By Rosario Brenda Gonzalez
Peppermint Candy is Director Lee Chang-dong’s account of South Korean society as experienced by his protagonist in this film that covers 20 years from 1979 to 1999. The main character Yong-ho started out as a hopeful and idealistic young man and ended up as a tragic figure that has evolved into a callous and disheartened middle-aged unemployed and directionless individual. Why and how this came about is the subject of this second Lee’s movie after Green Fish, a 1997 crime melodrama.
Beginning with the end and ending with the beginning is Lee’s stylish narrative that uses the train as its metaphor for memory, maybe fleeting or perpetual, but always influential to one’s decisions and action. The movie’s start is a reunion of students of a social club after 20 years. Yong-ho played by the highly competent Sol Kyung-gu was unable to relate to his group mates and moved farther away from them. He would finally reach the railroad bridge, face not only an incoming train, but also his personal demon as he shouted, “I am going back.” What follows are his life events presented in reverse chronology from 1999 to 1979. The entire film is divided into seven chapters, each preceded by a shot of a train moving backwards.
Three days before his wandering into that reunion, Yong-ho was so despondent he thought to himself that too many people have done him wrong, it is difficult to pick out just one. His business partner betrayed him, the loan sharks are after him, the stock broker wiped out his finances, and his wife and child left him. After spending his last savings on a gun, he went home, where he was approached by his former girlfriend’s husband, who requested that he see her. Sunim, the ex-girlfriend, is now ailing and confined in a hospital.
The beauty of the movie’s story is reflected in the many details in its dramatic yet restrained scenes of Yong-ho’s meeting with the person who turned out to be his one great love. But the realities and challenges of the time, as well as, a person’s weaknesses, are all obstacles, even to the most devoted of lovers. More importantly, the dominance of a male-oriented culture in the milieu where the once innocent and hopeful Yong-ho found himself would overpower him and sadly reveal his very own sexism.
Yong-ho’s Milieu
After his initial encounter and presumably the start of a relationship with Sunim, Yong-ho was enlisted in the military. It was in the 1980s when South Korea was under Martial Law. Sunim regularly sent him letters which he so much treasured including the peppermint candy that came along with each of these. But the military, with its premium on brutality and violence to quell dissent, as well as its heightened male-oriented culture, certainly diminished every ounce of Yong-ho’s hope and optimism. And in that crucial moment in time, when they were called to suppress demonstrators against the military government, Yong-ho did something he never meant to do. It would change the course of his life, bringing him deeper into darkness, apparently never to see the light, no matter how desirous he is of it. This part of this 1999 renowned film brings to mind the Gwangju Uprising, which resulted in hundreds of protesting South Koreans killed by government soldiers defending the ruling military junta. Although it happened more than 40 years ago, the impact of this event is so strong that a shared and accurate description among South Koreans of what exactly occurred in those tumultuous days remains non-existent.
Yong-ho then became part of the police force, where torture is a regular practice. They did these among students and laborers, and Yong-ho had to follow what appears to be government policy to extract information from suspected state enemies. By this time, he has lost contact with Sunim, but he continues to pine for her. Yet Sunim exerted many efforts to reach out to him, including writing him regularly while he was in the military and even visiting him there, which unfortunately was the day when they were mobilized to stop demonstrators. The rest of their love story is too sad, bleak and depressing; it is almost a metaphor for Yong-ho’s miserable life.
After working in the police force, Yong-ho engaged in business, initially registering success. By now, he was in a loveless marriage. As a successful businessman, having an affair and engaging in worldly pursuits come with the territory. It was his way of asserting power, as almost everywhere around him is corruption and crass materialism. But with the looming economic crisis that is to hit Asia in the late 1990s, Yong-ho’s business will suffer great losses. He did not recover up until that critical time of his life, when he wandered away from his former friends, never to see them again.
A Riveting and Unique Movie Watching Experience
Peppermint Candy is an unusual movie because it tackles issues that film makers shy away from including military violence, police brutality, macho culture and consumerism. It reflects realities that may not equate with entertainment, a legitimate aim of movies. But it also shows history that is raw and real and direct and understandable.
The film is a success in storytelling, as seemingly abstract issues are translated into relatable scenes where nothing is contrived or deliberately tilted to suit a particular message or lesson. To compress 20 years of some of the most significant events in the life of a country in 2 hours and 10 minutes is by itself an achievement, but to do so through great storytelling and outstanding acting, especially by the lead actor Sol Kyung-gu, is highly commendable.
It is, of course, helpful for the viewer to be knowledgeable of some basic events in South Korean history, but even without this input, one can still comprehend what Peppermint Candy is all about. In the final analysis, one person’s history makes for stories on his family, his peers, his community and his country. Yong-ho’s story is also the story of his generation, of his people and of its fragile democracy.
The use of reverse chronology in the storytelling has also proven to be quite effective. Had this style not been utilized, the film would have been less riveting to the point of being boring, as oftentimes, history can make the mind linger on to other concerns. The traditional chronological order of a largely historical film is always a risk for grabbing audience attention, which is why many directors have opted for flashbacks instead. This reverse chronology narrative device, coupled with the use of a train as the symbol of tying all the film’s seven chapters together, also significantly contributed to making “Peppermint Candy” an absorbing and unique experience in movie watching. #
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Rosario Brenda Gonzalez is a long-time development worker who discovered South Korean films and television series during the pandemic. She was encouraged to review 18 South Korean movies, 2 South Korean television series, and 1 Japanese television series upon realizing that many of these tackled social issues in an informative and entertaining manner.
A BA Journalism graduate of UP Diliman, Ms. Gonzalez has been a project evaluator and development management trainer for more than three decades. Prior to that, she was a human rights and church worker.