Secret Sunshine marks the return of director Lee Changdong to the film-making world after a multi-year absence. Having three critically acclaimed films already under his belt, he recruits now veteran thespian Jeon Doyeon and her considerable (Cannes-winning) talents for the primary role of Lee Shinae. What follows is a journey through one woman's tragedy and an exploration of her coping mechanisms.
One of the things that becomes apparent while watching Secret Sunshine is that it doesn't really care to follow any specific genre, but rather picks up genre traits when necessary to convey what it's trying to convey. The story itself follows Lee Shinae as she moves with her son to the city of Milyang (whose Sino-Corean translates to Secret Sunshine). She moves to Milyang in the aftermath of the death of her husband as it was his hometown, so the film is born from tragedy. And you think things might just get better as she opens up a piano shop and encounters a bit of a bumbling nice-guy mechanic Jongchan (played by Song Kangho). But this isn't a romantic comedy.
As we (and Jongchan, doggedly) follow Shinae as she encounters Milyang and the fate that it has in store for her, the cracks in her armor quickly become apparent. She is a troubled woman trying to grasp onto her own strength to overcome tragedy and we watch as she finds that it's not enough. Secret Sunshine still manages to follow a mostly Aristotelian dramatic arc, but pulls back on the catharsis, which might confound some viewers, especially the ending, but the novelistic symbolism present in the name of Milyang, the discussions of sunshine and the imagery used in the film very well left me satisfied, once I started to think over the film some more.
Ms. Jeon is rather impressive throughout, especially considering that if the role were any less well played, it would've quickly turned into a rather painful melodrama, but she captures the nuances of Shinae's attempts to deal with her losses with a layer of subtlety. Mr. Song has a much smaller role in this film than other films, but he performs adequately, appropriately giving stage to Ms. Jeon. Technically, the film is well done in a classical sense. No flashy aesthetics are employed here--the director is clearly trying to let the story tell itself. I think my only real complaint, and one that might not be able to be fixed, is that despite all the time we spend with Shinae, there is a bit of distance between Shinae and the audience (or at least, me). I think some of this stems from the nature of the work, because if total empathy were pushed, then we wouldn't be able to see the problems that Shinae has objectively. On the other hand, I never felt moved along with Shinae's plight, despite her many tears and increasingly erratic behavior.
All the same, the film still stands quite impressive, especially in that it stimulated me to think about it, the further meanings present in it and its ruminations on tragedy, coping, self-deception, isolation and faith stuck with me well after the credits had finished running. Propelled by a strong lead performance, I honestly didn't notice its 2.25 hour runtime. And that says something. Well done. 8/10.

It's been said several times - not least by me - that watching an Eric Rohmer film is like watching paint dry; it seems that Monsieur Rohmer resents this (he doesn't deny it, but then how could he, he just resents it) so much so that his new movie, which may also be his last, Inch Allah, is set so far back in time that it's like watching woad dry. Those wonderful people who gave you the Nouvelle Vague, Cahiers du Cinema have already named it one of the best films of 2007 so that should give you some idea. Reality is not high on Rohmer's agenda so that in 5th Century France we have at one extreme a château that would not be out of place in the Loire valley whilst the only other dwelling we see is a rude wooden hut. The story involves nymphs and shepherds and as he often does Rohmer has cast it with unknowns who just happened to be passing so that the overall effect is that the annual class play at a school for Special Needs pupils was captured on film by accident. One is almost tempted to say 'Come back Godard, all is forgiven' but even this woeful production can't make me utter those words.