PARKing CHANce (박찬욱, 박찬경): 파란만장
Night Fishing:
Ancient Rituals through a Modern Lens
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.
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.
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.
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.
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