In this blog post, we’ll analyze how director Lee Jeong-hyang’s ‘Art Museum by the Zoo’ (1998) uses its characters, narrative, and cinematic frames and devices to depict a love that blossoms gradually.

Film Overview

Title: ‘Art Museum by the Zoo’ (1998) Director/Screenplay: Lee Jeong-hyang Starring: Ahn Sung-ki, Shim Eun-ha, Lee Sung-jae, Song Sun-mi Runtime: 108 minutes Production Company: Cine 2000 Distributor: Cinema Service

Introduction…

I always thought love was something you plunged into headfirst from the very beginning; I never knew it could seep in so gradually…
Fall has arrived. When I think of fall, fallen leaves, reading, and a cup of coffee naturally come to mind. And one more thing—it’s also the season when you want to meet someone you love. In this autumn when we tend to become more emotional and long for someone, I recommend a movie that fits the season perfectly: ‘The Zoo Next to the Art Museum’. I hope you’ll find plenty of vicarious satisfaction within the film’s fantasy…

Why This Movie?

My philosophy on movies is that they must, first and foremost, be entertaining and keep the audience engrossed from start to finish. I prefer films that entertain the audience—like a lighthearted romantic comedy—over films by directors who prioritized realism by avoiding fabrication and distortion of reality, or minimalist films where the runtime matches the time depicted on screen. Of course, the intellectual stimulation and cinematic pleasure offered by the works of master filmmakers are immense, but based on my personal preference, this film satisfied me.
I first saw this film, ‘The Zoo Next to the Art Museum’, during my high school days. It captivated me with its emotionally resonant dialogue, the delicate portrayal of emotions characteristic of a female director, the meticulous use of props, Shim Eun-ha’s charm as the shy yet down-to-earth Chun-hee, Lee Sung-jae’s steady presence throughout, the bright and sophisticated tone and sense of humor that permeate the entire film, and the romantic comedy-style back-and-forth between the leads—all served as more than enough reasons for me to love this film. The happy ending, the actual images of the art museum and zoo set in Gwacheon, and the music that perfectly complements the film’s tone are all elements that leave me feeling uplifted.

Narrative

Chun-hee writes a screenplay while filming a wedding video. She develops a crush on In-gong, a legislative aide she meets at the wedding venue, and uses the screenplay to write about her unrequited love. Chun-hee, who likes to view the world through a square frame, constructs her idea of love within that same square framework.
Cheol-su is a soldier who has been granted a ten-day leave and stops by his girlfriend’s house. After being told by his girlfriend, Da-hye, that she wants to break up, Cheol-su begins a strange ten-day cohabitation in Chun-hee’s room—which used to be Da-hye’s. Heartbroken upon hearing the news of Da-hye’s engagement, Cheol-su heads to Gwacheon with Chun-hee; however, Cheol-su, who intended to go to the zoo, and Chun-hee, who thought they were going to the art museum, were on different pages from the very beginning.
Once inside Chun-hee’s room, Cheol-su finds himself helping her with her screenplay and becoming involved in its content. The title of the screenplay becomes the same as that of the film, and the characters in the screenplay are In-gong and Da-hye. As Chun-hee depicts her unrequited love for In-gong—who appears as Da-hye—the character who was initially In-gong, the aide, gradually transforms into Cheol-su. Da-hye, who has high expectations but doesn’t ask for anything; In-gong, who wants nothing.

Chun-hee, who hopes for love but doesn’t know what to do, and Cheol-su, who doesn’t believe in love. Their differing views on love are clearly evident in the conflicts between them. However, as they work together on the script, they see different sides of each other and realize they are gradually growing closer.

Characters in the Movie

The Two Main Characters

Han Cheol-su: A 27-year-old man currently serving in the military, he has a bold and proactive personality. He is also a man with a thick skin who speaks informally to his landlady, Chun-hee, from the very beginning and insists on using her bed. Furthermore, he is a versatile man who likes things organized and neat and is a good cook. He struggles to express his true feelings to women or treat them tenderly; he is an impatient type who tends to be pushy rather than kind to others. He dislikes music, is skilled with computers, and is always drinking beer.
Lee Chun-hee: A 26-year-old video camerawoman who is plain and a bit awkward. She is lazy, passive, and has a dreamy side. She doesn’t clean well, hates doing laundry—so much so that she doesn’t even wear socks—and can’t cook. When it comes to unrequited love, she hopes and dreams, but in reality, she can’t express her feelings. As an aspiring screenwriter, she visualizes impossible-in-reality love stories within her own screenplays. She loves music, is clumsy with computers, and drinks water constantly.

A Screwball Comedy Character

The two contrasting characters in ‘The Zoo Next to the Art Museum’ represent a classic screwball comedy setup. The structure—in which two protagonists with diametrically opposed personalities meet, bicker constantly, and gradually fall in love—is a staple of romantic comedies. Cheol-su hates music and is very organized, while Chun-hee loves music and is messy. Cheol-su believes that sexual experience helps in a relationship, while Chun-hee believes the opposite. Their conflicts and eventual union can be interpreted as cultural differences and class conflict, but the film resolves these by unifying them and sublimating them into love by the end.
Another screwball element is that their relationship begins with neither viewing the other as a sexual object. Unlike other comedies, this film does not focus primarily on sexual intimacy but rather on getting to know each other through emotional communication. This makes it possible for a man and a woman who are strangers to live together, allowing the film to transcend the limitations of melodramatic romance.
3. The Space That Connects the Opposing Characters
The first is Chun-hee’s apartment. Cheol-su, who moved in without realizing his ex-girlfriend had already moved out; the unique circumstances of his military leave; the familiarity of a space he once shared with his ex; the accidental payment of the monthly rent; a man who doesn’t view her as a woman; and Chun-hee’s indecisive—and perhaps innocent—nature, which leads her to let a stranger stay with her—all these factors combine to make their ten-day cohabitation possible. In this cramped space, these two very different people are bound to clash.
The second is the space within the screenplay. Cheol-su types the screenplay for Chun-hee, who is writing it, and by intervening in the content, they indirectly reveal their inner thoughts to each other. It becomes a virtual space where they realize their love through the characters In-gong and Da-hye in the screenplay. In the latter half, reality and scenes from the screenplay—that is, the film and the film-within-a-film—overlap; this is a device signaling that the emotions accumulated over time have merged with the characters in the screenplay. The two characters, represented by the art museum and the zoo, ultimately pass each other by in the final scene, journey to each other’s places, and enter each other’s hearts.

The Film Within a Film and the Frame

Scenes related to frames appear frequently throughout the film. Examples include the scene where Chun-hee draws a frame with her hand and says, “When you do it like this, everything seems to have meaning”; the line describing the art museum as “like a landscape seen through a square window frame”; the scene where Da-hye from the screenplay steps into the painting inside a frame; and the view of the protagonist seen through a window frame.

Furthermore, Chun-hee, a video camera operator, frames In-gong—the aide she has a crush on—within the camera’s viewfinder, and later in the film, Cheol-su also captures Chun-hee on camera.
These frame-related scenes are closely tied to the film’s frame-within-a-frame structure—that is, the “film-within-a-film” device. The film-within-a-film creates a space even more fictional than the reality we see, serving as a device that explicitly reveals hope and aspirations. It also serves as a space where the two conflicting characters find common ground. When Chun-hee questions the plausibility of the screenplay, Cheol-su replies, “Well, it’s just a movie.” This is a moment where the director reveals the film’s fictional illusion while injecting humor. Ultimately, through the vicarious satisfaction offered by the screenplay’s world, the slim chances of a relationship between In-gong and Da-hye, as well as between Cheol-su and Chun-hee, are smoothly overcome.

The First 5 Minutes of the Film

The film opens in black and white through the lens of Chun-hee’s camera. The scene captures the aide Chun-hee admires, with an insert showing text resembling a screenplay on a computer monitor. Chun-hee’s voice-over states, “He still doesn’t know I exist,” and as the text scrolls slowly, the scene transitions into a humorous moment before the shot changes.
The congressman and his aides, walking out in a hurry, get into the elevator. Chun-hee, holding a video camera, barely squeezes in through the closing doors, but is ultimately left behind in a comical turn of events. After asking the minister for a kind word and being turned down, the conversation unfolds as follows. Aide: (About to get off) I’m sorry. (Steps out with a very friendly expression and tone) Chun-hee: (Urgently) Excuse me, over here… (As she calls out to the aide, a young aide standing nearby turns around) Chun-hee: (To the young aide) Are you… married? Young Aide: Huh? (Chun-hee shyly hands him a business card) Chun-hee: Um, over here… Young Aide: (Glancing at the business card) Oh, a wedding video! I don’t need one… (Handing the card to the aide walking ahead) I think your senior might need this? Chun-hee: (Her face lighting up, she bows deeply at their backs) I’ll do my best! The closing elevator doors separate the two, and at the same time, the upbeat music ends. As the credits fade in, the slightly melancholic black-and-white opening gives way to the revelation of her single status and the upbeat music, immediately setting the tone for the film.
Through this brief opening, the audience gets a sense of Chun-hee’s personality and her relationship with the aides, while the upbeat music foreshadows the tone of the entire film.

The scene where Cheol-su pleads with Da-hye over the phone

The brief scene where Cheol-su pleads with Da-hye over the phone is one of my favorite scenes in this movie. It convincingly reveals the vulnerable emotions of Cheol-su—a character who usually appears strong—when he’s alone.
The conversation goes as follows: Cheol-su: It’s me. (Desperately) Don’t hang up, please. Let’s meet just one more time. “Tomorrow, I’ll wait for you at the café in front of the school where we always go. What time would you like? (Pause) No, I’ll wait. I’ll wait until you come.” In his excitement, a beer can falls to the floor. As if the call has ended, he slowly lowers the receiver and sighs.
Although we only see Cheol-su from behind and he doesn’t cry out loud, the scene of him sitting in a darkened room, sighing, and the fallen beer can effectively conveys his desolate state of mind. In particular, the sight of the beer can spilling as the call ends symbolizes his predicament, much like “spilled milk.”

Metaphorical Dialogue on Marriage

In Da-hye’s monologue in the screenplay, there is a line that reads, “You cannot experiment with the universe. You can only observe it…” Chun-hee’s dialogue in front of the shoe store is expressed as follows: “The new shoes I once wanted so badly are comfortable when I wear them, but they look shabby.”
One film critic analyzed this scene as embodying a female director’s yearning for and reflection on the institution of marriage. Here, Da-hye’s dialogue is directly linked to Chun-hee’s psychology. The feeling of feeling shabby about what one actually possesses—even though one can only observe it—reveals both Da-hye’s character in the screenplay—who has many aspirations but few actual desires—and Chun-hee’s passive and insecure mindset.

The Road in Front of the Zoo

In the evening, as In-gong’s car breaks down on his way home from work, leaving him in a bind, the story shifts to a forest path. In-gong is sitting sideways in the back seat next to Da-hye, and the two are feeling a bit awkward. Da-hye looks up at the night sky searching for stars, but when she can’t see them clearly, she tilts her head in confusion.
In-gong: (Gently) The full moon is out, so it’s hard to see the stars… If a taxi passes by, I’ll take it. – Dissolve. In the next scene, In-gong is sitting properly, and a wider view of the night sky is shown than before. The full moon is also high in the sky. In-gong: …You have such a beautiful name, Da-hye… (Da-hye is startled, and the bike wobbles.) Da-hye: … You’re cool too… In-gong… – dissolve The two look even more affectionate. This time, In-gong is riding the bike, and Da-hye is sitting next to him, holding onto his waist. In-gong: (smiling at her unexpected words) …You know what? Da-hye, that was the first time you expressed your own thoughts. You didn’t say, “Someone told me,” or “They said this or that.” Da-hye: (Though she didn’t look at him) You know what? In-gong, you smiled for the first time.
This is the scene where In-gong and Da-hye connect for the first time. They gradually move away from Da-hye’s one-sided love, and their relationship slowly develops. The change where In-gong, who had been passively riding in the back, moves to the front and starts riding the bike marks the beginning of their romance and also symbolizes the man taking the lead. Furthermore, as this storyline unfolds, the film’s other couple—Cheol-su and Da-hye—also begin to develop feelings for each other and gradually grow closer. Chun-hee’s soliloquy—“I always thought love was something you plunged into headfirst; I never knew it could seep in so slowly”—captures that transformation in a nutshell.
These changes are revealed through small details. The scene where Chun-hee puts on her socks, the fact that she no longer lets out a scream when faced with food, her line about not taking a steam bath before meeting her aide, and Cheol-su’s remark that a red coat suits Chun-hee—all of these demonstrate how the characters’ psychology and the evolution of their love are subtly expressed.

Because she is a female director

While there is no stereotype that “female directors must be like this,” there are elements that a female director can express more effectively, as well as charms that stand out in the film. In Director Lee Jeong-hyang’s case, her delicate and cartoonish direction is woven throughout the film, helping to maintain its overall tone.
She offers a fresh take on a story about a man and a woman meeting for the first time—a premise that could easily veer into the childish or tacky—and guides the two characters, who have failed at love, with just the right amount of humor, striking a balance that is neither too dark nor too light. The charming way she uses Chun-hee’s small home, as well as the wit in utilizing props like toilet paper rolls, coats, umbrellas, and cups, is particularly striking. For example, the scene where Cheol-su reveals his familiarity with the space by looking at an open drawer and saying, “You have to push this in after taking out the top and bottom items so it all fits,” is a prime example.
Furthermore, the characters and dialogue were crafted to resonate with a female audience. Chun-hee’s complaint that “I get a lot of work when I’m on my period,” the peculiar expression she makes while listening to Cheol-su’s urination sounds, the way she lets out a shriek when faced with her favorite food, and the detailed depiction of her spinning a cup and saying, “I drank from this side”—these can all be considered distinctly feminine touches.

In Conclusion…

The greatest virtue of ‘The Zoo Next to the Art Museum’ is the freshness found within the ordinary. Unlike films that immediately grab attention with unconventional subject matter or those that rely on flashy mise-en-scène and dazzling editing, this film makes ordinary, everyday stories feel fresh through its unique sense of humor and unpretentious direction.
What stands out most in this approach is the freshness and relatability that stem from her meticulous direction. Just as renowned female directors abroad weave their personal experiences into romantic narratives, Director Lee Jeong-hyang conveys realistic and vivid emotions. Not only in ‘The Zoo Next to the Art Museum’ but also in her other works, the director’s emotional touch—even when it may seem somewhat contrived at times—possesses the power to resonate with audiences.
The director’s creativity does not lie in inventing something entirely new, but in discovering and revealing elements that are familiar to everyone yet often go unnoticed. Her films are like a glass of sujeonggwa—more authentic than a fizzy cola and more flavorful than bland rice water—and we eagerly await Director Lee Jeong-hyang’s next project.