They’re All Through With Love, Yet Searching for More
LifeSize Entertainment
Seong Hyeon-ah as a woman who changes her face in “Time.”
By MATT ZOLLER SEITZ
Published: July 13, 2007
Stephen Sondheim once said that melodrama and farce were his two favorite forms of theater because “they are obverse sides of the same coin.” Kim Ki-duk, the Korean writer and director of “Three-Iron,” has minted a cinematic example of that coin with “Time,”
a tale of big-city 20-somethings and the masks they wear. Throughout,
Mr. Kim flips between soapy melodrama and dry, self-aware comedy. The
effect is thrilling and disorienting, like walking on a trampoline.
The film starts and ends with the same scene: a woman clad in a long coat, sunglasses and a surgical mask (an echo of “Dressed to Kill”)
leaving a plastic-surgery clinic and colliding with our heroine,
See-hee (Seong Hyeon-ah). The impact causes the patient to drop and
break a framed photograph. See-hee promises to repair it and takes it
along to a coffee shop, where she’s meeting her boyfriend, Ji-woo (Ha
Jung-woo).
Clearly, their relationship is doomed. See-hee accuses
Ji-woo of growing bored with her and having a wandering eye, paranoid
accusations that she thinks are confirmed when Ji-woo checks out a
waitress, then interrupts their conversation to exchange insurance
information with a young woman who dinged his parked car. When the
lovers’ quarrel reaches a Jerry Springer pitch and See-hee stomps out
of the coffee shop, the driver tells Ji-woo, “She must love you very
much; I envy you.”
See-hee, a self-loathing basket case who
once said, “I’m sorry for having the same boring face every day,” goes
to the clinic glimpsed in the opening and signs up for a new face. Then
“Time” switches its focus to poor Ji-woo, who knows only that his
girlfriend suddenly moved away without saying goodbye. He doesn’t
realize that the cute new coffee-shop waitress with the suspiciously
similar name Seh-hee (Park Ji-yun) seems familiar for a reason.
As
“Time” follows Ji-woo through familiar big-city mating rituals —
karaoke, speed dating, thwarted one-night stands — en route to an
uneasy relationship with his new/old love, it becomes clear that Mr.
Kim has more on his mind than the ethics of nose jobs.
“Time”
has been described as a comedy about the hollowness of relationships in
a global consumerist culture, and it certainly is. The film’s three
lead performances, by Mr. Ha as Ji-woo and by Ms. Seong and Ms. Park as
the two incarnations of his lover, are fearlessly honest, so attuned to
contemporary anxieties about sex, love and social status that the
characters’ unhappiness is as squirm-inducing as the movie’s close-ups
of sliced flesh.
But while the film’s cultural context is of the
moment, its depiction of romantic desperation is timeless. Many scenes
end on the same uneasy note, a mix of cynical dissatisfaction and
desperate, almost childlike neediness. This, too, is reminiscent of
Sondheim, specifically the title “Sorry-Grateful,” a song from “Company.”
Like Sondheim’s Nixon-era swingers, Mr. Kim’s clueless, self-absorbed
21st-century materialists are miserable in love, and they can’t get
enough of it.
Mr. Kim repeats ideas, situations and shots with
musical precision. He puts certain sentiments in the mouths of
different characters at different times. He lets pivotal moments play
out through scrims or partitions, or as reflections in mirrors or
windowpanes, depriving them of emotional solidity. He shows characters
donning actual or metaphoric masks (getting new faces, moving to new
places, starting new relationships) and then becoming depressed when
these alterations alter little. As Sondheim’s married men sing in
“Sorry-Grateful,” “Everything’s different, nothing’s changed/Only maybe
slightly rearranged.”
The flyspeck insignificance of the
characters’ narcissism is expressed through a recurring setting: a
sculpture garden that includes a pair of giant hands topped by a
connected series of increasingly small iron squares that seem to vanish
against the sky. The film’s oft-repeated image of lovers photographing
themselves in those palms, naïvely trying to immortalize their
affection, is the closest the director comes to a moral: Don’t obsess
over surfaces, because your life is not really in your hands.
“Time” is rated R (Under 17 requires accompanying parent or adult
guardian). It has frank sex, nudity and gory documentary images of
plastic surgery.
Opens today in Manhattan.
Written (in Korean, with English subtitles), produced, directed and edited by Kim Ki-duk;
director of photography, Sung Jong-moo; music by Noh Hyung-woo; art
director, Choi Keun-woo; released by LifeSize Entertainment. At the
Cinema Village, 22 East 12th Street, Greenwich Village. Running time:
97 minutes. This film is not rated.
WITH: Seong Hyeon-ah (See-hee), Ha Jung-woo (Ji-woo), Park Ji-yun (Seh-hee) and Kim Sung-min (Doctor).