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Based on the book by Swiss-Korean writer Elisa Shua Dusapin, this elusive yet bracing film centers on guesthouse worker Sooha (Kim Bella) as she escorts French writer Yan (Roschdy Zem) to the DMZ just north of the city of Sokcho. Symbolism abounds: Koya Kamura’s first feature also camps in a no man’s land of the spirit, with Sooha, left behind by her French father while she was still in utero, caught between two cultures. After the francophone hostess is compelled to accompany the mysterious author, she loiters uncomfortably between strained companionship and Oedipal attraction.

Everyday Existence and Upheaval

If not enjoying visually stunning seafood cooked by her mother who sells fish (Park Mi-hyeon), Sooha is lolling about with her boyfriend (Gong Do-yu), an hopeful model aiming for a relocation to Seoul. However this comfy routine is disrupted when the foreigner takes up residence for a long-term stay. Initially conforming to her prejudices about impolite Frenchmen, he proves, after an online search, to be acclaimed graphic novelist Yan Kerrand. Arriving in Sokcho in pursuit of inspiration, he manages to extract the account of Sooha’s absent parent from her. She spies on him through a air duct – but the question lingers whether he’s a surrogate parent, or something else.

Inner Turmoil and Symbolic Layers

Sooha’s subterranean feelings surface in flashes of clandestine, sinuous moments of physical constraint and release. We are privy to only her internal world, though; Yan remains a remote presence, insisting on his loner ethic and sparing with details of his past. His cipher status, as Sooha projects her desires on to him, is intentional – but this one-sidedness prevents Winter in Sokcho from reaching its full potential. Aesthetic expression – and restraint, with Sooha’s mother and partner both advocating plastic surgery on her – is evidently a central idea for Kamura. Yet despite Yan’s vocation, it seems a bit separate from the primary narrative, like the enigmatic wrapped guest also in residence.

Acting and Directorial Approach

The three focused performances at the core – an almost hostile Zem, increasingly scattered Kim, and the self-involved Park Mi-hyeon – provide Winter in Sokcho its emotional anchor, and if Kamura can’t quite narratively contain the cautious standoff between innkeeper and guest, he is always on his toes emotionally speaking, often dipping into a physical, sensory imagery. Fixating on absence, on the verge of drown in internal sensations, Kamura creates an fascinating kind of contemporary phantom tale.

The film is available on the streaming service from November 7.