined to his father’s old farm right by the DMZ where North Korean propaganda blasts. The circumstance and uncertainty that unravels around him with Ben bubbles up a quiet but burning rage, as he finds himself running after things that are invisible, yet he feels them under his skin. It all ultimately shapes and angers his understanding of the world and himself.
Hae-min, turns out to be probably the most mysterious. With her miming and stories, she seems to be searching for something greater in life or perhaps running from it. Her naivety and seeming passiveness make her presence feel like a fleeting one, yet she anchors the entire story.
The film becomes an attractive character study amongst this trio who quietly carry contradictions within themselves that affects each other.
Direction And Performance Carries Ambiguity with Intention
This duality that Lee uses to push the story might seem like a rather conventional approach. But it produces a captivating and haunting tale that urges us to scope out the complexities.
The film carries a lot of ambiguity, yet there’s so much intention behind everything. It’s both ominous and breathtaking. Needless to say, it messes with your mind in a way where it’s left up to us to form our own judgement on each character. With all the possibilities, it’s an enticing way to leave us.
Like Murakami, Lee is careful not to convey too much, especially when it comes down to the actors’ performances. Maybe it’s because the characters haven’t quite fleshed out the reality of their circumstance enough to give us direction. The trio does an excellent job in executing minimal yet strategic performances. The characters are young and don’t necessarily know the world yet. Their faces makes us search for answers.
Burning: Conclusion
Lee is patient with the story. He illustrates the rather grim reality of how circumstance and people can define you and shape your perception of the world for better or worse. For Jong-su, it’s a divided world that leaves him isolated, which drives him to emotional extremes. Whether the reasons behind these extremes are true, are left up to personal interpretation.
The more I think about this film, the more I feel like it’s relatable to a lot of us. We tend to see ourselves in relation to others. It’s a blessing in that we’re able to know ourselves more, yet a curse in that it can make us feel less whole, having us circle down a rabbit hole. Burning is a pot of luscious ambiguity that has us pining for answers.
Have you watched Burning yet? What are your thoughts? Let us know in the comments.
Burning was released in U.S. cinemas in November 2018 and U.K. cinemas in February 2019. It will be available on Netflix on April 29th.
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