Hong’s trademark stylistic minimalism and meditation on the meaning of art and life remain intact if nondescript, featuring two seemingly unrelated stories connected by a shared fondness for eating ramyeon with pepper paste.

Review #2,891
Dir. Hong Sang-soo
2023 | South Korea | Drama | 84min | 1.85:1 | Korean
PG (passed clean) for some sexual references
Cast: Gi Ju-bong, Kim Min-hee, Song Sun-mi, Park Mi-so, Ha Seong-guk
Plot: An actress in her 40s is staying with her friend and her cat, while an ageing poet in declining health lives alone. Each receives a visit from a different young aspiring artist, who asks questions about their careers and life itself.
Awards: Nom. for SACD Award – Directors’ Fortnight (Cannes)
International Sales: Finecut
Accessibility Index
Subject Matter: Moderate – Friends & Acquaintances; Meaning of Life; Value of Literature & Art
Narrative Style: Straightforward
Pace: Slightly Slow
Audience Type: Slightly Arthouse
Viewed: Golden Village Suntec (as part of Korean Film Festival)
Spoilers: No
Even as every new Hong Sang-soo film comforts us in ways that other filmmakers can only dream of, not all always hit the mark.
This is already my sixteenth work of his that I had the privilege to view, but so far, I haven’t quite seen a truly outstanding picture from South Korea’s most prolific director.
In Our Day shows Hong at his most nondescript in what might be described as a ‘run-of-the-mill’ effort by him. Still, there is enough in the characters’ musings about life and art that continue to enthral diehard fans.
Here cats, ramyeon and poetry are the highlights as two seemingly unrelated stories are alternated. The one with Kim Min-hee sees her trying to impart some acting wisdom to a friend who harbours dreams of being an actress; the other centers on a young film student hoping to interview a famous poet as part of her documentary project.
“With a glass of soju, it’d be perfect.”
A character in both threads explains the fondness for eating ramyeon with pepper paste, thus connecting the two stories together in a way that is characteristically subtle of Hong’s modus operandi.
Some might find his trademark stylistic minimalism almost blurring the lines between what might be considered amateurish and no-frills filmmaking.
I’ve to admit that there were times when I felt Hong was playing a joke on us, what with more than one occasion of ‘bad’ lighting and ‘distracting’ construction noise.
The poet’s segments frequently turn into a meditation on existential thoughts about locating meaning in life (through art, literature, or elsewhere, as Hong appears to allude), yet despite his poor health, he craves alcohol and cigarettes. After all, we only die once, and every shot and puff counts.
Grade: B-
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