No prop is more common in Korean films than the soju bottle. Green, stumpy and filled with tomorrow’s tears, this object, a steal for the art department at just USD 1 per bottle, is a potent symbol that speaks volumes to the pressures and social hierarchy that dominate Korean society.
Koreans are the heaviest drinkers in Asia and among the highest in the world. Arguments vary as to why this is the case, but when you consider that many dare not refuse a drink from a superior, the frequent work parties where drinking to excess in an effort to bond is encouraged, those coping with the pressures of a country with the longest work hours in the OECD, and the abundance and low cost of alcohol in the nation, and quickly it doesn’t seem so far-fetched.
The soju bottle is omnipresent on dinner tables in Korean films and nowhere is this more the case than in those of prolific director
HONG Sang-soo, such as
Our Sunhi (2013) or
Hahaha (2010). In HONG's films, the filmmakers and professors that litter his narratives typically start drinking in the afternoon and don’t end until well after they’ve begun slurring their words and damaging their relationships.
Though these are the scenes where things tend to erupt, the consequences are generally reserved for the morning after. HONG’s characters often begin their days with a sense of regret, generally coupled with a headache and perhaps a bowl of ‘haejangguk’ (hangover soup). Some introspection may follow, but it normally isn’t long before the lure of the bottle tempts them back into their cycle of self-loathing.
Look anywhere in Korean cinema and you’ll find the same characters. Professors, police captains and department heads are prone to terrorizing their employees as they chase massive hangovers. At the same time, employees and students, drinking away the pressures of work and school lives or problems at home, seldom do their best work after all night sessions.
Moving on to the extremes, some of the darker characters of Korean films are violent drunks, frequently abusive fathers, who act as a cancer to all around them. These figures, such as KIM Bok-nam’s abusive husband in
Bedevilled (2010) or the degenerate force of nature that sees a sham religion for what it is in
The Fake (2013), can’t exist without the bottle. Their fierce hangovers open the door to a wealth of psychological pains that they can only push away by pounding themselves into submission once again.
Soju isn’t always a vessel for violence and dark memories, as it plays a large role in comedy, such as
Gianna JUN’s Jekyll and Hyde soju transformations in
My Sassy Girl (2001). However, even in moments of levity, those little green bottles hint at something buried, something that people are trying to forget, at least until that brutal hangover returns when the sun rises anew over the land of the morning calm.