Victorian-era poets, tormented by doubts that life might hold no meaning, could at least turn to nature. The image of a roaring sea or a gathering storm lent a pathos-filled beauty to their work that helped to abate the underlying pessimism. A century and a half later, novelist/director Lee Chang-dong poses many of the same questions about scepticism and religious belief in Secret Sunshine. But the comfort of nature is fleeting.

The natural images Lee employs are silent: sunlight streaming through a car window in the opening scene and later, when even the sunshine has been discredited, an ugly square of earth to draw the film to a close.
Throughout his film career, and indeed also in his stint as South Korea’s Minister of Culture and Tourism from 2003-4, Lee has never shied away from posing uncomfortable questions. His debut work Green Fish (1997) and widely praised follow-up Peppermint Candy (1999) painted a stark picture of the human costs behind Korean society’s modern transformation. Oasis (2002), which won a Best Director award at Venice, is more focused on the personal realm. Depicting a newly released ex-con who falls in love with a woman with cerebral palsy, the film stirred controversy at the same time as it established Lee as one of Korea’s top directors.

Like Oasis, Secret Sunshine targets universal themes through an intensely personal story. A woman named Shin-ae moves with her young son from Seoul to Miryang, a nondescript little city in south-eastern Korea, and there experiences a horrible tragedy. Her reaction forms the core of the film, and once again stirred controversy – this time, from South Korea’s many Christian groups.

A strong tendency towards realism runs through all Korean cinema, but in Oasis and in this film, it seems to reach a new level. This may be Lee Chang-dong’s greatest strength: he can create scenes that replicate ‘ordinary’ Korean life in a way bereft of mannerisms and absolutely convincing. He is helped by some of Korea’s most talented actors – Song Kang-ho, for example, who plays the talkative owner of a car-repair centre who develops an interest in Shin-ae and follows her around for much of the film. Song’s character provides welcome moments of bittersweet humour but also gives us an added pair of eyes through which to view Shin-ae.

Shin-ae is played by Jeon Do-yeon who, with this role, became the first Korean to win an acting award at Cannes. Jeon is famous in Korea for her prodigious talent and has played everything from a shy schoolgirl (Harmonium in My Memory) to an unfaithful wife (Happy End) and a prostitute stricken with AIDS (You Are My Sunshine). Secret Sunshine throws her talent into relief like no other film before it, with its abrupt transformations and wide emotional range. From all accounts she lived through hell shooting it. Jeon largely accomplishes what she does, not by mimicking extreme emotions, but by living through them. Lee is also known for the difficult regimen he puts his actors through on set, pushing them to extremes in pursuit of the perfect shot, yet providing very little guidance.

For viewers too, watching this film can be an intense experience. Shin-ae suffers more than any one person should ever have to suffer in life, and we’re there next to her as it happens. In some films, the elegance of the filmmaking acts as a salve against the wrenching subject matter; in this case, it’s more of a temporary painkiller that soon fades. One Korean viewer noted that the following day the film’s impact really hit her with full force.

Considering its subject matter, the film’s theme would seem to be about despair, and the process of working through it. Yet Lee is so hands-off in presenting his themes that this may not be accurate. The film’s slightly abrupt and, for some viewers, unsatisfying ending leaves it up to the audience to determine the significance of these events. If any philosophy is to be found in Secret Sunshine, it is a faith that, in presenting a story as close to reality as possible, something worthwhile will emerge. It is a belief in honesty – honesty in filmmaking, in facing life with no illusions. It may sound like a lofty ambition, but in practice it is not much to hang on to. We traverse several circles of hell together with Shin-ae, and then emerge with empty hands.

Darcy Paquet