“Thou shalt not covet.”
Winner of the Grand Jury Prize at this year’s 83rd Venice Film Festival and South Korea’s choice for its Oscar campaign, is Lee Chang-dong’s newest feature after an eight-year hiatus — Possible Love. A film so abundant and profound in its writing, laser-focused on the increasingly invisible yet ever-present reality of the widening class divide, and the painful human relationships that fray within this system. A truly powerful film that questions the ethics of the camera and the consequences of capitalist society.
The first draft of what would become Possible Love was actually written over a decade ago, when the very events depicted in the film took place in South Korea: a massive layoff at a major corporation in 2009, which led to widespread strikes by workers that were violently suppressed. This was when Lee first felt the need to turn this story into a film. But for a long time, it remained an idea, as he questioned his own reasons for making a film about the strike.
It was only when he began working with co-writer Oh Jung-mi (Burning) that they found the right perspective from which to approach the story: by introducing a second layer to the camera, adding the perspective of a documentary filmmaker who wants to document these events. A rather introspective approach, one might say.
So the film begins with Mi-ok (Jeon Do-yeon, Secret Sunshine) and Ho-seok (Sul Kyung-gu, Hope) in the car, travelling with their son to the funeral of one of Ho-seok’s former colleagues. He and the deceased had been part of the protest during the mass layoffs, which was violently dismantled. Those who survived the layoffs were called the living, while those who did not were called the dead. Though some time has passed since the movement, the cruel consequences and pressure still haunt Mi-ok and Ho-seok’s lives. He is looking for work and has developed an alcohol dependency, while she is trying to keep the family’s finances afloat, and their son is an odd, quiet boy with a tic that makes him twitch his nose.
It is at the funeral that they first meet documentary filmmaker Ye-ji (Cho Yeo-jeong, Parasite) and her husband, Sang-woo (Zo In-sung, Hope). You know how they say that if you want to be an artist, you should marry someone rich to make your life easier? In Ye-ji’s case, this feels more than true. Sang-woo’s wealth is utterly unimaginable to a family like Mi-ok’s. So much so that numbers seem to lose all meaning.
But Ye-ji chooses not to rely on her husband’s wealth for her work, instead opting for public funding. She has been trying to make a documentary about the strike and hopes to focus on Ho-seok as its main subject. But Ho-seok, who is deeply depressed and often unpleasant, refuses to be interviewed. So she first approaches Mi-ok, hoping to learn more about their private life.
The film was originally part of Maciej Musiał’s project to remake all ten episodes of Krzysztof Kieślowski’s Dekalog as feature films, alongside Asghar Farhadi’s Parallel Tales. Although the project never came to fruition, Possible Love still keeps a connection to one of the Ten Commandments: "Thou shalt not covet."
When it comes to the script, you can’t help but be in awe of Lee, who is a master of layering his characters. The writing is rich with subtle allusions to the commandment. Each character has a distinct psyche and set of inner motives, so every relationship plays a game of its own. Take Ye-ji, for instance, who says she wants to get closer to her subjects in order to truly connect with them. Her husband, the wealthiest of the four, has no trouble pointing out the illusion she is nurturing. Together, they raise questions about the morality and intentions of certain artists who document the suffering of real people.
The same goes for Mi-ok, who looks up the price of Ye-ji’s bag while she is away, and willingly grows closer to Ye-ji despite knowing full well that her husband does not want to be interviewed or involved in the project. She wants to get closer to this wealthy family, to taste a fragment of their wealth and financial freedom.
All four actors delivered phenomenal portrayals of their respective characters. They were remarkably subtle in conveying the quiet emotions that emerge as they navigate this social game, yet incredibly powerful in the epilogue, when all masks are torn away. It is no wonder that there is already some buzz surrounding potential nominations for Jeon Do-yeon.
Shot almost entirely with handheld cameras, the film feels as though it were a documentary itself. There is almost no music, leaving space for dialogue and conversation. The characters try so hard to pretend that their class differences play no role in their "friendship." But Lee does not hesitate to unearth the uncomfortable truth. The film’s mature, naturalistic approach allows us to seep into each character’s psyche through the words left unspoken: a singular look that conceals a desire to uncover a more intimate story, or another that betrays a desire for material wealth and riches.
The weight of the heavy subject makes the film uncomfortable to watch at times. But this is also where Lee’s genius lies: his meticulous orchestration of every element in service of the story. He forces us to confront human relationships in all their messy, caring, and rotten truth. The feeble attempt at honesty between classes. The distance between observing another’s life and actually experiencing it. And then there is us, the audience, caught somewhere between the making and unmaking of the possible love these characters could have shared, amid their selfish desires.
Possible Love is available to stream on Netflix
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