There are movies that entertain, then there are movies that make you feel. House of Hummingbird is very much a deeply emotive experience, that stirs the soul and communicates existential truths with subtle yet sharp brush strokes, leaving as much a deep cut as it does gently lay down a beautiful flower. The performance by actress Park Ji-Hu who plays Eun-hee is raw, unfiltered, mature and grounded, she's so impressive that it doesn't take long to forget you're watching a movie and feel like you are witnessing someones life unfold in front of you. The cinematography finds a harmonious balance between intimate organic handheld shots, gracefully moving with the characters, then shifting to scenes with still shots, some like a beautiful painting capturing an ephemeral moment in time, others perfectly placed in narrow corridors and rooms, escaping the usual directors urge to find perfect symmetry, but instead embracing slight imperfections in alignment, a wall between the kitchen and hallway off centre for instance, with Eun-hee's room only half in shot, showing her disconnect from the family yet still being loosely tied to the periphery of her family piety. The film's tone somehow strikes a balance between a muted, sombre, yet ethereal and buoyant sense. I felt initially towards the end the script had tried too hard to hit me with too much tragedy, but as I reflected more on it, I opened up to a message I feel the director/writer was trying to convey; you cannot escape loss, pain, suffering. Every connection with someone will always have a part that feels broken, sunken and missing, but those who truly cared will always leave something tangibly beautiful in your heart and in your life.
Review of House of Hummingbird
