Does oversaturation truly exist in cinema? We’ve often found ourselves questioning whether a director who works frequently is more inherently interesting than those who take long gaps in between new projects. Personally, there can be an argument made for either, but the truth is that a balance of the two is the reason the medium remains so incredibly exciting. You would imagine that it would get tiring to see someone like Hong Sang-soo working on multiple new films nearly every year – in fact, its been over half a decade since we had a year where he didn’t release at least one film (and that particular year was preceded by two of his most prolific periods), and yet we have yet to feel fatigue, with every film he has made in the past few years being exceptionally well-crafted and genuinely very moving in ways that are sometimes quite difficult to describe in coherent terms. The primary reason is quite simple – his endeavours to touch on the human condition in its most raw and honest form resist any cliche or convention, and allow Hong to craft quiet, poetic examinations of everyday life. One of his most recent offerings is A Traveler’s Needs (Korean: 여행자의 필요), in which he explores the day-to-day existence of Iris, a French woman who spends her time wandering around Seoul, and who has recently gained employment working as a tutor to two individuals, hired to teach them French, despite her lack of experience and clear disinterest in any formal structure to her life, choosing instead to merely exist, drifting through the streets of a city that is about as distant from her own, both geographically and culturally. Yet another profoundly simple and deeply moving drama in which Hong explores the smallest and most intricate nuances of life, A Traveler’s Needs is one of his many masterful existential journeys, a quiet depiction of a few characters on a series of metaphysical voyages that reveal more about their own inner state than any of them were ever ready to admit or even realise, compacted into a quiet, delicate character study that strives to capture the entirety of existence.

A Traveler’s Needs is not particularly different to anything Hong has done previously – we cannot even consider it a departure insofar as it features a non-Korean protagonist, since he’s made several very similar films that use this as their starting point. Yet, this film is anything but derivative – what starts as a very simple story of a woman wandering through one of the most striking and beautiful cities in Asia evolves into a quiet, poignant character study in which subjects such as identity, family, and individuality are not only discussed, but become the very foundation on which the film is built. It is constructed around the common topic of culture and how we perceive it differently – most of the characters in this film are simply leading ordinary lives, following the day-to-day conventions that they were raised to believe are the definition of the status quo. Yet, it’s the protagonist whose perspective is most intriguing, since she’s from an entirely different background, and has been trying to do her best to adapt to life in what she is clearly hoping to make her home, even if only temporarily. Yet, we find that regardless of the extent to which Iris attempts to assimilate into the culture – becoming knowledgeable on traditional food and drink, attempting to learn the language and getting to know the city and its people – she will always be viewed as a tourist, an outsider whose knowledge of Korean culture is always going to be novel and slightly insincere. Hong is not interested in the oft-discussed point of how the western world has developed an almost excessive obsession with Asian culture (and he’s very generous in showing Iris as someone who is very respectful and knows her place as an outsider in this culture), but he does focus on developing the conversation around “travelers” who descend on these countries and attempt to integrate, showing that even the most dedicated of individuals will always be perceived as well-meaning cultural parvenus, lacking the experience to truly understand all the cultural nuances of a country and its people.

One of the reasons for A Traveler’s Needs being one of Hong’s more high-profile works in recent years (despite being neither a formal nor narrative departure from his usual films) is because it features a reunion between the director and Isabelle Huppert, who had previously worked with one another nearly a decade ago in Claire’s Camera and Another Country, two absolutely stunning, poignant character studies that centre on a similar subject – a woman finds herself in a foreign country (in the case of Claire’s Country, Huppert was the native to Kim Min-hee’s tourist, an inversion of the other two films) and tries to assimilate into the local community, with mixed results. Huppert is quite simply one of the greatest performers to ever work in the medium, and while the last decade has been filled with a few more questionable choices than usual, she is nonetheless always willing to push herself when the material is strong and she is working with a director who understands how to use her as an actor, which is certainly the case for her collaborations with Hong, who is one of the rare filmmakers who has been able to wholeheartedly harness her skills, reworking them to fit into his visual and thematic repertoire. This film is essential solely because it allows Huppert to play a simpler character, considering she has come to be known for her intense, often overly emotional style of acting. It’s wonderful whenever we see her playing a lighter and more effervescent role. She’s wonderful in this film, and while most of it does consist of conversations (the contents of which are not particularly important – its the discussions between other characters that have the more emotional weight, whereas Huppert engages in more trivial conversations), interspersed with sequences in which she engages with the culture – eating bibimbap, drinking makgeolli and generally taking in her surroundings – she’s nonetheless fantastic. The same can be said for Lee Hye-young and Kwon Hae-hyo, who are both wonderful, even if they do become secondary to Huppert’s mighty, heartfelt performance that is both intricate and poetic in different ways.

More than anything relating to the themes of his work, Hong’s primary approach to telling his stories is to employ a consistent sense of simplicity, choosing to focus on more intimate, subtle examinations of the themes that fascinate him, and building films from quite simple and intricately woven ideas. In the case of A Traveler’s Need, we don’t see much deviation from his previous work – its a series of conversations between different characters, usually filmed in a single take (his tendency to keep the camera quite static has often drawn favourable comparisons to the work of Yasujirō Ozu, who was also a master of simple, evocative depictions of the human condition and daily life), and where the focus is less on the visual component, but rather the dialogue and their contents. The core of the film is essentially about focusing on the simple art of human interactions – and for those who are more agnostic towards a model of cinema in which a director takes their time, crafting simple and slow-paced explorations of certain topics, A Traveler’s Needs is not going to do too much to persuade otherwise. However, for those who find value in his style of storytelling, the film is masterful – he once again vividly captures a striking version of Seoul, the one that is only known to the natives and people who have chosen it as their home. There are long stretches of silence in between conversations, and the film simply allows its characters to wander. It’s a slightly more humorous work, and while it is not outrageously funny at any point, it is still very much driven by a sense of lighthearted curiosity, following these characters as they get to know one another, their personal existential quandaries being set to the side as they exchange pleasantries. More than anything else, A Traveler’s Needs relies primarily on human emotions – there are aspects of the film that feel much deeper and more profound than anything else we could imagine, yet it is never heavy-handed, focusing more on nuance than overt eruptions of emotion. It’s a deeply compelling work, and one that is fine to move at quite a glacial pace, quietly but forcefully exploring its underlying themes with an abundance of tact and elegance.

While we can sometimes agree with the sentiment that once you have seen a few Hong films, you’ve essentially seen them all – they’re often structured in similar ways and tackle familiar themes, and with the exception of specific scenarios and the conversations contained within, there isn’t much deviation. Yet, this is quite a superficial way to look at his expansive body of work, and as time has progressed, he’s continued to deliver stellar work, settling into his niche and striving to tell the stories that fascinate him. The results speak for themselves, and while I doubt anyone will consider A Traveler’s Needs anywhere close to his best film, it is yet another entry into a well-crafted body of work that continues to challenge conventions in quiet, resilient ways. The film is very simple, but it has an emotional heft to it that is quite difficult to ignore, and the overall experience does prove to be a lot more positive and engaging than a lot of us would maybe expect. It’s a poignant exploration of culture and how it is perceived by both outsiders and natives, coming to question the concept of ‘travelers’ – which refers to both those who physically engage in the act of travelling, and those who are on a more spiritual existential voyage. A wonderful entry into Hong’s already impressive body of work, buttressed by stellar performances, strong writing and a sense of intimacy and quiet poetry, A Traveler’s Need is a wholeheartedly delightful and heartfelt work that once again proves that Hong is truly one of our greatest contemporary storytellers.