Imbued with an underlying sadness and ambiguity, Jang Woo-Jin's Autumn, Autumn is arguably a formal narrative exercise in implication, a film which relies on the viewer to infer the underlying complexities of its story through its rich characterizations and aesthetic sensibilities. A conceptually intriguing work, Autumn, Autumn is a simple story with thematic heft, a melancholic tale which evokes the malleable nature of perception and the control it can have over our emotional state of being. A story split into two parts - the only connection between their stories being they begin in the same place, a train from Seoul to Chuncheon - Autumn, Autumn deconstructs the human condition in a simple yet incisive ways, recognizing the sense of longing intrinsic to our existence, as we intrinsically perceive others and the world around us through the prism of our own perceptions. The labyrinths of the human psyche are examined in these two distinct but thematically similar stories through tenderness and ambiguity, with the film employing a proficient artistry which uses negative space to evoke a sense of melancholy and emotional uncertainty, to which the causes themselves are somewhat nebulous. While loneliness is endemic to this film, Autumn, Autumn is far from a depressing film, it's just one which aims to capture the many emotional modes which manifest themselves through human perception in times of personal reflection and introspection. Being my first film by Woo-jin Jang, Autumn, Autumn has left me extremely intrigued, given the depths this film was able to excavate through its thin narrative framework.
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