The Disintegration of the Traditional Family Model in an Independent Korean Film
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| (Author's screenshot from Entangled) |
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| This article contains spoilers!
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Entangled is a low-budget film featuring great actors, directed and written by Lee Don-ku as his second feature. The young director, who was thirty at the time, already possessed an excellent instinct for observing the micro-dynamics of human relationships, while remaining equally adept at creating tense, at times eerie atmospheres. Entangled is the combination of these two qualities: its imagery occasionally creates the sensation of objectively following a documentary, yet the terror of what unfolds ultimately takes a heavy toll on the viewer.
The title Entangled suggests confusion, whereas the original Korean title translates to dizziness. Both are fitting, though naturally the latter is more appropriate, as it refers to a physical symptom that precedes several events in the drama.
Before the main title, we see a scene that appears unrelated to what follows and only reveals its meaning at the end of the film, almost framing the events.
The film explores whether the life of a somewhat—that is, superficially—functioning family can be upended and radically transformed by a few tragic seconds, triggering an unstoppable chain of events. Yet, the life of the family dining peacefully together in the opening scene is already filled with hidden tensions, much like most average families.
Four people sit at the table, and Lee’s psychological thriller will feature
hardly any other characters—we are witnessing a true micro-drama. Although the
story actually takes us to several locations, the viewer is left with the
impression of being trapped in the same suffocating space throughout. This
space is the physical interior of the family’s house, which becomes
increasingly permeated by hallucinations as the story progresses. Soonim (Kim
Young-ae) is the central mother figure, living without a husband, visibly
striving to care for the rest of the family on her own. Of the two sisters,
the older one is Younghee (Do Ji-won), a teacher, while the younger one,
Kkotip (Kim So-eun), is still in high school. The tone of their conversation
makes it clear that not everything is well between them, and her own husband,
Sangho (Song Il-kook), tries to protect the younger sister against the
patronizing Younghee. Sangho is an obstetrician who is level-headed and
slightly pedantic, effectively acting as a lightning rod within the force
field of the women's emotional outbursts.
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| (Author's screenshot from Entangled) |
The couple is expecting a child, and after the baby—delivered by the father himself—is born, the atmosphere becomes idyllic, with everyone lovingly taking part in the joy of the new arrival. A unique feature of the film's storytelling is that it does not show everything in detail, but leaves room for empathy depending on the viewer's capacity to connect. Thus, it is only mentioned in passing that the couple has already experienced a miscarriage and that Sangho grew up without a family or parents—underscoring how the newborn represents the ultimate fulfillment in life for the parents, even more so than what most parents typically experience. Tragedy strikes unexpectedly, steering the family’s life in a completely different direction.
Although they have their suspicions, no one yet realizes that the dizziness
that caused the accident leading to the child’s death is rooted in Soonim’s
severe illness. Soon, however, the diagnosis of Alzheimer’s disease arrives.
The drama is essentially the story of Soonim’s mental state, allowing us to
follow the stages of her strange transformation, not only in relation to
herself, but also in terms of how these stages affect the lives of her family
members.
Younghee cannot forgive her mother, and Sangho also
harbors suspicions that it might not have been an accident after all, which
ultimately leads to their moving out. At the last moment, however, the two
sisters get into a bitter argument. Kkotip is left alone with her increasingly
demented mother at the worst possible time, as she is being bullied at school
and forced into unbearable acts of servitude. She resolves to take a fatal
step, and her mother, incapacitated by another bout of dizziness, is unable to
stop her.
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| (Author's screenshot from Entangled) |
The film then shifts its perspective, often presenting not reality itself, but the version perceived by Soonim, occasionally deceiving the audience as well. Dementia cruelly entangles the woman's emotions, in whom guilt and anger over the blame from Younghee's side merge in strange projections. Furthermore, she guards a family secret that explains the coldness between the two sisters, and this too becomes twisted into her hallucinations. The second spell of dizziness in Soonim’s mental state—as a result of which she "sleeps through" a tragedy involving yet another family member—marks a turning point, after which her sense of reality, previously driven by self-blame, completely changes, shifting into the denial of responsibility and facts. It is terrifying to watch her projections, as she puts everything she devises to resolve the situation into the mouth of her deceased daughter; director Lee deploys the toolkit of soft horror to convey this absurdity.
What is most disquieting is that it is difficult to determine how aware she is of the gravity of her actions, because in the medical scenes she still appears to be diagnosed with only very early-stage dementia. It remains unclear whether this process has accelerated or whether the rage consuming her mind drives her to commit what she does. The film almost becomes a framed story, as the clinking of spoons in the opening scene finally makes sense, and it is precisely this scene that reveals Soonim’s remarkably vivid and conscious instinct for survival. When she rushes out into the street, a battle between a sound and a deteriorating mind is visibly waging within her, while the final frames show the visions of a consciousness trapped in a time loop.
Somehow, one could feel that even though those sitting at the family table in
the first scene belonged together, they were all lonely. They pretend to care
about one another, but in reality, no one pays enough attention to the others
to notice even the most obvious things. The great question of the film is
whether, had this not been the case, the tragedy that led to the destruction
of the entire family could have been prevented.
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| (Author's screenshot from Entangled) |
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| (Author's screenshot from Entangled) |
What is most oppressive about the film is that there is nothing extraordinary about it; the events of everyday life simply flow slowly, seemingly as usual. Of course, it is evident that director Lee Don-ku has lined up an entire arsenal of life’s troubles, gathering them under one roof. Infidelity, a love child, a childhood without parents, financial hardships, sibling jealousy, school abuse, prostitution—all surface in connection with the family members. Yet, what is most frightening is that these issues could exist in our own lives as well, exerting their latent effects in the exact same way as they did with this unfortunate family.
The imagery of the film is highly expressive, with great ideas serving the visual depiction of the characters' states and relationships. Examples include the plants shown at times withered, at times blooming, or the car scene where Younghee first looks out at us from the car while rolling up the window, in which her mother's face is already reflected. In some instances, those familiar with Korean culture receive extra context, such as the heaped bowl of rice placed before the younger daughter during the hallucinations—this manner of serving is customary only on ceremonial tables laid out for the deceased. The structure of the film is cyclically self-referential, occasionally tracing smaller circles that are just as misleading as the disturbances in Soonim’s mind. As the film progresses, one must therefore remain vigilant regarding the exact timeframe and whether we are in the realm of reality or visions.
The film is also a tour de force for the late Kim Young-ae, who fully exploits
the possibilities offered by her role, ranging from grandmotherly devotion to
a demented, almost demonic obsession. She confidently carries the entire story
on her shoulders, even though she stated after the shooting that the role
weighed heavily on her for a long time and was very difficult to recover
from.
Do Ji-won, playing the older daughter, builds her character from seemingly
contradictory traits. She is always somewhat rigid and cold, even with her
husband, with whom she nevertheless appears to have a loving relationship. Her
grief during its various stages is deeply moving. However, she also flashes a
glimpse of her mother's condition, and it remains questionable whether
delusion or awareness guides her during the visit to her colleague. In her
final scene, the icy atmosphere and the clashing emotions within her are
almost tangible.
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| (Author's screenshot from Entangled) |
Kim So-eun displays an interesting transformation in the role of the younger
sister. She is the most vulnerable member of the family; while at home she
fights defiantly and brashly, at school she is immensely intimidated and
humiliated. In the second half of the story, however, as the controller of her
mother's hallucinations, she becomes a vengeful figure who takes almost
mischievous pleasure in it.
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| (Author's screenshot from Entangled) |
Song Il-kook, in the role of the husband, once again does something extraordinary, just as we have come to expect from him. The heroic historical figures he portrayed (Jumong, The Kingdom of the Winds, Emperor of the Sea) were so deeply ingrained in domestic (and later international) audiences that people rarely even mention how wonderfully he also embodied modern dramatic leads (Lobbyist, Fermented Family, Detectives in Trouble, A Man Called God, Terms of Endearment).
Turning toward independent films nevertheless represented experimental ground
for him as well, and Sangho perhaps represents the color gray on his palette
of characters. Not in terms of his acting performance, but rather the
character's "grayness"—by which I mean that Sangho possesses no particularly
distinctive attributes; he is just an ordinary, average figure. Reliable in
his profession, a hardworking provider, a loving and understanding husband who
occasionally gets a bit tired. Although his character is the least developed
on paper, Song Il-kook manages to complement it through gestures, facial
expressions, and body language into a coherent, yet at times timid and at
times confident figure, who in one memorable moment of the film could
practically kill with his gaze—thus playing fifty shades of gray. Furthermore,
what he displays in the
noraebang, and
especially upon leaving it, is a beautiful example of the clash between human
vulnerability, the outpouring of suppressed desires, and the values dictated
by internal morality.
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| (Author's screenshot from Entangled) |
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| (Author's screenshot from Entangled) |
The film works with minimalist, cramped interiors not only
regarding its locations, but is also very frugal with its audio landscape. The
musical accompaniment consists mostly of fragments of sound; there is much
silence, and noise effects dominate instead.
In conclusion:
Entangled is a very good
and appropriately unique film, precisely owing to its unconventional portrayal
of family. In domestic society, the family represents a different, far more
traditional value than what its dissolving relationships show in the West. The
film's reception was therefore twofold: on one hand, the unvarnished depiction
of suppressed relationships within the family was welcomed, while on the other
hand, such a deconstruction of the fundamental social unit was found to be too
dark. The film is emotionally very taxing—those who undertake to watch it
should keep this in mind.
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SOUTH KOREA | ENTANGLED (현기증) | WRITTEN
& DIRECTED BY LEE DON-KU (이돈구) | 2014 | 94 MINUTES | 2.35:1 |
COLOR
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