A hand-held single-shot scene unfolds in black and white. From a small park to Gadan House, the camera moves up some stairs. It is the perspective of the narrator and director, known only as “I.” She is in the grip of suicidal thoughts for many reasons, most immediately because of her family’s debt. However, she does not blame her family nor roam gloomy labyrinths, lost in her own thoughts. Instead, she decides to observe her family, especially the women who share the men’s faults and mistakes.
What makes I carry a camera is the determination to face her inner self and scrutinize her grandmother and mother, both of whom might be in a similar situation. The uniqueness of this film is that it manages to withhold pity and does not sympathize. It asks questions but does not comment, records but does not intervene, and coexists but does not join. Keeping distance may be more vital than seeking solidarity; it brings an unexpected calm or at least apathy. The film reorganizes the dilemma of family and the bitter introspection of “I” regarding her sudden suicidal thoughts. Free from her family while filming her family, she may move from belonging to them to overlooking them. [Programmer KIM Hyunmin]