Blue is the Warmest Collar: Chang-dong Prepares a Touch of Class
Boiled down to its core essence, Possible Love, the first feature from South Korean auteur Lee Chang-dong since his Faulkner furnace Burning (2018), grapples with universal elements of the basic human experience, namely the secret desires and needs which, once exposed, can be ruinous to the carefully manicured harmony of our lives. To be clear, the project is merely a passing homage to Kieslowski’s Decalogue 10 rather than a contemporary remake or reconfiguration of a global cinematic endeavor to rework each chapter of the Polish auteur’s opus (which included Asghar Farhadi’s French set Parallel Tales, 2026). Clocking in at nearly three hours, Chang-dong methodically characterizes an intersection between two couples, basically from opposite sides of the class tracks, each finding something they desire to procure or experience from one another. “Thou shalt not covet,” is the opening commandment directing their trajectory, arguably the easiest of the ancient Biblical decrees to transgress.
A devastating mass lay off at SP Heavy Industries has left laborer Ho-seok (Sul Kyung-gu) and a majority of his colleagues, out of work for months. Those still employed are referred to as ‘the living.’ His wife Mi-ok (Jeon Do-yeon) has been left to deal with her increasingly emotionally closed off husband and support the family, which includes their young son Cheol. When one of his co-workers commits suicide, Mi-ok meets the affable Ye-ji (Cho Yeo-jeong of Parasite) at a funeral, a wealthy woman who has decided to make a documentary feature about the laid off workers. The women forge what would seem an otherwise unlikely friendship, and Mi-ok finds herself attracted to Sang-woo (Zo In-Sung), Ye-ji’s dashing husband.
The prolonged set-up of Possible Love is actually characterized by the evolving spasms of technology directly affecting the production of goods, and thus, the work force once responsible for manufacturing them. It’s not so much what the goods are, but rather, the shifting “value of labor” once required for providing the bedrock in a chain which now has released a certain percentage of the work force to flounder in a world where they’ve been replaced by immigrant labor or AI. A mass layoff, inspired by actual corporate restructuring events in South Korea, is the catalyst providing the microcosmic collision of characters here. Chang-dong’s outlining of these experiences feels like a throwback to an earlier era of narratives obsessively detailing the plight of workers’ rights and the necessity of unionization, and, as such has a kinship with a myriad of previous films, such as Elio Petri’s The Working Class Goes to Heaven (1971).
Closer to home, Possible Love feels like it’s mashing up the central families of Bong Joon-ho’s Parasite (2019) and Park Chan-wook’s No Other Choice (2025) and letting them feed off one another. But there is no trace of genre here. There are sobering elements of the demented, demeaning bullshit working class adults endure, such as Ho-seok’s treatment at his new job, forced to lead a rote safety meeting enacted by corporations going through the motions under the guise of coaxing ‘participation’ and ‘team work.’ The noose finally tightens around both couples as they travel together to Sang-woo’s beautiful, idyllic vacation home. The disparity between each couple could not be more clear, but it’s the women who tenuously choreograph a potential friendship with one another, until, of course, it’s revealed this will be impossible since no one is being quite honest with one another. Speaking of impossible, Chang-dong’s specifically demure title is dealing with the logistics of what we call ‘love,’ the mechanics behind what actually bonds us together out of necessity, loyalty, and, at the end of the day, contendedness rather than maintaining the ‘high’ that is happiness.
Because their characters have more to lose, it’s no surprise the performances of Sul Kyung-gu (of Chang-dong’s 1999 film Peppermint Candy and 2002’s Oasis) and Jeon Do-yeon (returning to work with Chang-dong after delivering one of the finest, unmissable performances on screen with 2007’s Secret Sunshine) provide the emotional core of the film. Ho-seok is primed for a nervous breakdown, the parameters of which are slowly revealed, ultimately leading to the devastating moment whereby Mi-ok finally realizes how a dalliance in satisfying her own desires created an oblivious a daze obfuscating her actions. Ultimately Ye-ji (whose pedigree and good intentions are reminiscent to a series of documentaries about workers’ and women’s rights directed by actress Lee Grant) and Sang-woo are revealed to be parasites, like the young woman who inspired Pulp’s “Common People.” It’s painful observing Ye-ji trying to relate to her new ‘friend,’ because at a moment’s notice, she can close the door on her poverty tourism era. In-sung and Yeo-jeong are well-paired, it seems, both also appearing in Na Hong-jin’s runaway hit Hope this year.
Ultimately, Possible Love is also about the dangerous erosion that occurs when couples escape into themselves to heal their own wounds rather than providing the necessary succor which might not only assist in healing, but bring them closer together. DP Kim Ji-yong deposits us in a beautiful paradise for the quietly concerning third act, like a mythological Eden, exposing primal desires and aims more easily hidden when navigating the veneer of polite society. There is a visual subtext regarding being ‘moonstruck,’ one of the more overblown but poetic metaphorical descriptors to suggest what being in love is like. Chang-dong hardly suggests such a state is sustainable, and, therefore, not a ‘possible’ kind of love. But he does leave us with an afterimage of a ringed moon, and as far as cinematic endeavors go, this certainly hits the eye like a big pizza pie. And yeah, that’s a kind of amore.
Reviewed on September 6th at the 2026 Venice Film Festival (83rd edition) – In Competition. 164 Minutes.
★★★★/☆☆☆☆☆
