Iris, the central figure in “A Traveler’s Needs,” presents a captivating paradox through her attire. She dresses to attract attention while simultaneously seeking to disappear. Her vibrant sundress, adorned with red and violet blossoms, is juxtaposed with an assertive, eye-catching green cardigan, a hue reminiscent of green-screen backdrops. This allows her to blend into the foliage of a city park or the colorful rooftop of a building. Her origins remain a mystery, hinted at only by her thick French accent, and her destination is equally uncertain. One can imagine her, with her chameleon-like knitwear, seamlessly inserted into various imagined locations, appearing as out of place as she does on the streets of Seoul. Understanding a traveler’s needs 2024 involves deciphering these subtle signals and embracing the ambiguity of the journey.
Despite the enigma surrounding Iris, Isabelle Huppert’s portrayal infuses the character with a touch of familiarity and humor. This allows the audience to connect with Iris on a deeper level, even amidst the ambiguity. Hong Sangsoo’s latest work, a short, shimmery comedy, invites viewers to participate in a guessing game, filling in the blanks with assumptions and judgments typically reserved for strangers or superficial acquaintances. However, the film provides no definitive answers, leaving the audience to grapple with their own interpretations. “A Traveler’s Needs” showcases Hong’s signature geometric structural folding, seen in works like “Walk Up” and “In Our Day,” while incorporating even more ellipsis than usual.
Isabelle Huppert in a green sweater
We are first introduced to Iris in the sparsely furnished, sunlit home of Isong (Kim Seungyun), a diffident young woman. The two engage in a peculiar questioning game. Isong plays a short piece on the piano, and Iris probes her feelings while playing. An initial response of “Happy” is challenged as Iris persists, leading to a more nuanced and ultimately contradictory revelation: playing the piano evokes aggravation due to inadequate skill. It is implied that Isong has hired Iris for French lessons, evidenced by their conversations in a mix of French and English. The nature of the questioning – a calm yet increasingly invasive pursuit of candor – remains ambiguous, leaving the audience to determine whether it is a teaching technique or a personal inclination. For a traveler’s needs 2024, understanding different cultures is essential.
This questioning tactic recurs in a series of encounters that mirror each other structurally, with subtle shifts in Iris’s mood. She appears to be an unconventional teacher, her impromptu lessons seemingly a means of self-support in an unfamiliar city. The film’s events unfold over a single afternoon, hinting at the general, ambling nature of Iris’s routine. A second lesson with Wonju (Lee Hyeyoung), the lead in Hong’s “In Front of Your Face,” echoes the dialogue and dynamics of the first, but with a deeper understanding between two women of similar age.
Woman sitting in a cafe
As with Isong, Iris’s polite interrogation of Wonju elicits poignant memories of family and childhood, which Iris reciprocates with melancholic reflections on mortality. The repetition of scenes with subtle variations is a hallmark of Hong’s work, most notably in “Right Now, Wrong Then” (2015). Here, the technique stems from a character with a similar fixation. Conversations are recorded and recycled, ostensibly for language improvement. A traveler’s needs 2024 include connection and communication.
However, the more time we spend with Iris, the more elusive she becomes. This culminates in a series of exchanges at her apartment, shared on unclear terms with Inguk (Ha Seongguk), a student. This arrangement is a source of bewilderment, particularly for Inguk’s mother, who voices her confusion about the enigmatic Frenchwoman. Inguk defends Iris, citing her “enlightenment” and “sincerity.” His mother retorts, “Isn’t that just because she’s old? How can you like someone you don’t even know?” Yet, the film suggests that it is possible. Hong and Huppert invite us into the strange backstory of this woman with no history or future, appealing to our innate curiosity and inclination to create stories. We warm to whoever we imagine her to be.
Iris, as portrayed by Huppert, is not a cipher. Her face reveals surges of anxiety or moments of delight, conveying her feelings, if not her thoughts. She seems unconcerned with the opinions of others. Some of the film’s most captivating scenes depict Iris alone, enjoying bibimbap in a quiet café or indulging in makgeolli, the milky rice wine that often unlocks confessions in Hong’s films, inducing a soft calm. Iris appears both blissful and sorrowful, existing almost entirely in the present tense. Hong’s sly oddity suggests that there are worse ways to live. One of a traveler’s needs 2024 is adaptability, living in the present moment, and enjoying local cuisine.
In conclusion, “A Traveler’s Needs” presents a complex portrait of a woman defined by her ambiguity and adaptability. The film challenges audiences to confront their own assumptions and embrace the unknown, offering no easy answers but instead inviting contemplation on the human condition and the essence of travel itself.
