Boo Ji-young: CART (2014)

부지영: 카트

You can find the original article in Hungarian here →

Cart: The Human Cost of
the "Brand New" Korean Economy

I was intrigued to see how a Korean film would handle labor rights and the protection of workers' interests.

The issue is fascinating because, while perhaps not in depth, we possess a fair amount of knowledge regarding the specific economic structure of South Korea. The traditional operation of the famous chaebols is loosening. These mega-corporations, which started as family businesses, formerly viewed every employee as an extended family member. They guaranteed lifelong employment accompanied by a diverse range of personal benefits, exemplifying a kind of paternal care that extended from professional training and supporting children’s education to financing healthcare and vacations. In exchange, unconditional loyalty and maximum effort—sometimes beyond one's limits—were expected. This structure did not necessitate the development of social welfare systems, nor did it leave room for labor advocacy, which was suppressed by all means. As a byproduct, it’s no surprise that the arbitrary behavior of chaebol leaders emerged, treating workers not as independent individuals, but as personal property.

However, the drive to maximize profit and maintain competitiveness called this structure into question, as it contained many elements unjustifiable from a purely economic perspective. For instance, lifelong employment did not serve productivity; rather, economic rationality would have dictated the replaceability of less efficient labor.

And so, the move was made—in a truly staggering fashion. On December 26, 1997—at dawn on the day after Christmas—155 representatives of the then-governing New Korea Party appeared in parliament and, in a governmental "coup" lasting only six minutes, passed twenty bills, including the new labor law. This eliminated the requirement for lifelong employment and allowed working hours to be extended to up to 56 hours per week. Simultaneously, they sabotaged the promised freedoms of political organization for workers, even going so far as to legalize the use of strike-breakers. All of this was coupled with the expansion of the powers of national security agencies. This led to the country’s largest-ever trade union movements: a two-month strike wave born from the alliance of various pro-government and opposition unions. The result was a temporary retreat by the government, only for almost identical laws to be enacted a few months later.

The importance of the themes in Cart is better understood through this context. Although based on true events, there is little reference to the past; instead, one feels that everything is happening here and now. The original event is not that old: in July 2007, E.Land Mart dismissed its cashiers, who then began a sit-in strike that lasted 510 days.

The core problem in Cart is that the company employs a significant portion of its workers on fixed-term contracts, constantly misleading them with the hope that good performance will lead to full-time, permanent employment. Yet, when the company's interests suddenly shift, they terminate all such contracts without hesitation. This illegal step first sparks panic among those affected, who realize they cannot stand up to the company individually; to bring the employer to reason, they must act collectively. They form a union. The situation is particularly interesting because those affected are exclusively women, which, given the patriarchal features of Korean society, makes their struggle appear even more hopeless.

Director Boo Ji-young

The film captures the hesitation following the initial terror, then the hopeful atmosphere that literally turns into a "party." Meanwhile, perhaps a bit didactically but still movingly, it introduces the backgrounds and personal struggles of the women, helping us understand the difficult decisions behind taking up the fight. Although the film has a central protagonist, it is more of an ensemble piece with a balanced story focusing on several individuals.

The protagonist, Sun-hee, played by Yum Jung-ah, is a mother of two whose son also plays an interesting role. He represents the next generation, moving from initial shame over his mother’s actions and his lag in the "prosperity race" with his peers to eventual understanding—though he must endure his own bitter experiences to get there. Do Kyung-soo (none other than D.O. from the pop group EXO) brings Tae-young to life; his story is the inverse of the battle with the large corporation, showing that the same phenomena exist at the small-business level. Ji Woo is equally memorable in the role of Tae-young’s girlfriend.

The film leads us step-by-step through all the stages of the struggle between the organizers and those in power. It is very interesting—I wonder if others will see it this way—how the story presents a specific turning point. The women reach the decision to resist and execute the first steps well, but when the company visibly ignores them, they seem to lose their way. They regain their strength when THE MAN appears and joins them, and they immediately, with great momentum, proclaim him their leader. I am not sure if this was a conscious decision by director Boo Ji-young (who is a woman) or the screenwriter, or rather a cultural code so ingrained that it went unnoticed, but it is certainly worth reflecting on regarding the social perception of women’s roles.

At the same time, Kim Kang-woo deeply portrays Dong-joon’s inner struggle as the true face of the company is revealed, eventually leading to the sacrifice of his personal livelihood. There are very strong characters among the women as well, such as Kim Young-ae in the role of the oldest female leader of the movement.

The stages of the conflict become increasingly brutal. While the management initially ignores the women because they don't consider them worthy opponents, the growing resolve of the resistance prompts harsher measures. This includes everything from hiring strike-breakers to employing violent thugs. The state’s law enforcement also cooperates with them, using ruthless means.

The story features a character portrayed by Moon Jeong-hee who, though a tough fighter, reaches her limit and eventually abandons her comrades to return to work among the strike-breakers. That the story still points toward a way out through a peaceful reunion feels like an encouragement to all those who groan under similar circumstances but do not dare to speak up.

Perhaps it is also encouraging for social change that the final battle must ultimately be fought by the women themselves, and they worthily rise to the task. The film ends not with a moment of victory, but with a heroic struggle, made optimistic by the final on-screen text.

The title Cart finds its meaning here, and the final scene will surely flash through viewers' minds the next time they place their hands on the handle of a shopping cart.

Director Boo Ji-young’s second film may not be the hardest or the most profound we’ve seen on this subject, but it is precise and free of conventional hero-worship. Its impact is evidenced by high domestic viewership, confirming that the creators touched on an acute social problem—and for that, we happily overlook any maximalist expectations.

July Jung: A GIRL AT MY DOOR (2014)

정주리: 도희야 

You can find the original article in Hungarian here →

A Girl at My Door:
A Masterpiece of Tension and Transformation

The most exciting way to discover a film is to read nothing about it beforehand, to not know the director, and to have no initial context. Well, perhaps just a little—it was the combined presence of two highly regarded lead actresses that caught my attention. I hoped that a work featuring Bae Doo-na and Kim Sae-ron would not disappoint, and I was right.

What we receive is a unique story that, despite being embedded in an almost embarrassingly extensive collection of social problems, remains free of clichés and common tropes. This is a great achievement, considering the elements that permeate the lives of our protagonists: domestic violence, child abuse, alcoholism, local corruption, the exploitation of illegal immigrants, the migration of youth from impoverished small towns, a female leader in a workplace hierarchy, and finally, the most significant: the question of "otherness."

We learn only that our protagonist, Lee Young-nam (Bae Doo-na), has been transferred from the capital to lead a small-town police station due to a vague scandal; there, she is the only woman and the youngest officer. This somewhat reserved woman diligently attempts to perform her duties and immediately stumbles upon Seon Do-hee (Kim Sae-ron), who is being bullied by her schoolmates. It soon surfaces that the girl is regularly abused by both her father and grandmother. The adolescent girl seeks refuge with the police officer, who, though hesitant, takes her in. The film focuses on the evolution of their relationship. Bit by bit, strange details are revealed—such as why the officer constantly downs mineral water that is actually disguised alcohol. In the girl’s case, one might logically think she is seeking a protective surrogate mother and safety, yet the relationship between the two women possesses far more peculiar shades. Throughout the film, this connection is never precisely defined; it flickers between a mother-child bond and a romantic relationship between two women. Both the story and the director play excellently with this duality, which weaves through various stages of their connection—from acceptance to rejection, and from fits of jealousy to the deception required to save the other, eventually leading to a mutual standing up for one another.

Despite all the horrors it depicts, the film moves forward with a deeply calm flow, yet it maintains high tension from the very first frames. At times, the audience wouldn't even be surprised by a turn toward a thriller or horror-like shiver, but these moods only flicker across the images. We remain within a psychological drama and a detailed sketch of social reality.

Director July Jung

This is a female film to its core; beyond the lead duo, the director, July Jung, is also a woman. This is her first feature film, for which she also wrote the screenplay. It is a very mature work that looks at human fates from a peculiar focus and, through them, boldly pushes social boundaries. If the film's atmosphere feels familiar, the explanation may lie in the involvement of Lee Chang-dong, whose influence is strongly felt through his role as producer.

Although the original title of A Girl at My Door is Do-hee-ya (the girl’s name), the true protagonist is the police officer, brought to life by Bae Doo-na with her characteristic sensitivity and confidence. What feels new here is the density of the air around her; in every quiet movement, she carries the certainty that she has a secret. As for Kim Sae-ron’s acting, one looks at her body of work with almost a sense of alarm; despite her young age, she is associated with the portrayal of characters with such difficult fates that it would put even mature, great actors to shame. Compared to her previous roles, she takes another giant step here: Do-hee is not just a child with a hard fate but also exhibits serious psychotic symptoms. Kim Sae-ron dances excellently on the razor's edge that separates (or connects?) the vulnerable little girl starving for love from the vengeful, cunning little monster who tyrannically demands exclusive care.

Regarding its sensitive topic, the film was made with state support and, with a production cost of 300,000 USD, is considered a low-budget project. So much so that the two leads accepted their roles without receiving any compensation—at least, not in monetary payment. The film, however, drew significant attention, and alongside a rain of awards for acting, directing, and the film itself, it was presented at Cannes, where the audience celebrated it with a three-minute standing ovation.