What Does That Nature Say to You
What Does That Nature Say to You (2025)
Directed by Hong Sang-soo
Hong Sang-soo, one of cinema’s greatest living filmmakers, has receded in relevancy since reaching peak cult/cinephilic appreciation over a decade ago, with films like Right Now, Wrong Then, In Another Country, and On the Beach at Night Alone garnering both his greatest commercial and critical success. We were all better off a decade ago. Regardless, the filmmaker has not slowed down, releasing two films a year dating back to 2021. Distribution for his films has always been a sticking point, where even in Chicago, his films would struggle to screen at the Gene Siskel Film Center, despite their relationship with the School of the Art Institute of Chicago, Hong’s alma mater. Admittedly, I too have fallen off the Hong bandwagon, in part because his visual aesthetic has seen a notable decline in recent years. His 2024 film, By the Stream, was the last film I caught of his before feeling like a break was necessary. Other films, like In Water and In Front of Your Face, seemed to see Hong relish in this new lo-fi sensibility.
The clumsy-sounding What Does That Nature Say to You, seeing its release in 2026 more than a year removed from its Berlin International Film Festival premiere, follows in this new visual tradition of Hong’s work. Shot on what can best be described as a souped-up mini-DV camcorder, the film is decidedly unsophisticated to look at, with bleached colors and saturating sunlight rarely provoking anything other than flat images. Divided into marked numerical sections with simple title cards, the film is a casual reminder of everything that Hong, the writer, does so well; an oft-times humorous, frequently thoughtful exercise in what it means to be an artist, where the balance between genuine artistry and delusion can often go unchecked. It’s a film that feels like getting reacquainted with a friend that you haven’t seen in a while, and one where you leave grateful for the reminder of all the good and bad that they represent.
Hong’s Meet the Parents, What Does That Nature Say to You centers on Donghwa (Ha Seong-guk), a 35-year-old poet who drops his girlfriend Kim Jun-hee (Kang So-yi) off at home, where he has an impromptu meeting with her father, Hong stalwart, Kwon Hae-hyo. After a joyride in Donghwa’s vintage 90s car, the two set off on foot for a trek around the grounds while Jun-hee converses with her sister. The dialogue in these two segments examines Donghwa’s belief system, wealthy origins, and subsequent rejection of the material despite his inherited privilege. Both Jun-hee and her sister remain skeptical about this. Jun-hee’s father, however, entertains Donghwa, sharing booze and a cigarette with the man to get a better sense of what’s lying underneath his more flighty, whimsical exterior. Donghwa’s rejection of his father’s wealth, compounded with a dinner filled with the usual pouring of excess liquor, provokes his most startling and pronounced reaction; one that turns a standard dinner into something awkward. The poet exposes himself.
Hong tinkers with the notion of the filial, instilling a sense that one’s relationship to their parents is critical to their interaction with others. The Kim household, with all its lavishness, is one rooted in the importance of family. When Jun-hee’s father takes Donghwa on a walk, they hike atop the family mountain where they visit the gravesite of an elder. Donghwa makes a show of revering the site, much to Jun-hee’s father’s surprise. He brings it up later to the family and they all laugh at the concept; how could a man who has rejected his father then embrace a stranger? The questions pile on but there’s no answer beyond Donghwa’s drunken anger directed at Jun-hee’s sister, who casually brings up Donghwa’s father’s wealth and status. The statement here, seemingly, is rooted in a sense of what it means to be a son, and what it means to be a worthy partner to their daughter. The social strata of importance here has less to do with outright wealth or things beyond Donghwa’s control, but rather his capacity to articulate why he decides to live the life he leads. Why opt for the barely functional, potentially dangerous car? Why wear glasses that blur your vision rather than to view things as they are? These acts of distortion leave Jun-hee’s parents to consider Donghwa’s capacity as a partner to their daughter.
My parents are alive and I don’t talk to them anymore. I’ve had the privileged luxury of being accepted by the families of my partners throughout my lifetime. I’ve rarely had difficulty acclimating, and in the case of my first partner from high school (who I dated but did not marry throughout my 20s), it was an incredibly difficult time to adjust to not having them in my life. I have a wife and family now, yet remain wholly unhappy still. Maybe it’s the poet in me, looking outside the rain drenched streets of Seattle on dismally cloudy March morning through the windows of a coffee shop, the fog encroaching on the edges of the panes, forming an iris-in shot that’s closing itself around my vantage point. I so desperately wanted to be a part of something bigger than myself, but feel like the opportunity for that is closing rapidly. For Donghwa, with his car failing him as he leaves the Kim household, there’s the sense that the 35-year old is forced to make a decision about the numerous forks in the road. There’s the distinct impression on Hong’s behalf that maybe he’ll find his way. To me? I’m not entirely sure.