In this blog post, we will examine in detail how Kim Geum-hwa’s personal history expands into a communal history and a narrative of healing through the film’s representational techniques and sequence structure.
Prologue
Film Information — Title: Man Shin / Genre: Documentary·Drama (Fantasy Documentary Drama) / Release Date: August 6, 2014 / Director: Park Chan-kyung / Cast: Kim Sae-ron, Ryu Hyun-kyung, Moon So-ri, Kim Geum-hwa (real-life figure).
Man Shin is a film that blends fiction with documentary-style reenactments to depict the life of the real-life shaman Kim Geum-hwa. Through the life of one individual, the film evokes Korea’s modern and contemporary history and its social wounds, portraying the shaman not merely as a figure of faith but as a source of comfort for humanity.
The plot outline is simple. A 14-year-old girl marries to escape conscription as a comfort woman, but after enduring harsh treatment at her in-laws’ home, she runs away and becomes a shaman. Amid spiritual possession, the suppression of superstition, the experiences of war and division, and social prejudice and exclusion, she grows into a figure who soothes the spirits and grievances of others through shamanic rituals.
The film attempts to expand the scope of her personal history by having multiple actors portray different stages of Kim Geum-hwa’s life, from the girl who received her spiritual calling to the middle-aged shaman. As scenes featuring the real-life Kim Geum-hwa herself alternate with reenactments, the audience comes to view a single person’s life within the flow of history.
On a personal note, I didn’t have much prior knowledge or curiosity about shamanism, but the portrayal of the shaman in the film changed my perspective. The shaman came across not merely as one who proves the existence of the gods, but as someone who comforts the living and soothes sorrowful spirits.
In particular, the sight of Kim Geum-hwa performing rituals for people in both the South and the North, and even for the victims of war, made her appear not as a mere professional but as a healer of the times. Unlike some shamans who create an atmosphere for economic gain or through exaggeration, Kim Geum-hwa focuses on soothing the wounds of Korean society.
This film made me rethink the meaning of art. My belief that art need not be flashy or the exclusive domain of the elite, but can originate from humble and sorrowful places, has grown even stronger. Furthermore, as someone interested in hybrid genres, this work—a blend of fantasy and documentary—proved to be a great inspiration.
After watching the film, I also visited the related exhibition, “Ghosts, Spies, Grandmothers.” The questions posed by ‘Mansin’ go beyond simply questioning the right or wrong of folk beliefs; they compel us to ask anew whose suffering society turns a blind eye to, and who should heal those wounds.
Sequence Analysis
The sequences in ‘Mansin’ possess multiple layers visually, semantically, and structurally. The surface-level sequence structure and the social and historical meanings the film seeks to convey are intertwined, allowing for a multi-layered interpretation.
Neomse — Meeting the Spirit: Set during the Japanese colonial period, 14-year-old “Neomse” (Kim Sae-ron) marries to escape conscription as a comfort woman, but after enduring severe abuse and hunger at her in-laws’ home, she flees back to her parents’ house. A strange child who could see what others could not and hear what others could not, Neomse spends her childhood suffering from a mysterious illness.
Saeman-shin — Receiving the Spirit: In 1948, a seventeen-year-old girl named “Geum-hwa” (Ryu Hyun-kyung) receives a divine possession and becomes a shaman. After the outbreak of the Korean War, she faces threats after being mistaken for a spy for both the South and the North, yet she continues to comfort the pain of the living and the dead.
Mansin — Living with the Gods: In the 1970s, a middle-aged “Geum-hwa” (Moon So-ri) makes a name for herself as a mansin, but she is persecuted and despised due to the Saemaul Movement’s “anti-superstition” policies. Despite the hardships of her life as a woman and a shaman, she never loses her dignity. By actively carving out her own space, she establishes herself as one of South Korea’s most prominent shamans.
The film then divides her life as a shaman into more detailed sequences, such as “Superstition,” “Ghosts,” and “The Shaman of Baewi.” Each sequence serves as both an individual’s memory and a historical snapshot of society revealed through that memory.
1. Reconstructions of Kim Geum-hwa’s memories featuring actors — ‘Mansin’ is a documentary that actively employs dramatic reenactments. The scenes reenacted by actors expand Kim Geum-hwa’s personal memories to provide emotional resonance for the audience, serving to transition from personal history to national memory.
2. Present-day Kim Geum-hwa — The present-day scenes, interwoven with the reenactments of memories, are presented with restraint, encouraging reflection on the era and its values rather than appealing to personal emotions. The juxtaposition of reenactment and the real person positions Kim Geum-hwa as a kind of “observer and legitimate guide,” allowing the audience to naturally accept the connection between fantasy and reality.
3. The History of South Korea as Seen Through Kim Geum-hwa’s Life — The film is not merely a biographical documentary. Kim Geum-hwa’s life encapsulates major issues in modern Korean history, including the Japanese colonial period, war, division, social prejudice, the suppression of shamanism, and her entry into the media following regime changes. Through this, the film fulfills a documentary role by using her personal story to expose and reflect on society.
In particular, the interview with novelist Hwang Sok-yong clearly reveals this socially critical nature. His remarks regarding the National Security Law may appear to be a single episode on the surface, but in reality, they point to the structural problems of an era in which even shamans had to fear state oppression and censorship. The paradox of the threats and oppression Kim Geum-hwa faced, contrasted with her relatively easy entry into the media following a change in government, reveals just how much an individual’s life is dictated by political power.
Structurally speaking, the entire film is composed like a single ‘ritual’. The director arranges the sequences of the shaman like the unfolding of a ritual, thereby refuting prejudices against folk beliefs and state and societal oppression in a clever and intense manner.
The interweaving of the shaman’s sequences blends representation and reality, the individual and the state, elevating Kim Geum-hwa to a certain ‘realm’. As a result, the audience is led to question not merely the life story of a shaman, but the wounds of our society and the possibility of their healing.
The Structure of the Shamanic Ritual and Audience Identification
For example, by placing footage of Kim Geum-hwa’s composed rebuttal immediately after footage of her being criticized, the audience is momentarily drawn into the critic’s perspective before returning to Kim Geum-hwa herself.
By repeatedly experiencing this editing technique, the audience undergoes a strange sensation, as if following the structure of a shamanic ritual itself. Just as in a ritual, the audience identifies with a specific character or situation, only to soon return to the character herself.
By excluding clichéd lines—such as “Your husband is having an affair, isn’t he?”—commonly heard in television dramas, the film seeks to reveal the significance and existence of Man-shin, a figure transcending the role of a mere shaman. In this way, Kim Geum-hwa becomes not merely a character, but a symbol of history and the repressed emotions of Korea.
Narrative Layers and Theatrical Devices
The film interweaves the reenactment of life, present-day existence, history as interpreted through Kim Geum-hwa, and recurring scenes from her childhood alongside those symbolizing the origins of the manseon. These elements are stacked like geological strata, creating a foundation as solid as the earth itself.
In particular, the scene of Kim Geum-hwa’s shamanic ritual unfolding on the boat is shown at length; its form and content are closer to Korean theater and play than to the shamanic rituals we typically imagine. Kim Geum-hwa memorizes her lines, acts with her counterpart, and provides the audience with a “spectacle.”
In this way, the commonalities between theater, film, and shamanic rituals are subtly revealed. These commonalities can be summarized as the complete fusion between the audience and the subject (the audience), the shaman (the actor), the theatricality staged from beginning to end, and the power to draw the audience from reality into a virtual world.
The Director’s Method of Revelation and Persuasion
In the film’s final ending sequence, the actor reveals that they were an actor, exposing the crew, the camera, and the filming set as they are. This “behind-the-scenes” sequence summarizes the film’s overall structure and conveys the intention to deliberately blur the boundaries between theatricality and shamanistic rituals.
Furthermore, the film does not simply shout, “Understand shamanism and modern history; cast aside your prejudices.” Instead, it employs a strategy of persuasion that naturally seeps into the audience’s consciousness by highlighting the similarities between the genre conventions prevalent throughout modern society and shamanistic rituals.
Audiovisual Devices and Historical Testimony
The director’s background as a media artist is evident throughout. Various visual techniques—such as the film poster, the title sequence, the colorful folk paintings featured in the film, and split screens—are actively employed. This appears to be an attempt to make the film accessible even to audiences who might feel averse to Buddhist thangkas or the vividly colored paintings found in shaman’s houses.
In particular, the animated scenes depicting shamanic deities add a unique touch of interest to the film’s overall dark atmosphere. The director’s transition from painting to media is also reflected in the sound design: hallucinatory sound effects resembling the buzzing of bees, shamanic chants used as background music, and upbeat tunes that periodically lighten the mood all contribute to a balanced audiovisual experience.
The parts where critical reflections on modern history stand out also begin with an emphasis on sound. War scenes, the Battle of Yeonpyeong, and the Cheonan incident are presented with the sound of exploding bombs and documentary-style color tones, highlighting the intersection between personal experiences and national events.
Furthermore, the active use of natural light—particularly sunlight—throughout the film resonates with the director’s warm perspective. Considering the context in which shamanism has expanded its scope as a folk culture, breaking free from taboos and prohibitions, the director portrays the shaman as a witness to modern history and a figure who performs a soul-soothing ritual for those who died without a name.
A notable narrative connection is drawn to the shamanic epic “Baridegi,” where a discarded character ultimately becomes the key to salvation; here, the quiet voices of the marginalized restore and purify a history that has been forgotten. The director’s choice of primordial light—such as sunlight—over artificial lighting evokes ancient reverence and fear of the sun, adding persuasive power that helps dispel prejudices against shamanism.
Final Reflection — We Are the Shamans
The film does not directly command or preach dogmatically to the audience. Instead, it evokes memories of various shocking events, such as the 2014 Sewol Ferry disaster, and shows that in a reality where no one else offers comfort, we have no choice but to comfort ourselves.
Kim Geum-hwa traveled the country to comfort grieving spirits and, at times, even rescued those possessed by spirits while abroad. Her role was not only to release the pent-up grief of the dead but also to soothe the pain of the living who witnessed the rituals.
The film does not place the shaman in the simple role of a religious figure. It emphasizes that, ultimately, as a performer on stage, the shaman must make the audience laugh and cry while capturing their attention.
The realization that a shaman must not only summon spirits but also draw the audience’s hearts into the performance was a fresh insight.
Ultimately, we are all shamans. In the wake of major tragedies like the Sewol ferry disaster, the task of remembering the dead and comforting the living falls to each of us. The film conveys a message that, in a reality where neither the government nor society offers comfort, we must become beings who comfort ourselves and soothe one another’s wounds.
