In a second-floorroom, a youngwomanpicks up her
phonefrom a table and swipesat the screen,as though
willingan expectedtext or call to arrive.She divertsher
attentionto the window,whereshe standson tiptoes,
craningher neck. Anticipationdeniedagain,she tramps
downstairsto sit on a benchoutside,the camerastaying
fixed at the head of the stairwell, looking down through
the windowat the bottom.
Frustratedonce more – thoughit is not at all clear
what or whomshe is waitingfor – the womanstrides
inside and up the stairs again,pausingat the top to gaze
in futilityat the unseenphone,still restingon the table.
She marchesback down,then up again.And then again
and again over a two-minute period, the camera fixed
in position.She walks up and down,the tensionin her
body slowlyeasing,a skip enteringher step, until her
frustrationis replacedby a carefree,playfulattitude.
This scene,occurringslightlyover halfwaythrough
South KoreandirectorHong Sang-soo’ssixty-six-minute
filmGrass(2018),standsout as unusual,and not simply
for the extendeddurationdevotedto an apparentlymean-
inglessphysicalaction.The womanherself,Ji-young(Kim
Sae-byuk),appearsin only two other scenes.Grassoth-
erwisefocuseson Areum(Kim Min-hee),a youngwoman
who sits in the cornerof a cafe and eavesdrops– and
perhapsmore – on the conversationsof its other patrons.
The scene’sdurationitself is not unusual;over the
twenty-one other features Hong has made to date sinceAbove:Grass protagonist Areum (Kim Min-hee, right) with her brother, Jin-ho (Shin Seo-kho)FOCUSONASIAAND
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