Customer Reviews

Spring, Summer, Fall, Winter... and Spring [VHS]

5 star:		(70)
4 star:		(18)
3 star:		(13)
2 star:		(3)
1 star:		(5)

 

 

Spring, Summer, Fall, Winter... and Spring ushers the audience into silent solitude through meticulously planned cinematography that maximizes the effect of the natural environment. The environment is essential to the story as it takes place in an idyllic valley that is untouched by the continually modernizing civilization. In the middle of the valley is a small lake in which a small floating monastery drifts by the forces of the nature. This has an allegorical meaning as it supports the notion that everything is part of a greater plan in which individuals can make small ripples that will affect the individual throughout life.

Each frame is carefully planned as color, form, and movement come together into a meaningful expression of either spiritual, moral, existential meaning, or a personal meaning which rests behind the eye of the beholder. The film becomes a sequential succession of spiritual or existential paintings that are rapidly exchanged before the viewers' retina. The mise-en-scene is exceptionally significant as Ki-duk Kim has left nothing to chance, yet everything is based on chance. This visual oxymoron is very much like the chaotic expression which nature expresses itself within each season.

The story is split into the four seasons as it begins and ends with spring as the title suggests. The beginning takes place in the spring as an old monk cares for a young boy who discovers the consequence of guilt the hard way as he torments a fish, a frog, and a snake. The shots have symbolic meaning, yet the many frames offer much room for personal interpretation as the boy deals with everyday life under the supervision of the monk.

Summer opens the door to love, affection, and desire as the young boy has become a young man. This begins with the old monk who receives a young woman that is sick. The mother of the young woman requests that the monk help to cure her daughter that seems to suffer from some sort of restless melancholic ailment. The young woman and the young man playfully begin a romantic relationship that leads them into a physical relationship. This relationship drives the young man to give up a life in the small monastery as he sneaks away an early morning.

Fall is the season when the woods change from green to an explosion of color. Ki-duk Kim use this natural phenomenon of the seasons to a full effect as the season displays the aftermath of a vengeful strikeout from the young man who now is a man in his 30s. The man now has to learn the consequences of his actions through a painful internal crisis, in which he seeks moral and spiritual redemption by returning to the tranquility of the valley.

Winter follows fall and the man is now in his 40s, as he once again returns to the monastery in order to take over for the former monk. It becomes a time for spiritual search and moral purging for the man who tries to fill the shoes of his former teacher and guide. This means that he must find a way to deal with his past, present, and future by rigorously following a rough and narrow path.

When spring returns the film brings the audience in a full circle as it returns to where the film once started. The cyclical message is a fundamental cornerstone of Buddhism and the message that the film portrays. However, it does not mean that things will be the same in the future as each ripple created will cause some change in the environment, which is skillfully depicted through the use of the animals that Ki-duk Kim incorporates into each season. In the initial spring there is a dog and as summer comes along it brings a rooster while a cat enters with the fall. A snake appears in the winter as and as the spring returns it brings the audience a turtle. These animals also represent the end of men's lives as they could be reincarnations of other human's, which is a result of the ripples they once created.

This is a truly great work of art that is also a medium for the Buddha's teachings.

Zen is a school of Buddhism that traditionally does not rely on words or letters and is based on the "mind to mind" transmission of the master's teaching to the student.

Many excellent reviews have covered the wonderful story line and the cinematic qualities of the film. I would like to make a few comments on the Buddhist and Zen teaching elements of the film.

1. The setting -- Buddha was enlightened under a tree and the natural world serves as the context for many Buddhist teachings. The great Japanese Zen Master, Dogen, wrote essays on the lives of mountains and rivers and non-sentient beings.

2. Cycles -- The seasonal cycle in the film is symbolic of the cycle of life with an old man, a child, youth, young lovers, parents, and old man again. Only if we live, as Dogen said, in Being/Time can we transcend these cycles.

3. Karma -- The child, because of his choice or his propensity kills a fish and more... Every decision and mysterious propensity leads to consequences.

4. The Island temple and the raft -- The small temple is on a drifting island connected to the shore by a raft indicating the impermanence even of the Master's abode and the refuge. A question from Zen point of view is -- Where is Buddha?

5. The Master -- He teaches with few words -- typical of Zen tradition -- teaches by example. (Actually... Zen masters are blabbermouths who did anything to teach their students that they thought would work. Existence is the ultimate blaberbody).

6. The Gateless Gate -- One of the two great Zen Koan (cases studies for contemplation) collection is called in English "The Gateless Gate". To reach the boat from the shore and to reach the Master's room from the bedroom there is a door but no wall.
What is reality? Is there any real separation?

7. Animal teachings -- A fish, a rooster, a cat, rocks, falling leaves, snow, water and waves, the sky, and mountains all play roles in the teaching process. Does a little fish have Buddha nature or not?

8. Skillful Means -- In Zen tradition there is dynamic and powerful teaching, when necessary, using shouts, hitting, and dynamic dialogues and any other means. The Master uses a poor cat's tail to write the sutra on the deck of porch of the temple. There is more but you must see this movie...

9. No eyes, no ears, no tongue, no body, no mind. no seeing, no hearing, no tasting, no touching, no thinking -- This line from the Heart Sutra is a core teaching of Buddhism -- especially Zen Buddhism. In the most haunting scene in the movie, the Master's eyes and mouth are covered with paper -- what does this mean to you? Has reality been cut or is this a new reality?

Spring Summer Fall Winter Spring. Where is it and when does it begin and end?

In an age of computer enhanced, if not entirely generated, special effects, high adventure, action upon action scenes, what an enjoyable respite it is to view this Korean film of aesthetic simplicity.

Korean director Kim Ki-Duk has created a film centered around the seasons of a man's life beautifully framed against the seasons of nature. An elder Buddhist monk raises a younger monk with a quiet and unobtrusive wisdom. The scene is set in a small floating monastery where the two live alone but for one animal companion, the choice of animal changing with each season, adding layers of intriguing symbolic meaning. Surrounding the floating monastery is a lake set among mountains.

Beginning in the spring of the boy's life, when he is a child learning about the world around him and within him, the wise older man watches the naive young boy engage in lessons proffered by nature. He lets the boy learn on his own, watching from a distance, and only steps in when it is time to do so. In perhaps the film's most profound statement, he watches as the boy, chuckling to himself, ties string around a fish he catches in the lake, and attaches it to a stone. The child takes joy in the struggling of the fish when he releases it back into the water, where the fish is unable to swim freely. The boy repeats this with a frog, with a snake, gleefully tormenting his fellow creatures. From the woods above the shore of the water, the elder monk watches. He is a silent observer, allowing the boy to engage in his mischief. It is only at night, when the boy sleeps, that the monk ties a rock to the boy's back, precisely as the boy did with the tiny creatures. When the boy wakes upon morning, he finds himself weighed down with the rock, and when he questions the elder man, is told that the rock will not be removed until the boy removes the stones he tied to the creatures the day before. Should he not have rescued the creatures in time, the stone will then be a weight the boy must carry in his heart ever after.

The boy seeks out the creatures he has tormented. He finds the little fish dead in the water, still tied to its stone. Teary eyed, he buries it. The frog, though exhausted from its added weight, survives. The snake, however, the boy finds bloodied and dead, attacked by other creatures while unable to escape, and the boy sobs with regret for what he has done.

This is but the first of many lessons the boy must learn as he grows into a man over the course of the seasons of his life and the life around him. There are lessons of love and lust as the manchild, and then the adult man, confuses the two; there are lessons of violence and retribution; lessons of penitence and forgiveness; lessons on dealing with one's own emotions and inner turbulence; lessons of honor and death and rebirth. There is a repetition of the stone tied to the man as he reaches a higher level of understanding, once the elder monk has died, and this time the man has tied the stone to himself as he presses to reach for a higher level of endurance, wisdom, and reverence.

While seemingly simple, this wonderful film is in actuality complex and rich with beauty and symbolism, cutting to the core of a man's nature and the nature of life. It can be watched many times over to enjoy fully its intricacies. It is subtitled, yet one can watch it, and perhaps even should--at least once--without the words, for there are few, and the images convey all that must be understood.

Perhaps the greatest skill in movie-making is not the amount of special effects incorporated in its making, as to what level of beauty and wisdom one can bring to the screen without anything other than a director's fine eye and profoundly simple yet wise insights.

Highly recommended.

Elegantly filmed with an artistic view of idyllic mountain scenes of North Kyungsan Province in Korea where Jusan Pond was created over 200 years ago. It is an artificial pond which looks like a lake and reflects the mountains like a mirror. The scenery calms the mind and soothes the soul, the camera's eye glides gradually to a small lake hidden between mountains ... on which floats a beautifully painted and carved Buddhist temple. The misty mountains and tall peaks hide an inner beauty far from the ordinairy. An elderly monk tends to his prayers and then goes about his daily chores in meditation and silence. He is accompanied by a young boy, a student, a "monk-in-training" who likely will inherit this peaceful lifestyle. "Spring, Summer, Fall, Winter and Spring" makes the viewer awesomely quiet and silent, absorbing the landscapes created by nature. The viewer is spellbound, waiting, anticipating ... what is next? A young monk, about aged 7 or so is watched closely by the Master. He engages in boyish pranks, which harm some small helpless creatures. The Master is dismayed but uses the experience to teach the young monk a lesson he will not soon forget about "compassion." It is now "Spring" ...

Time passes, and the young monk is now an awkward teenager. He tends the Buddhist temple with care and occasionally rows a boat to a gate which leads to a path ... a path to the outside world, the mountains are like a wall from ordinairy civilization. From seemingly nowhere, a mother and her ill-looking teenaged daughter arrive at the temple. The mother has sought healing from many sources but nothing has cured her daughter, she asks the Master for help, she has nowhere else to turn. The elderly monk accepts the young lady as a guest. She participates in the simple life of the temple. The teenaged monk and she eye each other warily ... and inevitably ... teenage passions are aroused which erupt into actions. Trying to hide their feelings the teenaged monk and girl reveal more than conceal. The Master asks if she now feels cured, she responds, "yes". He then concludes, "you have received the right medicine, it is time for you to leave."

The film continues to reveal "seasons" of life ... the young monk as an adult wrestles with certain internal desires and leaves the monastery - to join life in the outside world. Lust, desire to control, and anger lead to evil behavior. While the actions are not shown, the implications of what happened are very clear ... The young monk returns to the temple, without explanation but among his belongings, the Master discovered a newspaper article in about the *unexplained* murder of a local married young woman. The behavior of the returned monk is subdued. LOcal police investigators arrive at the temple ... The young adult monk engages in painting out specific Buddhist sutras on the deck of the temple. No one is accused, no one is arrested. The air is thick with suspense ...Needless to say, this film continues symbolically revealing subtle life-altering experiences which are densely packed with meaning. There are suspense-filled moments that reveal intense emotions of shock, sadness, and revelation within the sphere of the idyllic floating Buddhist temple ... tucked between lush green, peaked and misty mountains. The impact of the lessons learned within this film are vast and deeply meaningful. This is a most highly recommended viewing experience. Erika Borsos [pepper flower]

I saw Spring, Summer, Fall, Winter, and Spring at the local indie theater when it first arrived here in town. At the time there were only two other people in the whole theater, but I must say that it made much more of an impression on me than any other film I've seen this year. Elegantly simple and beautifully photographed, it tells the story of a Buddhist monk who lives at an isolated cabin retreat and a young boy (presumably an orphan) who has been placed under his care. Each of the seasons represents a phase of the boy's life, which by the end has come full circle. It would be easy for a film like this to become too sentimental or navel-gazing for its own good, but for the most part Ki-duk Kim pulls it off very well. Some of the scenes, from the animals struggling with the stones tied to them to the monk covering his face with Buddhist sutras, will remain etched in your mind for a long time. Some have unfairly criticized the film's Buddhist themes because the director has stated he is a Christian, but is that really relevant? From what I remember, there are no direct references to God, and the Buddhist elements aren't even played up too heavily considering its premise. I think just about anyone could appreciate this film, and if you also happen to understand some of the Buddhist spiritual elements underneath, then that's even better.

Enough praise have been heaped on this movie about its lush cinematography and the symbolisms it contains. Unfortunately, none of the reviewer talked about exactly what those symbolisms represent. For most of us who are uninitiated, we vaguely sense the hidden meaning but can't enjoy the movie beyond admiring the scenery. I'm sure there are many meaningful symbolisms peppered throughout the film, most notably, the circle of life which spans the entire movie and intimated by its title. Here, I will share one which I detected.

Ever wonder why there is a door in the temple but there is no wall? The door separates the "bedroom" from the shrine. Although there is no wall, the old monk and the young monk always used the doorway and never walk around it. In today's world that hail efficiency and profits, the door seems to be superficial, unnecessary and a waste. To me, the invisible wall symbolizes self-control. There are many things we can do but don't out of morality or ehtics. That is the true meaning of the door without a wall. What happens when the young monk disregard the door for the first time? Well, if you haven't seen the movie, I won't spoil it for you. If you already have, you know what I mean. Once we start disregarding that invisible wall, it is a slippery slope to greater evil as the old monk warned.

Kim Ki-duk's "Spring, Summer, Fall, Winter ...and Spring" is a patient yet intense picture. Known as a bad boy director in Asian cinema for films about prostitution (The Isle) and violence (Bad Guy), here he focuses on the tenets of Buddhism. The verbal language of the film is so sparse, that it really translates beautifully to an international audience. The cinematography and images used are profoundly beautiful and give a sense of timelessness to the picture. For audiences in the United States used to Hollywood formulas where chains of events unfold quickly, this requires patient adjustment, but is well worth the wait. The images of the floating house in the middle of the lake, the impermanence of life as well as its abundance, and the gorgeous natural setting of mountains and water make this a handsome film. While some of the images left me puzzled such as the mother who hides her face underneath a purple scarf, it leaves room for interpretation such as the doorways that seemingly stand without walls. All of the actors deliver powerful emotional performances. The spiritual Buddhist devotions frame the film. Its intense human emotions of desire, anger and longing drive the film forward. This is an intriguing film, a quiet storm. Enjoy!

In poetry, art, religion, and every day life, the seasons have always been an integral part of not only Korea, but all Asian cultures. It is as if they sense the nuance in the red of autumn leaves and the frailty of tree branches in winter, absorbing their visual, emotional weight. Even in Japan, they believe everything from rocks to river streams are inhabited by "kami," or spirits.

Director Kim Ki-Duk has successfully emphasized each season's importance by using their qualities as parallels to a young man's life, from boyhood to a troubled adulthood, as well as his relationship with an old monk who he grows up with on a raft temple at the center of a pristine Korean lake, in which the entirety of the film takes place. Often times, the subtle details of the natural backround speak louder than the few words found in Kim's accomplished minimalist screenplay.

Also, each season encompasses a moral theme. For instance, "Summer" tells of how the film's central character, now a teenager, is sexually awakened by a sickly girl his age who comes to be healed by the old monk. However, their relationship is carelessly founded upon lust, since the boy has never encountered a woman before, and is more curious than wise. By the end of this canto of Kim's tone poem, the old monk recognizes their far from discreet sexual adventures, and scolds him, saying, "Lust leads to the desire to possess, and that leads to murderous intent." I should not elaborate on this or the other seasons any more so than what I've already written, because like a flower's progressive blooming, it is not as spectacular heard as it is experienced first hand.

Some have complained this film is too simplistic. In many ways, the structure is quite simple, but for effect. It is a fable that must be expressed in a form at ease with itself and how it tells a story. In fact, the abstract qualities make 'Spring, Summer' stronger as a whole, becoming more accessible and applicable to your personal life. With each scene and situation, you are able to catch a glimpse of yourself beneath the lake or in the eyes of an old man who may lose touch with a young flame carefully kindled through his adulthood. However, though the simplicity makes watching it a more moving experience, it unfortunately makes it less memorable as the days after viewing pass by.

The lack of complexity sometimes causes pieces of the film to fade quickly, because, depending on who you are, you may not be able to identify with such broad themes as well as you might with a better universalized film. Technically, though, 'Spring, Summer' is a wonder; it contains beautiful cinematography, a powerful underscore, and art direction that perfectly complies with the demand for concise, cohesive symbolism. The direction is also minimalist, much like the screenplay, and adds a quiet efflorescence that grows endearing and leaves you breathless by the film's end.

Ultimately, 'Spring, Summer, Fall, Winter...and Spring' is a cinematic beacon of hope, not only in message, but in its art form, as well. It both celebrates the cyclical patterns of life that encourage us to keep going and contributes to a growing reaffirmation that cinema still has its artistic center and may not die out under the heavy, artificial light of those "of-the-moment" big-budget duds.

Perfect Simplicity

My review of this film should end with those two words. However, the minimum requirement required of all on-libe reviews belies the differences between my world and the world shown to me in Spring, Summer, Fall, Winter...and Spring. I understand why Amazon does not want 1000's of (apparently) useless two-word reviews in their database. However, I would hope that they could make an exception for this film.

Perfect:
The film is as close to perfect as a film could get. No shot is presented to us, nor a line of dialog uttered that does not make us ponder and understand at the same time. The film is also beautiful. (Like the previous reviewer, I am a fan of Asian cinema and never tire of the stunning ability of Asian directors to capture beauty on film.) This film exceeds most other Asian films I have seen in the cinematography regard. However, its beauty is surprisingly deceptive. Like most great films, it surpasses the "cinematography" level of beauty and delves into the beauty of existence through its story. For example, the Old Monk has a different pet during each "season" of his life. This is not discussed by the characters nor shoved in our face by the director - as would have been done if Hollywood had done this film. It is merely background we experience and come to understand. Two days after viewing the film, I am still finding new reflections in my mind that encompass the cinematography, the literal story and the underlying context of the film.

Simplicity:
This film approaches a level of cinematic Haiku. While I don't recall the entire dialog with any specificity, I am sure you could print the script on one page of paper. The amazing part is that while you are watching the film, you don't notice this. Every shot moves the story along. The simplicity of life as shown by the story is reflected in the simplicity of the film. After the film ended, I had a strong urge to move away from civilization and live - or die - in peace with nature. I enjoy (and have come to be too dependant upon) modern inventions, so I will stay at home. However, this film will remain in my heart. It does exactly what good story-telling is supposed to do: Take us completely out of our world and put us in another. There is no wonder that this film was selected for so many film festivals.

Sometimes less is more -- and sometimes less is everything. Kim Ki-Duk works magic with only a few props in the ethereal, exquisite "Spring, Summer, Fall, Winter... and Spring," a movie that transcends its own simplicity. Beautiful, well-acted and quietly poetic, this Korean film is a movie to remember.

Somewhere in a secluded spot, surrounded by tall mountains, is a beautiful little lake, and a small Buddhist monastery floats in the middle of it. Two monks live in it -- an elderly man (Oh Young-su), and a very young boy. The boy is full of the usual hijinks and mischief, but the old monk teaches him lessons that shape him as he grows to manhood.

The young boy (Kim Young-min) learns that his childish cruelty has terrible consequences, and that if he kills anything, he will carry that "stone" with him for the rest of his life. Then, as he reaches adolescence, a young girl (Ha Yeo-jin) enters their lives -- and his heart. Filled with lust and love, the boy leaves for the outside world. But the world -- and a murder -- drives him back to where he started, to find death or redemption...

"Spring" is steeped in Buddhist teachings, but in a sense those teachings are truly universal -- all the more obvious because Kim is not a Buddhist, but a Catholic. The love of life, dangers of desire, mistakes and the danger of repeating them, and the cycles of death and birth are at the core of "Spring," and it's impossible not to be touched by those ideas being woven into a simple, straightforward plot.

The seasons parallel that of the younger monk's life, taking him from childhood to old age. It's a simple idea, but a good one. Director Kim Ki-duk (who has a starring role) gives an almost unearthly feel to the beautiful landscape, the dramatic scene on the snowy mountains, and especially to the beautiful little two-person monastery in the middle of a lake. The sight of it is almost unreal.

Oh Young-su does an excellent job with the old monk, who has the wisdom the younger man sorely lacks. His past is a mystery; the problems his disciple encounters make you wonder what caused him to stay in seclusion. Kim himself plays the mature younger man, giving a startlingly nuanced performance as the character tries to atone for his sins, and takes the place where he is most needed.

With a single set and only a few actors, Kim Ki-Duk crafts a meditative masterpiece in "Spring, Summer, Fall, Winter... And Spring." Quiet, heartbreaking, beautiful and deceptively simple, this film is a must-see.