![]() At home and at school, their expressions are dull. The students themselves show no drive to achieve or curiosity about the future. Director Kim Bora, however, has a bitter take on the time: “We have worked so hard and made great achievements, but many people have been left in suffering and pain.” House of Hummingbird pulls no punches in depicting the cost such rapid development enacts on the individual and family level.Įarly on, House of Hummingbird shows a teacher leading a class of teenagers to chant “I want to get into Seoul National University!” However, the students are listless, their chants quiet- adults drive academic super-competitiveness, not children. Seoul in the early 1990s was undergoing rapid economic development, with South Korea eager to present itself as a modernized nation ready to showcase the fruits of the Miracle on the Han River. Still, with Eun-hee’s family robbed of deeper characterization, the viewer is left without the wide variety of perspectives that Yi Yi had for its setting. However, so many unfortunate events happen in Eun-hee’s life that the friend’s words come across as cruel rather than as a jolt out of Eun-hee’s subjectivity. Perhaps the thin characterization of Eun-hee’s family is intentional to reflect her selfishness-in one scene, Eun-hee’s friend berates her for only thinking of herself. Without leadup, it feels like a last-ditch effort to give this one-dimensional figure a measure of sympathy. One example is Eun-hee’s brother, Dae-hoon (Son Sang-yeon), who spends most of the film as a monstrous figure-the viewer sees him beat and insult Eun-hee throughout without remorse or introspection. The members of her family have glimpses of deeper characterization, but the additional shading is too little and too late. However, House of Hummingbird does not know whether it wants to commit to Eun-hee’s perspective. This solipsistic focus is not necessarily bad. With its focus on Eun-hee, the movie prevents other family members from developing beyond archetypes-the domineering father, the absent mother, the abusive brother, the delinquent sister. In interviews, Kim Bora mentions how Taiwanese director Edward Yang’s Yi Yi was a powerful influence, noting how she wanted to achieve a story that not only portrays “one particular family at a microcosmic angle,” but also captures “Korean society, now and past.” While the film depicts various events of 1994-Eun-hee walks by signs protesting the demolition of homes, and the Seongsu Bridge Collapse looms large–we only see Eun-hee’s perspective on the situation. For most part, she succeeds, with only a few missteps-the cocky Eun-hee at the club never appears again, making that version of her an odd deviation. In order for Eun-hee to remain a coherent character, Park Ji-hoo must walk a delicate line across these subplots. As House of Hummingbird’s episodes unfold, we see Eun-hee withdrawn in class, awkwardly flirtatious with her crush, foul-mouthed with her friend, confident in the club, and vulnerable with her Chinese teacher. In a slice-of-life film like this one, casting Park Ji-hoo paid dividends, as Eun-hee-a young girl in the process of finding herself-feels rather mutable. ![]() In an interview, director Kim Bora comments on how the search for Eun-hee’s actress took three years. Park Ji-hoo stands out as Eun-hee, delivering a measured and mature performance. Exceptional Lead, Thin Supports Courtesy of Well Go USA. It is an ambitious film, with a stunning lead performance and a fatalistic depiction of an uncaring Seoul, but is hampered by weak characterization of the supporting cast. ![]() There is no larger overarching plot in House of Hummingbird, which depicts Eun-hee’s life episodically, contrasting the events of her life with the events of Seoul in 1994. ![]() Her friends betray her, and her relationships fail. She has an unhappy home life, with an absent mother, angry father, abusive brother, and delinquent sister. Nothing seems to go Eun-hee’s (Park Ji-hoo) way.
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