Sundays In August

Even critics break down.

I didn't understand a thing that was going on in Lee Jin-woo's film. The opening sequence is intriguing and immensely exciting. It's a car crash, at first in slo-mo and then in real time, with the sound turned up. After that... Ask me another.

The wife in the car is in a coma. The husband rushes about with plasters on his forehead. What's he doing? He's looking for a book, because it was her favourite. He goes to a bookseller, who says he will try and find a second hand copy, since it is out of print.

After this, you might as well buy a ticket to fairyland, because the plot dives into a vat of boiled rhubarb. The comatose wife is seen (by the audience) walking about and staring through a window. This is a magic realism moment, apparently.

There are many scenes of people eating, as if meals have significance. The female doctor in charge of the comatose wife finds a drunken man in an underground car park and drags him home and sleeps with him.

The bookseller has rows with his mother.

People talk on cell phones a lot. Nothing they say is of importance. The bookseller goes to a cemetery and pours beer over a grave. The critic leaves 15 minutes before the end.

After a miniscule amount of research, it appears that the comatose wife's husband discovers that she had been having an affair. You could have fooled me.