There's nothing particularly new here from Hong Sang-soo but that's OK. The love triangles are getting increasingly imaginary and in The Day After, a particularly cruel ruse leaves one poor woman a scapegoat for a man's philandering. Even when he's not hitting the highest notes, Hong doesn't make bad films.
Digital. The main characteristic of Sangsoo is his persistence in a narrative cinema with subtle fictional variations that has also its own material existence, because there's a close dialectic with narration forms and narrative: his films dare to be within representation. There is a loneliness that links, in continuity, the director with actors and spectators, in a loose comedy, which is the stage the world is.
De vuelta al blanco y negro, Hong nos entrega una película-llaga en la que cada escena evidencia la perfección de su sistema. Maestro en el arte de filmar conversaciones, aquí su estilo se vuelve un tanto más agresivo al maniobrar diversos níveles emocionales de sus personajes sin nunca cortar, haciendo de cada plano una lucha de diversas energías y contradicciones. Es así: su cine no puede más que seguir creciendo.
A lightly comic film about a traumatic day that sees the same woman--Song Areum--attacked by her boss's wife and fired from her job to make room for her boss's lover. 'The Day After' uses this trauma to place into conflict two different conceptions of forgetting in time: Christian forgiveness (Song Areum) and absentminded unfaithfulness (her former boss). Somehow, both involve taking refuge in beauty:a book, the snow
episodes jumping back and forth in time; heated exchanges over Korean food and soju; mistaken identity; a tangle of human relations in lovely monochrome; a young woman reading in the back of a cab, snow flurries fill the night outside; memory is fickle, but the world is a blessing.