Lee Hae-jun: CASTAWAY ON THE MOON (2009)

이해준: 김씨 표류기

You can find the original article in Hungarian here →

Castaway on the Moon:
A Modern Robinsonade in the Heart of Seoul

While this post contains some minor SPOILERS, they certainly won't compromise the experience of the film, as its true value lies not in its minimalist plot but in its execution.

A few sentences from a previous blog post of mine drew my attention to this film. That post discussed how a truly uninhabited island exists in the middle of Seoul's crowded metropolis and how this sparked a director’s imagination to write a unique screenplay. The idea seemed so brilliant that I felt an irresistible urge to watch the film, and I am happy to report that I was not disappointed.

Castaway on the Moon (2009, original title: Kim’s Island) is an unconventional love story, even by the standards of Korean cinema's exceptional storehouse of inventive ideas—and a parable about how nothing is ever truly lost. It is about many other things too: what we are (or would be) capable of through our own efforts, and the joy of true contentment.

Few films have a cast list that can be summarized as simply as this: Male Kim, Female Kim, Mother, Food Delivery Man, Janitor, City Cleaners, Bus Driver. The latter five are almost negligible; the two Kims dominate the field, each within their own peculiar environment.

The island motif is present in the story in two ways: literally, as Male Kim’s living space, and metaphorically, as the isolated life situations of the two protagonists. Both are at a total rock bottom. Our Male Kim is a "failure" who, in his hopelessness due to heavy debt, attempts suicide. He fails at that too, but his ill-fortune—or perhaps his good luck—washes him up on a deserted island. Just an arm's reach from the metropolis, within sight and sound of those sailing past, he becomes a modern-day Robinson Crusoe. Driven by survival instinct, he sets up one of the most bizarre habitats ever seen on film, repurposing everything from the urban waste that drifts ashore. The most "valuable" pieces of his former life become junk, while finding new meaning in strange functions—as seen with his plastic credit card. Becoming invisible and severed from civilized society, he begins to rediscover his body, the earth, and the puritan, natural possibilities of life. This process of enlightenment deepens; his initial sense of comfort is displayed when he modifies the word "HELP" etched into the sand into "HELLO."

However, our modern Robinson is shocked by the discovery that he has an invisible observer. Another Kim, a female one, is also living an isolated life in the city, but she has exiled herself to her own room due to anthropophobia. There, she lives her virtually constructed "real" life in conditions that can hardly be called sterile. Her passion is photographing the moon, as it is the only uninhabited place visible from her window—along with the streets of Seoul when they empty twice a year during air-raid drills, allowing her to finally observe the city in solitude. It is on one such occasion that she spots the "Alien," who was clearly sent only for her. She begins to document his life, increasingly experiencing his struggle for survival, his joys, and his sorrows in his battle with the elements and himself. An irresistible desire grows within her to make contact, and she doesn't even notice that this very act is pulling her out of her own depression.

The two Kims establish contact in a brilliant way. Thanks to the weaving of the narrative, we move through countless humorous and moving situations reflecting our vulnerability and our greatness toward the final climax.

The brilliant performances of the two leads are so captivating that after the film ended, I had to check if I really had watched both hours of it, as the viewing time felt like less than half that. For me (and many others), the film has joined the ranks of the greatest romantic comedies and the top-tier works of Korean cinema.

Director Lee Hae-jun

I can only recommend it to everyone—as a bonus for the shared experience of having our eyes well up at the sight of a bowl of jjajangmyeon (black bean paste noodles). Special thanks for this scene go to actor Jung Jae-young, whom domestic audiences surely embraced after his lead role in GLove two years later. In the role of the fragile yet internally powerful girl, we enjoy the performance of Jung Ryeo-won, who delivered a career-defining turn here.

As for director Lee Hae-jun, we wish him many more productive walks like the one that prompted him to write this story upon seeing that island.