Silence is Golden?

Before I start with my blog post, I just want to bring up something that I’ve started to notice after each screening. Why is it that after every film we’ve watched in class, I walk away with my emotions all jumbled up and somber and just plain sad? What exactly is it about all of the films we’ve screened that is making me feel this way? And what does this tell me about myself with respect to the films?

The part of Sopyonje that I would like to focus on with this blog post is the very “cheating” climax of the film that many of us are probably wondering about right now.  When Dongho and Songhwa finally reunite after Dongho’s tireless and determined search for her, they perform a p’ansori together. And as described by Stringer in this week’s reading, as the scene progresses, “Im chooses to shut off all diegetic sound, compelling his characters to be mute. We see Songhwa sing her song and we see Tong-ho band his drum, but we no longer hear them. A non-diegetic, “traditional” Korean piece – performed on flute and synthesizer – is brought to the front of the mix, and the most climactic moment of this musical reunion is denied to the listening subject” (Stringer 164).

Why?

Why is it at this crucial and most anticipated moment that we get cut off from their world? Why is the sound, which was so emphasized in the film, denied from us? As the film progressed, it so clearly portrayed the importance of sound with regard to the p’ansori, and we saw how Yubong grilled the idea of the significance of each specific emotion that underlies each sound of a p’ansori into Songhwa. Yet the moment that we are listening for most, when the p’ansori probably means the most in the film and carries the greatest weight, that sound is denied from our ears. 

Like the other students from Stringer’s description of his Indiana University screening of the film, I felt a bit unimpressed by the silence that was used with Songhwa and Dongho’s reunion scene. The film made such a big deal about the importance of the intricacies Songhwa’s voice and how it would be most powerful during times of grief and sorrow, and once the film actually built up to the ultimate release of her voice, I was denied from the final gratification of hearing it from her. I guess the feeling I felt was more so one of discomfort when the diegetic silence occurred because I was denied the emotional release that Songhwa and Dongho were allowed to finally experience together. I didn’t get to experience that release with them, and I could only imagine what the p’ansori could have sounded like as they embraced each other and talked to one another through their duet.  And right now, I am still wondering what it could have possibly sounded like…