Other than Lee Chang-dong’s POETRY, which I had seen earlier in the year, my favorite film at the recent Pusan International Film Festival was Hong Sang-soo’s HAHAHA. This is the tenth feature from Hong, and features a plot that is immediately recognizable to those familiar with his work. Two friends take turns telling about a recent trip they had to the small town of Pongyeong. Munkyung (played by Hong veteran Kim Sang Kyung), a filmmaker, visits his mother and ends up having a relationship with Seong-ok (the great Moon So-ri). His friend Jung-shik, who is married, tells a parallel story about his trip with his girlfriend Yeonjin in which he ends up interacting with a few of the same characters, including his friend, Jeongho, a poet who is also involved with Seong-ok. Both seem unaware that they are talking about many of the same people in both their stories. Although the plot is very much the same, Hong’s stylistic and narrative approach offers some new variations.

Like most of Hong’s films, there is a prevalence here of long takes. There are a total of 87 shots in a film lasting approximately 115 minutes, for an Average Shot Length (ASL) of nearly 80 seconds. As in his previous four films, there are plenty of zooms, by my count over 30, so that nearly every long take sequence does provide scale variation and movement into a scene. Hong’s use of the zoom remains quite unconventional because there is no obvious reason why he uses such an obtrusive device for moving into a scene (as opposed to simply editing). Part of the answer has to be, I think, that it IS obtrusive, that it does call attention to itself, and thus forces the viewer to be aware of what they are being shown, rather than being sutured into a sequence through the power of continuity editing. Hong’s use of the long take/zoom is thus akin to his narratives, challenging the audience by making them aware of the process and forcing them to use their own critical faculties.

One addition Hong makes to his usual stylistic repertoire here is the use of stills. The 87 shots of the film do not include these numerous stills. The film begins with a series of these frames, roughly 15-20, and then continues to occasionally intercut one or two stills in between sequences as the two friends alternate in telling their tales (a total of 29 overall). This means that there is here, for the first time in a Hong feature, a voiceover narration, as we never actually see the friends meeting. We only hear their stories over the still images (there is voiceover in Hong’s short film, LOST IN THE MOUNTAINS).

The narrative form breaks down as follows:

Opening voiceover/ series of stills; Munkyung’s story: 2 shots; 2 stills; Jung-shik’s story: 2 shots; 2 stills; M’s story 6 shots; 2 stills; J’s story 1 shot; 1 still; M’s story 3 shots; 2 stills; J’s story 2 shots; 3 stills; M’s story 2 shots; 2 stills; J’s story 2 shots; M’s story 3 shots; 3 stills; J’s story 1 shot; 1 still; M’s story 10 shots; 2 stills; J’s story 5 shots; 1 still; M’s story 3 shots; voiceover but no stills; J’s story 1 shot; 2 stills; M’s story 4 shots; 2 stills; J’s story 1 shot; 2 stills; M’s story 2 shots; J’s story 6 shots; M’s story 4 shots; J’s story 1 shot; M’s story 5 shots; J’s story 2 shots; M’s story 2 shots; J’s story 4 shots; 2 stills; M’s story 2 shots; J’s story 4 shots; M’s story 5 shots; J’s story 3 shots; voiceover conclusion

The use of the stills act here like pillow shots, signaling the shift between stories as the narrative alternates perspective. As the film progresses Hong does not use the stills as often, as the audience has settled into the rhythm and does not really need them. However, only seeing the film once, I do wonder if something else is at work here. Specifically, what I cannot answer with any confidence is how subjective each of these stories is. Hong is known for having flashbacks and alternate story lines that seem subjective but ultimately may not be (the classic example is THE VIRGIN STRIPPED BARE BY HER BACHELORS). The stories clearly focus on each of the two characters and events that happen to them, but at the same time Hong as the ultimate narrator/director presents the sequences to suit his own overall vision, and that vision does not seem tied to the subjectivity of the two protagonists. It is also not clear from a single viewing about the chronology of events. The two stories take place at roughly the same time, at least it seems, but the form may or may not be strictly linear. There is something at once very familiar to Hong’s approach here while at the same time offering a variation we have not seen.

The thematics are also familiar but with some important variation. Many of the male characters seem trapped in a kind of prolonged adolescence, with the female characters stronger and more mature but also trapped within their own personal and cultural limitations. Seong-ok is a particularly fascinating character. We are introduced to her in her job at a local cultural museum, giving students a history lesson on Admiral Yi, a prominent mythical figure in Korean nationalist ideology. At a later lecture, someone challenges her by asking if we can really believe the stories told about Admiral Yi, given that so much of history is exaggerated. In one of the funniest moments of the film, Seong-ok berates the man for daring to ask such a question while becoming extremely flustered and indicating her own unease at the question. For a director usually seen as very apolitical, Hong is clearly exposing how fragile myth and ideology are and why it is so potentially damaging for both when any questions are asked. It is also telling that a female character is the one so invested in the myth. Seong-ok is in many ways a progressive character, someone who is independent and open about her sexuality and desires while also being trapped within ideological norms, especially around masculinity. She breaks up with the poet Jeongho when she finds him cheating on her, but after a failed romance with Munkyung, she calls Jeongho at the end of the film, perhaps motivated by his display of masculinity when he beats up Munkyung earlier. Even her attraction to Munkyung seems based on his reciting of advice he received in a dream from Admiral Yi (another amusing sequence, a rare dream of a Hong character that is obviously such because of the presence of a long dead historical figure).

No character seems able to avoid repeating their own mistakes and the outdated cultural prejudices that continue to live on. Jung-shik tries to finally recognize the legitimacy of his relationship with his girlfriend by introducing her to his uncle, but he has to get drunk first and then proceeds to cry like a child and pass out in front of the male authority figure (who is authoritative in structural position only; the uncle comes off as very reasonable and sympathetic). The last scene, in which his girlfriend, Yeonjin, tells him she won’t pressure him anymore and that she is at peace with their relationship, can be seen as both healthy and progressive (especially compared to the other relationships we see) or a rather cynical critique of how limited the choices of the female characters are within this society.

There is a kind of warmness and gentleness to this film that is not often found in Hong, which can be rather deceptive while also indicating a certain truth about Hong as a director. There is more humanism here than in his other work, and the comparisons often made with Eric Rohmer are becoming more and more apt as Hong progresses. Certainly, as social satire goes, this is more Jean Renoir than Luis Bunuel, especially in the way the film ends, with each character thanking the other for sharing his story and indicating how much they enjoyed each other’s tale. This is something of a masking (as if often was in Renoir), and if thought about enough the story becomes as grim as other Hong tales.

I would not rank this as Hong’s greatest, but it is another very entertaining and thought-provoking work from a filmmaker who seems incapable of making anything else. One wonders if Hong’s films will continue to mellow with age. It’s possible, but it is equally likely that he will reinvent himself again, all the while making another film that seems almost identical to all the others.

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