In this blog post, I’ll examine how the film “Sunny” portrays personal identity, the role of family, the pain of reality, and the use of money to solve problems—all beneath the surface of the nostalgia and friendship it depicts.
Everyone has memories of the past. And I think “Sunny” is exactly the kind of movie that brings those memories back to mind. Watching this movie, I found myself smiling at the sight of the characters, who remind me of the good old days, and I felt a warm sense of connection seeing how the friends care for one another. However, even as I smiled, a sense of unease lingered in the back of my mind. By the end of the film, I even found myself thinking it was a bit absurd. What was it about this movie—which seemed to flow in a warm and cheerful manner—that made me feel this way?
In the early part of the film, ‘Sunny’ appears to be a movie that challenges the long-established stereotypes surrounding the role of “mother.” The protagonist, Im Na-mi, who lives in an ordinary household with an indifferent husband and a teenage daughter, feels a vague, inexplicable emptiness in her daily life. As if trying to escape that emptiness, she reminisces about the past and, upon reuniting with her longtime friend Chun-hwa, revisits the days she had long since forgotten. Through this process, Im Na-mi attempts to break free from her current role as someone’s “mother” or “wife” and reclaim the “self” she once was. So, was Im Na-mi truly able to reclaim her true self through the past that comes alive in the film? And was she actually able to escape her present emptiness through these recollections of the past?
The past depicted in the film is set against the backdrop of Seoul in the mid-1980s and the culture of high school girls. By showing the new school, friends, fashions, and youth culture of the time through the eyes of Im Na-mi—who transferred to Seoul from another region—the film allows even viewers who did not personally experience that era to naturally immerse themselves in the atmosphere of the past. Trendy items of the time—such as “Prospex” sneakers—along with a focus on appearance and the group culture of friends known as the “Seven Princesses,” appear as symbols that capture the era’s atmosphere. However, rather than being personal memories newly discovered in ‘Sunny’, these elements are familiar images that have long been repeatedly used in popular culture to represent that era. Consequently, I found myself wondering whether it is truly possible to uncover the authentic essence of an “individual” like Im Na-mi through such popular and universalized images of the past. In the film, the past of Im Na-mi and her six friends feels less like concrete, intimate memories through which an individual reclaims her identity, and more like a narrative constructed to present the era exactly as the audience wishes to see it. The portrayal of the past centered on the group known as the “Seven Princesses” also seems closer to a popular, universalized memory—one that people find interesting—rather than a representation of everyone who actually lived through that era. Ultimately, Im Na-mi’s “past” appeared to be a past reconstructed to meet public expectations, rather than one that fully represents the history of Im Na-mi as an individual. Therefore, given that the self she rediscovers by recalling this past inevitably boils down to the image the public desires and is accustomed to, I was left with a bittersweet feeling that Im Na-mi, as an “individual,” seemed to have vanished within the vast collective memory of the “public.”
One of the key reasons why Im Na-mi, as a “mother,” recalls the past is likely to reclaim the part of herself she has lost through those memories. However, Im Na-mi’s past—filled with the images the public expects—fails to have a decisive impact on her search for her true self. At the beginning of the film, we see how hollow Im Na-mi’s life feels, having devoted so much of herself to her family—a financially secure husband and a beloved daughter—and as she reminisces about the past, she appears to be trying to change that hollow reality.
Yet as the film progresses, what Im Na-mi discovers is not that she must have serious conversations with her husband or daughter to explain her own desires, redefine her role within the family, or—if necessary—actively break away from her existing lifestyle in order to escape her current sense of emptiness. Rather, she reaffirms the fact that she is a member of a stable family with a financially secure husband and a daughter she must protect. Ultimately, in the film, the past serves not as a catalyst for fundamentally transforming the present, but rather as a device to briefly refresh her tedious daily routine and restore her satisfaction with her current life. The present life she regains through a past filled with the image the public expects is also highly likely to ultimately revert to the role of a “good wife and good mother” that society readily accepts. It is disappointing that, while the film initially began as a story of breaking free from the traditional role of a mother to find herself as an individual, it ultimately returns to reaffirming her place within her existing family.
Furthermore, after a series of lighthearted events, the film’s conclusion seems to suggest that all current problems have been resolved. However, the issues the film addresses largely remain superficial, and it concludes by presenting the audience with a glamorous and emotionally stirring fantasy. There is a relative lack of serious examination into the pain the friends—who have reunited in reality—have carried throughout their lives and the life circumstances that gave rise to that pain. It also gives the impression that the pain and wounds they’ve endured for so long are being brushed aside as if they no longer matter. Furthermore, the way the friends behave after their reunion feels less like a process of jointly grappling with and resolving serious real-world problems, and more like a brief return to laughter as they rekindle joyful memories from the past amidst their difficult circumstances. Of course, I can fully empathize with the idea that memories of the past and reunions with friends can provide the strength to endure reality. However, what bothered me most was that, rather than the friends deeply understanding each other’s pain, communicating, and working through their problems together, the story ultimately concludes with “money” solving various practical problems far too easily. One of the reasons Im Na-mi was able to help her friends—unlike in the past—was her financial stability. She was able to locate friends she had lost touch with long ago relatively easily by using a private investigation agency, and she was able to provide financial assistance to a friend working at a bar to make ends meet—all because she possessed considerable financial resources. This materialistic approach to problem-solving is brought to a climax in the film’s most spectacular and moving scene. This is because, at Chun-hwa’s funeral, the estate she left behind is presented as a means to resolve all of her friends’ practical problems at once. If problems can be solved so simply, what then becomes of the tears shed by Im Na-mi and her friends throughout the film, and the long-endured suffering they have endured? And can we truly say that all the problems they faced have been resolved in this manner? Chun-hwa’s decision to use money to resolve her friends’ hardships, and the friends’ joy at having all their problems seemingly solved through her help, can be seen as a touching expression of friendship. However, on the other hand, it feels like an ending that oversimplifies the complexities of real life. The premise—that by leaving more to the friend facing financial hardship and sharing less with the friend who is relatively well-off, they can restore the relationship they once had when they were equal and happy without a care in the world—is also difficult to view as a way that sufficiently reflects the changes and growth the friends have undergone over the years. What comfort can an ending—in which they can now live as happily as they did in the past, despite having experienced countless difficulties and suffering in their respective lives over the years—truly offer to people living in the present? Moreover, the fact that “money” is the decisive means of returning to that happiness only amplified my aversion to the ending and even left me feeling bewildered as I watched the film’s conclusion.
If that’s the case, why did the protagonist, Im Na-mi, travel back through time to reunite with her six friends? In the film, her past seems to exist less as a means to fundamentally transform her difficult present and more as a beautiful, joyful memory meant to be shown to the audience. It even makes one wonder if the joyful flashbacks in ‘Sunny’—and the images of her high school days when she used to play without a care in the world—are consumed as even more beautiful and safe memories precisely because the present-day Im Na-mi lives as a “mom” devoted to her family. It seems that the carefree spirit of the past is permitted only to the extent that it does not disrupt her present life. Furthermore, “money”—which appears almost like an omnipotent force at the film’s conclusion—actually weakens the friendship among the “Sunny” group. If the film had centered on the process of the friends reuniting after a long time, understanding each other’s wounds, and mending their relationships, their friendship could have carried a deeper meaning. However, as practical problems are quickly resolved through immense financial power, the friends’ relationships and life issues are also resolved in an overly simplistic manner. Therefore, even though “Sunny” clearly features many beautiful and delightful scenes, it was difficult to view it as merely a beautiful and delightful film. Because of the discomfort stemming from the personal identities and roles of family that linger behind the laughter, memories, and friendship—as well as the pain of reality and the ending resolved by money—a bittersweet aftertaste remained that made it hard to simply laugh it off even after the movie ended.
