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Inspired by a novel by Korean-Swiss writer Elisa Dusapin, this subtle yet refreshing drama centers on hotel employee Sooha (Bella Kim) as she escorts author from France Yan (Roschdy Zem) to the demilitarised zone just north of Sokcho. Symbolism abounds: Koya Kamura’s debut film also resides in a no man’s land of the soul, with Sooha, abandoned by her father from France while she was still unborn, trapped between dual heritages. Once the francophone hostess is compelled to chaperone the mysterious author, she loiters uneasily between strained companionship and Oedipal attraction.

Everyday Existence and Upheaval

If not enjoying visually stunning seafood cooked by her fishmonger mother (Mi-hyeon Park), Sooha is relaxing with her boyfriend (Do-yu Gong), an hopeful model gunning for a move to the capital. But this familiar rhythm is disrupted when the foreigner settles in for a long-term stay. Initially matching her prejudices about impolite Frenchmen, he proves, on Googling him, to be critically lauded comic book writer Yan Kerrand. Coming to Sokcho in pursuit of inspiration, he manages to prise the story of Sooha’s absent parent from her. She spies on him through a vent – but it remains to be seen whether he’s a proxy father, or something else.

Inner Turmoil and Thematic Depth

Sooha’s buried emotions surface in bursts of secret, winding moments of physical constraint and release. We are privy to only her inner life, though; Yan remains a remote presence, insisting on his loner ethic and stingy with particulars of his history. His cipher status, as Sooha projects her desires on to him, is intentional – but this imbalance prevents Winter in Sokcho from reaching its full potential. Aesthetic expression – and control, with Sooha’s parent and boyfriend both advocating cosmetic surgery on her – is clearly a central idea for Kamura. Yet despite Yan’s vocation, it seems a bit separate from the primary narrative, like the mysterious bandaged diner also in residence.

Performances and Cinematic Craft

The three focused performances at the core – an almost hostile Zem, increasingly scattered Kim, and the self-absorbed Park – provide Winter in Sokcho its solid centre, and if Kamura doesn't fully narratively contain the wary faceoff between innkeeper and guest, he is consistently on his toes in terms of feeling, often dipping into a physical, sensory imagery. Obsessing over absence, on the verge of drown in internal sensations, Kamura creates an fascinating kind of modern ghost story.

The film is available on Mubi from 7 November.