When freshman student Da-young (Park Seo-yoon) recalls her summer on her first day back at school, she struggles to keep her story straight. Or rather, the teacher struggles to keep up with her story. What seems like a sweet and simple tale of young love reveals, upon relentless prodding, layers of darkness underneath. Da-young’s story is twisty, tragic, flawed, and melodramatic, but most of all, it’s true to the teenage experience of feeling as much as you can and as intensely as you can. In That Summer’s Lie, first-time feature director Sohn Hyun-lok experiments with truth and allows his young leads to savor every moment as if it were their last, even though it’s likely just their first.

At the Busan International Film Festival, where That Summer’s Lie picked up the prestigious FIPRESCI Award, we spoke to Sohn about the process of making this emotionally fraught film, the caveats of directing multiple perspectives, the Korean teenage experience, and of course, as he affectionally calls it, “the power of love.” 

This interview has been edited for publication and was translated by Jenny (Jon Young) Kim. 

Projektor: That Summer’s Lie is your first feature film. How does it feel to make a movie set in your hometown of Busan? 

Sohn Hyun-lok: I’m currently still in school, so I actually wrote this film as part of my graduation requirement. The fact that it’s premiering now at the Busan Film Fest is something I never would’ve imagined. I’m very grateful. But also, I never thought I’d be making a movie about love. As I grew up, however, I realized there’s a lot to explore about it. For example, it’s interesting how adults turn into children whenever we’re in love. We pretty much become entirely new people. So from that realization, and from some very tumultuous experiences in my teenage years, I thought about telling this specific story. 

It’s not a linear story, and it’s not always consistent. Why tell it in this fractured way? 

Da-young, the protagonist, is female. The movie is about her summer, but I was wondering whether it would be right for me, a male director, to simply show it as it is. Do I have the right to tell her story? Who was I to do that? I wanted Da-young to tell the story herself, even if some parts might be false. That way, we stay true to her perspective. If this is the only part she wants to share, then that’s what we should see. 

Another reason I chose this non-linear structure is that I wanted there to be some discrepancy between the adults’ point of view and Da-young’s experience. I wanted to emphasize the difference and the space between them. That’s why the teacher grills Da-young in that [condescending] way. It says a lot about how adults really view teenagers. 

“I wanted Da-young to tell the story herself, even if some parts might be false. That way, we stay true to her perspective.”

Can you tell me more about Da-young and how you tried to write her character?

All of the people who appear in the film are truthful to their desires. But Da-young, specifically, embodies the stereotypical Korean teenager in the sense that she’s forced to carry a lot of responsibilities. She must study. She can’t express herself fully. She must learn to control her emotions. And she’s probably lived this way for a very long time so that she never learns how to be honest with her feelings. She ends up lying and twisting the truth, sometimes unintentionally. It’s a very Korean thing. And you’ll notice she wants to be a K-pop idol in the movie. That, too, is a very teenage Korean dream to have, but it’s like an open secret here. Like other teens, she never tells anyone about it because of a fear of judgment from adults, and a fear of knowing she can’t pursue it.

I don’t know whether this is because of Confucianism or ageism or all these different aspects of Korean society, but I do believe it’s because people are afraid to be hurt by strong influences. 

What were you looking for when casting Da-young and her co-lead, Byung-hoon? They’re both so natural, no one overacts. 

I wanted the actors to be specifically in their early 20s, not just because the film covers sensitive topics, but because I wanted the characters to seem like adults to us. And because this is a very small movie, I just posted an ad and met every single person who auditioned myself. I saw all these different versions of Da-young and Byung-hoon, but in the end, I was so grateful to find such incredible actors in Park Seo-yoon (Da-young) and Choi Min-jae (Byung-hoon). 

I first knew about Seo-yoon six years ago when she was in this big independent film, and I’ve wanted to work with her ever since. But Min-jae, this is his first feature film, and he’s just 20 years old, so he’s very green. Because of that, I directed them very differently. For Seo-yoon, I used a more sensitive and fine-tuned style of direction, whereas, for Min-jae, I had to tell him more about the emotions and motivations behind the characters’ choices. 

And during filming, everyone—even the crew—was so surprised watching them. These young actors were doing all of the work for us. Many times, they went entirely off script and engaged in conversations that went in all sorts of directions. Other times, they would cry or shout out of nowhere, and there were a lot of things that they did on their own that were simply incredible. 

What was the biggest challenge you faced making the film?

I’ve been making movies for about a decade now, a lot of shorts and industry work. But this was the first time I found myself crying on set [Sohn tears up]. It was extremely hard. I approached this project differently than I have done any other project before. We didn’t have many funds to create the film, so that rented guesthouse you see in the movie, I wasn’t actually able to visit it beforehand. We were only able to go there during the shoot, so I was crying a lot on that day. 

Were the troubles financial?

More than financial, it was just a very emotionally hard film to create. I mention the guesthouse because that’s where Da-young and Byung-hoon get drunk for the first time and try to get rid of the baby. I cried nonstop during that scene, but I also cried while shooting the ending, which was filmed the very next day. The actors kept coming up to me to comfort me. 

Do you still find it hard to watch the movie?

Yes, I do. 

It’s so beautiful though.  What was your favorite part to shoot?

Filming the happy moments between Da-young and Byung-hoon, when they’re at the stream just dancing and playing around, those were quite nice. I knew that these moments were gonna be so short in the movie, but that made them all the more joyous and precious. A lot of the dancing was impromptu, too, so that made it extra fun. 

What were some cinematic inspirations you had while making this film?

There’s no specific movie that served as a reference, but some of the films I’ve always liked probably found their way here. The Dardenne Brothers’ The Child, Ryusuke Hamaguchi’s Wheel of Fortune and Fantasy, Pedro Almodóvar and how he plays with letters and time. I also watched Audrey Diwan’s Happening to prepare for this. 

Because I’m a man, I tried to watch as many things and research as much as I could about pregnancy. I watched a lot of films that were warm and hopeful but also ones that were cold and dark to see how they might inform the movie. 

What are you hoping people take away from the movie?

Mainly, that love is very difficult. It’s a really strong, scary emotion, but it’s also necessary to have in order to live. It inspires a lot of bravery, so the power of love is something I want them to take away from this. And I also want us adults to take a second look at how we view teenagers and their stories.