When middle school senior Jun-gang’s (Oh Ja-hun, Racket Boys) father is convicted of the violent murder of the parents of his classmate Gi-sun (Moon Seong-hyun, Alchemy of Souls), Jun-gang knows that his life, and that of his little sister Jun-hui (Kim Kyu-na) have instantly changed for the worst. Being raised solely by their father who struggles to stay on the straight-and-narrow, the children face heavy stigma from their peers at school and community.
And then the murders happen.
In South Korea, there’s a disturbing practice where police take those suspected of committing violent acts such as murders to the scene of the crime. There, with their hands bound with rope, and their faces exposed, the suspect is forced to reenact the crime they allegedly committed in front of dozens of reporters, police officers and investigators, prosecutors, and civilians, some family of the victims, many curious onlookers, but all clamouring to witness this barbaric act, shouting insults and condemnation on the suspect.
What makes this sequence in Fragment uniquely significant, is that in this scenario where Jun-gang’s father is the suspect, Kim Sung-yoon shows how traumatic it is for a child, the child of the victim and believed perpetrator (for at this point, there is still no legal conviction, and in real life situations many people who’ve been proven innocent have had to go through this ‘perp walk’), and the child of the victim to witness this reenactment – which in itself is violent and sensationalizes the violence of the crime committed.
In Fragment, Kim centers the emotional and social fallout children are made to go through when society fails them in every way conceivable.
From adults, Jun-gang and Jun-hui receive pitying comments and even recriminations whispered behind their backs but within ear-shot about the shame they should bear on behalf of their father. At school, Jun-gang is attacked with persistent jeering and physical bullying by the classmates he thought were his friends, as teachers–with the exception of one who helps him in secret until he too, gives in to peer pressure to step back from associating with Jun-gang–willfully turning a blind eye to the violence being committed in their very presence. And for Jun-hui, this little girl with no adult to turn to, is shunned by children she once happily played with, when their parents warn them against interacting with her to preserve their families’ reputations because even children are considered guilty by association.
As Jun-gang and Jun-hui try to figure out what becomes of their lives now that they’ve been abandoned, and he struggles under the staggering weight of trying to protect himself and create a sense of stability for his sister, Gi-sun is experiencing his own chaos. Just as Kim Sung-yoon does a terrific job of delving into various ways, the children of those who commit crimes suffer detrimental consequences for their parent’s actions, he does the same with Gi-sun as a child of the victims.
For Gi-sun, the sudden loss of his parents due to such violent circumstances have plunged the teen into an intense state of depression. Though he has an Aunt and Uncle trying their best to help by providing meals and even taking him for therapy, he vehemently rejects every overture they make towards him, convinced that his pain is the only emotional attachment he has left of his parents. His house is in complete disarray with clothes and discarded containers strewn everywhere with the residue of leftover food rotting and festering in them. The atmosphere created through the cinematography of Jung Seok-chae, score by Kwang Sun-wang, and set decoration is overtly oppressive giving the space the feeling that instead of being a home for the living, has become a tomb for a child trapped in his grief.
When he overhears some of the boys at school speaking about Jun-gang, Gi-sun’s grief turns to rage, and he makes his classmate the target of his emotional outlet, wanting Jun-gang to impossibly take responsibility for his father’s actions. Through many gut-wrenchingly heartbreaking interactions performed with incredible poignancy and maturity by Oh Ja-hun, Moon Seong-hyun, and Kim Kyu-na, each child has to figure out that the pain they carry isn’t unique to them, but is shared and perhaps having this excruciatingly painful bond is the only way they can survive their shattered world through forgiveness, compassion, and empathy for themselves and each other.
In this, Fragment, becomes a very layered and distinct portrayal of how trauma can become a coping mechanism and how society easily turns its back on children when they need reassurance and guidance at the most pivotal points in their lives, resulting in the most vulnerable members being left to work their way battered and bruised through of the broken fragments of their lives.
In my interview with Kim Sung-yoon via Zoom, during Fantasia, he spoke about why he chose Fragment to be his debut feature after working years as an assistant director, the importance of having a character like Jun-gang having the unexpected responsibility of dealing with Jun-hui having her period for the first time, and how the two homes of the characters act as physical representations of their mental state.
Fragment premiered at the 2024 Busan International Film Festival where it won the Vision Award, and Chorokbaem Media Award amongst others, and was an official selection at the 2024 Asian Film Festival in Rome.
Interpretation for the interview conducted by Shelly Bang. Images courtesy of Finecut Co., Ltd.
Carolyn Hinds
Freelance Film Critic, Journalist, Podcaster & YouTuber
African American Film Critics Association Member, Tomatometer-Approved Critic
Host & Producer Carolyn Talks…, and So Here’s What Happened! Podcast
Bylines at Authory.com/CarolynHinds
Twitter & Instagram: @CarrieCnh12
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