Review: Davy Chous Exuberant ‘Return To Seoul Ponders A Young Womans Constant Evolution
On the first night of his impromptu trip to Seoul, Freddie (Park Jimin), a 25-year-old magnet adopted from South Korea who was born in South Korea and raised in France, explains the concept of sight reading to Addis. group. Popular on many soju bottles.
To perform a score for the first time, the musicians - ex-Freddie - must quickly assess the problem, take risks when they want to, and then dive into it without fear. So Freddy decided to wander the earth, dive into the unknown head, and then pick up the broken pieces. It changes its form over the years, goes with the flow of changes.
The emotional young woman ordered "Return to Seoul" by the French screenwriter and director Davy Chow. The intellectually informed, electrifying, fragmented drama reflects on the temporality of our knowledge—of ourselves, others, and the world—and emphasizes that transformation is the only inevitable constant.
“There are all these signs you can't see, but you can learn to read them and recognize them when they appear,” Freddie told the drunken audience before striking up a conversation between the strangers. His instructions also give us instructions on how to do history.
A delightfully unhurried masterpiece, one set-up at a time, Chu's third feature is perhaps the only film this year where every scene and every dialogue feels important. The richness of every detail and the unexpected consequences over time make this a unique character study.
Encouraged by her new friend and dorm assistant, Tena (Hook Han) goes to Freddie Hammond's adoption center to ask about her parents. A torn photograph of a child in the arms of a woman he believes to be his mother opens the door to a meeting. But first they are introduced by her Korean father (Oh Kwang Rok).
When he meets his father's blood family for the first time, language barriers, cultural clashes and mutual understanding, the need to communicate shatter Freddy's composure. Since they've been together, she gets Yoon Hee's name and learns about the difficult financial situation behind the adoption.
At first, Tena, who speaks fluent French and knows Korean emotions, intervenes to facilitate communication, sometimes responding to Freddie's anger, looking for kind words to convey her answer, or turning to the world's best angels in search of heroes of mercy. Most of the time, the feeling does not need to be translated, for example, when the grandmother cries all the time, and English is like a broken middle language.
The lack of instant connection, the burden his father expects from the relationship, and his own guilt are expressed in drunken text messages that Freddie doesn't quite understand but knows are full of bitter regrets. In fact, they are both just extras in each other's lives right now, witnesses to something that isn't there.
Through Pak's wonderful narrator, we read as Freddie ponders who he would have been had he stayed in South Korea, but who would he have been if he hadn't met these people. This coincidence shows that some of our basic impressions are ours, including the piano story, from his adoptive parents.
Inquisitive Health could see her indifferent face and her silent dissolution. And when Freddie rejects the advances of a casual sexual partner drawn to Western certainty, Teno asks him to take a moment to consider the local perspective on romance.
"But I'm French," Freddy replied to his sick friend, "and you're Korean." If they carry continents, can they exist simultaneously in one life? No doubt he became Yoon Hee? That may be his version, but not what his Korean relatives thought.
Brilliantly written and beautifully photographed, inspired by a personal friend of Chow's, the story takes us two and then five years into the future.
Now as the embodiment of Chaos, Freddy walks the streets of Seoul with dark lipstick and knows his surroundings with confidence. But, like everything else, this feeling is temporary. Later, he generally feels out of place in a foreign country. The breadth of Park's performance begins with physical and tonal transitions that bring incredible emotional versatility to each leap.
Be it an uncontrollable laugh, a sharp look or a powerful dance, the stunning actress shows an endless evolution. It's hard to believe that Return to Seoul is her first role in a feature film. While the park's art focuses on the subtle calibration and protection of Freddy with violent rejection, it serves as a reminder to the world that he is a part of it, an uncontrollable force that must be manipulated in order to survive.
For every question asked, Chow produces surprising results. For example, as we follow Freddy through the final chapters of the decade, we see him repeating a few phrases in Korean. Each new word he learns creates a temporary bridge between him and his father. And because it changes more often than you might expect, it changes slowly.
It should be noted that the music is a sincere way of treating them and is reminiscent of Freddy's Metamorphoses as a cinematic piece. Chow's selection of works and score is complemented by a collection of captivating music by Jeremy Arkash and Christophe Musset, which is expertly used throughout the opening.
In Freddie's cosmic waltz of what-if, why-what, what-whom, it becomes clear that the wound of separation never fully heals. He can only care about every part of them and control how he goes with them.
At one point, a risky career choice exploits a shattered self-confidence, Freddie in South Korea side by side with European interests. And that makes it difficult to understand the layers that make it smaller. Fortunately, a career change, short hair, or new diet doesn't define his personality; He could still read with his limitless eyes.
Back to Seoul deserves a lot of attention as long as we realize that human existence involves interruptions and resets, forgetting and remembering, hurting and forgiving, learning and letting go in our choices, this is an eternal certainty. . Nothing is forever lost or gained, but everything revolves around us, including all the people we have always been and never will be.
This story originally appeared in the Los Angeles Times.
