Lee Chang-dong: Am I worthy to tell them…

Lee Chang-dong only does movies when he’s good and ready as possible love is its sequel 2018 yearAmazing love triangle drama, burning. This new film explores class, gender, generational conflict and filmmaking through the lens of two couples who break the economic divide and collaborate on a documentary.

LWLies: Do you see any aspects of performance related to the idea of ​​class? Does social status make us act in certain ways?

LEE: I would say that you could see it as these people maybe accepting the role that society has given them and maybe fulfilling their roles. But rather, I think people know exactly what role you play, they relate it to their identity. And I think that’s especially true for workers. For example, if your area of ​​expertise is welding, you will earn your identity through this job. You become aware of your relationship with others, including perhaps your family, and build that connection. Of course, depending on what profession you are in, sometimes this requires a certain level of performance. It’s when you’re confident in the type of work you’re doing that allows you to protect your sense of self-awareness and your self-identity. When the concept of work changes and we see these days a much weakened sense of a specific type of work, not knowing what role you are given or play in society, it leads to a loss of identity. And I think I was focused on exploring that idea in this film.

When you were writing the film, how did you create that tonal balance between characters on different ends of the class spectrum?

In this movie you see the life of two married couples who belong to different social classes. However, as you say, I didn’t want this gap between the classes, or the idea that you could easily be one evil and one good. As for the conflict between the classes, I didn’t want that to be the focus of the film. The reason for this is that when you look at the gap between the two groups, it’s almost so large that it’s almost embarrassing to even call it a class gap. We no longer live in an age where you can clearly define the gap between classes, because people have so much wealth and so much equality versus those who struggle to keep their jobs, the gap has become irreconcilable. You think about the power and influence that people with that much wealth have on the other side, and it’s extreme. If you look at the lives of ordinary people, those who have less, how the people on the other side affect them. To the extent that people who are under this influence don’t even feel it because they live in a structure that has been created and defined by those who have wealth. Despite that, I wanted to explore the idea that you can still be equal as human beings, and sometimes with ideas like the will to freedom, you can get away with it.

There’s a sense in the film that you’re skeptical of documentaries as a means of capturing the pure face of truth. is that so

Even though the character Ye-ji is a documentary filmmaker, that doesn’t mean I’m critical or skeptical of documentaries. Rather, I wanted to move beyond documentaries to dramatic films, or even all kinds of creative works that involve storytelling, which also includes novels. I wanted Ye-ji to represent all of that. He is the character that is closest to me in terms of vision, or even attitude towards the subject. For me, as a filmmaker, I try to make films as close to reality as possible. From a technical point of view, you could say that I try to make films that are documentaries. Ever since I was young as a novelist, I’ve always asked myself a question when it comes to people’s pain, or people who are struggling in their lives, the marginalized, and that is: Am I worthy of telling their story? This question still stands today. So Ye-ji is a character that represents not only documentary filmmakers, but anyone who tells the stories of others in their creative world. Especially in the field of film, many times we simply consider the pain and struggle of others as the subject matter. In many cases, we are unable to convey their stories truthfully and authentically.

In the background of the two main couples is a young child named Cheol, who is quite chaotic and tragic and very authentic as a child’s image. How did you write this character?

In the case of the character Cheol, if I had to put it into words, he is a guy who is on the spectrum. He has Asperger’s, that’s the setting, and the reason we wanted to add that detail to that character is because I wanted to give him an innocent, transcendent perspective. I wanted her to see what happens when these two married couples get together and go through this series. To achieve this, we needed him to have something that set him apart from other kids his age. It could also be said to be a light homage to director Krzysztof Kieslowski Decalogue Where he has that transcendental perspective.

One of the film’s most poignant moments involves the character’s mother watching as she waters the plants, fearing history is doomed to repeat itself.

You are very right in saying that. This is the scene where Mi-ok remembers his childhood when his mother boiled him while holding the hose while washing the car. I believe this is a moment of awareness – a sense that when it comes to the working class, this is a generation. You’re passing it on to the next generation, and that’s really the only choice. However, having said that, I didn’t want it to be a heartbreaking moment. On the other hand, I wanted it to be a beautiful moment, because the generational transmission of labor is very sacred. I think there is an unspoken bond between the workers as well. This is what you see with the connection that Cheol has with the manager character in the family home. This is also represented through the whistle, as in the past Sang-woo used to blow the whistle on this character, whom he almost treated as a servant. It was a vertical relationship. Later in the film, when Cheol blows the whistle, you can see the manager reacting to it as if he is hearing it, almost like a fantasy. I wanted it to reflect the unspoken sense of connection between the workers.

Please mention before this question whether I am worthy of this topic. When will you get to the point where you know you can say yes?

I’ve always asked myself this question and I honestly don’t know why. It’s almost pathological. And that’s the reason why I can’t make movies easily. For Possible Love, it was about ten years ago when a Korean conglomerate company went out of business and laid off a large number of its employees, I wanted to tell the story of these workers. At the time, during pre-production, I had to shelve it. The reason I had to do this is because I kept asking myself if there is enough reason to turn this story into a drama when there is already a documentary that tells the lives of these people so honestly and thoroughly. Many years passed and my co-writer Oh Jung-mi came to me with the idea of ​​bringing in this husband and wife of documentary filmmakers and connecting, that’s when I felt I could finally tell this story, because through them I could explore my attitude towards things. This will become my story. So yes, I’ve always asked this question and I can’t seem to stop asking it.