克莱尔的相机

很多人喜欢洪尚秀，这是不争的事实。

但是这第一个镜头就来了个变焦，实在是让人分分钟出戏，这别出心裁的癖好还会让人感到一点眩晕。

再说这个金敏喜，在洪尚秀的电影里，这个女人永远是哭哭啼啼的，睡眼惺忪的，忧愁的，弱不禁风的样子，柔弱地让人不知道她受了多大的委屈。

要不是喜欢于佩尔阿姨，要不是想借着电影吹一吹戛纳的海风，这片子真的是够乏闷无聊的。

同样是以戛纳为背景的创作，科波拉那部《你好安妮》实在是比这个无病呻吟的片好太多。

大概这是导演到了戛纳灵感闪现，想练练手，才有了这样一部即兴的创作。

于佩尔的演技全程都在线，活脱脱一个少女，毕竟自家的地盘，但是这剧情有点故弄玄虚。

倒是中餐馆这段对白很有哲理，拍照也是即兴创作，一种随性的生活方式。

改变事物唯一的方式，就是仔细地观察它。

《克莱尔的相机》邀请了两个重量级演员：一个韩国大美女金敏喜，一个法国国宝级演员于佩尔，作为陪衬，讲述了一个极具现实意义的故事：导演怎么去寻找灵感？

是否需要为艺术献身？

献身后的羞耻感怎么破？

不过这个导演非常幸运，周围有个从生活和情感上都给予无微不至照顾的制片人。

导演为了艺术献身，她自然应该为导演扫平障碍，哪怕是一丁点的心理阴影。

缪斯重要么？

重要，但为了导演的未来，缪斯也可以成为随意牺牲的陪葬品。

于是，我们曾经腹黑、心计深沉大《小姐》金敏喜诱受，成功的变成了被随意牺牲的傻白甜缪斯。

而且本片导演打破电影常规，用了几乎超越纪录片的超现实主义模式，采用家庭DV的拍摄手法，以毫不了解情况的外人——客观第三者的视角来展示这个复杂而深沉的主题。

几位主角的演技自是无可挑剔，因为作为客观第三者视角，我们大部分时间其实根本也看不到演员的表情，自是无可挑剔也无法挑剔的。

只有大师级导演才会成就这么先锋试验性的电影：完全打破一切电影镜头语言的常规要求，长时间两人对话的固定镜头；所有情节都是靠对话推进；时间顺序、逻辑顺序乱而不杂；风景优美的电影胜地戛纳，完全拍出了陈旧腐败、藏污纳垢的衰败感……我们应该为导演的大胆突破和对艺术的讽刺而喝彩！

感觉还行吧剧情，已经是变换较少得镜头，已经是美丽的金敏喜。

感觉像在同一个时空里，她们就像在眼前。

自己对剧情的理解是：店主莫名其妙把万熙开了（万熙视角），导演莫名其妙把店主甩了（店主视角）。

情感说不清啊，谁在高位谁就有say goodbye的权利。

而且，店主真得超爱。

尴尬的时候真的尴尬，就是搭话尬聊的时候，突然的沉默，我不太理解为什么不熟的人能聊起来，尤其是也没啥功利性，不是为了拓展业务，甚至连名片也没交换，只是为了拍照片吗？

印证自己心里的猜测，觉着他是酒鬼艺术家？

哦对了，还有导演和万熙重逢的时候，生气的那一段。

我的理解是：在导演的逻辑里，他首先觉着男性都是上位者审视者观察者被讨好的，女性是下位者被审视者被观察者讨好者，男性看待穿热裤短裙对女性是带有情色意味的不尊重，同时，希望万熙好，希望她不要被男性审视，不要因为男性的审视而获得简单的便利。

这逻辑很无语啊，你很重要吗？

你以为你是谁啊，全世界女性都围着你转啊

6.5洪老师的每一次剧本都是一种试验 对别人也是对自己 我不用去揣度他的用意很可能他自己也并非十分确定 于是 平常的几件小事情在时间的平行空间里窜梭甚至可以无目的 结尾可能看作未来她又回去工作了虽然我觉得可能性不大也可能就丢一个早就想好的开头到拉里罢了……洪老师对于一个场景的处理是一镜到底 省了无谓烦杂的剪辑但事先需要做好充足的安排 还要演员不能NG情绪始终连贯像演话剧一样的要求 就是里面那些感觉无理由的推拉常让我感觉不适虽然次数还克制（其实也不是没理由 一般处理都会蒙太奇割开好像把姑娘丑的那面遮去不见 这儿就是啥都给你看 whatever）两个非英语国家的人用英语交流用词自然尽量简单 口音也各有特色若不是有剧本我还真不信她们一路会无阻 还有情绪上的表达也有问题 至少于老师的“oh yes”就瞬间让我尴尬…… 所以她们的交流更多是在剧本上的也就是说流于表面的 亚洲人和欧洲人对“礼貌”的身体力行上截然不同 前者有虚伪之嫌后者坦荡（我有时候非常讨厌这种“虚伪”却又常不知为何 现在好像明白一点也）

今天，放假无聊的于佩尔阿姨带着相机，在法国遇到了几个韩国人。

一个韩国男人跟她用英语尬聊：Where are you from?I am from KoreaOh, so you are korean...Then where are you from?I am from PairsSo you are French...说了几句废话之后，两人到了图书馆。

男人让于佩尔阿姨读了一首一个快25岁男子想要去死的故事后来于佩尔阿姨遇到了金敏喜，两大文艺女神商业互吹。

于佩尔：You look like an artist, it makes me feel good金敏喜：I am not an artist, I wish I was.其实这两人不用尬聊，光同框已经让姬圈姐妹们及文青们疯狂了然后金敏喜发表了对自己的职业销售的看法：Selling is no fun , we should not sell anything哦豁，这实在太符合文艺女神人设了，但是别的销售要哭了哦豁，中年男导演实在有些油腻了（可能洪导演在自嘲）BTW，他拍的金敏喜是真好看，于佩尔和金敏喜手拉手的时候我总是很兴奋怎么回事

洪尚秀，金敏喜，于佩尔，法国戛纳，13天左右的拍摄周期，于是，《克莱尔的相机》诞生了。

洪尚秀在胖哥心中的地位仅次于私生活同样异常活跃的伍迪艾伦，他们都是爱把电影拍成带点自传性质的伪知识分子。

他们两人最大的不同在于，伍迪艾伦的电影有不少电影化的语言，布景和调度是学院派的，然后融合进伍迪艾伦的审美特效，行程固定的类型模式。

而洪尚秀常常是反类型的，他的电影缺少电影化的语言，极少有镜头调度，那些看起来笨拙的“推进和拉出”是他顽固的作者性表征。

两人在表现“梦境”时的方式可谓形式主义和现实主义的两个极端。

伍迪艾伦在充满天才般创造力的场景中让人看到了天马行空的想象力和执行力，而胆大妄为的洪尚秀却把梦和现实混淆不清，暧昧不明，让现实侵入梦，把梦变成了现实。

在《独自在海边的夜晚》《自由之丘》《你自己与你所有》中，梦和现实的含混不明达到了令人气愤的巅峰。

那种美好刚刚抵达即刻抽身而去的坍塌感令人不适，倍感焦虑，甚至愤怒。

这次《克莱尔的相机》抛去了所有有关梦境的架构，用《自由之丘》中的非线性叙事，把一个异常无聊的故事玩出了几分花样。

万熙（我的女神金敏喜 饰）莫名其妙的上司辞职，这个她勤勤恳恳工作了5年的地方，在一次聊天中就被女老板辞退。

身处异国他乡，她一下子失去了生活的重心。

为什么被辞退？

这个答案被巴黎人克莱尔（很多人的女神于佩尔 饰）意外记录了下来。

第一次来到戛纳的法国人克莱尔带着相机四处采风，

在一天之内，她先后遇上了万熙，女老板和男导演。

在多次偶遇之后，她为几人拍下的照片让万熙明白了她被辞退的缘由，也理清楚了几人之间的关系，从意外、不解、气愤，到最后的释然。

这是一部三个女人和一个男人的故事。

于佩尔饰演的克莱尔是角色的中心，她串联了人物之间的关系，引发了剧情张力，制造了角色内心的情绪波澜，带来了偶然性的转变。

另外，洪尚秀还打乱了故事的前后顺序，是以人物为中心，而非时间为脉络的散点叙事。

其中，故事会交错，甚至会重复，插叙和倒叙不断交替，很多地方故意不说明白，却似乎又说到了点子上。

影片的故事异常简单，非线性叙事不过是为了提升观众的注意力，制造悬念，为简单的故事带来丰富的文本性外延。

影片里有一段非常有意思的谈话，类似于《自由之丘》中，男主角一直拿着的那本叫做《时间》的小说。

影片你，克莱尔说，“照片中的对象在被拍照之后就被改变了”。

对此，男导演一直不解，而万熙却给出了答案。

其实，克莱尔每一次遇见三位角色时，他们都发生着从内到外的变化。

万熙、女老板，男导演，包括克莱尔在内，四人之间的关系，各自的心理状态每次都大为不同。

洪尚秀这样解释：我猜我是有意做一部能引起多样反应的电影。

甚至对《之后》，有些人说它非常悲剧化，也有人说它很搞笑很有意思。

每个人，当其在电影中穿行的时候，都会捡起不同的碎片出来之后再尽力使这些碎片合理化。

我认为这是自然且最有益的。

在碎片化的故事中，洪尚秀用克莱尔和她的相机 ，以及拍下的照片制造了连接和沟通，而这种叙事切割，加上洪尚秀的个性化零调度让影片具有了“拟态现实”的模糊感。

电影本身会制造一个舞台感，给观众营造一个安全的距离，让观众知道故事的建构本质，同时也可以自由参与其中。

但洪尚秀的反类型模式，消解了距离感，以一种拟态真实，无限靠近现实，带有记录性质的镜头画面让观众在影片中看到了自己。

洪尚秀经常在影片中设置尴尬的相遇，无语的陪伴。

《克莱尔的相机》中，克莱尔主动和男导演搭讪，两人一开始交流的非常轻松，可当男导演主动要求和克莱尔坐在一起时，两人随即“聊死”，气氛晓得格外尴尬。

男导演自顾自的喝咖啡，克莱尔拿出了手机翻看，两人长时间无交流，画面凝固，时间浓稠。

这场戏是对于距离感精妙隐喻，适当的距离带来交流的可能，而距离的消失让安全感隐退，焦虑开始陡升，美感被破坏。

洪尚秀消灭舞台，让观众在零距离范围内和角色产生共鸣，这种带有逼迫性质的要挟，使得影片有着情绪凌迟般的苦痛。

这种风格让洪尚秀的电影从淡然中放大了情感的蛛丝马迹。

原来，观众可以影片中的角色一样，如此敏感，如此透明，如此喜怒无常。

我们被这种释义空间巨大的剧情所操控，主动开始去填空，用自我的经历，自我的情感去弥补叙事中有意留下的缝隙。

由此，我们最终在洪尚秀的电影中看到了自己，毕竟都是些男男女女的纠葛缠绕，而谁不是个“有点故事”的人呢？

clit2014, jan 2, 晚交了20天，我再也不想上gender studies了我要吐了，写这篇paper不知道经历了多少mental breakdownWomen’s Experience Matters: Redefining Feminist Cinema through Claire’s CameraAs Laura Mulvey points out in “Visual Pleasure and Narrative Cinema”, traditional narrative cinema largely relies upon the practice of a gendered “gaze”, specifically, male’s unconscious objectification of female as erotic spectacle from which visual pleasure is derived. Her account draws attention to the prevailing feminist-unfriendly phenomena in contemporary cinema, one that resides in the language of patriarchy, privileging man’s experience while making woman the passive object deprived of autonomy. Many feminist filmmakers and theorists including Mulvey herself urge a radical strategy that dismantles patriarchal practice and frees woman from the state of being suppressed by the male-centered cinematic language.To conceptualize a mode of cinema that speakswoman’s language, or authentic feminist cinema, this essay interrogates the validity of Mulvey’s destruction approach in pursuing a feminist aesthetic. By making reference to Hong Sang-soo’s film, Claire’s Camera, I argue that feminist cinema needs to be redefined by neither the immediate rejection of gender hierarchy nor the postmodern notion of fluidity, but by perspectives that transcend the gendered metanarrative of subject vs. object, and that primarily represent and serve woman’s experience on both sides of the Camera. Earlier waves of feminism strived to call attention to, if not, eliminate the unbalanced power relation between men and women in the society, namely the dichotomy between domination and submission, superiority and inferiority, and self and other (Lauretis 115). Feminists such as Mary Wollstonecraft and Simone de Beauvoir radically interrogated women’s rights in the political arena as well as women’s relative position to men in the society at large. However, the approaches of the earlier waves cannot prove themselves sufficient in pursuit of a female autonomy, owing to the fact that they are constantly caught in the power-oriented metalanguage which inherently privileges one over another. While it is argued that the objectification of the “second sex” is oppressive in nature, for example, the assertion already marks the subject-object dynamics between men and women by default. It fails to propose non-power based gender narratives, while obliquely acknowledging that the language spoken in this context is inevitably characterized by phallocentric symbols, ones that prioritize self over other, subject over object, male over female. In thisregard, rather than rendering a perspective that exposes and dismantles patriarchy, the outcome of earlier feminist approaches inclines towards “replicating male ideology” (Mackinnon 59), reifying the omnipresence of the patriarchal language and reproducing the effects of patriarchy.A similar notion applies to defining feminist cinema. In terms of visual representation, feminist idealists encourage women to present their bodily spectacles, inviting interpretations free of erotic objectification. Despite the favorable receptions from the sex-positive side of the discourse, it is indiscernible as to whether these attempts truly free women from the dome of sex-negativism or reinforce the effect of the patriarchal language even more. This polarized debate, I believe, is due to the fact that the discourse is held captive by the language of patriarchy too powerful for one to extricate from, and that any rebellious gesture would appear to be an insufficient, passive rejection of the predominant ideology. To illustrate this point, Lauretis notes that Mulvey’s and other avant-garde filmmakers’ conceptualization of women’s cinema often associates with the prefix of “de-” with regards to “the destruction… of the very thing to be represented, …the deaestheticization of the female body, the desexualization of violence, the deoedipalization of narrative, and so forth” (175). The “de-” act does not necessarily configure a new set of attributes for feminist representation, but merely displays a negative reaction to a preexisting entity. It is important to be skeptical of its effectiveness in defining feminist cinema, as it implies certain extent of negotiation instead of spot-on confrontation with the previous value. A destructive feminist cinema can never provide a distinctive set of aesthetic attributes without having to seek to problematize and obscure the reality of a patriarchal cinema. In that regard, it is passive, dependent and depressed. More importantly, the question – how the destruction of visual and narrative pleasure immediately benefits women within the narrative and directly addresses female spectators – remains unanswered. TakingClaire’s Cameraas an example, the film destructs the notion of a gendered visual pleasure by presenting the camera as a reinvented gazing apparatus, one that differs from the gendered gaze, and instead brings novel perception into being. Normally, when characters are being photographed, mainstream filmmakers tend to introduce a viewpoint in alignment with the photographer’s position, enabling spectator’s identification; that is, the shot usually shifts to a first-person perspective so that spectators identify with the photographer gazing at the object who is in front of the camera. Claire’s Camera, however, abandons this first-person perspective while generating new meanings of the gaze. Claire ambiguously explains to So and Yanghye the abstract idea that taking photographs of people changes the photographer’s perception of the photographed object, and that the object is not the same person before their photograph was taken. The spectacle, although objectifiable in nature, is not so passive as being the object constructed upon, but rather constructs new signification upon the subject. The notion of the gaze is therefore re-presented with alternative insights. That being said, as I argued earlier, the destructive approach is not so sufficient an attempt at defining feminist cinema, because the way it functions nevertheless indulges feminist ideology in the role of passivity, deprived of autonomy and always a discourse dependent on and relative to the prepotency of patriarchy. In the conversation scene between So and Manhee, So, who is almost the age of Manhee’s father, criticizes her for wearing revealing shorts and heavy makeup. In a typically phallocentric manner, he insists that she has insulted her beautiful face and soul by self-sexualizing and turning into men’s erotic object. Despite the fact that the preceding scenes have no intention to eroticize the female body or sexualize her acts such that the visual pleasure is deliberately unfulfilled and almost completely excluded from the diegesis, So inevitably finds Manhee’s physical features provocative and without a second thought, naturally assumes that her bodily spectacle primarily serves man’s interest. This scene demonstrates that regardless of feminists’ radical destruction of visual pleasure, practitioners of patriarchal beliefs will not be affected at all; if any, the femininity enunciation only intensifies the social effects of patriarchy. The conversation between the two characters embodies the self-reflexive style of Hong Sang-soo’s filmmaking, in a sense that it fosters debates within the theoretical framework upon which it is constructed, and constantly counters itself in search of a deeper meaning, contemplating questions such as do we believe in what we practice, whether it is patriarchy or its opposite? And is anti-patriarchy feminism determined enough to prove itself a destructive force against patriarchy rather than a sub-deviant of a predominant ideology? The scene proves the drawback of a destructive strategy, that the way it operates nonetheless subscribes to a patriarchal manner, and that in order to escape the secondary position with respect to the phallocentric subject, more needs to be done other than problematizing the subject.To supplement the insufficiency of destruction, postmodern feminists such as Judith Butler proposes theoretical alternative to approach the discourse. Butler argues that gender is performative and fluid instead of a set of essential attributes. The notion of performativity indeed precludes the social effects of essentialism by introducing the idea of an identity continuum into gender politics, in ways that empower the socially perceived non-normative. On top of that, Butler believes that the categorization of sex “maintain[s] reproductive sexuality as a compulsory order”, and that the category of woman is an exclusive and oppressive “material violence” (17). Acknowledging the harms that essentialist perception of gender and sexuality entails, Butler bluntly negates the very categorization of woman. This radical negation, however, evades the reality that our whole understanding of the human race is based on gender categories, despite the corresponding inequalities generated from the instinctual categorization. In fact, it is when women as a collective community have come to the realization that the female gender is socially suppressed, that they start to strive for equality through the apparatus of feminism. Butler’s rejection of the gender categorization withdraws the sense of collectivism in the feminist community, which is “an important source of unity” for the marginalized (Digeser 668). Moreover, it deprives the feminist cinema of the necessity of delineating an authentic female representation, because within the notion of performativity there is no such thing as a fixed set of female representations but only distinctive individuals that conform to gender fluidity. Since identifying with a certain form of representation means to live up to a socially perceived norm from which one deviates, a performative cinema does not encourage spectator’s identification. The failed identification will not only drastically shift the spectator’s self-understanding but also cause more identity crises. Therefore, performativity is too ideal a theoretical concept to have actual real-life applications. Whether it is her body or her social function, woman has become the commodity of patriarchy. As Lauretis puts it, “she is the economic machine that reproduces the human species, and she is the Mother, an equivalent more universal than money, the most abstract measure ever invented by patriarchal ideology” (158). Woman’s experience has been portrayed in the cinematic realm nothing more than being the (m)other and the provocative body. Historical debates have proved that articulating the problematic tendencies within gender differences only results in skepticism rather than new solutions. Thus, in order to negotiate a feminist cinema, filmmakers need to abandon the patriarchal meta-language completely, and reconstruct new texts that represent and treasure woman’s experience more than just being the other, that “[address] its spectator as a woman, regardless of the gender of the viewers” (Lauretis 161). Similarly, what needs to be done in feminist cinema is more than just interrogating the gender difference between woman and man, but interpreting such difference in unconventional ways that liberate women from being compared to men and invite them to possibilities of having narratives dedicated to themselves. One of the ways, Lauretis suggests, is to regard woman as the site of differences (168). This signifies that the cinema needs to stop generalizing woman’s role based on her universal functions; rather, it needs to articulate her unique features, what makes her herself but not other women, from the way she looks to the trivial details of her daily life. In Claire’s Camera, the function of the camera conveniently transcends the diegetic space. In the narrative, it demarcatesthe “site of differences”, that is, how someone changes right after their photograph is taken, as well as how Manhee is presented differently each of the three times being photographed. The camera also magnifies her experience as a woman for spectator’s identification, mundane as it could be. In the last scene, the camera smoothly tracks Manhee organizing her belongings, packing box after box, casually talking to a colleague passing by, and so forth. Long takes like this fulfill what Lauretis would call “the ‘pre-aesthetic’ [that] isaestheticrather than aestheticized” in feminist cinema (159). Without commodifying or fetishizing woman and her acts, the film authentically represents a woman’s vision, her perception, her routines, and all the insignificant daily events which female spectators can immediately relate to. When a film no longer solely portrays woman as the “economic machine” that labors, entices men, and commits to social roles, it has confidently overwritten the patriarchal narrative with a female language. It fully addresses its spectator as a woman, appreciating and celebrating the female sex, not for what she does as a woman but for what she experiences. In conclusion, the essay first challenges the destructive approach in feminist cinema regarding its sufficiency in pursuit of woman’s autonomy and its indestructible destiny to fall back into patriarchy. The essay then argues that the rejection of gender categorization in performativity theory frustrates the mission of defining a female representation. Hong Sang-soo’s self-reflexive film, Claire’s Camera, offers an apparatus to delve into the drawbacks of destructive feminist cinema and simultaneously renders a new feminist code, abandoning the patriarchal metanarrative and constructing a new narrative that truly prioritizes woman’s experience.Works CitedButler, Judith. “Contingent Foundations: Feminist and the Questions of ‘Postmodernism.’”Feminists Theorize the Political, edited by Judith Butler and Joan W. Scott, Routledge, 1992, pp. 3–21.Digeser, Peter. “Performativity Trouble: Postmodern Feminism and Essential Subjects.” Political Research Quarterly, vol. 47, no. 3, 1994, pp. 655-673.Lauretis, Teresa de. “Aesthetic and Feminist Theory: Rethinking Women's Cinema.”New German Critique, no. 34, 1985, pp. 154–175.Lauretis, Teresa de. “Eccentric Subjects: Feminist Theory and Historical Consciousness.”Feminist Studies, vol. 16, no. 1, 1990, pp. 115–150.Mackinnon, Catherine A. “Desire and Power.”Feminism Unmodified: Discourses on Life and Law, Harvard University Press, 1987, pp. 46–62.Mulvey, Laura. “Visual Pleasure and Narrative Cinema.”The Norton Anthology and Theory and Criticism, edited by Vincent B Leitch, W. W. Norton, 2001, pp. 2181–2192.

Your mileage may vary, but for this reviewer’s money, one’s appreciation of South Korean auteur Hong Sang-soo is an acquired taste, veering from a vapid non-starter IN ANOTHER COUNTRY (2004), which more or less flounders in its rigid formality where connotations are lost in translation, to RIGHT NOW, WRONG THEN (2015), a revitalizing two-hander that redefines film’s narratological possibilities, and hits the home run with reverberating impact for all its niceties and relatability. 2017 proves to be the most prolific year for Hong to date, with three films released within a calendar year, ON THE BEACH AT NIGHT ALONE debuts in Berlin and Kim Min-hee nicks a Silver Bear trophy for BEST ACTRESS, THE DAY AFTER enters the main competition in Cannes, where CLAIRE’S CAMERA also has a special screening in the sidebar, all in the aftermath of the cause célèbre, Hong’s cut-and-dried extramarital affair with his muse Kim Min-hee, which both acknowledge with rather admirable candor in public. Therefore, it is particularly intriguing for aficionados to tease out any clues of Hong’s own response to the scandal in these three films, all encompass infidelity with Kim Min-hee playing three different characters in the center, as Hong is astute enough to make hay while the sun shines as far as self-reference is concerned. ON THE BEACH AT NIGHT ALONE can be easily construed as an explicit response to the explosion of Hong’s private life, but mostly from the viewpoint of Kim, structurally a lopsided diptych, its first 20 minutes takes places in a Mitteleuropean town, actress Young-hee (Min-hee), visits her lady friend Jee-young (Seo), to cool her heads off after the scandal of her affair with a married movie director breaks out, after that, she returns to South Korea and touches base with her old acquaintances, including Myung-soo (Jeong Jae-yeong, who is so adept in inhabiting an anodyne man’s aw-shucks front), Chun-woo (Kwon Hae-hyo) and Jun-hee (Song Seon-mi, who steals a cute girl-on-girl kiss), during dinner, she lets rip her “entitlement to love” statement to a stunned audience, apparently is jilted by the director, a lonesome Young-hee seeks for a closure, and one day on the beach alone, she might find a way to achieve that, Hong struts his illusory sleight-of-hand with distinction. THE DAY AFTER is shot in a bleached monochrome, Bong-wan (Kwon, promoted to a leading role, whose multifaceted ability, including tear shedding, is as protuberant as his underbite) is a married man who runs a small publish house, who has an affair with his assistant Chang-sook (Kim Sae-byuk, who is extraordinary in showing up a temperamental paramour’s blandness and selfishness), while their relationship breaks off, he hires a new assistant Ah-reum (Min-hee). On the first day of her job, Bong-wan’s wife Hae-joo (Yoon-hee, geared up with a fishwife’s voltage), alights on a billet-doux written by him, rushes to the publish house to confront Ah-reum, whom she mistakes as the mistress. The misapprehension takes a nasty turn when Chang-sook returns later that very day, conniving together with Bong-wan to get an upper hand, at the expense of the innocent Ah-reum, which concludes “the day”, then “after” an indeterminate time, Ah-reum revisits the publish house in the epilogue, plus ça change, a man is eternally obsessed with his “wife, lover, potential lover” circle of fantasies, his self-deception (or short memory) like a cold rapier thrusts into an ingénue’s expectation, for old time’s sake? But one day does hardly amount to an “old time”. CLAIRE’S CAMERA is the shortest, runs succinctly about 69 minutes, suitably as a digestif after the one-two punch, and reunites Hong with Isabelle Huppert as the titular Claire, a French high school music teacher (here, Hong hints the connection with ON THE BEACH AT NIGHT ALONE in the interrelationship), visiting Cannes during the festival season, and habitually takes pictures with her obsolete instant camera, befriends a Korean girl Man-hee (Min-hee), an employee of a Korean film sales company here in town for business, who has justly received a kiss-off by her boss Yang-hye (Chang Mi-hee) for being “dishonest” albeit her goodheartedness, only through Claire’s photos, who also fraternizes with a visiting Korean movie director So Wan-soo (Jin-young, is assigned with an unthankful job of mansplaining that might get one’s back up) and Yang-hye, the real reason of her abrupt dismiss will dawn on a befogged Man-hee, but nothing is set in stone yet. Watching three movies in a row, Hong’s modus operandi is destined to loom large: his trademark racking focus shots, the omnipresent facing-off composition, interrupted time-line in the narrative to jostle for a viewer’s attention and comprehension, a keen eye to the background movement, and a curiosity to the sea, all leads to his philosophizing approach, to entangle gender politics, relationship hiccups, emotional complex among coevals and exotic friendship through garden-variety dialogues, often synchronizing with the intake of food and beverage. While THE DAY AFTER loses some of its luster by emphasizing a treacherous scheme that one might question its credence, and CLAIRE’S CAMERA feels like an extemporaneous dispatch when Hong realizes he has some time to expend in Cannes during his festival junket. It its ON THE BEACH AT NIGHT ALONE leaves the strongest impression, not just for Kim Min-hee’s much layered interpretation of a woman’s bewilderment, disaffection and desolation, but also Hong’s absurdist inset that piquantly ties viewers in knots (what is the deal with that mysterious man-in-black?), that is definitely a welcoming sign for any number of established auteurs. referential entries: Hong Sang-soo’s IN ANOTHER COUNTRY (2012, 4.6/10), RIGHT NOW, WRONG THEN (2015, 8.4/10).

这部怎么看都像是洪尚秀的临时兴起之作，70分钟的片长与极其简陋的情节，跟同期另一部《之后》相比，观感与水准有点堪忧，从今年戛纳入围非竞赛单元可见一斑。

人物和对白设计都显得很生硬，尤其是英语对白写得很糟糕，不知道影后于佩尔在念的时候心里做何感想。

如果说要表现韩国人英语糟糕，跟西方人沟通时尴尬这一点，我觉得《独自在夜晚的海边》要处理得更佳。

这部里面于佩尔跟韩国演员（除金敏喜之外）的对白，简直无聊得让人发指。

影片透过照相机这个“道具”来制造出情节上的巧合，并借助于佩尔这个旁观者来梳理金敏喜与剧中导演的关系。

然而，于佩尔这个突如其来的角色设置得有点飘忽不定，很可能是洪尚秀太过自信的缘故（两人之前合作过一部《在异国》）。

这个旁观者出现的合理性显然不如《之后》里面的金敏喜扮演的新助手，也有可能是受制于拍摄地与拍摄时间的关系，毕竟在戛纳电影节期间来开拍一部电影确实难度太大。

所以，她的角色在片中呈现出莫名其妙的“鬼魂”特质，也自然不奇怪了。

作为洪尚秀导演的缪斯，金敏喜接连主演了他四部电影，各部影片里都均有不俗的表现。

这很大程度要归功于导演对她个性的准确把握，放手让她表现出个性。

在这部里面，她在戛纳海滩上演唱英文数字歌，以及在餐厅露台上跟男导演对峙的两场都让我印象深刻。

洪尚秀最近三部影片似乎有针对传媒报道他与金敏喜陷入婚外恋丑闻的反击意味，《独自在夜晚的海边》和《克莱尔的相机》都不约而同出现了导演角色的自诩。

与其说是艺术源于生活而高于生活，在洪尚秀身上倒不如说是现实生活远远要比他的作品来得精彩。

没爆出婚姻丑闻之前，难得有这么多人关注他的电影。

然而婚姻丑闻后陆续以惊人的创作力爆发出这几部作品，也算是塞翁失马焉知非福的最好诠释了。

哈哈哈，我要爱死了老洪这个推拉摇移的镜头了，多么不屑，多么随意，多么暧昧，多么犹豫徘徊胆怯摇摆无立场。

老洪真是个艺术家。

敏敏说英语太好听了，hahaha，像个初高中学习很好又很乖巧的小姑娘。

如果把镜头推到腰肢或者胸腹，停一秒，我感觉能看到一个高中低年级女生的“抽条感”。

看老洪的电影，看着看着就笑了。

是看到某个地方，会心一笑。

哈哈哈，太可爱了，又太尴尬了。

有种低落的淘气和自恋。

用我一片文章的话就是“不屈服的温柔狰狞”。

不过老洪还不算狰狞，我觉得他年轻的时候一定“狰狞”过。

这个电影拍的真的好随意啊，不是老洪最好的电影。

是“发行商写字楼味道”的老洪。

不是“海味”的老洪，不是“艺术家味”的老洪，更不是“烧酒瓶味”的老洪。

即便这部电影里这些元素都出现了，但这电影真的很一般，在老洪所有的电影里。

我为什么讨厌婚宴，一个桌子上总有海参和鲍鱼，甚至一个盘子里。

海参和鲍鱼能顿一起吗？

好像也能，但这个一百加一百小于一的事情，我很讨厌。

以后千万不要把敏敏和于佩尔放一起了，即便佩姨是我们老于家的人，即便是一个天才导演，但真的做不出等于二百的东西来，更别说要出现事半功倍的效果了。

老洪真是爱拍漂亮女孩子抽烟啊。

能把抽烟的女孩子拍的如此不做作，如此自然，真的好会选角色啊。

我爱老洪。

老洪的电影是我的顾影自怜。