In this blog post, we will explore what the blurred focus in Hong Sang-soo’s ‘In Water’ symbolizes and analyze the film’s symbolic meaning.
A semiotic approach does not function properly when analyzing Hong Sang-soo’s films. This is because the numerous objects appearing in the film transform into symbols that imply specific metaphors. These objects appear repeatedly within the film, forming a cinematic rhythm. The form of rhythm Hong Sang-soo employs is not limited to the use of physical subjects. In his films, it is easy to see how compositional framing, music, and cinematic tools like panning and zooming function as alliteration. The alliterations in Hong Sang-soo’s films appear suddenly at unexpected moments, forming a peculiar rhythm before vanishing.
It feels quite natural that the camera focus in ‘In Water’ is a key element in analysis. Most shots in ‘In Water’ were filmed out of focus. The appearance of in-focus shots correlates with the appearance of music. From the film’s opening until its reappearance, all outdoor shots are out of focus, while all indoor shots are in focus. This rule, temporarily applied throughout the film, reverses just before the second appearance of music. However, the rule breaks again in the latter part of the film, leaving the screen out of focus until the very end.
Assuming focus is symbolic, one interpretation is that blurriness represents the clichés existing in the world. Seung-mo gains an insight upon seeing a carp swimming serenely within this blurriness. This shot indirectly represents the realization he finally achieves. Afterwards, Seung-mo, reborn as a carp, becomes able to observe Sang-guk and Nam-hee “from within the water.” Hong Sang-soo shows this through the opaque glass door separating Seung-mo, Sang-guk, and Nam-hee. Yet this realization is fleeting and futile, ultimately being swallowed back up by the world’s banality. This interpretation does not contradict the overall flow of the film. It also aligns with the values Hong Sang-soo has consistently revealed in his cinematic world, making it seem like a fairly reasonable development. Yet, it feels somewhat dubious to confidently assert this interpretation as rational. Other interpretations with a similar degree of logical plausibility come to mind far too easily. For instance, viewing the camera’s focus as the distance between the camera filming the screen and the reality seen by the audience, or as the gaze of an artist looking toward an uncertain future in a turbulent world, can yield equally persuasive interpretations. The perspective of viewing the focus in ‘In Water’ as the director’s intention carries an uncertainty similar to that felt in overly intellectual rhetoric attached to very simple contemporary art.
Moreover, this uncertainty creates moments where the audience’s interpretation transcends the director’s intent. Hong Sang-soo’s films do not impose fixed interpretations; rather, they encourage viewers to derive diverse interpretations based on their own experiences and knowledge. For instance, the out-of-focus scenes in ‘In Water’ can be perceived differently by each viewer. Some may interpret this as reflecting the world’s chaos, while others might see it as symbolizing the instability felt during an artist’s creative process. In this way, the audience’s subjective interpretation acts as an element completing the film, giving Hong Sang-soo’s films an open structure.
This freedom of interpretation is one of the key characteristics of contemporary art, and it is particularly prominent in Hong Sang-soo’s films. Rather than conveying a specific message, the process itself—where new meaning emerges through the audience’s interpretation—can be considered a form of art. In this regard, ‘In Water’ plays a crucial role in actively engaging the audience with the film.
Interpreting ‘In Water’ is akin to describing the shape of a constellation formed by a small number of stars. If Ursa Minor resembles a small bear, it is a small bear; if it resembles a ladle, it is a ladle. A minimalist film, composed of few elements from the outset, can be shaped into a sufficiently diverse text. When affirming this analogy, it is difficult to view the focus of ‘In Water’ as “any symbol” where a metaphorical object exists. ‘In Water’ is a film made of a few stars, functioning as a structure in itself. The focus serves as the structural central axis forming the film’s skeleton while simultaneously functioning as a symbol obscuring the audience’s view. This is likely why interpreting ‘In Water’ as a single text centered on focus feels questionable.
So how should we discuss the focus in ‘In Water’? If the camera’s focus is a fake symbol, like the zoom Hong Sang-soo always uses (which sometimes feels abrupt), is the blurred image in ‘In Water’ merely a sulky gesture Hong Sang-soo, losing his eyesight, threw at his own work? Focus feels distinct from zoom in that it evokes tangible cinematic emotion. In Hong Sang-soo’s films, zoom operates almost by free will, except in a few specific cases. It functions purely as a formal device.
In contrast, the focus in ‘In Water’ serves a purpose beyond mere formalism. After watching a shot where the focus drifts while observing a carp in water, one feels an emotion akin to witnessing someone who has gained insight. After seeing a shot where the rules of focus are reversed, one feels an emotion akin to witnessing someone who has transcended the mundane world. While it’s difficult to call it a symbol or device, paradoxically, within the film, it faithfully fulfills the role of a symbol. Focus is closer to the woman tying her shoelaces in ‘The Theatre’ or the Marlboro Red cigarette than to a sudden zoom. These elements, which seem to be read as text yet remain unread, creating artistic moments in the film that are pure emotion.
Hong Sang-soo successfully creates cinematic moments using just a few simple techniques. Returning to the constellation metaphor, Hong Sang-soo rejects films that resemble densely clustered stars forming a specific shape. Instead, he insists on films composed of scattered stars within the constellation space—films whose form is difficult to discern at a glance. Yet simultaneously, the film’s structure is a complete three-dimensional form, capable of revealing insights beyond the flat screen. Watching ‘In Water’ particularly evokes the painter Cézanne, whom he has publicly admired. This is because Cézanne painted minimalist still lifes using simple apples as subjects, and because he depicted apples with multiple focal points to reveal their essence within the material world. It’s as if “Cubism” has appeared on the film screen.
‘In Water’ concludes with a long take shot of Seungmo walking into the sea until he is submerged up to his head. Objects in the distance, viewed through an out-of-focus camera, grow fainter the farther away they are, making it difficult to discern where the submerged part ends. It is impossible to know for certain why Seung-mo entered the sea or what the final shot signifies. Yet, it seems self-evident that this shot, whose meaning remains elusive, could represent the director Hong Sang-soo.
