초록
Though Kim Ki-duk (Kim Kidŏk) has been most notorious as a filmmaker for his bleak and misogynistic imagination, most notably in The Isle (Sŏm), Address Unknown (Such’wiin pulmyŏng), Bad Guy (Nappŭn namja), The Coast Guard (Haeansŏn), and Samaritan Girl (Samaria), 3 Iron (Pinjip) seems rather a moderate and romantic love story. Nevertheless, the film still remains problematic mainly because of its enigmatic narrative line. The sensational poster image of the female protagonist embracing her husband, while at the same time kissing her lover, epitomizes what is at stake in 3 Iron from a Lacanian perspective. This article is devoted to the task of identifying the logic of subjectivization and different directions of freedom operating in that strange love triangle. What is noticeable in describing the subjectivity of protagonists is 3 Iron’s elaborate use of mise-en-scène through windows and mirrors. The function of reflective materials is to show the protagonists in love as alienated, split and spectral. Being spectral means being related to the status of the Real as otherness or nothingness. In that regard, the personages in Las Meninas could be applied to the characters in this film in terms of their topological status: the royal couple and Min’gyu, Velasquez and T’aesŏk, the princess and Sŏnwha. The first pair has the status of the Other, the second the Real and the third the Symbolic shifting to the Real. In addition, Lacan’s rotated double-mirror device helps us to understand why subjectivization, or the psychoanalytic cure, means separation, or freedom, from the mirror of the Other. The transgressive couple seems to achieve freedom in the end. However, the different choices made by the masculine and feminine subjects need to be analyzed more closely on the basis of Lacan’s theory of sexuation. T’aesŏk finally becomes a ghostly existence and leaves the symbolic reality completely, whereas Sŏnwha decides to return home while letting her life and house remain open to the spectral being of T’aesŏk. According to Lacan, Sŏnwha’s way of living could be interpreted as having ultimate freedom because she treats the Symbolic as being ‘not-all’, that is, as being a reality containing an infinite gap that changes the reality from inside. By contrast, T’aesŏk’s choice is subject to the idea of reality as being ‘total’, thus he subtracts himself as an exceptional blot in the Symbolic. T’aesŏk’s way of enjoying freedom is limited because his resistant position is still inherently bound to the existent reality. In that sense, 3 Iron represented a crucial moment for the appearance of feminine subjectivity in Korean cinema during the 2000s, when so much effort had been made to rebuild the masculinity lost mainly as a result of the social decline following “the IMF crisis”.
키워드
3-Iron, Las Meninas, Jacques Lacan, Zizek, Interface-screen, mirror, subjectivity, spectrality, freedom, sexuation
1. INTRODUCTION
Kim Ki-duk’s
Then how does this film unveil the truth? I would claim that
Following this will be an exploration of the protagonists’ enigmatic activities, with a particular emphasis on their different ways of enjoying freedom. In fact, Kim’s previous films tended to conclude in fantastical situations wherein the protagonists would either destroy themselves or enter into a harmonized co-existence with their opponents through some dramatic exchange, or depreciation, of their respective social positions. These endings were akin to closing the curtains just as the Moebius strip began to reverse upon itself. In contrast,
This next stage begins when T’aesŏk and Sŏnwha are caught by the police by accident. Here, we should pay attention to a big difference between the choices T’aesŏk and Sŏnwha make shortly afterwards: T’aesŏk decides to erase his physicality from the Symbolic (or the social reality, in sociological terms) while Sŏnwha goes back home and ends up living together with her husband and her phantom-lover. Again, via Lacan’s theory of sexuation, which explains why radical resistance and systemic change should be exerted by feminine subjectivity, I would like to interpret the female protagonist’s freedom not as a mere deviation in order to maintain her trans-gressive love but a metaphor of feminine subjectivity which makes it possible for her to refuse reality without leaving it and to alter its dominant signifying system from inside. From this point of view, Kim’s entire oeuvre can be exonerated from the earlier disparaging criticisms made against it, including feminist ones,
2. IN-BETWEEN TWO MIRRORS: VISUAL SPECTRALITY REFLECTED ON AN INTERFACE-SCREEN
T’aesŏk, presumably in his late twenties, is a totally unknowable man until a policaman provides the minimal information that he is a college graduate. He drives a seemingly-expensive BMW motorcycle, and dares to break into a temporarily vacated house when the takeaway restaurant flier he has hung on the door as a test is not removed. Once inside, he makes himself at home cleaning the house, washing the dirty clothes and sneakers, spraying the plants, and fixing the appliances. He moves onto other homes, repeating the same pattern. On one of these occasions, in an upper-class residence, an unexpected incident occurs: even though T’aesŏk thought no one was there, Sŏnwha, whose face has been bruised by her husband Min’gyu, is inside. Considering that the Korean title of this film is ‘empty house’ (
Then, who is indeed living in this house? Is it the seemingly autistic resident Sŏnwha, or the active intruder T’aesŏk? Insofar as they don’t belong to the house properly, their presence is ghost-like in a way. The elaboration of this ghostliness or spectrality can be claimed to be the most outstanding achievement of
According to Bliss Cua Lim, who explores “spectral time” relying on Henri Bergson’s philosophy, “the temporality of haunting … refuses the linear progression of modern time consciousness” and is linked to “an undoing of homogeneous space”
Figure 1.
Similarly, one can observe interesting mise-en-scènes when Min’gyu grills Sŏnwha after coming back from his business trip and T’aesŏk happens to see them
Figure 2.
The use of the window frame as a medium of reconfigurating or splitting the diegetic homogeneous spaces reminds us of Zizek’s concept of “interface-screen” (see
With regard to the interface-screen effect, Zizek mentioned the exemplary shots from
Figure 3:. From the left,
Yet, there is an apparent difference between the window-screen in
Figure 4:. Hans Holbein,
Figure 5:. Diego Velasquez,
Figure 6:. The image is from
However, as screens to capture the division of the subjects, the big window in the film and the big mirror in the painting function differently. The transparent window makes the split subjectivity appear as being literally divided between the physical and the spectral, as mentioned above. In comparison, according to Lacan’s analysis, the opaque surface of the painting contains the division as a set of paired antinomic relationships in a frame:
Then, how can the different topological status of the various personages, especially the royal couple, little Infanta, and artist, be applied to the characters in the film? If
First, the presence of the royal couple plays the same role as the God of Descartes which corresponds to the function of the Other, therefore being supposedly omnipresent, omnivoyant and omniscientific. However, the couple’s presence is possible thanks to the intervention of the artist who dares to ignore the realistic representation and paints the illusionary couple in the mirror as if they are reflected. Lacan also denigrates the God as “a pure articulation of a mirage” (ibid.: May 25) with “the empty eye which, like all eyes, is made to see nothing” (ibid.: June 1). In fact, the royal couple in the position of seeing the backs of the other personages cannot see anything, insofar as the latter exist only as paintings without any substantial backs and even the reversed canvas, on which the couple is likely to cast a look, offers nothing to be seen with its right side out. The visual incompetence of the king and queen indicates the fundamental incompleteness of the Other. Dylan Evans summarizes that “the symbolic phallus is that which appears in the place of the lack of the signifier in the Other” (Evans 1996: 143). The lack of the signifier of “the royal couple = the Other”, that is, their blindness or the frustration of the desire to see, is incarnated by “the princess = phallus”
Meanwhile, the princess is about to cry, exclaiming, “let me see” what is on the canvas that Velasquez is painting. In reply, the artist says: “You do not see me from where I am looking at you” (ibid.: May 18). Why not? Firstly, because she wants to see it as a representation in perspective, yet the canvas has nothing to do with this but instead with the representative of representation; and, secondly, because the little Infanta is still the subject of the look believing in her mastery of the whole scene with her eyes, while Velasquez is the subject of the gaze, a “phantasmagoria personage” (ibid.: May 25) “in a state of absence” (ibid.: May 18), using his gaze as a trap for captivating the spectators. In addition, the fact that Velasquez placed himself in the middle among many slits or gaps between the personages, and that his portrait seems to be escaping towards the outside, posed as if in parallel to the gap in front, support his specific relation to the topological level of the Real. Hence, Velasquez is defined paradoxically as a “bad painter” who produces “a bad painting”, “a bad conception of the world”, and who “sees in the world the macrocosm of the microcosm that we are supposed to be” (ibid.: 25 May). In that regard, the portrait of the artist shares the topological status connected to the Real with another “
From the above analysis, one could read the parallel relationship between
Yet, there still remains a problematic hurdle to jump because unlike the painting, the film does not stop with the immobility of
2 To summarize, Lacan claims that the vision of the subject is divided between the “look” as the eye “that is satisfied with itself in imagining itself as consciousness”
3 For closer research on Zizek’s broader application of Lacan’s theory of painting to the theory of film, a spatiotemporal medium, see
4 The kernel of classical suture theory is that the presumed “absent one” as the gap between shot 1 and shot 2 is obliterated or suppressed in the exchange of looks, allocating the place of the threatening Absent Cause to the viewing character within the space of diegetic fiction in shot 1; and this suppression, or suturing, engenders the ideological effect of the structure as a self-contained totality of signifying representation. In order to track down the history of discussion about the suture theory, the following list would be helpful.
5 One cannot differentiate 1 and 1+0, but still there is a logical difference between them. That is the minimal difference created by the addition of 0, the level of the Real. One of the famous examples of minimal difference is ‘the shadow at noon’. Common sense tells us there is no shadow at noon, but there is the logical existence of shadows at noon, which makes the minimal difference from no shadows.
6 About Lacan’s analysis of
7 Foucault considered the king and queen to be confronting the entire scene being painted on the reverted canvas in front of the artist, and therefore reflected at the back in the mirror.
8 Oudart depended upon Foucault in order to argue about the characteristic of bourgeois representation by showing how the imaginary figures of the king and queen taking the place of the real painter, who is playing the fantasy role of king, lure the spectator, excluded from the visual field that has been turned into a spectacle, without knowing anything of the reality effect.
9 When Lacan asks Foucault if he is ‘deforming’ Foucault’s comprehension of
10 The reason for Lacan’s objection is that, first of all, he estimates that the royal couple in the mirror should be reduced in scale to be twice as small as Nieto Velasquez, who is next to them, considering the distance between the mirror and where the couple is supposed to be (May 11). Concerning another hypothesis that there is a huge mirror in front of the whole scene, and that the artist is trying to draw the people as they appear in that mirror
11 Lacan also applies the notion of montage to the structure of the fantasy (“something like a montage … is essential for what we are aiming at having the experience of, namely, the structure of the fantasy”
3. OUT OF MIRRORS: DIVISION IN PERSPECTIVE SYSTEM AND TACTILE VISUALITY AS ALTERNATIVE
Let us rewind to a point when T’aesŏk has not yet encountered Sŏnwha. The film shows T’aesŏk sneaking into an empty flat, whose family has left for a trip. Applying Lacan’s antinomic concepts of the Symbolic and the Real once again, the fact that T’aesŏk can occupy an empty house only, in other words, that he should take the risk of being beaten and thrown out of the house, once the original family returns, indicates that he involves in the Real, which must be suppressed and foreclosed in the Symbolic. However, he enjoys living there in exactly the same way as the original residents do: wearing their clothes, eating their food and using their bed, as the vanishing point and infinite point are distinguished only in their minimal difference. Surely, the house will never be the same following the intrusion of the Real, resulting in fatal changes as the mother is wounded by her boy playing with the toy gun that T’aesŏk repaired.
Interestingly, in most houses where T’aesŏk takes up residence, there is a big photo of the family members in the living room. This photo has been taken in an artificially happy atmosphere which conceals the family’s troubling issues, meta-phorically exposed by the broken things and unwashed clothes remaining in the house. When staying in such places, T’aesŏk always takes photos of himself against the background of the family photo. What a spirit of recording! According to Lacan, the system of perspective is premised on the transparent and omnivoyant subject which is, however, merely imaginary because the world in perspective is always already dislocated from itself by its minimal difference or otherness. In that sense, T’aesŏk’s recordings are interpreted not just as a simple collection of his temporary residences, but effective moments of subverting the topological status of the subject. A new family photo with T’aesŏk framed in as if he is one of the family members visualizes how T’aesŏk as the Real “ex-ists” (exists outside), though foreclosed by the fantasy-family
Figure 7.
In that sense, Sŏnwha’s elopement with him can thus be understood not as a beautiful upper-class housewife’s impulsive running away, but as a beginning of some kind of topological overturn in her life. A few iconographic clues, exploited similarly in Kim’s other films, are presented to connotate this fundamental change in her: the tunnel, the running motorbike, the colors of blue/green and yellow/red, the lake/water, and the wings
Figure 8.
The couple happens to enter the studio of a photographer who took nude pictures of Sŏnwha when she used to be a model. Her picture on the wall of the studio reminds us of the photo-frame and album that attracted T’aesŏk at Min’gyu’s house. However, these pictures do not show us the bruised and cracked body of an abused housewife, but the alluring and sensual body of a proud model—a body of maximum exchange value—with which both Min’gyu and T’aesŏk build their sexual fantasy. Then, is the body an object of nostalgia, which Sŏnwha wants to recover? It seems unlikely. Rather, she chooses to cut it into pieces and display them like a puzzle. That is how she expresses her rejection of the mastery of perspective. T’aesŏk, who once took his picture against Sŏnwha’s portrait at Min’gyu’s, now welcomes the puzzle(d) woman into his interface-screen
Figure 9.
Figure 10.
Again, one can translate different forms of mise-en-scène composed by Kim via
Nevertheless,
Another important sign of Sŏnwha’s determination to be free is when she has her hair cut by T’aesŏk
Figure 11.
At last, the male and female protagonists are arrested at the humble apartment house of a deceased elderly man. The mirror play continues at the police office. Sŏnwha, released to her husband, casts a look at T’aesŏk being investigated and beaten through the half-mirror. Now, their positions are inverted as compared to
Figure 12.
After all, while Sŏnwha is once again in a black dress at home, T’aesŏk is in a blue uniform at a local prison. Interestingly here,
Figure 13.
Figure 14.
Then why has it suddenly become a mirror-screen, instead of a window-screen? What is the difference between them? The role of the mirror in which Sŏnwha makes contact with T’aesŏk seems similar to that of the horizontal mirror in the double-mirror device suggested by Lacan,
Figure 15. The first image illustrates Bouasse’s experiment and the second is Lacan’s double-mirror set-up, which is built in reality as in the next two photos. The first two figures are reprinted from
Figure 16.
Once the plane mirror (A) is laid horizontally, its position as the Other is given to the analyst, who no longer takes the role of the knowing Other providing the psychic truth to the analysand. The rotated mirror aims to show how psycho-analytic treatment is related to creating an absence through which the singular subject begins to recognize her own desire, separated from the desire of the Other. To put it in Lacan’s words, “he [the analysand] is called to be reborn in order to know if he wants what he desires” (ibid.: 571). Lacan also describes this curative process of “paying the steep ransom for his desire” as “an overhauling of ethics” (ibid.: 572) demanded by psychoanalysis, which is completely different from the general notion of ethics as aiming for a thorough subjection to the moral codes of the Other. In addition, when the topological status matters, the horizontally rotated mirror shares the same topological position not with the mirror on the wall, but with the window-canvas in
Meanwhile, an eye-catching fact in
Figure 17.
Finally, we have reached the most sensational and recondite scene where Sŏnwha kisses T’aesŏk over the shoulder of her husband [
Figure 18.
Figure 19.
Figure 20.
Yet, this end scene is not sudden or surprising if viewed in terms of the spectral visuality that we have examined so far. Like T’aesŏk removing his physicality in the prison cell, Sŏnwha also makes an attempt to exist like an immaterial ghost when she visits the traditional Korean house that she once occupied with her lover, and takes a nap on a sofa, ignoring the speechless landlord’s gaze [
Figure 21.
Nonetheless, there still remains the earlier question about Sŏnwha seeming to live under the patriarchal system and to rely on her husband’s economic power. In a way, she appears liberated from her old pattern after returning home. Her resistance to her husband’s rules changes from passive muteness to willingness to aggressively slap him back. However, reciprocating this violence has nothing to do with her capability for freedom. What matters most is that she decides to live with two men—a person and a spectre—simultaneously. This is how she is different from T’aesŏk: she does not seek to escape reality, or the house, to be free, but rather frees that reality from its self-containment by accepting T’aesŏk as the essential gap or fissure in it.
In contrast, T’aesŏk leaves the Symbolic completely, so as to have no relation-ship at all with the world under the Other’s control. One might say that T’aesŏk is freer than Sŏnwha, but Lacan would say that T’aesŏk’s freedom is just imaginary, or even subordinate insofar as he considers reality as a flawless whole. Why does he repair all the dysfunctional things and wash all the filthy things? Because he wants the place he breaks in to be perfect. Why does he decide to be invisible, to the extent that he takes the risk of being ruthlessly beaten by the warden? Because he wants the symbolic order to work ideally in the absence of violators like him. This belief in the wholeness of the Symbolic is exactly what Lacan discovers as the masculine epistemology. Therefore, the desire to go be-yond the legitimate order intends ultimately to position the masculine subject as the transcendent ruler of the Law, whether in reality or in fantasy. However, paradoxically enough, his freedom is still conditionally bound to the symbolic reality from which he removes himself by living as an unreachable and un-governable spectre.
This interpretation depends on Lacan’s theory of sexuation. His basic premise is that sexual difference is characterized by the different ways of dealing with desire and
From this, one can understand why man’s freedom and woman’s freedom are necessarily dissimilar. For man, freedom is positioned as “the irreducible dif-ference
Figure 22.
Figure 23.
Now, no one would deny that T’aesŏk is a man and Sŏnwha a woman biologically, but they are also distinguished in terms of their sexuational difference. Their otherness in community, or their social status as the insignifiable Real in the Symbolic, has already been manifested by their embodiment of spectrality. In addition, the bluish clothes that they wear in the end scene signify their ongoing uncompromising attitude toward the existent symbolic order. Nonetheless, their respective decisions to become spectral take different routes: T’aesŏk wants to live as an exception subtracted from the Symbolic; Sŏnwha as an exception within the Symbolic.
In that context, Min’gyu’s request to Sŏnhwa not to open the door to any stranger sounds absolutely devoid of sense, because his house is already shared with, or haunted by the stranger T’aesŏk as a spectral being or the gaze itself his wife welcomes most. This gaze, which is the minimal difference of the look in the field of vision, cannot be manifested by any determinable object, but can be perceived only “through sensible indications”
12 Kim Seoyoung (Kim Sŏyŏng) indicates that the use of water as a metaphor of life or a healing force is obvious and consistent in
13 This optical model was discussed first in
14 The key effect in Bouasse’s experiment is that the separated vase and flowers appear to be combined together when the observing ego looks at the concave mirror.
15 This is the film critic Chŏng Sŏng-il (Jung Sung-Il)’s opinion stated while interviewing the filmmaker.
16 Again, the film critic Chŏng’s opinion.
4. CONCLUSION: A WAY OF AVERTING THE VICIOUS CIRCLE OF MIRRORING
Until now, I have traced the critical moments of Sŏnwha’s subjectivization and tried to elucidate its significance from the Lacanian viewpoint. In the process of recapitulating the narrative of
What is awkward is that not only the audience but also the critics tend to identify Kim’s life and personality with his films’ nasty stories and characters. More often than not, the filmmaker is implicitly suspected of being a pervert, whether in the psychoanalytic sense or in popular belief. The interest in Kim’s individual history can be explained from this biographical approach to his films. In fact, considering the fact that few biographies of Korean filmmakers have been published in Korea before the death of the subject of the biography, Kim in his early forties, quite exceptionally, had a biography written and an interview with him focusing on his life experiences published as separate book chapters
However, the biographical facts have not always been used in a negative fashion. The critics who want to support the way his films function as the critical debunking of grim reality also tend to rely on the experiences the filmmaker himself went though as an adolescent factory worker and a homeless painter in Europe and in the red-light district in Seoul. Therefore, however brutal and inhumane his films were, his films’ seemingly-excessive depictions could be justified as being realistic by the fact that they were showing the underbelly of (post)modern Korean society. Chung, Hae-seung (Chŏng Haesŭng) is one of those critics. While making attempts to trace the filmmaker’s original experiences adopted in the films and by borrowing Nietsche’s concept of
Nonetheless, the sociological and realistic approach to Kim’s oeuvre is liable to having a certain tendency: the more graphically appalling and hideous the narrative events and characters are, the more they might be highlighted as politically sincere and serious. That is probably why his later films like
Yet, I would rather insist that the meaning of ‘political’ should be expanded beyond the conception of abstraction which, to some degree, depends on the social and historical references in the texts. I think Kim’s films are political not only because of their direct or indirect linkage with reality but also because of their challenging signification on the psychoanalytical level where unconscious desire is explicitly problematized in terms of ethics. For instance, a sociological reading might be satisfied with
Taking Kim’s filmography into account, especially when comparing with the dead-end unlikely endings of Kim’s previous corpus extending through
What is distinct in the return-home narrative in Kim’s films is that the protagonists do not have any intention of (re)establishing their masculine subjectivity in despair as in other contemporary Korean films. Moreover, in
In fact, what motivated Kim’s narratives and its resulting feminine subject-ivization has hardly ever appeared especially in the early 2000s and mid-2000s, when the desire to establish an undefeatable masculinity emerged and prevailed in Korean cinema.
In comparison, the way the (fe)male protagonists in the return-home narrative deal with the perplexing intrusion of the Real—for example, encountering the housebreaker, love affairs of his wife or full-scale plastic surgery of his lover—and the way they determine to change their ‘sexuational’ identity through true love can be interpreted as being analogous to bringing a fundamental reconstruction of the existent ideological and/or substantial order of the Symbolic. In a sense, the ethics of subjectivization these characters show is beyond the politics of de-nunciation. Therefore,
17
18 It snows in summer (
19 The phenomenon influenced not only mainstream blockbuster movies whose genre categories used to be war films, gangster movies or thrillers appealing mainly to male movie-goers, but also the so-called “well-made”
20 Especially about the private vendettas, see
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[단행본]
2011
Lacan Reframed: A Guide for the Arts Students I. B. Tauris
-
[단행본]
2009
Translating Time: Cinema, the Fantastic, and Temporal Critique Duke University Press
-
[단행본]
2009
Kim Ki-Duk: On Movies, the Visual Language Jorge Pinto Books Inc.
-
[참고문헌]
1977–78
“Suture.”
Screen 18(Winter)
-
[단행본]
1990a
“Cinema and Suture (April–May 1969).” In
Cahiers du Cinema 1969–1972: The Politics of Representation , ed. Nick BrowneHarvard University Press
-
[단행본]
1990b
“The Reality Effect (March–April 1971).” In
Cahiers du Cinema 1969–1972: The Politics of Representation . Edited by Nick BrowneHarvard University Press
-
[단행본]
1990c
“Notes for a Theory of Representation (May-June and July 1971).” In
Cahiers du Cinema 1969–1972: The Politics of Representation . Edited by Nick BrowneHarvard University Press
-
[참고문헌]
2002
No. 57 (January 15–21, 2002).
P’illŭm 2.0 (Film 2.0). -
[참고문헌]
2004
“Sexual Terrorism: The Strange Case of Kim Ki-duk.”
Film Comment 40(6)
-
[단행본]
1976
“Against ‘the system of suture’.” in
Movies and Methods . Edited by Bill Nichols. BerkeleyUniversity of California Press
-
[참고문헌]
1977
“Film Style and Technology in the Forties.”
Film Quarterly (Fall)
-
[참고문헌]
1978
“The Last of the Suture?”
Film Quarterly (Summer)
-
[참고문헌]
2002
“Kim Ki-dŏk yŏnghwa, kŭ sadomajohijŭm ŭi ŭimi” [Kim Ki-duk films and their sadomasochist signification]
Yŏnghwa yŏn’gu [Film Studies](20)
-
[참고문헌]
2011
“Lacan’s construction and deconstruction of the double-mirror device.”
Front. Psychology 2(209)
10.3389/fpsyg.2011.00209
-
[단행본]
1999
“The Spectre of Ideology.” In
The Zizek Reader . Edited by Elizabeth Wright and Edmond WrightBlackwell Publishers Ltd.
-
[단행본]
2001
The Fright of Real Tears: Krzysztof Kieslowski Between Theory and Post-Theory BFI
-
[단행본]
2003a
The Shortest Shadow: Nietzsche’s Philosophy of the Two The MIT Press
-
[참고문헌]
2003b
“The Case of the Perforated Sheet.” In
Jacques Lacan: Critical Evaluations in Cultural Theory . Vol. 4: 2003b
1 Chŏng Hae-sŭng provides a good recapitulation of diverse opinions on Kim’s films in both Korean and western academia (H-S Jŏng 2012: 16–22).