The Good Kind of Incensed: A Spring, Summer, Winter, Fall... and Spring (2003) Review

 Directed by Kim Ki-duk, Spring, Summer, Winter, Fall… and Spring (2003) is the story of a buddhist monk going through the various stages of life as told from the perspective of his home on a floating monastery. After his earlier films were critiqued for being too violent and misogynistic, Spring, Summer, Fall, Winter… and Spring is certainly a departure from Ki-duk’s older films. Although, on the vein of animal cruelty, this film is similar to his other controversial works. Like his earlier films, Spring, Summer, Fall, Winter… and Spring features one scene in the film that had to be cut due to its explicit animal cruelty in order to show the movie in America. While defending his work, Ki-duk has explained that these scenes in his films are no different than the inherent cruelty involved in a meat-eating way of life. Despite the criticism, Director Ki-duk is clearly focused on using every element at his disposal to convey his messages as effectively as possible. 

However, in this film, his most effective tool for conveying the messages of the story is through his almost poetic use of time. One of the central themes of the film is the cyclical nature of time as we humans go through the “seasons” of life. With minimal dialogue and few characters, Ki-duk shows rather than tells. The lake and forest surrounding the monastery become characters in the story as their appearances change through the seasons to match the mood of our characters. Each of those separate seasons feel as though they would be a separate stanza in some sort of zen poetry. 

In an equally zen fashion, the film embraces a cinematic simplicity as well. As mentioned earlier, the film is edited to include only the major events encapsulated within each season. Ki-duk uses this technique to span the main characters entire lifetime without losing his audience in the minutia. Similarly simple, the film makes use of a great deal of natural lighting. Most light sources visible on-screen are either natural from the sun or nearby candles. While I’m sure the work of making that lighting look so natural was far from simple or entirely natural, that work pays off with how naturally lit the film appears. The natural feeling of the film also encapsulates its performances. Looking back on the film, the performance of the tortured young man towards the middle of the film was the one that most stood out to me. He portrayed the role so appropriately without crossing into campy territory. Like all the other performances in the film, none of the acting got in the way of the story. 

In a movie with buddhist monks as the central characters, one should not be surprised that this film tackles the role of religion in our lives as we age. The film chooses to convey that question through its story of the young monk and his entire life. The young man eschews his faith to go into the world, thinking he knows better, only to return as an older man and find the peace he was looking for in the faith he left. The film asks us to consider the redemptive power of faith and the cyclical (“seasonal”) nature of life. 

While western audiences certainly have to go into the movie expecting something atypical in a cinematic era consisting of more explosions than buddhism, and once one expects that slower pace, patient viewers are treated to the kind of cinematic experience that doesn’t happen a quarter-mile at a time.