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Adapted from the book by Swiss-Korean writer Elisa Dusapin, this subtle yet refreshing film centers on guesthouse worker Sooha (Kim Bella) as she drives author from France Yan (Zem Roschdy) to the demilitarised zone just north of Sokcho. Symbolism abounds: Koya Kamura’s first feature also resides in a liminal space of the soul, with Sooha, abandoned by her French father while she was still in utero, caught between dual heritages. Once the francophone hostess is compelled to chaperone the enigmatic author, she loiters uneasily between strained companionship and complex desire.

Everyday Existence and Upheaval

If not enjoying visually stunning seafood prepared by her mother who sells fish (Park Mi-hyeon), Sooha is relaxing with her partner (Gong Do-yu), an hopeful model gunning for a relocation to Seoul. But this comfy routine is disrupted when the outsider settles in for a long-term stay. Initially conforming to her prejudices about rude French men, he proves, after an online search, to be acclaimed graphic novelist Yan Kerrand. Arriving in Sokcho in pursuit of inspiration, he succeeds in extract the account of Sooha’s missing father from her. She spies on him through a air duct – but it remains to be seen whether he’s a proxy father, or something else.

Emotional Landscape and Symbolic Layers

Sooha’s subterranean feelings surface in flashes of secret, sinuous moments of physical constraint and liberation. We witness only her inner life, though; Yan stays a remote presence, insisting on his loner ethic and sparing with details of his history. His cipher status, as Sooha imposes her desires on to him, is intentional – but this one-sidedness hinders Winter in Sokcho from fully opening up. Visual style – and restraint, with Sooha’s parent and partner both pushing plastic surgery on her – is evidently a key theme for Kamura. Yet in spite of Yan’s profession, it feels a bit separate from the main story, like the mysterious wrapped guest also in the guesthouse.

Acting and Directorial Approach

The three focused performances at the core – an nearly aggressive Zem, increasingly scattered Kim, and the self-absorbed Park Mi-hyeon – give Winter in Sokcho its solid centre, and if Kamura doesn't fully narratively contain the cautious standoff between innkeeper and guest, he is always on his toes in terms of feeling, often dipping into a physical, sensory imagery. Fixating on absence, threatening to drown in subjective feelings, Kamura creates an fascinating kind of contemporary phantom tale.

Winter in Sokcho is available on Mubi from 7 November.