‘The Trunk’ review: a visually breathtaking tale packed with sensuality and allegory
Han Jeong-won (Gong Yoo) is a tortured man haunted by his parents’ violent relationship in the past, and his unfaithful wife Lee Seo-yeon (Jung Yun-ha) in the present. In an extreme way of taking a break from their relationship, she forces him into a year-long contract marriage with Noh In-ji (Seo Hyun-jin). Though initially resistant to the sudden change, Jeong-won warms up to his new “wife” when he finds the comfort that has always been lacking in his marriage to Seo-yeon, much to the latter’s ire. This newfound, fragile peace, however, is put into peril when a mysterious trunk makes an unwelcome appearance.
For having an entire show named after the trunk, it hardly ever shows up. Yet, the specter of the trunk – or what it represents – looms large throughout the show. For the audience, it represents intrigue and confusion. For the more philosophical of us, it might represent an ornate cage, much like the one the protagonist Han Jeong-won is trapped in. It’s both a tether to the past and a ghost haunting the present. It’s also symptomatic of the show’s brilliance, representing the characters’ denial, repressed feelings and their begrudging hold on the past.
Gong Yoo’s Han Jeong-won is delightfully forthcoming for a man constantly being gaslighted by his people and deeply disturbed by his past. Gong plays Jeong-won with captivating nuance, letting his desperation for love and comfort contrast with the cold, aloof nature of Seo Hyun-jin’s Noh In-ji. The development of their story is locked in a delicious dance with series director Kim Kyu-tae’s stellar visuals and storytelling. HIs direction veers between an erotic thriller and a horror feature, deploying expert lighting and jarring cuts to bring out lingering desires.
But the strongest piece on this board is Jung Yun-ha as Lee Seo-yeon, whose serpentine expressions and cold demeanor can make your skin crawl. She alternates between inspiring fear and frustration as a woman who treats her lover like a toy, pushing him to his mental limits yet unable to let him go. Jung also wrenches out a steely strength in Seo Hyun-ji’s In-ji, rounding out the emotional development trajectory started by Jeong-won’s affection for her. Seo proves herself an expert as she goes from visceral screams, to therapy speak, to cutting clapbacks all within a day’s work playing the perfect wife.
But The Trunk’s excellence can largely be credited to Choi Seong-Gwon and Kim Ji-soo’s music. Choi and Kim’s directions are purposeful and alive. The beginning is almost oppressive – between Jeong-won’s overpowering guitar compositions and the grating clinking of the chandelier in his home, the music feels claustrophobic. Jeong-won’s anxiety and doubt are mirrored in tracks where the singing resembles breathing patterns. As Jeong-won and In-ji reach an understanding that blooms into something more, soft guitar seeps in, lending an airier vibe. The encompassing music corrals viewers to their liberation, which comes with a softness becoming of this otherwise macabre tale.
The Trunk is out now on Netflix
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Tanu I. Raj
NME
