Deliveryman Jongsu is out on a job when he runs into Haemi, a girl who once lived in his neighborhood. She asks if he'd mind looking after her cat while she's away on a trip to Africa. On her retur...
Burning singes its psychological character study with a thrillingly igneous mystery. The cosmic fires of the sun. Its radiance encapsulating our world with warmth and tenderness. The perfect distance for sustainability. Equilibrium. Its rich beating rays corrupting the impressionable youth, granting life in the most deciduous souls. The Sun sets. And much like its vanishing point, the resonance of its warmth dissipates, only leaving numbing bitterness.
Chang-Dong’s adaptation of Murakami’s ‘Barn Burning’ is an arresting piece of psychology. An ambiguous analysis perceiving the wealthy to emotionally manipulate the aspiring, culminating into a study on the human condition. A complex aura of social anatomisation that defies the genres that are seamlessly blended. A story not entirely based on the perspective of the naive Jongsu, who faces solitude due to his mother abandoning him and father incarcerated. Neither does it revolve around the suggestible Haemi and her eternal yearning for disappearance as she travels to Kenya. Nor the ominous Ben, arriving back with Haemi after her trip, confessing his hobby for frequently burning down greenhouses.
The enigmatic exploration comes from the gaps in between these surreptitious characters. The bonds they develop. Thematically, Burning is an endeavour in illustrating envy. The young envious of the rich. The lonely desirous of relationships. The insatiable hunger for perishing one’s soul. A contemporary strand of human nature that is derived from Chang-Dong’s acute screenplay. Substituting elongated conversations for hypnotising scenes of visual splendour, exercising his artistic flair for storytelling. Haemi, whilst enthused by marijuana, joyously dancing against the backdrop of the twilight sky in a one-take sequence. Not only does this depict her thirst for vanishment, as she sways to her claimed “Great Hunger” dance, but her eternal solidarity as the Sun sets in front of her darkened silhouette.
In fact, Chang-Dong references the Sun throughout this ethereal piece, notably when Haemi invited Jongsu to her apartment. Its rays provide solace for her, but a shining memory for him. For the split second that the Sun reflects off Seoul Tower and through her quaint window, Jongsu habitually alters his psychology. The sheer power of its beauty has the ability to emotionally change the mind, and Chang-Dong poetically conveys that through showcasing the diamond sky. The cold pale blues complementing the warm pastel yellows, with much gratification for Kyung-pyo’s cinematography. A battle for luminescence that likens itself to the internal conflict of subduing envy.
Chang-Dong alters the slow-burning pace for the second half, introducing elements of mystery that makes this feature his most thrilling yet. Questionable plot points become answered through perceptible descriptions that offer an open-ended interpretation. What actually happened to Haemi? Chang-Dong purposefully refuses to literarily conclude that question, invoking your mind to fill in the blanks. A simple yet captivating device that opens its arms to the audience, bringing them closer to the characters than ever before.
Occasionally, this seamless transition offers several plot points concluding in a quick manner, in particular the final ten minutes. Chang-Dong had a tendency for continuing the story which should’ve been finalised minutes beforehand, further losing the arresting power of Burning’s thematic presence. Arguably, the conclusion offers a morality in fatherhood and how upbringing can alter justice, yet his insistence in clearly concluding the mystery was underwhelming. Offering a one-note ending. Juxtaposing the dimensionality of Ah-in, Jong-seo and Yeun’s sensational performances throughout the runtime, and Mowg’s multi-faceted score.
Burning may not be the fiery inferno that viewers of traditional thrillers have come to expect. Far from it, in fact. Its purposeful slow-pace and meditative approach forces the audience to appreciate the finer details within the characters and environment. Offering allegories on classism and egalitarianism through an ambiguously visualised narrative that shines brightly amongst modern Korean cinema. Burning has its embers glowingly ferociously.
