In this blog post, I’d like to discuss the lingering impact of restrained love and separation, the relationship between Jeong-won and Dal-im, the film’s perspective on life and death, and the emotional resonance created by the cinematography and visual style, all through the lens of Director Heo Jin-ho’s film ‘Christmas in August’.

I love quiet romantic dramas

I prefer quiet romantic dramas to flashy action movies. I even like the third-rate romantic dramas that others dismiss as trivial. I love that ache—that tingling sensation in the corner of my heart—that lingers after watching a movie. After watching such a film, the face of the person next to me takes on a new light, and memories of those who once stayed by my side come flooding back. It feels as though I can once again sense the places, smells, and even the sounds intertwined with those memories. That’s why I love romantic movies.
Among them, I especially love Asian romantic films. I prefer the quiet, lingering romantic movies from Japan or Korea to Hollywood films that revolve around the characters’ chaotic romantic escapades. For me, the appeal of romantic movies lies precisely in that lingering aftertaste. The lingering feelings about life, love, and parting are what keep me constantly seeking out romantic movies. Whether it’s a comedy or a tragedy doesn’t matter. If it’s a comedy, I can feel happy watching the protagonist find joy and resolve to myself, “I want to experience that kind of love, too.” Conversely, if it’s a tragic story, I can cry my heart out, reminisce about past loves and cry some more, and then take a refreshing sip of soju.
I love ‘Christmas in August’. It’s one of my favorite romantic films. That said, I don’t consider it the best movie of my life. It’s just a film I find myself rewatching every now and then, just when I’m about to forget it—and each time, it feels fresh, yet it still hurts. Rather than calling it the “best movie,” it would be more appropriate to call it the film that will stay with me the longest. I love the film’s calmness and simplicity. It doesn’t showcase the fiery passion of lovers who are one of a kind in the world, nor does it feature the flashy, fast-paced plot development of other movies. It doesn’t even use fantastic computer graphics. Yet, it lingers in my memory far longer than those other films and continues to tug at my heartstrings.
Perhaps I liked it even more because it portrayed their growing feelings for each other—their gradual attempts to draw closer, and their shyness—with restraint rather than exaggeration. Exaggeration always makes me feel on edge. Even though I know it’s a movie, I find myself constantly doubting and dismissing it, thinking things like, “Do people like that really exist?”, “That’s amazing!”, or “Come on, that’s ridiculous!” On the other hand, restrained expression can feel so ordinary that it’s a bit boring or even disappointing—making me wonder, “What’s the point?” But it undeniably has the power to draw me naturally into the film.
In the winter of 1998, when I was in the throes of senior year stress and the excitement of youth, I watched ‘Christmas in August’. And that movie still lives on in my memory to this day.

You leave behind a love that is sad even without tears

Which is the true sensibility of our time: tears or death? Following Director Lee Jeong-guk’s ‘Letter’, Director Hur Jin-ho’s ‘Christmas in August’, released just before the Lunar New Year in 1998, also centers on tears and death. Death always comes first, and tears are the lot of those of us who remain alive. But is there really no tears in ‘Christmas in August’? I don’t think so.
The film’s foundation remains firmly rooted in melodrama. Of course, it deals with life and death, but to me, this film is less a work centered on reflections on death or contemplations of life, and more a melodrama depicting an impossible love. Please don’t misunderstand me. I do not consider melodrama to be a clichéd genre. Perhaps it’s precisely because of the strengths of ‘Christmas in August’ that I feel the urge to rescue this film from the countless failures that fall under the label of “melodrama.” However, there’s no need to shy away from the fact that this is a well-made melodrama. I can’t understand why people insist it isn’t a melodrama when it’s so obviously one.
The plot is very typical. Jeong-won (Han Seok-gyu), a photographer who runs a studio in his neighborhood, is suffering from an incurable illness and awaiting death. The specific nature of his illness is never clearly revealed, even until the very end. One day, Dal-im (Shim Eun-ha), a parking enforcement officer, visits the studio to drop off photos of illegally parked cars. As she drops off and picks up photos several times, the two grow close. They go on a few casual dates, and Dal-im falls in love with Jeong-won. However, Jeong-won is rushed to the hospital, and Dal-im visits the closed photo studio time and time again. Eventually, Jeong-won passes away. One snowy winter day, Dal-im discovers a photo of herself hanging in the studio and smiles.
Perhaps Dal-im was like a Christmas present that arrived in August for Jeong-won. Summer passes silently, and the time left for the two of them slips away as fleetingly as sand. Yet I do not believe the theme of this film is time. Occasionally, Jeong-won’s fear of death and regret about life do surface. We catch glimpses of restrained sentimentality in scenes such as when she confides her feelings to a friend using a metaphor, when she weeps drunkenly at the police station, when her grandmother tries to take a prettier photo of her, and when she teaches her father how to operate a VCR. However, it doesn’t go any further than that. Rather than restraint, these expressions seem more like a careful consideration not to disrupt the romance between Jeong-won and Darim.
This impression is further reinforced by the fact that Darim doesn’t undergo any significant changes even after meeting Jeong-won. She simply remains the beautiful Darim she always was. Although she mentions having five siblings, not a single family member appears in the film—she seems almost like an orphan. Dal-im is a woman who appears before Jeong-won like an angel, and in the end, she leaves his side seemingly unscathed. Perhaps Jeong-won did not want to hurt that angel. Yet this beautiful and self-sacrificing love remains in the film not as a lesson to be learned, but simply as a beautiful love story.
No one cries, yet we find ourselves immersed in a sense of sadness. However, that sadness does not come with anxiety about our own existence. It is a sense of regret over a fated love that could not be fulfilled. Director Heo Jin-ho follows that regret without any exaggeration. That said, it does not mean that only auteur films deserve high praise. There’s no need to force the label of “auteur film” onto a work just to evaluate it. In fact, such an attempt might end up shrouding all the beautiful aspects of ‘Christmas in August’ under the dark cloak of death.
This film is a lovely melodrama that embraces us as we navigate these times of economic hardship. I hope we don’t exaggerate it any further.

We Contemplate Love and Death Within Restrained Frames

If we first examine the basic structure that gives the film its consistency, we can see that the camera is used in a steady manner, befitting the theme of viewing life, death, and love as natural parts of everyday life. For the most part, a stationary camera is used, and even the occasional panning shot moves so subtly that the audience barely notices it. The director’s intent is also evident in the framing—which avoids close-ups as much as possible—and the bright, high-key lighting used throughout.
The idea of viewing love and death not as extraordinary events but as a natural extension of life is conveyed through bright visuals rather than through intense emotional expression or emotional immersion. This can be understood in the same context as the scene toward the end of the film where a smiling portrait of Jeong-won is shown. Furthermore, the camera always maintains a certain distance from the actors. This is a deliberate choice to allow the audience to contemplate life, death, and love through a sense of detachment that keeps emotions to a minimum. The reason for refraining from close-ups can also be explained from this perspective.
Consequently, we cannot shake the feeling that we are observing someone’s daily life rather than watching a movie. With this consistency running throughout the entire work—in other words, the existence of a unified world within a single film—’Christmas in August’ fully demonstrates its potential to be a successful work of art.
Another reason this film can be evaluated as possessing outstanding formal virtues is that it is not explanatory. While many Korean films to date have diminished their artistic integrity by using redundant expressions—re-explaining through dialogue or narration what is already shown on screen—’Christmas in August’ seeks to speak and explain through visuals rather than relying on dialogue to convey its message. It demonstrates a deep understanding of and effective utilization of the unique characteristics of the film medium.
This characteristic is also linked to the requirements of a successful work of art. For a work to be recognized as art, it must be sensitive to the unique characteristics and implicit expressive potential of its medium. In the case of film, these qualities are embodied in mise-en-scène, cinematography, and editing rather than dialogue. Reflecting on ‘Christmas in August’ with this in mind reveals the film’s various artistic possibilities.
One such possibility is the use of visual imagery for condensed expression. Examples include the scene where Dal-im deliberately breaks her promise to Jeong-won, her pacing in front of the photo studio, and her pretending to sleep even though she knows Jeong-won is watching her. The same applies to the scene where Jeong-won, overcome by fear of her impending death, buries her face in the blankets and sobs, or the scene where she reviews her life while looking through a photo album. The film does not spell out the emotions behind these scenes in detail. Even in the scene where Dal-im reads the letter she wrote to Jeong-won, the contents remain known only to the two of them.
This is also a way of subverting the conventions that cinema has relied on until now. It’s as if even the actors are putting on an act for the audience. This applies to the shyness at the onset of first love, the act of pretending not to care to hide one’s true feelings, and the reluctance to reveal emotions even in the face of impending death. Rather than having the characters’ inner thoughts explained to them point by point, the audience shares in their experiences and feels their emotions.
Among these moments, I find the scene where Dal-im and Jeong-won walk together in the rain, each trying to share their umbrella with the other, to be particularly outstanding. This scene is comparable to the dinner scene between the protagonist and his wife in director Hou Hsiao-hsien’s ‘City of Sadness’, which subtly conveys the couple’s love. This is because it fully conveys their feelings for one another without the need for grand confessions or dramatic actions.
This concise and suggestive narrative style compensates for the film’s simple story structure. ‘Christmas in August’ features a linear structure where the story unfolds in chronological order. While this could easily come across as overly simplistic, the film gains depth precisely from what is left unsaid—much like the effect of omission found in the negative space of traditional Asian painting. It is these omissions that make the film all the more precious.
Furthermore, the film has a weakness in that it can become somewhat tedious due to its use of a steady camera that remains almost stationary and maintains a certain distance from the protagonists. However, to overcome this, the film employs bold omissions in its editing, which in turn lends momentum to the film’s pacing.
For example, after a scene where Dal-im struggles to ask Jeong-won to go out with her and instead beats around the bush, the film cuts directly to a scene of the two riding a roller coaster together. Just as their love begins to blossom, we suddenly see Jeong-won being rushed to the hospital. Similarly, a photo of Jeong-won—taken while she was showing off and smiling—later reappears as her memorial portrait. These scene transitions eliminate unnecessary exposition while conveying the characters’ emotions and the story’s shifts with greater clarity. Perhaps the director wanted to express that love and death arrive in everyday life without warning.
In fact, though it may sound somewhat contradictory, ‘Christmas in August’ is also a highly explanatory film. The film both foreshadows the ending and shows the characters’ current situations in detail. However, rather than explaining these through direct dialogue, it conveys them through a process of symbolism—transforming situations and emotions that can be expressed in words into images.
Such symbolism is used throughout the film and gains meaning through rich visual expression. The unique experiences of the characters in the film are expanded, through the process of symbolization, into universal emotions that all viewers can relate to. This is also connected to the attainment of public relevance—one of the key criteria a successful work of art must possess.
Because ‘Christmas in August’ adopts a realist approach, each frame functions as a window through which to view the world. Therefore, rather than directly manipulating the audience’s emotions through editing techniques like montage, the film reveals the director’s worldview through mise-en-scène. Various cinematic devices, used so subtly that the audience may not easily notice them, operate as if they were accumulating one by one in the subconscious, even if not consciously perceived. And as these small emotions build up layer by layer, they create a deeper emotional impact within the film’s restrained expression.

That’s why small emotions resonate more deeply

For me, small emotions, small movements, and soft voices actually resonate more deeply. The hesitant gestures and the inability to easily express one’s feelings as characters reach out to one another feel all the more poignant and heartbreaking. Even without loud cries or declarations of love, the emotions contained within those small movements are conveyed fully. Perhaps this is because what remains unsaid can leave a deeper emotional impact than what is explicitly revealed.
The film’s overall narrative and visual composition draw out the small emotions I’ve kept hidden, one by one. The parts the characters leave unsaid bring back my own memories, and in their quiet gestures, I discover emotions I hadn’t yet managed to express. That’s why this film isn’t simply a love story. It makes me reflect on the time I’ve lived and the loves that have passed.
The slight sense of anticipation and the unfamiliar feeling evoked by the title ‘Christmas in August’ likely played a part in that experience as well. The title, which juxtaposes the summer month of August with the winter holiday of Christmas, leaves a peculiar aftertaste all on its own. Perhaps it was that sense of strangeness that allowed me to naturally immerse myself in the film, focus more intently on it, and ultimately draw the story within the film into my own life?