Cora

I watched this movie twice and was very satisfied!!

I think “Thou shalt not covet” pretty much explains everything that happens in this movie, although the more I think about it, the more I feel like there's something much bigger going on underneath it. I was initially thinking about the socioeconomic divide between these two couples and how Mi-ok seems to want Ye-ji's life: the designer clothes, the luxury, the Porsche, the freedom that comes with not having to worry about money. Hell, she even seems to want the man. But I wonder if she actually wants Sang-woo himself or what he represents. When he talks about stripping at the beach, she describes it as freedom, and that made me rethink quite a few things.

Mi-ok is a woman who has spent most of her life adjusting to whatever circumstances she's been given. She did sewing work, married young, had a child, and settled into a life where she's clearly capable of so much more but doesn't necessarily have the means or opportunities to pursue it. She's outgoing, funny, resourceful, and has a personality that practically fills the room, but there's also this sense that her life has become smaller than the person she actually is. So maybe what she's coveting isn't necessarily wealth or another woman's husband, but the freedom that seems to come so effortlessly to someone like Sang-woo.

Meanwhile, Ye-ji and Sang-woo are living in a completely different world, and I think the movie is particularly interesting in how it approaches the whole idea of the 'haves' and the 'have-nots'. Ye-ji wants to make documentaries about ordinary workers, get close to them and tell their stories, and probably genuinely believes she's doing something meaningful. But there's something so unintentionally hypocritical about her existence. She's making a documentary about workers struggling with their livelihoods while benefiting from a husband whose wealth could actually make a tangible difference to those very people. She could help Ho-seok, but somehow that possibility never even seems to cross her mind.

Instead, she's taking grants and making documentaries about class inequality while wearing expensive clothes and carrying designer bags to a labor site. I don't think she's necessarily pretending to care, which is what makes her interesting. She's so comfortable in her own little bubble that she genuinely doesn't recognize the contradictions in her behavior. She wants to be on the side of the workers without giving up the privileges that separate her from them. She's almost cosplaying as someone from a different socioeconomic background, and the funniest part is that she probably doesn't realize how ridiculous it looks.

I also wondered whether her need to establish herself as a documentary director comes from some kind of inferiority complex. She's the daughter of a dry cleaner who grew up around the wealthy kids of Apgujeong, and I can imagine how years of comparing herself to people with more money, better backgrounds, and better opportunities might have affected her. Perhaps filmmaking became another way of seeking recognition and establishing an identity of her own. Recognition seems to be a much bigger motivation. And yet I don't think she's inherently unpleasant. She's quite casual, funny, and down-to-earth, but there's something incredibly naïve about her. I kept wondering why nobody had ever told her that wearing designer clothes to a labor site wasn't the most practical choice lol.

And then there's Sang-woo, who I honestly find even more fascinating because I think he's operating on a slightly different level from Ye-ji. Ye-ji is almost an archetype of the well-meaning, privileged person who wants to feel socially conscious without examining her own position, whereas Sang-woo seems considerably more aware of the world he inhabits. When he corrects Ye-ji about her father not belonging to the same class as the laborers, I found that particularly interesting. It's such a small comment, but it tells you a lot about how he categorizes people. To him, class isn't just about being rich or poor. There are levels to it, and he seems very conscious of where everyone belongs.

I also found his whole method-acting comment fascinating. When he accuses Ye-ji of getting too close to her documentary subjects and essentially performing a role around them, I wondered whether he was projecting his own behavior onto her. Because isn't that exactly what he does? He adjusts his behavior depending on who he's interacting with, performs a certain version of himself around people he considers beneath him, and enjoys moving between different social worlds without ever actually belonging to the less privileged one. Unlike Ye-ji, I feel he's much more conscious of the power he has. He knows money gives him options, freedom, and the ability to manipulate situations in ways that would be impossible for someone like Ho-seok.

Even his behavior towards Ho-seok feels particularly cruel because it's so casual. He can humiliate another man in his own house, offer unsolicited opinions, behave like he's doing everyone a favor, and then return to his comfortable life without thinking about the consequences. His almost fatherly attitude towards Cheol is another thing I kept thinking about. He's surprisingly gentle with the child, which feels quite different from the slightly condescending expression he often has around Mi-ok and Ho-seok. But there's something uncomfortable about how warmly he treats the child while casually humiliating his father. It's almost as though he can enjoy Cheol's innocence while disregarding the circumstances and dignity of the family he belongs to.

And then there's his growing interest in Mi-ok, which I think is one of the most interesting aspects of his character. I initially wondered whether he was simply attracted to her, but I think there's something more complicated happening there. Mi-ok represents a kind of life that he doesn't have. She's expressive, spontaneous, emotionally available, and seems to find joy in things that his comfortable existence has somehow made inaccessible to him. He's a man who has everything materially but seems strangely disconnected from his own life. Perhaps Mi-ok becomes fascinating precisely because she's so different from the people he usually encounters. There's something almost like curiosity in the way he approaches her, but it's also deeply entitled. He can indulge his attraction because he's accustomed to having the freedom to pursue whatever catches his attention.

The beach scene was particularly interesting to me because I initially struggled to understand Mi-ok's intentions. But looking back, I wonder if it was partly her way of getting even with Ye-ji. After seeing Ho-seok so vulnerable during the interview and Ye-ji shamelessly filming her in the woods, perhaps Mi-ok realized she could play the game too. She draws Sang-woo in, only to brush him off, almost using his interest in her to get back at Ye-ji, who remains completely oblivious.

I was also fascinated by the similarities and tensions between Mi-ok and Ye-ji. While Sang-woo and Ho-seok seem largely indifferent to each other, it's the women who are curious about each other's lives and actively seek something from that relationship.

And the way Sang-woo behaves when things don't go the way he wants, especially when he takes his frustration out on Ye-ji, is genuinely ugly. He has money, a successful career, a beautiful wife, and all the comforts he could possibly want, yet there's very little emotional connection in his life. Maybe marrying Ye-ji was partly an act of rebellion against his family, but even that doesn't seem to have given him much intimacy with her. He does what he needs to do as a husband because he can afford to, not necessarily because he feels particularly connected to her.

I also think the contrast between the two marriages is doing a lot of work here. Mi-ok and Ho-seok have this messy, genuinely affectionate relationship that feels almost like camaraderie. They bicker, tease each other, get annoyed, and sometimes behave like children, but there's an underlying familiarity between them that I really liked. Mi-ok can practically tell Ho-seok what to do, even stopping him from drinking when she wants to. There's a sense that they actually live together rather than simply occupy the same comfortable space.

Meanwhile, Ye-ji and Sang-woo seem to have a much more polished relationship, but I couldn't find that same warmth between them. When Ye-ji asks Mi-ok how she ended up marrying Ho-seok, Mi-ok has this whole funny story to tell, but when Ye-ji talks about how she and Sang-woo got together, all she really has is that they were classmates, met again in America, and the timing worked out. There's no particular shared memory that feels meaningful between them, nothing like the moon that Mi-ok and Ho-seok have.

Even their little interactions say so much. Ye-ji has to call Sang-woo and ask him for things, and when he does something for her, she has to thank him. She can't even comfortably tell him something as simple as not using his phone during dinner. Mi-ok, on the other hand, doesn't seem to have to negotiate for that kind of space with Ho-seok. It's such a small distinction, but it says a lot about the power dynamics in their marriages.

And I think that's where the title becomes particularly interesting to me. Possible Love. Maybe the love in question is precisely this imperfect, ordinary affection that Mi-ok and Ho-seok have managed to maintain despite their circumstances. But I don't think the movie is suggesting that being in love automatically makes everything okay. Both couples are deeply self-absorbed in their own ways, and neither marriage is presented as some perfect romantic ideal. They make mistakes, hurt each other, get jealous, become attracted to other people, and still somehow remain capable of loving each other. Having this possible love doesn't necessarily mean you'll have a happy life, but perhaps it means there's still something worth holding on to. Honestly, I found that quite bittersweet.

I also really liked the contrast between the families themselves. Mi-ok's family has this chaotic, messy affection that feels very genuine, whereas Ye-ji's family seems to know how to wrap itself in something that looks like affection without necessarily having much warmth underneath it. Even Sang-woo's relationship with his own family seems to have shaped the person he has become. There's this whole question of whether he married Ye-ji because he genuinely wanted her or because choosing her was a way of rejecting the world he came from. I don't think the movie gives us a particularly neat answer, and I like that.

Also, the way the movie uses seemingly insignificant conversations to reveal its characters is something I really enjoyed. I was basically collecting all these little throwaway lines and trying to figure out what kind of people they were. I spent a good three-quarters of the movie wondering what exactly it was trying to say 😂 and then suddenly all these little observations started coming together.

Jeon Do-yeon's performance was especially interesting to me after watching Secret Sunshine. I could recognize certain acting choices much more clearly, particularly the way she shifts between different emotional states. When Mi-ok takes the anger she's accumulated because of Ye-ji and directs it towards Sang-woo, I immediately recognized that kind of emotional transition. And Sang-woo getting caught in the middle felt like one of the few moments when his carefully controlled personality actually cracked. Although I guess his genuine happiness when he heard about the company targeted by the strike being sold was another pretty revealing moment 😂. The director is particularly good at creating these slightly goofy, warm, seemingly ordinary people who are ultimately quite difficult to hate, even when they're being frustrating. Jeon Do-yeon is just perfect for that kind of character.

Sul Kyung-gu's character also deserves a mention because I was trying very hard not to feel too sorry for him, but once he finally explained what had happened to him, that really hurt. It reminded me that Korea really wasn't all that long ago in a period when the police could unjustly beat and assault ordinary civilians. Peppermint Candy popped into my head, and then I started thinking about Save the Green Planet! and how much of that history is reflected in Korean cinema.

Even the way his character holds everything inside and can only really let it out after drinking feels familiar to a particular generation of Korean men.

The pacing was pretty quiet and patient in a way that requires you to meet it halfway.

That ending GOT ME. When the camera lingered on the full moon for so long, I immediately thought of the final scene of Secret Sunshine and just started crying. Lee Chang-dong really made a Lee Chang-dong movie. The full moon almost feels like the role sunlight played in Secret Sunshine, except its gaze here is so much warmer. There's something about the way he uses seemingly ordinary images to leave you with such complicated emotions.

I can absolutely understand why this movie might not work for everyone. It doesn't really build towards the kind of dramatic payoff you might expect, and the characters aren't necessarily there for you to root for. But I found them intensely interesting, and I honestly think the balance between the larger issues of class, capitalism, and labor exploitation and the much more intimate stories of these two couples was really well handled.

I also think there's something quite clever about how the movie explores the difference between being a good person and actually doing good. Ye-ji wants to believe she's helping people, Sang-woo wants to believe he's a decent person, and yet neither seems particularly interested in using their privileges to make anyone else's life better. Sang-woo might be more self-aware than Ye-ji, but that doesn't necessarily make him any less complicit. If anything, it makes him more unsettling because he understands the hierarchy and still chooses to enjoy the advantages it gives him. And Mi-ok and Ho-seok aren't necessarily morally superior people either. They're messy, selfish, and flawed, but there's something very human about the way they continue to find affection in each other despite everything.

Anyway, I think this is a really, really good movie. I've been watching so many foreign films lately, and this reminded me how much I love the particular warmth of Korean cinema. It genuinely felt like eating a massive bowl of gukbap and going YESSSS, THIS IS IT 😂. I can appreciate the warmth in films from other countries, but sometimes there's that last 10% that doesn't quite reach me in the same way. Here, nothing felt foreign. I understood all the little social nuances, the conversations, the family dynamics, the generational attitudes, everything. There's something incredibly comforting about that.

And perhaps that's also why I found myself so drawn to this movie despite its slow pace and unanswered questions. Personally, I think making a movie about hope and warmth is considerably harder than making one about despair, cynicism, or cruelty. It's much easier to show how terrible people can be than to show how, despite everything, they can still find reasons to love each other.

And one last thing: THAT MUSIC OVER THE END CREDITS WAS PERFECT.

Overall, I am giving this 9/10.

Sending so much love to everyone who stayed and read all of this! ❤️

Tysm for reading! ᰔᩚ