이창동: 오아시스
Oasis:
A Miraculous Refuge in a Social Desert
A few SPOILERS are inevitable; therefore, those new viewers who wish to experience this work with the power of novelty—despite it already being a piece of cinematic history—should read no further until after viewing the film.
An oasis represents life and a place of rescue for the wanderers of the desert. An oasis is an earthly paradise that travelers of this world seek to reach, though not everyone can succeed. An oasis is a tapestry on the wall of a bleak apartment, from which tangled shadows frighten away the earthly traveler crawling within the room.
If it were a fairy tale, perhaps Lee Chang-dong’s story would be about whether the oasis comes to life and steps off the wall to offer shelter to those yearning for it? If it were a documentary drama, perhaps Lee Chang-dong’s story would tell us that we can create an oasis through our own efforts. However, Lee Chang-dong chooses neither; instead, he grants the viewers a unique piece of luck: he shows both by embedding a melodrama within a socio-drama.
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| Director Lee Chang-dong |
If we continue to work with the symbolism derived from the title, then the real world is the equivalent of the desert. If not in the literal sense, it is certainly the terrain of emotional desolation.
Could one choose protagonists in a more marginalized position than what Lee Chang-dong does?
Our male lead is a man recently released from prison. We soon receive numerous nuances of his restless being. He is an annoying, disturbing, asocial figure, incapable not only of integration but even of basic adaptation. He is portrayed by Sol Kyung-gu, who, as an actor, devises the manifestation of this inability to integrate as a form of physical nervousness: the constantly fidgeting figure wanders aimlessly like an alien element, perpetually snagged in the stable rotation of everyday life.
The female lead fares no better, though the director grants her an exceptionally beautiful, lyrical introduction: before we see her physical reality, he reveals her soul. After the beauty comes the shock: the girl is doubly imprisoned. She cannot move out of the apartment, as she is a captive of her dysfunctionally operating body. Her attempts to break free are signaled by spasmodic contortions, which are strange reflections of the male protagonist’s nervous physical tremors. Regarding Moon So-ri’s performance, it is perhaps enough to say that just as in me, the same question arose in a fellow viewer during the first scenes: are we seeing an actress, or a person truly severely restricted in movement and speech?
We arrive through seemingly linear events to a stomach-turning scene in which the man almost commits sexual violence against the defenseless girl. However, Lee Chang-dong again shows something that can be interpreted both directly and symbolically. Beside the man on his way to the scene of the act, he places a "Danger" sign, which the man kicks over on his way back.
From this point, the story takes a massive turn. Although in a sordid manner, something important has occurred in the girl’s life: it was noticed that she exists. It was noticed that she is a woman. When, driven by curiosity, she contacts the man, he experiences the same: someone has noticed that he exists; someone is curious about who he truly is.
Thus, they become each other’s Princess and General, stepping over every deeply rooted social norm and expectation. It is not long before the skeletons fall out of the family closets, and we learn the truth regarding our despised and vulnerable heroes.
Hypocritical society, however, does not easily allow its rules to be overturned. After the unexpectedly exposed intimate situation, it is not even a matter of the family members or the authorities weighing what actually happened, as the possibility of multiple interpretations does not even arise.
Love, or even companionship, suddenly appears as a privilege belonging to those in the "normal" world, which is not granted to "deviant" figures. Neither the man nor the woman can protect themselves or their relationship, but they can still do one thing: send messages to one another.
Though the penance must be paid for the "sin," the return already takes place into the oasis. Specifically, into an oasis tended in the hope of a future shared home.
Lee Chang-dong, however, does not only direct his spotlights onto the hypocritical functioning of society. Both protagonists undergo internal personality development, in which they learn to commit, to take responsibility, to accept—and perhaps even to like themselves a little.
Alongside the naturalistic acting, we receive powerful sequences of images in which numerous close-ups involve the viewers in the film's living space. The colors of the scenes lean mainly toward grays and browns; they are often dimly lit, occasionally cold neon blue. The interior spaces, whether apartments or otherwise, are somewhat cluttered everywhere, as if we were constantly walking through disorganized warehouses, with various items piled upon one another. Naturally, lyrical sequences are not missing either; in these, the lights occasionally shine bright. However, even the scenes showing the unfolding of the couple’s romantic relationship radiate loneliness, as there is not a single witness anywhere.
Although the film is not easy to watch, it is an uplifting work that radiates hope. After its release, it was deservedly followed by a shower of awards and the love of the audience. The director made Oasis with the same two actors from his previous film, Peppermint Candy. The 59th Venice International Film Festival brought the greatest international recognition, where the film, the director, and Moon So-ri took home a total of four awards.
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