Kim Jong-Kwan’s ‘Frosted Window’ Opens London Korean Film Festival

Visit a cafe, restaurant or bar and it’s sometimes easy to overhear the conversations taking place around you. Those conversations may leave you wondering. How did these strangers ultimately cope with loss, find love or the courage to create again? That’s what you might wonder when watching director Kim Jong-kwan’s latest film Frosted Window. The film’s three acts take place mostly in the cafes, restaurants and bars of Seoul’s Seochon neighborhood. Kim invites you to listen in as his characters talk about love and loss, engage in meaningless flirtations and form significant if flawed connections.

“I’ve always been drawn to making a film with two people’s conversation that unfolds in a temporary, limited space,” said Kim. “And I’m trying different approaches that are in line with that composition.”

Among his characters there’s an artist who longs for love; a writer who fears failure; and an actress who must face grief. The film’s characters, played by Yeon Woo-jin, Chang Ryul, Lee Chung-ah, Ok Ja-yeon, Joo Jong-hyuk and Jeon So-young, engage in public conversations, with strangers and/or acquaintances. Most of these characters are creatives—writers, directors, designers, artists.

“It was an intentional choice to include different creatives in each story,” said Kim, the acclaimed director of Josée, The Table, and Worst Woman. “They create a world by reflecting life in their works. I imagined a story where they constantly observe something in the world, but also become the object of observation and description, along with other characters.”

Like one of his own characters, the director wrote some of his screenplay in a neighborhood cafe. The scene where Hyun-su, the artist played by Chang (My Name, Daily Dose of Sunshine), and Han-kyung, the writer, played by Yeon (A Virtuous Busines, The Old Woman With A Knife), discuss writing, was filmed in his studio.

“I do most of my writing in the studio that was introduced in the film, the one where Hyun-su and Han-kyung were talking,” said Kim. “There’s a new building outside the window now, so there’s no view anymore—it’s a relief that I got to capture it in my film.”

Yeon, whose character takes “a breather” from writing, decided to act in Frosted Window because he’s always wanted to be a part of the creative world that Kim builds. He was curious to see what kind of world he might create this time. Yeon can relate to his character’s desire to take a breather.

“In art and creation, one’s own experiences and memories inevitably coexist within the process,” said Yeon. “Since it’s impossible to completely separate yourself from them, pain and struggle naturally follow. That’s why moments of pause—whether voluntary or not—tend to repeat.”

In the film’s third segment, Moon, a director, meets Mari, an actress she’s worked with when they sit near each other in a cafe. She pitches her a film idea that seems familiar. However, Kim did not cast his film in a cafe.

“Most of the time, I don’t write scripts with certain actors in mind,” he said. “I start with a vague, rough sketch, like a silhouette seen through a blurry window. I tend to embrace the new rhythm generated by the actor, who acts as a co-creator, and the spontaneity provided by the on-site environment, gradually shaping the rough sketch into a concrete vision. This is why I finally encounter the specific identity or “face” of the film while on the set. But when I think about it, a film is akin to how Moon and Mari’s coincidental encounter leads to an inevitable consequence.”

Frosted Window’s soft focus romantic vision betrays the director’s love of French cinema. His work has been compared to that of French director Eric Rohmer.

“I actually really like Jacques Demy’s romantic films like Bay of Angels and The Umbrellas of Cherbourg,” said Kim. “Parts of Josée may reflect this taste of mine. Of course, I still enjoy watching Eric Rohmer’s films. I like the nowness, microscopic stories told through an individualist’s point of view, and the beauty in the simple composition of his films. I’d also like to make films with such an attitude.”

Kim is not really interested in re-creating his own experiences. His films are usually a response to a question he’s pondering.

“If I have a story about sadness, I try to express the shape of sadness that I understand rather than re-creating the experience itself,” said Kim. “We as filmmakers focus on using everyone’s experience, understanding the world, and empathizing as we make a film. By using the spaces I walk and stay in, I attempted to make a film that understands the world through the emotions felt in an experience and cognition, rather than one that describes an experience depicted in an individualistic way.”

Each character in the anthology pursues something—love, passion, a wintry peace— but it’s not what they may need.

“As a story maker, I feel drawn to the incompleteness of humans,” said Kim. “And I focus more on the slight changes in the state rather than a character’s story of growth. This film is a story of people who lose their way as they wander around a small space, and I think it’s okay for the story to end before they find their way. I believe we can tell more mature stories when we don’t force human growth.”

The connections his characters make are imperfect, but they can also provide healing.

“It’d be great if one could be consoled just through discovering and understanding humanity’s minute contradictions revealed through the narrative this film describes,” said Kim.

Frosted Window premiere at the London Korean Film Festival on Nov. 5. There will be a post screening Q&A with the director and Yeon. The festival runs from Nov. 5 through 18.