[Film Review] ‘Right Now, Wrong Then’ (2015)

Spoilers ahead.

A director and a painter walk into a cafe. And so begins Hong Sang-soo’s semi-autobiographical Right Now, Wrong Then (2015).

Image: Next Entertainment World.

People come and go, most of whom we are left largely unaffected by. But once in a blue moon — maybe once in a lifetime — a rare person comes along with whom you feel at peace, and with whom the invisible, yet tangible, bond forms, something that remains a part of you and shapes your future experiences and achievements. Sometimes the timing is right; sometimes the reality, which is at the same time heartbreaking and liberating, is that we have scant control over such things as who we get to meet and at what point in our lives.

The arguably semi-autobiographical Right Now, Wrong Then (2015) comes from the mind of esteemed South Korean screenwriter and director Hong Sang-soo.

Arriving a day early in Suwon for a screening of one of his films, filmmaker Ham Cheon-soo (Jung Jae-young) is left to wander about the city. Either by chance or design (the course of the film suggest the former), he crosses paths with a young painter by the name of Yoon Hee-jeong (Kim Min-hee). Having an inclination towards the opposite sex, he sparks a conversation with her. Soon, they go about their day together in typical Sang-soo fashion — walking around the city, drinking, and deepening their new-found connection, talking about this, that, and everything else.

From the get-go, Cheon-soo’s womanising ways are evident, as, though married, he showers Hee-jeong with a plethora of colourful and flirtatious compliments and copious sweet talk.

He invites her for coffee, where she, in turn, invites him to her studio to have a gander at her art. Later at dinner, having eaten, the table is littered with bottles of soju — the contents of which both have clearly enjoyed. In her altered state, Hee-jeong has managed to forget an earlier engagement to a party she was supposed to attend, and, not wanting to blow off the famous director, invites him to tag along for the semi-intimate affair.

Still from Right Now, Wrong Then. Image: Next Entertainment World.

At the party, Cheon-soo’s numerous escapades with women other than his wife are brought to light. This unsurprisingly causes a fair amount of distress for Hee-jeong, for, though it’s public knowledge, she seems to have been, up until that point, blissfully ignorant of his scandalous misadventures. Soon after, the two part ways and, one could assume, are never to see each other again.

Without context or with an easily distracted eye when it comes to subtitles, the beginning of the second part is liable to leave one a bit bewildered. The viewer is left wondering if the film they’ve spent an hour watching is faulty or perhaps some twisted joke, as the second part starts exactly as the first — at the same place, with the same people doing the same things.

It quickly becomes clear, however, that the air has changed. Something in this very familiar setting is different. As the second part moves on, it would be no mistake to interpret it as the same chain of events, but from the perspective of the other protagonist. As for which part is through the eyes of Cheon-soo and which is through those of Hee-jeong, it is left ambiguous — as is this whole analogy.

A change in perspective

The second part sees Cheon-soo as less of a suave-talking ladies’ man. We see him as seemingly less interested in winning over the girl. It also sees the conversation as more frank and, at parts, even more morose in nature.

The pair, however, go about the day in a similar pattern. They get coffee, and he goes to look at her art. At the restaurant, he confesses the sudden rush of love he feels for her, and drunkenly they agree that the ring he gives her is their engagement ring.

This time at the party, Hee-jeong’s friends are much more inviting and warm towards Cheon-soo. In an absurd turn of events, Cheon-soo passes out, after which he gets undressed in front of Hee-jeong’s friends with little to no context.

In familiar fashion, the following day is the film screening. This time, Hee-jeong actually shows up — the previous night not having reached the disastrous end that it did in the first part. Cheon-soo has to leave before the film begins, and Hee-jeong is left in the theatre, with a smile on her face. She watches the film of the director whose movies she had never actually seen before, but by whom — thanks to their meet-cute — the trajectory of her life is surely altered for good, even if only ever so slightly.

The same undoubtedly goes for Cheon-soo. It would not be hard to imagine him going on to dedicate the rest of his career towards implementing a part of her, or rather the part of him touched by her, into all his films. It’s something that just about everyone is sure to experience, whether realising it or not.

Maybe it’s a brief encounter, maybe a loving relationship that lasts a lifetime. In either case, the connection is ever-present and manifests itself in not everything you do, but in the things that matter.

Edited by Nicole Tilby.

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