Return to Seoul

A headstrong young Korean woman who was adopted at birth by French parents returns to her homeland in this engrossing journey of self-discovery, with talented newcomer Park Ji-min mesmerising in the lead role

Words: Xuanlin Tham

At the centre of Cambodian-French director Davy Chou’s riveting second feature, Return to Seoul, is a sublime performance with the gravitational force of a black hole. First-time actor Park Ji-min possesses the kind of screen magnetism you feel blessed to witness once in a blue moon; from the very first moment we clap eyes on her character, Frédérique ‘Freddie’ Benoit, we’re pulled irreversibly into her orbit.

The 25-year-old, French-raised Korean adoptee has touched down in Seoul with an impulsive momentum. She’s hellbent on doing, not thinking. When asked whether she’s here to look for her biological parents, there’s a cold amusement in her eyes when she shoots back, “Why should I?” This beguiling heroine’s every move seems designed to defy people’s expectations. Freddie’s return to her homeland isn’t a solemn pilgrimage in search of connection, but rather a turbulent voyage into the indeterminable.

Director: Davy Chou

Starring: Park Ji-min, Oh Kwang-rok, Guka Han, Kim Sun-young, Yoann Zimmer, Louis Do De Lencquesaing, Hur Ouk-sook, Emeline Briffaud, Lim Cheol-hyun, Son Seung-beom, Kim Dong-seok

Chou’s film spans eight years across vignettes that see Freddie grappling with her ties (or lack of) to her biological parents in this country she can’t seem to leave behind. Does she want to see them? If so, what is she hoping to find? The answer is always enticingly ambiguous. She’s incensed at the thought that her birth parents might not want anything to do with her, but when she meets her father – an alcoholic ravaged with guilt and unhappiness for leaving her behind – she’s as compelled by his piteous love as she is repulsed by it.

Not speaking a lick of the language, Freddie storms through Korea spitting rapid-fire French or impatient English, seemingly eager to register her unfamiliarity with cultural norms as annoyance rather than feelings of isolation. She is both awe-inspiringly untouchable and magnificently seductive: after her first night in Seoul, she wakes up unsatisfied that she can’t remember her sexual encounter with the stranger in her bed. Kicking him awake, she says efficiently in English, “You, me, sex, again.” To his downfall, he’s besotted.

Chou’s film often keeps its cards close to its chest, but never loses our rapturous attention even through its more unpredictable turns. Freddie is egoistic, destructive and erratic, and yet the film so meticulously illustrates her need to be self-reliant that we find ourselves flooded with empathy during even her ugliest behaviour. Park is a marvel, delivering an unforgettable performance within an elusive yet rewarding narrative that would have faltered in lesser hands; you’ll wish you could watch this character forever.

While Return to Seoul appears on the surface to reference familiar ground – the desire for self-definition versus belonging, the smarting of betrayal versus the ache of wanting to be wanted – its brilliance lies in its disinterest in telling a universal story, in favour of a singular one centred on a thorny protagonist. In one of Freddie’s identity-shifting escapades, she falls in with a French arms dealer; he tells her that while selling weapons is a man’s world, she’d fit right in, because “you have to be able to not look back.” Freddie’s answering smile captures the push-and-pull she has no choice but to wrestle against: single-mindedly hurtling into the future sometimes means you become suffocated by everything you’re trying to outrun. An endlessly fascinating, deftly constructed character study, anchored by a dazzling performance that – if there is any justice in this world – should be adorned with every laurel and more.

Return to Seoul is released 5 May by MUBI

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