Director: Hong Sung-eun
Starring: Gong Seung-yeon, Jeong Da-eun, Geum Hae-na, Park Jeong-hak
Country of Origin: South Korea
Running time: 1h 31m
The Korean word honjok is used to describe people that prefer to do things alone.
For Jina (Gong Seung-yeon) it’s not so much a preference as a necessity to isolate herself from everyone else.
Devastated by the death of her mother she subsists in a single room, watching mukbang (in which people film themselves eating) videos and dramas while eating convenience store pre-packaged meals. Her eyes rarely leave the small screen of her phone, on the bus to work or at lunch where she orders from a touchscreen in the same restaurant every day and sits by herself.
Her job involves robotically reading out credit card statements to the disgruntled and deranged customers of a bank while listening to their pitiful complaints and apologizing profusely.
Appreciated by her surly boss (Geum Hae-na) while ignoring her colleagues she seems distant and preoccupied in a gloomy web of thought and regret.
Jina’s self-imposed alienation is interrupted when she is asked to train a perky but inept young recruit Sujin (Jeong Da-eun).
Repulsed by the task, along with the enthusiasm and awkwardness of Sujin, she spirals deeper into solitude. A frosty relationship with her dad (Park Jeong-hak) makes the situation even worse until a bizarre tragedy involving her next-door neighbour prompts a change of perspective.
Yet it’s only in the last 15 minutes that the unforgivingly sombre tone truly relents.
Loneliness has rarely been depicted in such a raw and deeply unsettling way in a film which features a number of subtly affecting scenes.
While it’s not exactly a hidden side of South Korean society, the honjok phenomenon – which for some means self-empowerment and a rejection of stereotypical norms – is seldom shown in such excruciatingly doleful detail.
It has the feel of a documentary and is almost like an intrusion into a deeply private video diary.
When Jina reaches a dead end – a scene where she walks through a deserted alleyway through a crowded street in a grief stricken, comatose state is particularly harrowing – there only seems one utterly depressing outcome.
However, instead of leading us into darkness, director Hong Sung-eun makes a last-ditch U-turn. It can be viewed as an incongruous cop-out or a naturally redemptive development, but either way Aloners does offer an unflinching close up of a subject which is often ignored.
A few light touches shine through the unabated gloominess.
Jina doesn’t show any emotion as she calmly states to a flustered customer that he used his credit card at an insalubrious establishment called ‘Titty Karaoke’.
Another believes he can time travel back to 2002 – when South Korea co-hosted the World Cup – and asks if he can use his credit card while supporting the nation’s football team. An exasperated Sujin asks if she can join him on the trip.
While in the background of Jina’s cramped workstation a sign reads ‘IB Card – Happy Your Life’ – an example of a clumsy English slogan which is completely inappropriate in such a miserable work environment.
There can be no doubt that this is a challenging film, nothing much occurs in Jina’s monotonous routine, and there are very few crumbs of optimism.
However, in more than 20 years of watching South Korean films I can’t recall many more striking performances than Gong Seung-yeon’s brutally intense portrayal of Jina.
She plays the troubled lead with such realism that it sometimes doesn’t feel like acting at all.
In a display suffused with repulsion, contempt – especially towards poor Sujin who is played touchingly by Jeong Da-eun – and pent-up distress she appears in almost every scene and makes a forcefully lasting impression. It’s a near flawless performance that makes Aloners essential viewing.
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