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Adapted from the book by Swiss-Korean writer Elisa Dusapin, this elusive yet refreshing drama centers on guesthouse worker Sooha (Bella Kim) as she escorts author from France Yan (Roschdy Zem) to the DMZ just north of the city of Sokcho. Symbolism abounds: Koya Kamura’s debut film also resides in a no man’s land of the spirit, with Sooha, left behind by her father from France while she was still unborn, caught between dual heritages. Once the francophone hostess is forced to chaperone the enigmatic author, she lingers uncomfortably between strained companionship and Oedipal attraction.

Everyday Existence and Upheaval

If not enjoying spectacular-looking seafood prepared by her mother who sells fish (Mi-hyeon Park), Sooha is relaxing with her partner (Gong Do-yu), an aspiring model gunning for a relocation to the capital. However this familiar rhythm is disrupted when the outsider settles in for a extended visit. Initially conforming to her biases about rude French men, he turns out, after an online search, to be acclaimed graphic novelist Yan Kerrand. Arriving in Sokcho in search of creative fuel, he manages to extract the story of Sooha’s absent parent from her. She spies on him through a air duct – but the question lingers whether he’s a proxy father, or something else.

Inner Turmoil and Symbolic Layers

Sooha’s buried emotions surface in flashes of clandestine, sinuous moments of physical constraint and liberation. We are privy to only her internal world, though; Yan remains a remote presence, upholding his loner ethic and sparing with details of his history. His cipher status, as Sooha projects her desires on to him, is intentional – but this one-sidedness hinders Winter in Sokcho from reaching its full potential. Aesthetic expression – and control, with Sooha’s parent and partner both pushing cosmetic surgery on her – is evidently a key theme for Kamura. But 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 Cinematic Craft

The three focused performances at the core – an almost hostile Zem, increasingly scattered Kim, and the self-absorbed Park – give Winter in Sokcho its solid centre, and if Kamura can’t quite thematically corral the cautious standoff between innkeeper and visitor, he is consistently on his toes emotionally speaking, often dipping into a physical, sensory imagery. Fixating on absence, on the verge of succumb in subjective feelings, Kamura musters an intriguing kind of contemporary phantom tale.

Winter in Sokcho can be seen on Mubi from 7 November.