How would you define concepts such as “friendship” or “soulmate”?
Cambridge Dictionary defines “soulmate” as “someone, usually your romantic or sexual partner, who you have a special relationship with, and who you know and love very much.” Albeit accurate, this definition ignores the many shades that the concept of “soulmate” may have and the different kinds of love it describes. But, for that, you have Min Yong-geun’s feature film Soulmate (2023), starring the great Kim Da-mi (SBS’s Our Beloved Summer, jTBC’s Itaewon Class), Jeon So-nee (tvN’s Encounter, Netflix’s Parasyte: The Gray) and Byeon Woo-seok (tvN’s Lovely Runner, jTBC’s Strong Girl Nam-soon).
Directed by Min Yong-geun (2010’s Re-encounter), Soulmate tells the story of Mi-so (Kim Da-mi) and Ha-eun (Jeon So-nee). For a little over two hours, we follow these two girls as they experience love, loss, and the search for their own identity as they come of age. With the success of Lovely Runner, Soulmate was re-released in the cinemas last month to great success, and it’s also available on Tubi.
A quick disclaimer: this feature is a remake of the original Chinese film Soul Mate (2016, dir. Derek Tsang), which, in turn, is an adaptation of Anni Baobei’s short story Qiyue and Ansheng (2000). As I haven’t read Baobei’s story nor watched the Chinese adaptation, this review (or should we say more of an analysis?) focuses on the Korean version only.
This review/analysis contains spoilers. Read it at your own risk! You can also pin our (spoiler-free) summary at the bottom!
Soulmate (2023): A Visual Tale of Two Girls Fated to Meet
Min paints Mi-so and Ha-eun’s story with a spectrum of colours. On more melancholic days, the picture is dark. That’s how the movie starts, with muted tones and geometrical compositions that imply loneliness and sorrow. It’s as if Mi-so’s present life is drowning in whatever happened in her past.
Soon enough, as we start reading Ha-eun’s blog, we’re brought back to their childhood. Before the two girls meet, even their pasts seem to lack colour. They quickly become friends, though, as if they’ve always been destined to meet, and their world is now vibrant and bright. While we watch them grow, their teenage memories are shown through a hazy, dream-like quality, romanticising their adolescence. During Act 2, Mi-so and Ha-eun get separated, and the colours seem to become less and less rich. Even when they meet again as adults, it’s like they can never go back to those vibrant bygone days.
Composition, Montage, and Score
Close-ups highlight Kim Da-mi and Jeon So-nee’s excellent performances and convey emotions that the characters themselves fail to express in words. At the same time, several wide shots reflect the relationships between these characters and their environment, giving visual depth to their fears, lies, and personalities. They also take full advantage of the beautiful Jeju Island, where Ha-eun spends most of her life.
A constant sense of melancholy permeates the film, subtly foreshadowing the fact that Mi-so and Ha-eun may never get to live the lives they really want. The flashbacks blend into present-day scenes, and the main plot becomes interwoven, as eventually both the past and present unravel and transform almost into one whole. The score only accentuates this sorrow, without ever becoming too evident.
What Soulmate (2023) Excels At: Three-Dimensional Conflict
Creating and dealing with conflict is where Soulmate (2023) really excels. Mi-so and Ha-eun come up against internal, interpersonal, and extrapersonal conflict throughout the entire film, which pushes the plot forward and allows these characters to show growth and change.
Internal Conflict
Internally, they struggle to create and nourish their own personal identities. Mi-so is a big fan of Janis Joplin, and she certainly couldnโt be any more of an embodiment of her idol. She’s free-spirited, rebellious, independent, and yet, craves human connection without really knowing how to establish and foster it. On the opposite side, Ha-eun knows very well where her passions lie, but she lets herself be influenced by the opinion of the men in her life. She’s timid and cautious as she tries to contain her own desires.
Interpersonal Conflict
Between themselves, Mi-so and Ha-eun are the main catalysts of each other’s actions. It’s their love for each other that defines most of their actions. Then again, their complete lack of honest communication creates rifts in their relationship, leading to misunderstandings and fights. Of course, if that werenโt enough, there’s also the presence of Jin-Woo (Byeon Woo-seok) here. He’s the love interest that emerges as the very first secret they keep from each other, and it’s also his inability to take a firm stand that further complicates the greater conflict of Mi-so and Ha-eun’s tale.
Extrapersonal (aka “External”) Conflict
Finally, there’s a clear external conflict that keeps running in the background of this script. Mi-so’s life and personality are heavily affected by her socioeconomic status. Abandoned by her mother, Mi-so grows up without any real maternal affection and finds her very first experience of familial love in Ha-eunโs family. Yet, they never provide for her, which means that, from a very young age, Mi-so needs to find her own means to survive.
These financial limitations interfere with her future options, which are worsened by her rash teenage decision to leave Jeju with her musician boyfriend. We see her trying to balance her passion for painting with dozens of menial jobs that she needs to do to pay her bills. She never tells Ha-eun about her struggles, though, choosing to lie and send her letters that describe her magical trips around the world. Ha-eun falls for her lies easily, as she would never understand Mi-so’s reality. Ha-eun is loved by her parents, who may not be incredibly rich but seem to be doing well enough to provide her with everything she needs. She’s able to graduate and become a teacher without any major problems.
Putting It All Together
This is how extrapersonal conflict affects their internal and interpersonal conflict: Nothing is actually stopping Ha-eun from pursuing her dreams apart from herself. She ends up becoming her very worst enemy, allowing her life to be dictated by other people’s opinions. As she grows, she lets her father and Jin-woo push her into making decisions that she doesn’t really want to make. She needs Mi-so to inspire and embolden her, and this need blends with jealousy by the end of the first act. Alternatively, Mi-so knows exactly what she wants, but she is either forced (by her lack of money and financial support) or chooses (because of her love towards Ha-eun) to sacrifice her own desires.
As their tale unfolds and they face adulthood, their relationship becomes strained by these clashes. What starts as a loving and seemingly unbreakable bond turns into a twisted and even sickening rivalry over a man that one of them isn’t even interested in at all. It’s only when Ha-eun truly reaches a sense of maturity that they reconnect again and regain the spirit of companionship that they’d had in their childhood.
The Key Theme of Soulmate (2023): Communication (or Lack Thereof)
Their tale proves that without communication, no relationship can thrive. Mi-so leaves Jeju because she believes she’s in the way of her friend’s happiness, but she never tells Ha-eun that. Instead, her impulsive parting while carrying Jin-woo’s lucky charm gives Ha-eun the wrong impression, one that she carries for most of her life. Mi-so’s decision not to tell Ha-eun about her real life in Seoul also widens the distance between them, solidifying the fact that they end up living in different worlds that the other just wouldn’t understand. Had Mi-so and Ha-eun talked after Mi-so and Jin-woo’s “kiss”, or had Mi-so chosen to tell the truth instead of painting a fantasy life that never existed, we might have watched a completely different film.
What’s “Love”?
Another interesting aspect of Soulmate (2023) is its portrayal of love. Mi-so and Ha-eun’s relationship cannot be described as platonic or romantic. Their connection takes all sorts of different shades as they don’t know how to live together or how to live apart from each other. They have this very particular, deep bond that resists fights, misunderstandings, and misgivings.
At the same time, I feel that this connection is slightly unbalanced: while Mi-so fights for Ha-eun’s happiness, Ha-eun needs Mi-so to bolster her own sense of self. This idea is perfectly conveyed by the scene in which the two girls are eating together with Ha-eun’s family after Mi-so returns from her “European trip”. While Mi-so is putting on a show with postcards telling tales of a trip that never existed, believing that her lie would reassure Ha-eun and give her peace of mind, Ha-eun finds in the postcards a reflection of the freedom and passion she quietly has but isn’t brave enough to embrace and defend.
Love from Ha-eun’s Side
Ha-eun looks up to Mi-so, seeing her as her own Janis Joplin, but fails to realise how lonely Mi-so actually is (sometimes for Ha-eun’s own sake). Ha-eun loves Mi-so and wants to be her, without really knowing who her idol has grown up to be. Does she love her because of her admiration? Because she encourages her to become more independent and self-reliant? Maybe. It’s as if Ha-eun needs her love to love herself. That’s the shade that I found slightly disturbing. When they fight in the third act, and Ha-eun declares that no one has ever truly loved Mi-so except for her, that line attacks Mi-so’s greatest weakness: her desire and inability to foster human connection. She has never had a family, has no real friends, and has had every boyfriend betray her. Ha-eun, instead of helping her cure that wound, rubs salt in it.
Love from Mi-so’s Side
Meanwhile, Mi-so constantly tries to provide her best friend with the contentment she deserves. She comes and goes from within her life according to what she believes will make her happiest. If she sees that she’s interfering in Ha-eun’s relationship with Jin-woo, she leaves. If she sees that her lifestyle doesn’t live up to Ha-eun’s status, she leaves.
While unable to actually convey the emotions driving her actions, Mi-so embraces her feelings and keeps welcoming Ha-eun in with open arms. Even at the end of their tale, she decides to raise and love Ha-eun’s daughter on her own. She continues writing Ha-eun’s blog on her behalf, devising a fictional version of her life that gives her the happy ending she wishes she’d had. She finishes her work and pretends to be her, to have her drawings recognised and exhibited as they should. Mi-so is Ha-eun’s greatest advocate.
As their needs and intentions are never verbalised, their relationship is heavily affected by a lack of communication. However, there’s something else that interferes with Mi-so and Ha-eun’s friendship. It’s a sad and overused plot device: Ha-eun’s first love, Jin-woo.
The Weakness in Soulmate (2023): The Trite Subplot of Jealousy
Here, we must address the glitch in this script. Soulmate is, as you can see, Mi-so and Ha-eun’s tale. It’s their presence on screen that drives the story, and most of the film is focused on the two of them. For a character that is supposed to be a “motivation” for conflict, Jin-woo doesn’t even have enough screen time to symbolise an actual obstacle, which turns him into a one-dimensional role that doesn’t bring anything new to the table.
From his very first scene, you know that Jin-woo will fall for Mi-so, and that will be the thing that will drive the two girls apart. So here we are, once again, seeing friendship turn into estrangement due to a romantic interest. Jin-woo ends up not having that much of a personality anyway, as he doesn’t completely give up on Mi-so but continues to pursue Ha-eun.
In the third act, when Jin-woo decides to settle down with Ha-eun and marry her, he seems to have made a clear choice and become “a proper grown-up”, as he now discusses differences in salaries and defends old-fashioned misconceptions. This change feels motivated by Mi-so’s departure from his house, which marks the “final” chapter of a love story that never even started. Jin-woo isn’t the only one who returns to Jeju changed โ Ha-eun has also gained a stronger sense of self after her fight with Mi-so and realises that she is the only one who can build and chase her own dreams. Even here, it’s Mi-so that sparks this fire within her. Jin-woo is only there to nudge Ha-eun towards the path that Mi-so had already shown her.
The Reason Why This Doesn’t Work
Jin-woo is a passive character who exists here to fulfil the clichรฉ: a man can instil jealousy between even the closest of female friends. Sisterhood has never been strong enough to resist a good-looking face, it seems. That’s an antiquated, ridiculous idea that should be completely done away with.
Soulmate (2023) falls into that trap, but fortunately, that doesn’t diminish the strength and delicacy of Kim Da-mi, Jeon So-nee, and Byeon Woo-seok’s performances. Kim and Jeon deserve particular praise because they manage to convey a whole range of emotions without the need for words. Their delivery is consistently poignant and intense as they navigate joy and sorrow throughout the years of Mi-so and Ha-eun’s lives.
No time to read the entire review? Looking for the spoiler-free version? So why don’t you pin our summary? Just click it to pin it!
Food for Thought: Post-Soulmate
More than making you reflect on the concept of friendship, Soulmate makes you think about how we’ve shaped our own identity. Are we the product of our environment? Of our family? Of the opinion of others? Are we brave enough to stand up for our own happiness, all the while standing up for the happiness of the people we hold dear? How far are we willing to go to fight for our own dreams and to help the people we love chase theirs?
Soulmate is a sorrowful coming-of-age tale of love that can’t exactly be defined, the confusion of our teenage years, and the uniqueness of each and every existence. You can watch Soulmate on:
Have you watched Soulmate yet? Share your ideas and opinions in the comments!
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