Lee Chang-dong’s layered drama Possible Love, running the festival circuit before hitting Netflix in November, is a movie for now. Following the intricate pains and desires of two couples whose lives intersect for the shooting of a documentary, the Burning filmmaker’s new movie is about rising economic unease, class divisions, and how it all affects people. It’s also one of the most poignant recent depictions of the grief that comes from losing one’s job, and the fallout that comes with it—all of which, sadly, feels all too relatable for many around the world.
Lee follows Ho-seok (Sul Kyung-gu), who was laid off from his longtime employer, and his wife Mi-ok (Jeon Do-yeon). As she steps up to help the family in a new factory, they meet documentarian Ye-ji (Cho Yeo-jeong) and her entrepreneur husband Sang-woo (Zo In-sung), who want to feature the couple’s story in Ye-ji’s latest project about layoffs from corporate restructuring. Their lives become intertwined as first Mi-ok then Ho-seok share their experiences of his lob loss. They become so entangled in each other’s lives, in fact, that the line between documentarian and subject starts to blur.
More than just a plot point for Possible Love, the grief Ho-seok and Mi-ok share is carefully presented and deeply felt. Mi-ok is more forthcoming about her emotions and memories, sharing her experience of solidarity and support in the wake of the layoffs among fellow laid-off employees, as well as the social excommunication she felt after her husband’s job was cut. She explains their life changes in both major and less noticeable ways: Not only did she have to get a job at a different factory while her husband looked for work, but Ho-seok’s carefully carved marble table outside their home never got to welcome any parties after he lost the means to host gatherings.
Through conversations for the film-within-the-film, the couple unpack their pain, shame, guilt, and sometimes overwhelming grief that can only be greeted with tears over the loss of identity, purpose, and means to provide for their families, including the couple’s young son. In one of Possible Love‘s most tense moments, the distant father follows one of his still-employed ex-colleagues who’s buying a birthday cake for their child, the same he was doing for his son. But he follows them further, going to the restaurant where they’re celebrating with a hearty meal and, eventually, the nice cake. He-seok sulks in the shadow of his former life, a ghost only another waiter seems to notice. In group therapy sessions, other workers share similar experiences lamenting their former lives. They felt like they were treated like the walking dead, compared to their still-employed counterparts they considered “the living.” Through no fault of their own, they not only lost their livelihood, they lost something representative of life.
Although America may not officially be in a recession, that hasn’t eased the overall economic fears of many after so many have been affected by the waves of recent layoffs because of corporate restructuring, mergers and acquisitions, and the fears around whatever the looming threat of AI will do to the workforce. South Korea, like the United States, has also weathered a number of high-profile layoffs, including the devastating round that inspired Lee to start working on the script for Possible Love. At a Q&A at the New York Film Festival, Lee said he developed the character of the documentarian in order to explore their experiences, because even he was unsure if he would be the right one to tell that kind of story.
This isn’t the first time a crummy economy, job insecurity, and rampant unemployment has made its way into the pictures. Back in the days of the Great Depression, comedies like Sullivan’s Travels, It Happened One Night, and My Man Godfrey touched on the issues of the time, acknowledging the hardships many in the audience were experiencing, but with a glamorous sense of escapism. Even the Mervyn LeRoy/Busby Berkeley musical Gold Diggers Of 1933 can’t escape the realistic struggle of its tenuously employed chorus girls, whose shows are closed by the bank faster than they can open to audiences. A drama like Frank Borzage’s Man’s Castle dove deeper into the insecurity shouldered by Spencer Tracy’s character as he tries to help a fellow unemployed love interest, but he’s afraid of married family life because he can’t guarantee that he can afford it.
Another wave of layoff movies welled up after the 2008 financial crisis. Downsizing became the enemy of the people in movies like Up In The Air and The Company Men. Kiyoshi Kurosawa’s Tokyo Sonata followed a laid-off worker so riddled with shame, he hid his firing from his family and proceeded to continue commuting to keep up appearances. While today’s financial pressures have not sunk as deeply as those in the late aughts, Possible Love is the second major Korean release in recent years to take on the topic. Last year, Park Chan-wook’s dark comedy No Other Choice, took a satirical look at a desperate character, Man-su (Lee Byung-hun), who loses his job after 25 years of service. While his family makes do without certain luxuries, and weighs the possibility of losing their home, Man-su takes matters into his own hands, literally eliminating the competition for a shot at the next job that comes up.
While unemployment and layoffs are sometimes the starting dramatic premise or a mere punchline in some movies, Possible Love arrives at the story already in progress. What stands out is not just the act of losing one’s job, but the emotional toll that comes after. Informed by Lee’s interviews with people who have experienced layoffs, it’s a movie that takes its time to sit with these characters and gives them space to process their feelings, perhaps for the first time. The couple’s pent-up feelings of betrayal and abandonment eventually break out, especially as the interviews probe further, acknowledging the depth with which these corporate decisions have real-life lasting effects. Possible Love is a reminder to listen to these stories and sit with those in pain and grief, because the experience of losing one’s work, identity, and community all at once can be crushingly isolating and so much more complicated than a separation agreement.
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