Premiering in January 2011, this 33-minute masterpiece won the Golden Bear for
Best Short Film at the Berlinale just one month later. In this instance,
Park Chan-wook
serves as co-director, sharing credit with his brother, fellow filmmaker
Park Chan-kyong.
The duo made their debut here under the incredibly witty moniker
PARKing CHANce.
The film became an immediate sensation primarily due to its technical
background: it was the first work by a renowned director to be recorded
entirely using an iPhone 4. While this claim requires a slight asterisk—as
supplementary lenses (hardly high-tech tools themselves) were occasionally
attached to the phone—the core concept was financed by
KT (Korea Telecom), the device's local distributor. Thus, the first of Park Chan-wook's
brand-promotional films was born. However, there is no need to fear a mere
commercial; the director's creative freedom remained entirely untouched by
sponsors, resulting in a sovereign work of art.
(Author’s screenshot from Night Fishing.)
In the case of Night Fishing (original title: Paranmanjang), this technical curiosity is forgotten almost as soon as the first frames appear, because what unfolds is far more captivating. Yet, the technical aspect remains noteworthy as it perfectly captures a duality so characteristic of South Korea: the most cutting-edge technology serving the preservation of the most ancient values. The film’s visual framing suggests we are participating in a form of time travel. While the translation of the grotesque singers' lyrics is unfortunately absent from the subtitles, it likely contributes significantly to the interpretation. We see the UhuhBoo Project, who previously composed music for Park Chan-wook’s Sympathy for Mr. Vengeance. This creative indie band's other recordings are well worth a listen.
For lack of a better term, the film is often labeled as "fantasy-horror,"
but this is far from the truth. While the directing duo utilizes the
chilling visual language of horror—depicting nature with unforgettable
mystery—what we ultimately see is largely not a product of fantasy.
Rather, it is a real-world community ritual practiced to this day.
Embedding this into a narrative and unfolding its inner power is a
testament to the duo’s brilliance.
(Author’s screenshot from Night Fishing.)
(Author’s screenshot from Night Fishing.)
The release of natural forces is triggered by sounds evoking the magical
bamboo flute (manpasikjeok), and the events within the film strictly follow the order of a shamanic
funeral ritual. Thanks to the directors' playfulness, we might initially
believe the protagonist, setting out for a night of fishing, is part of a
ghost story. Only later do we realize that we are seeing the circumstances
of the fisherman's death from the perspective of the shamaness’s
"journey"—her trance (gyeong)—during which she receives the soul preparing to depart. This is
signaled by a role reversal expressed through the swapping of clothes, as
well as the separation of the process via black-and-white recording, where
only the "flowers of death" remain in color. The process of possession is
grotesque, and the directors convey this excellently, managing to elicit a
smile even amidst the impossible struggle—there is no tragedy so dark that
it lacks a comedic edge.
The shaman’s transformation occurs during the trance, reaching its
fulfillment in the re-living of the near-death experience, using tools
that imitate the circumstances of actual death. In this state, the shaman
becomes a medium for the deceased, interpreting their thoughts, feelings,
and last wishes for the relatives. However, the shaman’s task is more than
that. According to Korean shamanism, the state of a soul departing from
life is extremely confused, filled with disappointment, despair, and
aimless rage. The fundamental function of the ritual—which can last for
days—is twofold: to calm the soul of the deceased, creating peace and
sending it on its way by releasing spiritual knots, and to protect the
living from the released harmful forces.
(Author’s screenshot from Night Fishing.)
(Author’s screenshot from Night Fishing.)
(Author’s screenshot from Night Fishing.)
(Author’s screenshot from Night Fishing.)
The first stage of the ritual also flickers through the film, as relatives
and acquaintances present gifts and sacrifices to win the favor of the
deceased while recalling important events and good deeds of their life.
The main stage of the ritual begins after this, forming the most
emphasized part of the film. The soul sets out on its journey of
departure, symbolized by a stretched white cotton ribbon (gil-da-kkum). Obstacles must be overcome on this path, signaled by the shamaness’s
hesitations, and progress requires the help of the community. Although not
shown in the film, this help often arrives in a profane form, such as
monetary donations placed on the ribbon—after all, the shaman must make a
living. However, the Park brothers focus on the ancient essence of the
ritual rather than its degraded forms. The images are primordial, showing
the psychological impact of the ritual with stunning force. The sight of
blades cutting a path through the ribbon and the exertion involved
authentically portray the difficulty of the transition.
The final sequences surely hold a more specific meaning for Koreans than
what we can decipher without their cultural knowledge. The end of the
shaman’s journey leads to a still slightly ominous but calm water surface,
which peacefully fades into the Korean landscape before shifting to
painted depictions of people from the distant past. This simultaneously
points to the ritual's roots reaching into the depths of time and to the
fact that, like those who went before us, we will all become a part of
this. But it also raises the question: is what we have experienced merely
a tradition fed by the past, or does it hold validity for our present?
In the role of the fisherman,
Oh Kwang-rok
struggles with the unexpected catch, while the shamaness is played by
Lee Jung-hyun. Her performance is particularly interesting; beyond bringing to life
one of the most ancient figures of human belief—the mythical and mystical
priestess—she is also known as the "Queen" who introduced techno to Korean
pop music.
Even those who usually dislike horror elements should set aside their
reservations for this film, as they are in for an unforgettable
experience. The extraordinary expressivity of the short film is due to the
rare artistic eloquence of the Park brothers. For those interested in
ancient religious traditions,
Night Fishing is
essential viewing.
. . .
SOUTH KOREA | PARKing CHANce: PARK CHAN-WOOK (박찬욱) & PARK CHAN-KYONG (박찬경) | NIGHT FISHING (파란만장) | 2011 | SHORT FILM | 33 MINUTES | — | COLOR
. . .
Absolute Cinea Archive – Night Fishing (2011) - Park Chan-wook | ENG SUB
. . .
I will continue my series on Park Chan-wook’s short films with his segment titled Day Trip (2013). The works analyzed so far are Judgement (1999), Never Ending Peace And Love (2003) and Cut (2003).
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